The rocking of the boat combined with the total darkness of her cell lulled the young woman into a strange sense of calm. Perhaps it was something more like apathy caused by how empty she felt, for she had failed everyone, and the pain of it was, perhaps, too much to bear. Her Tribesmen and her rebel friends had urged her to leave while they had stayed behind to fight. Each time she'd obeyed despite wanting to help them. Now, they were probably dead because of her.

This is not just about you... Her grandmother's voice echoed through her mind, a vague reminder of her reason for leaving while they'd fought.

She'd lost track of time without any light by which to judge the passage of days. They brought her food at regular intervals, but the instances all melded together into one memory. She couldn't keep track of it any more. Had it been a day? A year? She could sense the growing warmth in the air, but her cell never ceased to remain little chilly.

More uncomfortable than that was her intense thirst. They would bring her water, but they supervised her drinking it, and it was never enough to slake her thirst. She could feel her lips begin to crack and detected the copper flavor of blood on her tongue. Her skin itched, as well; she could feel the dirt and grease gather on her body and in her hair, but she could hardly bring herself to care. The young woman felt… hollow…

The rough pads of paws thrust her forward onto her hands and knees, and behind her, metal squealed as the door was quickly shut. "Let me out!" She cried uselessly, jumping to her feet and clutching the bars of her prison. Her captors ignored her, closing the brig door behind them and encasing her in darkness, but that didn't deter her.

She didn't even wait for her eyes to adjust to the blackness before her hands began roaming over the metal bars, trying to find some kind of weakness she could exploit. There were none, so her touch roamed over the walls, the floor, the metal cot bolted to the wall. The young woman couldn't find a damned thing, but she wouldn't give up. She was determined to find a means to escape. If she could just get onto the deck, they wouldn't have a hope of stopping her, a waterbender, in the middle of the ocean.

Occasionally, she wondered how this situation had so easily broken her, but the thought was always halfhearted and never inspiring. Her ambition had fled from her the way she had once fled from the Fire Nation.

The door to the brig opened, and the light blinded her, causing her to hide her face between her knees. She heard footsteps, and she idly wondered why they weren't placing a tray of food onto the floor to slide into the cell. Instead, they just stood there, and she got the impression that the figure simply observed her. After a moment, she heard the steps recede, and she looked up, squinting against the light at the flash of black fur as a tail disappeared around the door before it shut.

That's when the shouting began. She couldn't make out all of it, but some things penetrated the steel walls, punctuated by vicious growls.

"What… filthy… treatment… hurt her…"

"…ran away… dangerous… water… punishment…"

"Who told… punishment…"

"…assumed…"

"…obey…"

The door opened again, wider this time, and the figure reentered the room. A key scraped into the lock, and metal groaned as the door to her cell was opened. Her energy was too limited to allow her more than an unenthusiastic flinch when a large paw touched her back, the claws carefully avoiding her flesh as she was lifted from the floor. Her head lolled, and she willed it to avoid touching the beast, but she couldn't force her body to respond the way she wanted, and the side of her face planted into the red cloth at his broad shoulder.

Images skirted into her vision, only occasionally understood by her mind. A long, ugly muzzle with a nose like a wolf-bat… White tusks curving downward, just past the jaw line… Twisted black horns like a grizzly-ram curling around the sides of the head… Reddened, mutilated flesh where fur couldn't grow, extending over one half of the face and onto a disfigured ear… Flashes of gold for eyes… These things should have terrified her, but she was just so tired that nothing fully registered.

She could feel herself drifting in and out of consciousness. One moment, she would be in complete darkness with no thoughts. The next she would see light, feel paws on her, the light brush of claws, water as she was cleaned, the softness of clean clothing… At last, she drifted into senselessness again without bits of confusing awareness to punctuate her sleep.

The first thing Katara understood with any degree of clarity was the dull ache of her head. She groaned and turned over in an attempt to go back to sleep. She froze, every muscle tense, and all thoughts of sleep fled from her. Her fingers swept over the bedding. These weren't the warm, soft furs of her homeland. They weren't even the scratchy cotton blankets of the treetop village, and these most certainly were not the ragged, thin sheets of her imprisonment.

Her heart pounded rapidly, making her head ache worse, but she didn't care about that. Very slowly, her lids parted, offering the first look at her new prison. Her life had been punctuated by specific colors. She'd grown up among blues and whites; for a couple of months, she'd known greens and browns; her most recent endeavor had been nothing but black with the occasional dull grey, but now, she was surrounded by red, the very color she had avoided for so long.

The room was so large that her family's entire hut could have fit inside it with room to spare. There were tapestries along the walls bearing the Fire Nation emblems and various depictions of their victories over the years. No doubt, the figures present were meant to look proud and strong, but Katara could only see bloodthirsty eyes and zealous ambition in their stances. A vanity stood proudly to her left with a cushioned chair on which she could sit. A wardrobe was beside it, large enough to hold clothing for an entire family. Directly across from the foot of the bed was a metal door, behind the bed was a much smaller door of the same material, and to her right were two glass doors that appeared to lead onto a balcony.

Katara swept aside the crimson, silk sheets, and a small sound of horror escaped her throat at the sight of the silk pajamas in which they'd dressed her. It wasn't the clothing itself that perturbed her so much as the idea that they had bathed her and dressed her all without her awareness. Yes, there were vague recollections of these events, but she thought she'd been dreaming, and she couldn't summon a clear, reliable memory of her imprisonment to save her life. How much time had even passed since she'd been taken from her hide out?

Her fingers moved to her throat, but the familiar pendant wasn't there. It must have fallen off when she'd been chased by soldiers, and the last physical reminder she had of her mother would probably never be found. Her jaw clenched as she bit back her sorrow, and she hurried toward the metal doors and tugged at them. The largest door wouldn't even budge, and the smaller one behind the bed merely opened into a windowless washroom with no means of escape. Finally, she made her way clumsily toward the balcony door. There was only the slightest movement from them, but they resisted her. She pushed with the same results. The doors were locked.

A plan began calculating in her mind, and she hurried to the wardrobe to see what kinds of clothing were in it. Everything was elegant and beautiful and not at all the sort of clothing she would need to run away. Frustration filled her, but she continued to look, trying to find something that would at least be quasi suitable.

Katara had to stop to catch her breath partway through her search. It was too hot, and her stomach was churning. Her dark curls stuck to her neck and the sides of her face, and she felt weak and shaky. On the ship, she dimly remembered eating, but it had never seemed to have been enough, and it had always been cold and stale as if to reinforce the idea of her position as a prisoner. Resuming her search, she found a pair of nice slacks and a top that would wrap around her body almost like a short dress. It kind of reminded her of clothing from home, but the material was lighter, almost flimsy by comparison, and the cut was different. She also found several pairs of slippers made from satin with the toes curled up, and while she couldn't think of a purpose for the design, she was grateful to have found shoes at all considering most of the beasts didn't wear them. Finally, she found a cloak, no doubt used for chillier evenings, but she could use it to hide herself so it wouldn't be so obvious she wasn't a monster like the natives here.

As soon as she'd dressed and braided her hair, she grabbed the vanity's stool and hurried toward the balcony doors. Heaving it above her head with shaking arms, she had every intention of chucking it at the glass when a heavy knock came at the door. Her body jerked in surprise, her arms gave out, and the seat fell to the floor with a clatter. In seconds, Katara summoned the energy to ball up the cloak up and toss it toward the wardrobe though it only made it as far as the bed. Her heart was racing with fear, and her breathing was shallow.

"Are you okay?" A feminine voice filtered into the room as the door cracked open.

"What do you care?" She asked angrily before she had time to think of something less harsh to say. It probably wasn't a great idea to antagonize these creatures, but what could they do to her now, kill her? She was already their captive, and they'd probably already killed her family and friends. What would it matter if she joined them?

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a head poke into the room, and the sight of the woman was quite a shock. Her hair was long and black though a few streaks of grey were present; her flesh was pale and completely devoid of any fur. Despite the presence of a few wrinkles, her face was rather youthful and… human. "You're not a mutt…" Katara observed, the disbelief clear in her voice.

"You mustn't call them that. If it got back to the royal family, you would be in a lot of trouble!" The woman admonished, pushing a cart into the room before quickly closing the door behind her as if to be sure that Katara's words wouldn't escape into the hallway. The scents of cooked meats filled the air, and though Katara's mouth watered, she desperately tried to ignore her cravings.

"Are you… Fire Nation?" The waterbender asked.

"It's complicated. I've lived here most of my life, and it's my home, but I'm originally from the Earth Kingdom. I'm the daughter of the woman who served Prince Iroh's wife as governess, and now I will serve as yours."

"Oh, I get it. You're here to be a comfort to me and to help my transition, maybe even try to convince me that it won't be so bad here, to be a slave like you are except with a prettier title." Katara said irately.

"Yes, they believe it will be less jarring for you to have someone around who looks human, but I can leave at any time if you decide I'm not adequate. I'm not a slave, and I won't be spoken to with disrespect by you or by any of the royals." There was the slightest hint of irritation breaking the calm of the woman's voice, and it served to endear the waterbender to her. This woman wasn't going to take any rudeness, and Katara respected that.

"I'm Katara," she said – a peace offering, "and I don't need a governess. I'm not royalty, and I know how to dress myself."

"Everyone knows who you are, so don't feel the need to introduce yourself because others will do that for you. My name is Jia." Her tone was softer now that Katara seemed to at least be calm about the idea of being around her. "However, you must recognize that, as the betrothed of Prince Zuko, you will need a governess. I was raised in the palace, and I can assure you that whatever your customs from your homeland may be, they are not suited to the life you will now lead. While you may consider yourself a simple peasant from the Southern Water Tribe, here you are considered a Princess of that land, and you will soon be a Princess of the Fire Nation. In time, you may even become the Fire Lady when Prince Zuko inherits the throne from his father." Jia casually picked up the stool as if it had simply been knocked over and walked it back in front of the vanity where it belonged.

"I don't want this, any of it. I want to go home. I want to see my family and my friends. I want to marry a Water Tribe man and have human babies." Katara said at last.

"This is your home now. The Fire royals are your family, and the Fire Nation citizens will be your friends. Your children will be beautiful and human for a time, and after that, they will still be yours no matter how you feel about them once they've made the change." Jia insisted.

Katara knew when an argument with words wasn't going to go anywhere, so she kept her mouth shut though her frustration boiled just beneath the surface. She didn't know Jia well enough to know if she could be properly trusted, so she wouldn't press the point.

"You must eat, Lady Katara, before your food grows cold. It's been over a week since you've had a proper meal, and we need to begin your training to be a proper Lady immediately. There is only a month before you'll be wed, and your knowledge of these things is seriously lacking." Jia punctuated this last remark by gazing over the waterbender's clothing choice with disdain.

"What am I supposed to do, Uncle?" The black furred Prince asked two days later. He paced the room, his hind claws clicking against the stone floor.

"I find that being oneself is often the best route." The grey haired beast replied. He was shorter than his nephew, and he was broader, but this wasn't due to muscle mass. The younger Prince glared at his older counterpart.

"That's not helpful." He growled.

"Why not? You are a good person."

"Because she hates me! She probably blames me for the way those soldiers treated her, for even feeling like she had to hide from me in the first place. Maybe she's right to hate me." His claws wove into the thick fur at his head in frustration.

"She was on that ship for over a week, Prince Zuko. The way she was treated was not what you commanded. Those soldiers acted on their own, but she wasn't hurt, and she has been given a full day to recover from the drugs they put in her food to subdue her. She will be clear headed, and she will see that you are not so bad. Besides, your father is the one who commanded her capture, not you, and she will know that by now." Iroh stroked the long fur at his chin. "As a cautionary measure, perhaps you could give her a gift - something with a positive message?"

Zuko thought for a moment, frustration blooming more fully within him until the flower of despair shattered when he realized what he could give her. "Uncle, go to her rooms and command her to have breakfast with us! I know what to give her!"

"Prince Zuko, it is unwise to continue to treat her as a prisoner. I will offer her an invitation to dine with us, but I will not force her to come. She will never be at peace here if her every action is forced or coerced." Iroh offered sagely.

"What if she doesn't come?" Zuko asked.

"Then that is her choice, and she will feel better for having made the decision on her own. If she declines our offer, we will extend it every day until she accepts, but by now, Jia will have informed her that the wedding is coming soon, so perhaps she will not delay getting to know you for long."

The young prince felt dejected, but he had suffered many disappointments in the past. Perhaps this one wouldn't be as painful. This girl was a stranger after all, and he was an adult now. He could handle it. The best tactic was to not raise his hopes too high but to prepare himself for all outcomes. It was the logical thing to do.

Zuko sat at the table in the dining hall, clutching a small parcel between his paws. It was badly wrapped in red cloth and tied with a bit of golden ribbon. He was calm despite his uncertainties. Would she like his gift? Of course she would. It was hers by right, and she should be glad that he was giving it to her. Uncle Iroh was certain the younger prince could win her over, and this would be the first step. He was confident in his choices. Now, if only she would accept breakfast with them, things could settle into place.

As the last tray was placed upon the table by a servant, he heard footsteps as they approached, and his heart began hammering beneath his chest with nerves. He hadn't realized how much he'd wanted her to accept until he realized the second pair of footsteps was too light to be anything other than human, and they didn't belong to any of the servants. Zuko's breath caught when he saw her. She was more beautiful than he'd thought she would be, and he loved the way the reds and gold of his nation complemented her colouring. He was confident in the idea that she belonged in the Fire Nation with him.

Zuko moved to his feet, his clothing giving him a regal appearance, and he thought he spied recognition in her strikingly blue eyes. That shade of blue had only been witnessed by him once before in his life, and he found he quite enjoyed it. If only her gaze wouldn't flicker from his so quickly, but then, it was better that she look away than to have her eyes linger on the shameful scar marking his face.

He approached the two. "Lady Katara of the Southern Water Tribe," Iroh announced, "may I introduce my nephew, Prince Zuko?"

Zuko's tail twitched unhappily at the tension he saw escalate through her lithe frame, but he wanted to ease it. If only he knew exactly what to say, some words to set her at ease. "It's… uh… a pleasure to meet you." He said hesitantly. "Would you like something to eat?" She nodded, those beautiful eyes containing nothing but suspicion when he offered his arm to her. Disappointingly, Katara kept her arms stiff at her sides, and he moved his free hand to brush some invisible speck from his sleeve, pretending that had been his intent all along. It seemed like a feeble move, but what else could he do to ease the sting of her rejection?

"Right this way, then." His Uncle said, leading the way to the table. Zuko and Katara followed behind the old man. When Katara sat down, he thought maybe he should give her some distance by sitting far from her, but Uncle cleared his throat, and the Prince opted to take a seat next to her. A servant walked by quietly and lifted the lid off her plate to reveal a steaming pile of foul smelling food. It was all Water Tribe cuisine as Uncle had suggested to make her more comfortable. She was a foreigner in a strange land with nothing familiar around her, and Jia had informed him that the usual foods of his land contained too much heat for her to bear with any sort of ease.

He watched her face for her reaction to the food, and he was pleased to see a look of surprise cross her face. Disappointment was soon to follow as she became expressionless once more. As she lifted her spoon to begin eating, he coughed softly. "I, um, have something for you." She eyed him with the same mistrust as before, but she replaced the spoon on the table when he lifted his gift. Katara took it without a word and placed it next to her cushion. He thought he detected a slight tremble in her hands at the movement, and he realized he needed her to open it right then and there. "Open it." He encouraged, and she did as he commanded.

As the cloth fell away and the prize was revealed, he saw her eyes widen with relief and wonder. Her fingers moved over the circular pendant with the waterbending insignia engraved on its surface. He was in awe of how peaceful she looked, and he found he liked it. But all at once, that beautiful expression on her face melted away into anger. "How did you get this?" She asked accusingly as she clasped it around her throat.

He bristled, suddenly angry. She was supposed to like this gift, to be grateful that he was returning it to her. She seemed eager enough to wear it, after all. "I didn't steal it if that's what you're wondering." He growled angrily. "It was with the things you had on you when you were captured. I was told this is how you were identified despite your Earth Kingdom disguise. If it's so important to you that you would blow your cover, I figured you would want it back."

Zuko looked away from her, furious. Uncle Iroh took an overzealous interest in the new food items that rarely were made in the Fire Nation. Two bites were all it took for the younger Fire Prince to realize how disgusting this bland food was. How could she eat this for her entire life? He glared sideways at her, noting how she picked at her food. Perhaps she didn't like it, either.

However, after a few moments, she seemed to dig into it more heartily, almost savagely. No… not almost. She was a savage. He'd known that when his father had chosen the Southern Water Tribe to provide his bride, but he couldn't shake the feeling that his father had made the right choice. This young woman was going to be his wife, and maybe she could learn to like it here, to even love him. No matter how she felt right now, it would be the best thing in the end.

There is no right or wrong apart from what you decide. As the future Fire Lord, you must remember that… He recalled his father's words from three months prior. His father was right. Even if the original decision had been Fire Lord Ozai's, Zuko had accepted it after some difficulty and much thought. His instincts told him not to fight it.

His anger calmed, and he tried to force himself to keep more of the tasteless food down. Another clearing of the throat from Uncle had him looking at the Tribeswoman once more, watching as she shoveled ocean kumquats into her mouth. He struggled to find something meaningful to say to her. "You, uh, have quite an appetite for a girl." He thought he saw his Uncle cringe, and Zuko felt his confidence deflating. Had he really just said that? Who would say something like that to a girl? She scowled at her plate, and her eating halted. He'd accidentally insulted her.

"Well, I haven't exactly been able to eat much since I was kidnapped." She admonished, and his claws curled into fist. His head turned, and he took more interest in his own plate. Uncle seemed to have the same idea.

After quietly eating for bit longer, Iroh finally spoke up. "Lady Katara, would you like to try some tea? Tulsi is good for relaxation."

"I'm plenty relaxed, thank you." She replied tersely.

"Perhaps," He responded carefully, "but it is also good for enhancing one's stamina, and it can strengthen your immune system. This is your first time in the Fire Nation. It would not do for you to become ill because of the unfamiliar environment."

Zuko casually watched peripherally as Katara grudgingly took the tea. There seemed to be a spark in her eye as she held it in her hands, one that the young Prince couldn't read, but then it was gone and sadness seemed to replace it. She took a sip of her tea before picking at her food with her spoon once more. "Are they dead?" She asked out of the blue, but it didn't take a genius to know about whom she was speaking. However, his silence seemed to prompt clarification from her. "My family and my people and the friends who sheltered me in the Earth Kingdom: are they dead?"

Uncle Iroh gently set his tea cup onto the table, but Zuko was the one who spoke. "Some of them." He responded honestly.

"Who?" She asked, her voice so small that he was afraid she was about to break.

"I don't know." Zuko responded. He watched Katara swallow hard, and her fingers touched the pendant at her throat.

Iroh spoke gently, "Your family still lives. Your father was wounded, but I hear he is in perfect health again, and your brother escaped capture."

Her head remained bowed for a moment, as if she was struggling with herself, but slowly, she lifted her head once more, a spark of determination in her eyes, but for what, he couldn't say. "Lady Katara, would you like to go back to your room?" Iroh asked her gently.

"No." She said firmly before turning toward Zuko. "I was actually wondering if you could show me around the palace. If this is going to be my new home, I should learn my way around it." His eyes widened in surprise, and he shot a look toward his Uncle. The look on the old Prince's face was one of suspicion, but after a second, he shrugged and waved his hand. It was strange to Zuko that she would rather adapt to her new life, one she'd avoided for as long as possible, than quietly mourn what people she'd lost, but people mourned in their own ways. He wasn't going to look a gift kimodo-rhino in the mouth. He'd keep an eye on her, but this was the perfect opportunity to get to know her.

He couldn't have known the truth…