Sokka read the signs on the walls as he was marched down another long corridor and hoped that he would be alive later to use all this information. The guards hadn't told him where they were taking him, but he had a pretty good idea that he had some kind of punishment coming for attacking His Royal Jerkness. Something more serious than the aches he'd endured yesterday.

It was worth it. Sokka didn't regret jumping Zuko - that ice-hole had been asking for it - but he also didn't want to end up executed. He didn't want to die, but more than that, he didn't want to leave his little sister alone. Never again.

Finally, they arrived at a tall double door where two guys dressed as servants stood waiting. The doors opened to reveal a wide, open room lit by lanterns high up on the walls. In the center of the room, dressed in a sleeveless tunic and loose pants, Zuko stopped pacing and addressed the guards with a growl.

"Release him."

"Sir?" The guard in charge hesitated, still gripping Sokka's arm like a vice.

"Release him," Zuko repeated with furious calm, "and get out of my way."

As one, the guards hurriedly removed Sokka's manacles and let him go. They took up posts on either side of the closed double doors. Sokka stood alone before his enemy, waiting.

He noticed now that there were scorch marks on the walls and floor in here - which at first made him wonder whether he'd been taken to the royal chump-burning room. But the floor gave slightly under his feet and he realized the surfaces weren't steel like the rest of the ship, but some kind of mat. Maybe it was a training room, then. Not an ideal place for an execution.

Zuko looked like he hadn't slept. It was early, before dawn if Sokka's internal clock could still be trusted, but the dark smudge under Zuko's good eye suggested this wasn't his only early morning - or late night, whatever the case was. Despite that little hint of sleeplessness, Zuko stood straight as a nail and watched Sokka with weird intensity.

"You paid me a great disrespect," Zuko said. "Now you're going to fight for your honor."

There was something so uncomfortable about this, some undercurrent that Sokka didn't quite understand. He frowned and crossed his arms. "For my honor? You're the one who dishonored my s-"

"Here." Zuko crouched and snatched two swords off the floor, hurling one through the air. Sokka had to think fast to catch it, but managed. Zuko was already advancing. "Just shut up and fight."

Sokka met his attack and immediately found the length and balance of the Fire Nation sword were very different from those of the weapons he was used to. He blocked haphazardly several times while Zuko backed him across the room with precise attacks and measured advances.

Sokka tripped up and fell hard on his back, reflexively raising his sword to ward off a killing blow that never came. Instead, Zuko stood over him, more furious than ever.

"Get up! You aren't even trying!"

"I've never used a sword like this."

"A real warrior can wield anything as a weapon, Sokka."

Sokka recognized this immediately as one of the phrases the Warriors had used during training and thought for an instant that Zuko meant to taunt him with it. But then Zuko's eyes popped and Sokka understood. He hadn't remembered. It had just come out. For a heartbeat, they stared at each other from opposite ends of their swords and it was familiar. It was a thing they had done dozens of times together.

As if to strike the moment aside, Zuko came down with a chop and a yell and Sokka had to fling himself out of the way. He scrambled back to his feet and gripped the short hilt with both hands, ready for the next attack.

Zuko followed more slowly, sword trailing low at his side and his face twisted into something nasty and unfamiliar. "Your father is going to surrender to the Fire Nation on behalf of the Southern Water Tribe, because if he doesn't he'll never see his kids again. When he does surrender, I might set you free - but not Katara." He stopped just out of reach, sword raised, and spoke the final words quietly, too low for the guards by the door to catch. "She's mine. Do you understand? I will never let her go."

It was an obvious taunt, but Sokka didn't care anymore. He rushed in all at once with a slash and immediately found that gripping the hilt with both hands bared his side to his opponent. Zuko blocked, stepped in, and punched him in the kidney. Sokka staggered back, wincing.

"Is that it?" Zuko snarled. "Your sister is chained up in the brig. She's scared and alone, Sokka. What are you gonna do?"

Sokka straightened and spoke through his teeth. "I'm going to kill you."

This time when he lunged, he stabbed repeatedly with a one-handed grip and Zuko's blocks could only divert his blade rather than stop it. From the correct distance, Sokka struck again and again, pressing Zuko back. As he got used to the new weapon, he moved harder and faster. He started thinking again of his training, all those practice sessions. All the jokes.

When the firebender tried to riposte, Sokka saw it coming and slapped his weapon wide. Then he stabbed at Zuko's chest, to the left, where the heart would be in any other person.

.


.

Katara watched Azula seat herself the way an arctic cat would - gracefully, precisely, and with obvious confidence that she could regain her feet faster than anyone else in the room. She sat just this way, still smiling her chilling smile, and Katara hardly noticed the servants setting out three fragile lacquered boxes and an ornate tea set on the table between them.

"You are all dismissed," Azula said, almost flippantly.

Katara didn't look away, so she only heard the servants and other guards leaving. Lieutenant Roshu was the only one to speak. "Princess Azula, the orders for this prisoner-"

"Have changed, obviously." Azula finally shifted her eyes from Katara to examine the big man behind her. "Unless you believe my brother's orders supersede mine on my own ship, Lieutenant."

"N-no, Princess Azula! I only want to fulfill my duty and keep the waterbender from escaping."

"And you think she is capable of leaving this room before I wish her to do so?"

"No, Princess," Roshu said, and Katara could hear his armor creak as he squirmed. "But she has already lashed out at one of my men today and it would shame me if she struck at you, Highness. She's unpredictable."

Katara watched Azula watch the Lieutenant with the same steady, almost bored stare, and she could sense a terrible decision being deliberated. She was certain Azula was considering whether to allow the Lieutenant to walk away from this room at all.

"I suppose her actions would seem difficult to anticipate if I, too, lacked imagination," Azula finally said.

Though Katara didn't like the Lieutenant, she still emitted a relieved breath. She didn't want to witness his murder. Then Azula's eyes slid back to her and all her tension returned.

"But I do not, and I can see everything she's thinking, written plain on her face." Azula tipped her head to one side, and her smile returned, tiny and coy. "She thought she could escape through the window before I arrived, but now she's having second thoughts. Because she knows that I will win any fight she starts. And while she might realize soon that the contents of this teapot are within her grasp and I would do my best not to injure her too grievously…"

Azula's smile sharpened. "…she can't possibly imagine the things I will have done to her brother if she attempts an escape."

Katara sat very still, trying not to let her fear show. But Azula saw right through her - she could tell. The princess looked away at last, satisfied. "So you see, Lieutenant, I have this situation entirely under control. You are dismissed."

Katara heard Roshu make a few quiet formalities and hurry for the door.

"Oh," Azula said before he could leave, "and if you ever question my command again, I will have you flogged and discharged from my service. We will cross paths with the armada any day now. No doubt Admiral Zhao could find a use for you on the front lines."

"Yes, Princess," Roshu said.

There was the sound of the door closing softly. Katara was alone with Azula. The princess sat straight with her hands resting on her thighs, her attention entirely devoted to her prisoner. Katara's skin crawled and she fought hard against the urge to fidget.

"Now that we have a moment alone, I would like you to answer a question that has been preying on my mind for days now."

Katara swallowed her fear and frowned. "I'm not answering any questions."

"Are you sure? Because I've been dying to know-" Azula leaned forward minutely, "Aren't you the famous waterbender Katto?"

Katara flenched in mild shock. "Where did you hear-? Oh, forget it. I know who told you."

"If you're thinking it was my brother, you're wrong." Azula slid the lid from one of the boxes and selected a tiny cake from a row of identical cakes. She held it up to examine. "Exile has made him evasive. A lucky thing, I suppose, now that he has secrets worth concealing."

Her eyes fixed on Katara and she bit the very corner from the cake. Katara's pulse was racing and her mind was a flurry of possibilities and denials. Did Azula already know what they had done? Or was she just harboring suspicions? Or was she referring to some entirely different secrets?

But Azula gave no answers. She only sighed, cast a disappointed look on the cake, and set it back in the box with the others. "My chef allegedly possesses a unique genius for desserts and yet he presents me with dry cakes. I wonder if he also possesses a unique genius for mining coal."

Katara sat silent and watched her select a tiny, sparkling, golden-brown ball from another box. She took a careful bite and her eyebrows lifted minutely. She sampled the morsel again, speaking almost absently between delicate bites.

"You're quite famous in the Earth Kingdom for your involvement with that blood sport they enjoy - though more so for your political leanings. There are songs about you. Terrible songs, but still." She popped the last bit into her mouth and chewed slowly, swallowed. "I suppose for a peasant princess, it must be flattering."

Katara frowned a bit harder. "I'm not a princess."

"Agreed. However, you are the daughter of your country's leader. The Fire Nation will call you a princess for lack of a better term." Azula peered into the lacquered box as if there may be something inside of greater interest than this conversation. "Besides, Zuko has already asserted that your brother is a prince and should, to some degree, be treated as one. Implicitly, so should you."

Katara blinked in surprise but her frown didn't ease. Why would Zuko do that? What was he scheming now?

Azula plucked out another delicacy and went on. "The northern chieftain is still being held in his own palace, you know. He no longer rules, of course, but many of his people continue to look up to him. It behooves the Fire Nation to treat captured royalty with a measure of respect." She scrutinized the sweet, then placed it back in the box and wiped her fingers on a napkin. "The issue of you and your brother is less clear. Mistreating you will not inspire riots in a conquered city. Kept to a minimum, it won't even drive your father to retribution - what little he is capable of with so few ships and men remaining under his command."

Katara glared into Azula's cool, bland expression. "He might surprise you."

"I doubt that." Azula smiled faintly and they watched each other as the silence stretched. "The point I'm trying to make," she finally said, "is that you would do well to think carefully about the grave position in which you've landed before you dismiss an advantageous title."

"Will being a princess get me out of the brig? Will it get me more than a cup of water a day?"

"Unlikely." Azula cast her eyes over Katara's shabby prisoner clothes. "But it would at least afford you something presentable to wear."

"Oh lucky me," Katara sneered. She lifted up her hands before her as if in gratitude. "So at least when you trot me out in chains in front of the entire Fire Nation, I won't offend anyone's sensibilities. That's a relief."

"When we reach the capital, you will be presented to my father."

The room seemed to shift into a narrow tunnel, closing in around Katara while Azula's ambivalent voice continued from far, far away.

"Appearances mean quite a lot to him, and whether you come to him a wreck in chains or a princess will make all the difference in whether he decides to lock you up in a prison with other uncooperative waterbenders or keep you - and your brother - in more civilized confines."

Katara tried not to imagine it, but it was too late. She saw herself forced to kneel in a lavish throne room, dirty and dehydrated while the Fire Lord loomed ahead of her, cast in flame and shadow, assessing her. Would her belly be larger by then? Would he know on sight that she was carrying Zuko's illegitimate child? And if he knew, to what bleak fate would he send her then?

Katara felt a little nauseous. She pinched her eyes tight and breathed in deep. She had to focus on the present. This moment, this ship, this escape she would concoct before any of those nightmares became real. There had to be a way out. She would find a way.

The other thing… she would deal with that later.

When Katara looked up again, Azula was watching her closely. Her hand rested on the third box, the smallest box, the one she had not yet opened. "You look pale," she said, an edge in her voice. "Perhaps you'd like some tea."

And then Azula opened the lacquered box. The thin wood flaps that fit inside the finely crafted lip scraped loudly in the quiet room. Azula reached in without tearing her eyes from Katara, without even blinking, and Katara knew that whatever came out of that box was going to change everything. She wanted to look away, but she couldn't.

From the third box, Azula drew out the broken spiral of bark that had resided for weeks in Katara's own pocket.

.


.

Zuko turned his shoulders so that the dulled point of Sokka's sword landed only a glancing blow across his chest. The swords weren't honed to a keen edge, but enough force could certainly make them lethal. Enough speed could still draw blood. At this moment, with the fight raging inside him, Zuko knew his opponent was capable of doing the job.

It was exhilarating.

As he spun through the dodge, he grabbed Sokka's extended arm and dragged him off balance, then kicked his rear to send him staggering. Sokka made a startled noise, then whirled back to face him again. This time, Zuko led the attack.

Sokka might be strong and fast enough to kill with this practice sword, but Zuko was stronger and faster. The fight was rigged to start with, and Sokka had to know that. But Sokka was also clever, and now that he was angry enough to lash out, he finally employed all that tactical cunning Zuko knew he possessed.

When Zuko lunged, Sokka deflected with the twist of the blade he had seen Zuko use just minutes ago. He picked things up so quickly. It was kind of frustrating to Zuko, who had struggled to learn the nuances of this sword and had ultimately given it up for the broadswords.

But then, that was also kind of the point. Zuko had specifically chosen a weapon he was weaker with, a weapon that would make the contest more even. He would still win, but Sokka would at least feel like he had a chance - which would make his defeat all the more humiliating.

Zuko knocked Sokka's feeble parry aside and stepped into his too-wide stance to shove him off balance. Sokka didn't fall back this time, though. He took a controlled step and jammed his knee into Zuko's side. Zuko absorbed the blow with a grunt and tried to punch Sokka in the face. His fist met only the steel of the sword hilt as Sokka raised an unexpected block. He tried to hit Zuko in the face with the hilt, but Zuko dodged back out of range and used the flat of his blade to slap Sokka's ribs under that raised arm.

The blow was hard, probably powerful enough to bruise bone, but Sokka bared his teeth and surged forward into a new attack at once. Zuko met him with matching ferocity.

.


.

"This was found in your old clothes before they were disposed of in the furnace," Azula said, holding up the bark as if it was another delicacy to be sampled. She was not looking at it, though. She was still watching Katara, analyzing her reaction. "Not a variety many in the Fire Nation would recognize. But known to one of my maids, a colonial girl, I believe. The brewing is quite simple."

Katara could only stare. In a daze, she watched Azula's hands as they lifted the lid from the teapot and placed the bark within, then cupped the pot's round sides and heated the water until steam came snaking out from the spout.

"I- I don't need that," Katara sputtered at last. "I don't even know what it is. It could be poison!"

"Poison!" Azula said, cool and delighted. "I couldn't possibly poison you. Zuzu would throw one of his fits and waste all the work I've done on his behalf. No, this isn't poison - as you are well aware."

Her stare was penetrating, and it sent the same two words throbbing over and over through Katara's mind. She knows she knows she knows… Katara held her head high and met that stare but it felt like a brittle defense.

Azula's face changed subtly; her brow knit and her sharp eyes widened in something like worry. "Honestly, this isn't even about you. I'm making this offer out of concern for my brother. If the Fire Lord discovers just what Zuko has been doing with the enemy all these weeks, he won't stop at killing his illegitimate grandchild - and probably you in the process. He will remove Zuko from the line of procession to prevent any future embarrassments." Azula leaned forward an inch, and the fear in her eyes looked so real. "He'll kill Zuko."

Katara's head was spinning. Her chest hurt. She had thought that she would be kept in some awful cell to carry the baby to term, an illustration of the Water Tribe's shame and defeat. And the baby… she hadn't really thought about what would happen once it was born. She had naively assumed the child would stay with her.

But Azula was right. The Fire Lord wouldn't suffer a threat to his throne to live - and that's what this baby was. That's why Pakku had wanted her to get pregnant to start with. Now, whether she took the tonic or not, the child wouldn't be allowed to survive. If Katara refused to drink the tonic to keep a secret that seemed already to be out, she would probably die along with her unborn baby. And so would Zuko.

So would Zuko. Not that that mattered to Katara. She knew what he really was now, and she hated him. It would serve him right to die alongside the budding family he had betrayed.

But in the midst of all her spite and justified fury, Katara found herself remembering that last night on her father's ship. Zuko had said it was okay if she wanted to keep the baby. He had said he wanted to marry her. And for all she hated him now, for all she was fiercely certain of his deceit no matter what he claimed about honesty, there was a much-loathed part of Katara that didn't truly believe he had been lying then. Maybe, just maybe, Zuko didn't realize the danger he had steered them all into.

Katara stomped that doubt down beneath the reality of the situation. It didn't matter if Zuko had done this to her unwittingly. He had done it, and now he was holding her prisoner in inhumane conditions. He deserved to be hated. He deserved to suffer the consequences of his actions. And, one way or another, Katara would see that he did.

But not by sacrificing her own freedom and that of her friends. Not by exploiting the hopelessness bound to the life growing inside her.

Katara clenched her teeth and stared at the teapot. Inside, the tonic was steeping. It would be ready soon, and she would drink it. She couldn't wait to drink it. She couldn't wait for this to be over.

Best not to think too much about how the ache in her chest lanced so much deeper than broken ribs.

Azula turned one of the cups over, then slid the tea tray across the table toward Katara. The lacquer hissed against the polished tabletop and the lid of the pot rattled just faintly, like teeth chattering in a closed mouth.

Katara grasped the warm handle and filled the cup with amber liquid. Some drops pattered on the tray, too loud in the silence. The cup, when she lifted it, left a broken ring of liquid behind, and Katara stared at it for a long moment, smelling the faintly acrid steam the way she had watched Iroh do.

She couldn't wait to drink this tea… but now, when the solution was finally hot in her hands and ghosting against her lips, something held her back.

.


.

When Sokka hit the floor for the sixth time, he tried to rise and found that he couldn't. Zuko, who possessed the freakish stamina one would expect of a firebender, waited in a ready stance for a moment longer, then straightened.

"I win."

"You don't win until I yield or you kill me." Sokka curled his lip, breathing hard and straining to brace himself on his elbow. "And I don't yield."

If Sokka had been thinking clearly, he would not have so explicitly dared Zuko to finish him off. He would have thought of Katara, and he would have thought more realistically about Zuko's capacity for murder. But they had been at this for hours. Sokka was so tired and so angry, and he was so sick of Zuko winning.

Zuko scowled down at him, and he looked huge and unforgiving from down on the floor. He approached the way a summer storm approaches, slow and implacable, each stride accompanied by a sway of his fists. His knuckles strained where he gripped the sword. Sokka imagined the motion, the fall of that blade that would end him, the coldness he would see in Zuko's eyes.

"Then we'll just have to continue this when you aren't so close to fainting," Zuko spat. There was no coldness in his eyes. Just the irritation that was normal for such an irritable guy. He snapped some commands at the guards, who hurried to gather Sokka up off the floor and drag him back to the brig.

As they went, Sokka craned his neck to look back over his shoulder in time to see Zuko hurl his sword across the room. It hit the far wall and thumped impotently to the floor.

.


.

"What are you waiting for?" Azula asked, and Katara could hear now how carefully she controlled her tone.

Katara opened her eyes and truly looked at Azula. Not the fine clothes and the posture and the luxurious props. She looked at Azula and remembered how crazily suspicious Zuko had seemed when he talked about his sister. Katara looked at Azula and remembered how Hahn had tried to silence her when she threatened to expose him as a traitor. Katara looked at Azula and thought of Pakku's plan, and how Iroh, the last time she saw him, had urged her not to abandon her old master's teachings.

Katara set down the cup to think.

Azula watched the motion, her expression blank. "Is this some Water Tribe sentimentality, or do you truly hate my brother enough to die in disgrace in an attempt to avenge yourself?"

"It's not about me," Katara said. Absently, she placed her hands in her lap the way her Gran-gran had taught her was proper when holding a guarded conversation. "It's about you. Why are you really offering this to me, Azula?"

"I've already explained. Zuko will be killed if his mistake is discovered."

"Maybe." Katara shrugged. "But I think you just don't want anyone getting in your way. You don't want your brother to have an heir."

"A bastard is not an heir," Azula said. Her tone was almost still light, but the corners of her mouth were turned down. "It's an embarrassment."

"It's a threat." Katara held her head high and didn't notice the way her hands crept up as she spoke, the heels of her palms pressing lightly to her abdomen. She didn't notice the passion building in her as she settled on this path, the hope bursting out of hopelessness. "An illegitimate child can still make a claim to the throne."

Azula assessed her, and she was truly frowning now, but she didn't disagree. "So you've decided to be a princess after all. Forgive me but I don't know whether to offer congratulations or condolences. That thread you're grasping is a fragile one. So easily snipped."

Katara sat very straight and did not flinch. She was still a prisoner. For now. But that didn't mean she was powerless. She was going to escape this ship. Hakoda was still out there, and he would support her no matter what. And, until then, though saying the words filled her with distaste… "You said it yourself - if anything happens to me, Zuko will throw a fit."

"That was before you decided to usurp him," Azula said. "My brother may be a fool, but I doubt even he will take that lying down."

Katara held her mouth firmly shut and tried not to let her thoughts show, but secretly she was cheering. Never mind losing his protection, she hoped Zuko would be furious when he heard. She hoped that the next time she saw him, he would be mad enough to finally drop the act and forget about whatever twisted version of love he still had for her.

"Delightful as this has been," Azula said with breezy insincerity, "I'm sure you have important work to get back to. Walls to stare at and so forth. Guards." She rose easily from her cushion and, without a backward glance, strode toward the door through which she had come.

Katara heard the guards enter through the second door, but she only watched Azula's slim, straight back as servants opened the way for her. Close as she watched her though, Katara could not see Azula's cunning smile.