Chapter Text
"It's a waterbender, Ozai. There are hundreds more out there just like her."
Fire Lord Azulon was already annoyed and impatient, and the conversation had just begun. Zuko couldn't see anything other than Azulon's shadow glistening behind the dais' curtain of flames, but he could easily hear his thinly veiled irritation from his hiding place across the throne room.
Eavesdropping was bad. Zuko knew this, but Azula had talked him into thinking that it was a good idea. So they had snuck into the throne room to see why Father had requested a private audience with Fire Lord Azulon.
"Not one that is ripe and ready for molding," Ozai countered confidently.
"What would I want with a waterbender?"
The flames of the dais grew. They seemed to suck any and all light from the massive room, leaving the far corner where Zuko and Azula hid even darker. Zuko had no idea how a room could somehow get darker and lighter at the same time. Father's dusky form grew smaller and smaller as the vexed flames between him and Azulon grew.
"I'm not offering you a waterbender. Father, I am offering you a bloodbender."
Ozai's words made Zuko's blood run cold. He instinctively took a step back only to have his back collide with the wall.
Azula rolled her eyes and proceeded to fearlessly peer through the gap in the drapery around them.
"How do you know such a thing even exists?" Azulon's form leaned forward, his posture straightening. He was still irate but the curiosity in his voice was evident.
"I have several guards who swear to Agni that a waterbender escaped one of our prisons using this type of waterbending."
"This is all fascinating, Ozai, but I still don't know what you are proposing."
"Turn her into a bloodbender, your bloodbender!"
"I'll give no such testament to waterbenders. I don't need them. This is the Fire Nation, Ozai! You speak blasphemy!" Fire Lord Azulon rose to his feet. The flames grew with his height, threatening to lick the ceiling and consume everything.
Ozai fell to his hands and knees. "They don't have to know she's a waterbender. We can tell them that she is a gift from the Spirit World to the Fire Nation. We won't call it waterbending. She'll be something completely different. She'll be—"
Azulon scoffed. "She'll be a waterbender. She was born one, she'll die one."
"Not if we take her under our wing."
The Fire Lord shook his head. "I will do no such thing. This is your blasphemous idea, Ozai, and if I choose to let you go through with it, the only wing she will be under is yours."
"I'm prepared to do so. This will be worth it. Father, if bloodbending works the way we think it does, she could control another's bending - take it away even! Do you realize what we could do with that kind of power?"
Zuko couldn't handle anymore. He'd been wrong to listen to Azula (like always). He wished he could erase this from his memory. He bolted out from behind the thick, crimson curtains and ran to find Mom.
The last thing he heard was Grandfather's gravelly voice saying: "Very well, Ozai. Train it until your heart's content, but don't come crying to me when your pet bites you."
Blessed by the moon, exalted by the sea - a waterbender. They called her bending a gift. They were wrong. Her bending was a curse in the world she lived in. Only those who were favored by the sun, only those with Agni's blood running hot in their veins could flourish.
If she were a firebender, she wouldn't be where she is now. Were she not a waterbender, she would be free.
During the raid, the man who took her away said he wanted the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe, and he had every intention of killing her where she stood until he saw her age, how young she really was. She was a child, only eight years old, and apparently, even that monster had his limits. He didn't kill her but hauled her out of her screaming mother's arms and threw her into a ship made of cold, black metal.
Mother had begged for them to take her instead, insisting she was the last waterbender.
They didn't believe her.
They'd seen Katara waterbending the snow. They knew that she was the true last waterbender. Not her mother.
Katara didn't know if her mother was alive. She fought so hard to save her and suffered the consequences. The man - no, the monster - kicked her mother away and threw flames until Katara couldn't see her mother at all anymore. The fire blinded her and by the time her sight returned, Mother was nowhere to be seen.
Katara remembered hearing her father roaring for her as he bashed countless firebender heads in, trying to make his way across the valley of endless snow, trying to reach her before it was too late.
Sokka, however, was closer. He was so close as she was hauled onto the ship that their fingers could almost touch. She'd reached for him relentlessly, tears swelling in her eyes, but the firebenders caught him too and held him back by the shaggy wolf tail atop his head.
If she hadn't bent snow at Sokka during their snowball fight. They were just playing. It seemed harmless enough. She didn't know a raid was seconds away.
If she hadn't used her bending, if she wasn't a waterbender, she would be home with her family instead of rotting away in a prison cell, watching the rats crawl by and imagining an unlikely escape. After all, what shot did she have at escaping? Yes, she was a waterbender, but she had no training. She was just a kid, and since waterbending had gotten her captured and her family harmed, she never wanted to waterbend again.
She was the last waterbender in the entire South Pole. Now, she was a prisoner. Dirty, malnourished, and alone. She cried often and the guards always scolded her for it, claiming she was trying to muster enough tears to waterbend. She hadn't thought of that until they mentioned it, but she stored the idea away for later. It was something to think about, something that could be useful…eventually.
Time had lost its relevance. She didn't know how much time had passed or how long she had been there. There was night. There was day. Sometimes she could almost sense the moon cycles. But if she had to guess, she'd been there for at least half a year.
There was movement in the prison today, more than normal. Usually, it was quiet aside from the occasional ravings of a mad prisoner and the heavy footsteps of the guards on patrol but something was different today. Something was going on. She could hear murmurs, men and women barking orders, and the pitter-patter of countless boots resonating beneath her cell door. Guards shifted around outside until all the commotion came to her cell.
Instinctively, she backed away from the bars that separated her from her unwanted visitors and cowered into the corner of her cage like a frightened animal.
Whatever was coming in her cell, she didn't want to be near it.
Her door opened, allowing dull, flaxen light to pour into her gloomy space. Its metal hinges screeched in a way that made her want to cover her ears.
A man in long, billowing robes the color of blood was in her cell. He had a small fiery crown on his head, coal in his lengthy hair, a long thin beard beneath his strong chin, and sunshine in his eyes.
Until she was brought to the Fire Nation, she'd never seen anyone with golden eyes. Now they were all she saw.
A guard placed a tray of food in front of her. She noticed the food was different from what they usually gave her. It wasn't just mush. There was stew, rice, and some kind of fruit tart. Were they trying to fatten her up? Why the sudden change?
"Leave us," the man snapped.
"Yes, Prince Ozai." The nearest guard bowed, but his voice quivered with fear. Katara wanted to quiver a bit too. This man was frightening. Something dark was in those deceivingly bright eyes. Gran Gran said yellow was the color of hope, but his eyes were anything but hopeful.
Usually, Katara was overjoyed to watch the guards leave, but this time, she wished they'd stay. She didn't want to be alone with the son of the Fire Lord, the man who demanded her capture, the real reason she was here.
Katara didn't move to eat even though her stomach ached with hunger and her tongue was as dry and rough as sandpaper. However, there was nothing on the tray that would relieve her of the latter. They didn't give her water often, and when they did, they chained her up first.
Ozai got comfortable on the cushion the guards provided for him. He adjusted his robes. His piercing eyes cut through the darkness right at her.
Briefly, she wondered if she should bow or something, but it seemed silly at this point. What would they do? Imprison her?
Too late…
"What's your name?" he finally asked.
She stared at him from the safety of her corner and had every intention of continuing to hold her tongue until he left but there could be punishment for bad behavior.
"…Katara," she said softly.
"Katara?" he repeated. He said her name as if someone had asked him to swallow something vile.
She nodded.
"Well, Katara, how would you like to get out of this dirty, cold prison cell?" His voice was deceivingly warm as he leaned back and folded his arms over his broad chest.
Katara wasn't sure how to respond. Yes, she wanted out, but this was wrong. There was something very wrong with all of this. This was the son of the man who demanded her imprisonment in the first place. Why was he offering her freedom?
"Well?" His long, slender fingers tapped impatiently at his biceps.
"Y-Yes," she replied more out of fear than anything. It was an impulsive knee-jerk reaction. She was more afraid of what would happen if she stayed quiet than what would happen if she said yes.
"I will let you out, occasionally, but I have a few conditions."
Katara watched expectantly, taking long, steady breaths.
"If you are a good girl and if you take some waterbending lessons for me."
Katara's brow furrowed. Now she was really confused, but she did want to get out of this cell…
She looked at Ozai then up past the bars overhead that offered the smallest sliver of cerulean sky. It was there for the sole purpose of reminding her that the world she loved was still out there. It taunted her, and she longed to crawl out, to feel the sun and the wind, to see the moon and the sky - the same sky her family was under.
"Okay…" she whispered, and Ozai smiled in a way that could only be described as wicked, making her blood run cold.
She had just made a huge mistake.
Hands bound behind her back at inhuman angles, she was finally offered water. Some guards were kinder and had sympathy because of her age. Those guards didn't make her drink this way, but the ruthless guards did. They didn't see her age. They just saw a waterbender, and they condemned her for it.
When she was forced to drink this way, she hated water time as much as she reveled in it. It was agony having her hands that far behind her back and irritating to drink like an animal from the much too small cup they extended her way. She spilled more than she drank. More was on the floor than in her mouth.
While she slobbered and made disgusting sounds in her water bowl, more guards entered her cell. Imperial Firebenders by the look of them. And behind the firebenders was Prince Ozai. He returned just as he said he would.
At least he is a man of his word… she mused.
He waited in the doorway, surprisingly patient. He was probably amused by the fact that she was being forced to drink like an animal, so she stopped. She wouldn't shame herself this way, not in front of him. She still had some of her pride.
"Keep her bound," Ozai commanded, so the guards did just that. They kept her in chains.
The Fire Prince gave her another once over. His piercing eyes dwelled on her ankles. "But free her feet. She needs to walk."
The prison guards did as instructed and freed her ankles. Katara was instantly grateful. Ozai could have demanded they leave them. This was a mercy, one she would appreciate later that night when her ankles weren't rubbed raw by coarse metal.
Prince Ozai bobbed his head in the direction of her cell door and the guards reopened it.
At first, Katara was unsure. She didn't know if she should leave her cage. It had been a long time since she set foot outside the small chamber. Not to mention, everything inside of her was screaming this was a trap.
"It's all right," Ozai assured her, his tone more irritated than kind. "Come on out."
Reluctantly, Katara did as she was told and exited the cell, chains rattling like bones as she moved.
Ozai led her out the towering prison, and she followed. She followed him like a polar-bear dog. She became his shadow, and a realization washed over her like bitter acid: she didn't want to be too far from the Fire Prince. She trusted him over the guards, over anyone else they would encounter in this foreign land. Ozai was the reason she was able to walk free. He'd offered her freedom and he had power. It barely qualified as kindness, but it was the most of it she'd received since her capture, since she was ripped from her mother's arms.
Katara hated herself for feeling this way, but she couldn't stop it. It happened without her consent. It was already taking root in her wounded psyche.
Outside the sun was so bright she had to shield her eyes. She hadn't realized how dark it was in that prison until she finally saw the light of day again, but there was no snow. It wasn't even cold. It hadn't been the day they brought her in either, but she hoped against hope that she would miraculously return to her precious world of snow.
Katara didn't like the sun anymore. It favored the children of the Fire Nation. It favored the cruel men around her and likely wanted to burn her to cinders. That was why she had to shield her eyes from it, that was why it was too bright. The sun was never this bright back home. Sometimes, there wasn't any sun at all for weeks, but she doubted that was the case here. This new, brutal sun would be a cruel constant here.
Katara was taken to what could only be called a palace or castle. It was the most extravagant thing she had ever seen. It was big and red, full of gold, ornate furniture, and decorations. Pillars of gold wrapped in lush, crimson tapestries lined the halls, Fire Nation insignia were everywhere, and large, golden dragons slithered elegantly along the walls. It was poorly lit by torches or dull, hanging lanterns but some rooms had ceilings that allowed the sun to shine down on them through the roof.
This was where the Fire Lord lived and that made everything a little less beautiful and a bit more menacing.
Dark red rugs and flooring paved their way, and once they were inside yet another elaborate room of gold and crimson, Ozai demanded her hands be freed and that the servants bathe her and put her in some of 'Azula's' clean clothes.
For the first time in what felt like years, she had a bath, a real bath in a huge tub made of porcelain. And it had bubbles! There was soap, oils, lotions, and lavish things she'd never seen before. If servants hadn't rushed her, she would have stayed with her element for a solid twenty-four hours.
They hauled her out of the bath, dried her off, combed her ratty hair, and put her in red clothes. They felt good, but she didn't like them. They were thin and sheer to keep the heat at bay, leaving her feeling alien and naked. She was used to layers and furs (and burgundy rags recently) not this. It made her feel even more vulnerable and meek. And she didn't like red.
Dressed and clean, she waited with Ozai in an antechamber outside what she assumed was his room. She hadn't set foot inside, but she could already tell the room was much bigger than the one she'd bathed in.
The prince paced around the large, red space, and the imperial guards stayed close since she hadn't been bound again.
She didn't know what they thought she would do. She was just a kid. She couldn't take out all these guards and Ozai. Even she knew that. They were mainly a reminder to behave and not get any ideas.
Katara didn't know what they were waiting for and she didn't want to ask. She was afraid he'd tell her the Fire Lord was coming to see her. If that was the case, she was content not knowing.
As if on cue, the doors opened. To Katara's surprise, the Fire Lord didn't enter the room. Instead, a lovely woman with fair skin and long dark hair appeared. Her eyes were gold as well but they weren't cold like Ozai's. They were gentle and warm and a bit sad if she looked hard enough.
Katara relaxed at the sight of her.
Her hair was partially up in a topknot and a small, shimmering crown similar to Ozai's was in her hair too. Her robes were sleek, elaborate, and of course, red. Katara couldn't keep herself from thinking she was like a princess.
Ozai rushed toward her and whispered in her ear, causing a frown to mar her beautiful features. They had a brief, hushed exchange, and her frown grew as she looked past him at Katara.
"Ozai," the woman said softly, her eyes wandering over Katara's features. "I really don't see how you think this will work. She is clearly from the Water Tribes. It's as plain as the nose on her face…"
"We'll fix it. Somehow." Prince Ozai cast a calculated gaze back at Katara, causing her to shrink.
The woman sighed and knelt in front of Katara. Her frown was instantly replaced by a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes as she placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Hello. My name is Ursa. What's yours?"
"K-Katara," she replied timidly.
"That's a very pretty name." Ursa gave another half-hearted smile. "You know, I have a son and a daughter about your age. Would you like to meet them?"
Katara nodded and Ursa held her hand out for her. For some reason, she took it without hesitation.
The palace, while ornate and grand, was nothing compared to the royal gardens Ursa showed her. They were absolutely breathtaking. Perky turtle-ducks waddled around in the vibrant grass and almost every kind of exotic plant one could imagine inhabited the space. Fountains, waterfalls, and beautiful trees were everywhere. Katara's eyes danced with excitement as if seeing the world for the very first time.
The flowing fountain and the pond were instantly her favorites. The flowers and trees were nice, but they weren't water. No matter what happened, no matter how many times she said tried to convince herself she didn't want to waterbend ever again, she was still drawn to it, and her hands itched to manipulate it.
Amidst all the lavish scenery were two Fire Nation children. They were either playing or arguing. From this distance, Katara couldn't really tell.
"Zuko! Azula!" Ursa called and the children came running, the boy more enthusiastic than the girl.
Katara took a few steps back and behind Ursa.
"Katara?" Ursa said gently. "These are my children, Azula and Zuko."
The boy looked at her skeptically, but the girl looked at her cynically. Zuko had warm, inviting eyes like Ursa but Azula – despite looking a great deal like Ursa – had Ozai's eyes.
Their hair was straight and dark. Azula's being a pinch darker than Zuko's. Their skin was pale like fine-grained alabaster, causing Katara to look down at her own.
Zuko had long hair up in a high ponytail and Azula had a neat topknot with two strands of sleek, black hair framing her face. Again, Katara's hands wandered to her own unruly hair.
The day of the raid, Mother put her hair in a neat bun with two hair loops on each side of her face as she did every morning, but with time, it had fallen away. Now her thick hair was down with no styling whatsoever. All that remained was the two blue beads that once held the loops in place.
She was a bit embarrassed. Briefly, she wondered what these children - children dressed and raised in finery - must think of her.
"Azula, Zuko, this is Katara. She is going to be staying with us from time to time."
Katara's eyes mated with Zuko's. His features softened significantly, and his mouth twitched into something that almost rivaled a smile.
"Why?" Azula asked, her tone curt and sharp.
"Because she needs us and I expect you to be kind to her," Ursa replied vaguely but Zuko and Katara seemed pacified with the response; Azula however-
Azula scoffed and stormed off.