A/N: Just to pre-empt anyone moralising about how that relationship, underthose circumstances, is immoral or "problematic" or "abusive": I know. That's the point.

I will not suffer any nonsense from people who can't separate fiction from reality. Constructive criticism is more than welcome, I love feedback on what I can do better or where I need to improve, but the bar for entry is having a bare minimum of media literacy. I will not get into any immature "proship" vs "anti" yapping. Just so that's clear. Statistically, the viewers of ATLA are at this point in their late 20s and early 30s, and that's who this is for.

With that being said, I hope anyone who's still here after that paragraph: welcome! I hope you enjoy the story, and do feel invited to give me your feedback, both positive and negative.

Content warning: This chapter contains a brief but somewhat graphic depiction of violence. The rest of the story will, for the most part, be less graphically violent (else I would've bumped it up to E rating), but be forewarned for this chapter.

"The showdown that was always meant to be: Agni Kai."

"You're on."

"What are you doing?" Katara whispers. "She's playing you! She knows she can't take us both, so she's trying to separate us!"

"I know", Zuko agrees. "But I can take her this time."

It's a miscalculation that nearly proves fatal. After a fight that feels like hours, Azula's lightning bolt, meant for Katara, hits Zuko squarely in the chest. He discharges it into the air before collapsing, and Katara can feel a scream wringing itself out of her throat. Before she can help him, Azula fires another blast at her, and another.

The fight is brutal. The courtyard is covered in rubble, several pillars collapsed. Katara is burnt, bruised, and out of breath, while Azula seems as energetic as ever. Katara agrees with Zuko: there is definitely something off about Azula. It takes her long, too long, to hitt upon an idea. When Azula stands opposite her, expecting to deliver the final blow, she realises too late that Katara has lured her into a trap. The waters rise and engulf them both, and Azula fully expects to die.

This is it, she realises in a moment of clarity. She has lost. All her life, all her work, her training, all for nothing. A filthy little savage has beaten her. Her last thoughts are of her father, and the inevitable disappointment when he returns victorious, only to find out Azula failed him. She's almost glad she won't be alive to suffer his rage.

Click.

Her eyes snap open. Katara wraps the chain around her wrists a couple more times and secures it to the grates. Once she is convinced Azula won't be able to escape, she runs over to Zuko, and Azula…

Azula loses it.

Behind her, Katara can hear the princess's anguished screams as she spews fire and lightning, the desperate cries of a caged animal. She kneels down by Zuko's side, checks for a pulse, finds one and thanks the spirits. Water flows, covers burns, closes wounds, restarts his heart. He groans, eyes fluttering open, and pushes himself up. And then…

Too late, Katara realises that she's forgotten they're not alone. The Fire Sages had scattered once her and Azula's duel escalated, and yet, there's one where she left Azula, fingers still lighting the flame with which he sliced open her chains.

The blast hits Katara squarely in the chest. The last thing she sees is Zuko, dodging fireball after fireball, running, as more and more sages and guards flood into the courtyard.

Then her world fades to black.

Pain. That is all Katara can think about. Pain. She doesn't know what day it is. If it even is day. Her cell measures five by five steps, or it would measure as many if she had any strength left to stand up and measure it. The small, windowless room is all she has seen for the past days, or weeks, she doesn't know. She vaguely remembers having been dragged through a hallway and into a different room. Men asked her questions. No, not just men. A girl's voice. The woman. The sister. Katara can't remember her name, not with all this pain. Her breath is ragged, her ribs bruised, as she tries to remember. Zuko's sister. Azula, that's the one.

"Food", someone barks outside, and a metal dish is thrown into the cell. It hits her head, and the mushy slop inside spills out. Katara doesn't have the strength to pick it up and eat. Maybe later. Maybe later…

At some point, there is food again. This time, she manages to eat some. Water, too, from the bowl on the ground. It's not much. She considers bending it, maybe a knife, but she can't muster up the energy.

Drink. Eat. Sleep. Drink. Eat. Sleep. She's taken for questioning again. Sleep. Eat. Sleep. Drink. The questions blur together in her mind, and she can't remember what she answered. If she answered.

Eventually, the questioning stops. There's nothing more to say, or maybe they got fed up with her answers. Her bruises and cuts heal, and her bending returns. First, she practises small things. Gather her sweat into a puddle when the guards aren't looking. It's revolting, but she drinks it. Water. She'll need all the water she can get. She draws moisture out of the air and chokes it down, even though it tastes terrible. Down here, she can't feel the moon, neither rain nor river. She must be deep.

At first, she waits. Waits for rescue. A message. Anything.

Maybe Zuko escaped. Maybe Aang – her chest hurts at the thought of him – maybe Aang defeated Ozai. Maybe they're coming for her. Sokka, he would have a plan. Toph could burrow a tunnel right into her cell, could sense her throughout the mountain. There's got to be something that can be done. Someone on the way. A way out.

Nobody ever comes.

After what could be weeks, could be months, Katara decides to make her own rescue. For days, she bends small portions of her water away, hides it as ice between the floor tiles. After a week, she has enough to form a small blade. All night, or at least she thinks it's night, she works at the bars of her cell. Freeze. Steam. Freeze. Steam. Small cuts while she subjects the metal to cold and heat. Finally, she breaks through.

She's out in the corridor, more quiet than a polar bear dog sneaking up on prey. Around the corner. A guard. She gathers the water in her fist, forms a small blade. As the man turns the corner, an icy pain shoots through his throat before water fills his mouth and drowns his scream. Up a flight of stairs. She ducks into a corner when two guards walk by. Fast now, down the next corridor. A door. A window. Outside. She's getting out. She's getting out.

"ESCAPE! PRISONER ESCAPING!"

The man is dead before he finishes his sentence, but the damage has been done. A bell rings. Katara kicks down the door and half a dozen guards jump to their feet. The wine from their cups and the broth from their bowls rise up and turn into nails that pin them to the walls as Katara rushes through the room. Another. She can feel pipes in the walls. They burst, and sewage flushes an entire column of soldiers down the corridor. Another door. A small courtyard now, she recognises the palace around her. If she can just get out, get to the harbour… she'll jump into the ocean if she'll have to.

She runs. The gate gets closer, behind it, she can see another, larger courtyard. Almost there now.

Pain.

She never hears the bow that sends the flaming arrow right into her leg. She stumbles, cries out, falls. Dirt and gravel scrape her arms as she pushes herself up again, just don't stop, but arms grab her. Too many, too strong. She screams, kicks, bites. No use.

"What is the meaning of this?"

That voice.

"So. The savage is escaping."

The arms drag her forward, her feet kicking up dirt as she's dragged towards the voice.

Azula sighs.

"I suppose I should blame myself. I have been too lenient. An animal like yourself requires taming."

The picture before her is pathetic. The tribal brat, kicking, spitting, snapping at hands like an untamed mongoose lizard. Azula hardly recognises her as the girl she's battled. Her clothes are torn to scraps, her hair is messy, her nails grown. And yet, the fire in her eyes is exactly the same. Untamed. Feral.

"Alas", she continues, "I won't make that mistake again."

Her hand lights up in fire. With the other, she grabs the girl's hair and roughly pulls up her face.

"We will tame you alright."

Her burning hand descends on Katara's face. Her skin sizzles as Azula's flames touch it. She screams, screams like she couldn't believe she could scream. Pain. Only pain. She cannot hear Azula's laughter, or the jeering of the guards, as she screams her pain out into the world in one primal, guttural shout of despair.

"That should do", Azula remarks.

She admires her work. The print of her hand has been burned cleanly onto Katara's face, from her jaw over her cheeks and nose, Azula's wrist beginning at her right cheek and Azula's fingertips surrounding Katara's left eye.

"Take her back. And you!", she waves an aide over, "tell the architect I want to talk to him."

"At once, Your Majesty!"

"We have a new pet."

A/N: Just to give you an idea of what to expect: I have, at present (Dec 7, posting date on AO3), written 13,000 words of outline for this. I can't tell yet how much word count I expect for this, but this chapter is the only actual story text I've written so far. Once I finish the outline (that is, the planning for the fic), I'll begin writing and translating that outline into prose.

The POV here is somewhat fluidly shifting between Azula and Katara, and it will continue to do so. If that's not your cuppa, or present tense isn't, that's alright, but I hope to convince you that it can be a quite enjoyable style, so do me a favour and stick around for a few more chapters before you stop reading :)

As always, I welcome feedback, and that specifically includes concrit. I'm always looking to improve. Just praise is nice too though, I'm a machine that turns comments into motivation to write.