Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor do I own Tangled.

The Princess of the Southern Water Tribe was born on the coldest night of the year.

It was also the clearest night that the South Pole had ever seen. On this night, the stars twinkled faintly and the clouds disappeared. The whole sky seemed to be waiting eagerly for something amazing to happen.

And amazing it was. At first, it was only small flecks of color spread through the sky. A little green here, some purple there. As moments passed, more colors were added. Blue,pink, and red sheets floated above, leaving every living creature below mesmerized. The members of the Water Tribe pointed in awe while the animals, big and small, all stopped to stare.

Amidst all of the excited murmurs and whispers, a baby cried for the first time.

The Chieftain and Chieftess of the Southern Tribe were overjoyed. Their daughter Katara was a beautiful and healthy baby. Awhile later, they also found out that she was a waterbender.

Everyday for a week after the princess was born the southern lights would light up the sky brighter than anyone had seen before. Every night, the Chief, his wife, and their son would bring their newest family member outside. And when the princess opened her eyes, she saw only the lights as they glowed above.

For a short time, everything was peaceful. Perfect. News of the baby girl spread all over the world. It had been a long time since the Southern Tribe birthed a waterbender. Everyone knew she would be special.

However, there was one person who believed this more than anyone. An outsider named Hama, who had left the tribe when she was young. She believed the princess had the power to be extraordinary. And so, two weeks after the birth of the baby, Hama sneaked into Chief's home and stole the princess.

The tribe was distraught when they learned of the kidnapping of their beloved princess. The royal family grieved over their loss. They searched and searched, but never found a trace of the girl. The only thing that gave them hope was the sky. Whenever the night became clear, the looked up at the lights, hoping that one day, their lost princess would return.

...

17 years later

"Again, Katara. And this time, do it better."

Katara gritted her teeth, pausing only for a second to wipe the sweat that ran down her forehead. Her arms hurt. Her legs hurt even more. But she wouldn't stop. She wasn't allowed to.

Training was always intense. That was how Hama intended it to be. She wanted to push Katara to the limit. Once, when she was younger, she had fainted in the middle of a hard set. She woke up to freezing cold water being thrown on her face.

Katara always forgave Hama when she reprimanded her a bit too strongly, though. She knew that Hama only wanted her to be the best she could be. In Hama's eyes, Katara should be grateful that Hama was teaching her the ways of a master.

I am grateful, Katara thought as she widened her stance. She focused on the wooden log that sat vertical to the ceiling about ten feet away. She guided the water from the small basin at her feet into her hands. Letting out a breath, she concentrated on the feel of the water, molding it to her liking.

A second later her arms shot out, sending a sharp jet of water towards the wood. The liquid his the object dead center, so sharp that it forced a hole through one side and out the other. Katara's lips turned up; it was a clean-cut. She turned to Hama, trying not seem eager as she awaited the older woman's assessment.

"That was almost adequate."

Katara often compared Hama's voice to ice. Hard, and cold, with the ability to make her feel numb. Her mouth straightened into a line as she stepped forward to get a closer look at what she did.

The hole was fairly big. Where the water had excited was a piece of bark that hadn't quite been cut all the way. Katara frowned. Hama was right. This was the twelfth time doing that move today. She could, no, should have done better.

Hama walked up to Katara, setting a hand on the girl's shoulder. Katara sighed.

"Don't worry, child," Hama said softly. "You'll get it in time. Now, why don't you go freshen up while I make some lunch?"

Katara turned, forgetting her failure for the moment. "Yes, Grandmother."

...

Seventeen years of life, and she had never once stepped out of the tower. It was home, a safe haven from the evils of the outside world.

At least, that's what Katara's grandmother told her.

The tower was fairly large, with a bedroom for each of them in the upper level. The middle tier was where they spent their time cooking, eating, and conversing. Underneath it all, their was a level that served as a training room. Katara was there for most of her day, practicing and training to master her element.

Her schedule was strict. She woke up at the same time everyday, did the same activities, then went to bed at the exact time she was told. Each day was the same, a monotonous routine of eating, cleaning, and training. When she did have a small amount of free time, she read.

Katara's most prized possession was her bookshelf. The bookshelf had always been in the tower, so Katara never questioned where it came from. When she was younger, it sat in the corner of the training room, dusty and unseen. It made its made to her bedroom just after her eighth birthday, when she fell in love with reading.

The first book she ever received was a small, old thing. The leather binding was covered with dust, the pages were yellow from age and use. Despite this, it was still in good condition. After receiving the small object, Katara studied it, flipping its pages and running her fingers over the cover.

When she sat down, opened the first page, and began to read, Katara was sucked into the story. It was about a thief, and told of his adventures as he traveled the world. Katara was amazed at the book's ability to draw her in, to paint pictures in her mind and evoke such powerful emotions from her. When she finished the story, she read it again. Then twice after that.

She begged Hama to move the bookshelf from its dusty corner in the training room to her bedroom. When it was finally set up against the blue wall, clean from cobwebs and dust particles, Katara set her lone book on the top shelf, waiting for the day it would be filled completely.

She always received books on her birthday, but Hama sometimes brought one or a few back from her monthly trip outside.

Every month near the time when the moon was full, Hama went outside of the tower. She claimed the full moon's effect on her bending helped her ward off the dangers of the outside world. Katara's grandmother would be gone for a week and a half, leaving a lonely Katara behind.

Katara wondered all the time what it would be like to leave the tower. To meet other people, see other lands. To feel grass beneath her feet and rain on her face. She longed to go outside. For out there was the one thing she'd dreamed about all her life.

After changing out of her training clothes, she padded over to her bookshelf. Through the years many new novels had been added, filling the empty spaces, but not quite completing her collection. At least, not yet. She fingered the silver writing on the bindings, looking for a certain title. Ah, there it was. The purple one with block script. Katara pulled it from the shelf, flipping through the pages. At last, she found what she was looking for.

It was a picture of the sky, one with what looked like large waves throughout it. Underneath the picture was a title:

Aurora Australis.

The Southern Lights.

Beneath was a passage, telling of the colors of the lights and where they took place. Katara read the words "South Pole" with dismay. When was it ever likely that she would go to the South Pole. Hama told her of the people who lived there, living off the harsh land and braving the cold. Katara didn't think she would ever be able to live there, with the snow and cold all year around.

Seeing the southern lights was her dream. From the moment she read about it, Katara knew she had to see them. She often imagined what it would be like, to stand under the swirling colors, to have her one dream come true.

She closed the book with a sigh and left her room, knowing Hama would be expecting her.

Katara bounded down the wooden stairs, seeing Hama stirring a large pot of soup. She quickly set their small table, then sat down and waited for her grandmother.

As her grandmother ate, Katara idly swirled her spoon in her dish, not feeling hungry. Her mind was still preoccupied with thoughts of the lights. Did dreaming of seeing the southern lights make her as naïve as her grandmother thought her to be? Was wanting to leave the tower just wishful thinking?

"Katara."

At her grandmother's words, Katara's mind cleared and she looked up at Hama. "Yes?"

"You aren't eating," it was a statement, question, and accusation all in one.

Katara gave her a small reassuring smile before saying, "I'm don't much of an appetite. I'm sure the soup is delicious, though."

She thought her grandmother would smile back as she usually did, then move on to a different topic. Looking at the older woman's face, Katara thought that was exactly what Hama was going to do.

Then, ever so slightly, Hama's lips pursed.

It was her only tell if she was ever agitated, annoyed, or displeased. Katara had come to know this very well. Now, if she was angry, it was a different story. But this time, the pursed lips and narrowed light blue eyes meant something Katara had said displeased her.

"Katara, you do realize that you are not far from mastering your bending?" Hama folded her hands, resting them on the wooden table in front of her.

"I do." And Katara did. This notion had been made clear to her many times within the past year.

"Well, how do you expect to ever become a master when you have no strength to something as juvenile as a water whip?"

Katara's lips parted, a retort hot on her tongue, but she only drew in a breath and shut her mouth. She absolutely hated when her grandmother took on this tone, where she acted as if Katara was still the four year-old little girl who had just started bending, not the almost eighteen year-old who was about to become a master.

"It's not like I never eat," Katara said softly to herself, her head facing away from Hama.

"What was that?"

Katara let out a sigh. "It was nothing, Grandmother."

She thought Hama would let it go, but was then proved wrong when Hama spoke again.

"Katara, look at me."

Katara turned her blue eyes toward the older woman, and looked at her. Hama's gray hair and withered face told of experience and age. Katara didn't think her wrinkled to be from laugh lines, however. Hama's hands and wrists were bony, but they were those of a master bender. Her eyes weren't the same electric shade of cerulean as Katara's, but a light blue, bordering gray. Her skin was a light tan, not like Katara's darker complexion.

They were different, but they were family.

Hama was, in fact, Katara's only living relative. She wasn't told the story of her parents often, for it often brought a hot anger that made both of their blood boil. Katara didn't have any siblings. She didn't have any aunts, uncles, or cousins, for both of her parents were only children.

Her grandmother never mentioned Katara's grandfather either, but Katara liked to think that Hama just loved him so much that the memory of him pained her.

"I want you to eat, Katara. Otherwise, you'll never become a master." Hama then said.

Katara paused for a mere second, then picked up her spoon and immediately began eating. In the silence as they resumed their meal, Katara thought about what Hama said, and the more she did the more it made sense. How did she expect to become a master by weakening her body? It was selfish, really. Hama had spent a decade training her to be a master. What sort of gratitude would Katara be giving her by throwing years worth of training away?

When they finished eating, Katara cleared the table and cleaned this dishes while Hama went to rest in her room, just like every night. As she cleaned the few plates, cups and silverware, Katara didn't use her bending. In a place where waterbending was encouraged for any activity, Katara felt refreshed when she did something the way a nonbender would. It took longer, but she didn't mind at all.

Katara finally finished after the sun had set. The day's training and work had tired her, so she retired to her room. After undoing her braid, taking off her wrist wrappings, and changing into a light kimono for sleeping, Katara quietly padded to her bookshelf. She didn't need to stay and look for what she wanted. Katara knew exactly where the certain book she was looking for was. She carefully pulled it out from between other novels. Holding it to her chest, she moved to the small nook by her bedroom window.

The moon was waxing, the large visible surface giving off enough light for Katara to read her book. It would be full soon, meaning Hama would be leaving in a short while, maybe a day or two. Turning to her book, Katara opened to a random page; she knew the story so well that she could pick it up at any chapter.

She smiled as she read. She opened to one of her favorite parts. It was where the main character, a clever and charming thief named Kai saves the princess, but he doesn't find out much later who she is because of her disguise. And thus began their adventures together.

Katara sighed. Why couldn't she have someone like this Kai, who would take her away to places she only dreamed about? Or better yet, be like him, seeing the world and all of its wonders. Minus the thievery, of course.

She was almost eighteen, spending every hour of every day or every year inside the tower. She was almost eighteen, and had never known any other person besides her grandmother. She was almost eighteen, and wanted so much more.

When would her time come? When would her life begin?

...

Later that night in the cover of darkness, a young man walked through the halls of the Royal Palace, unseen and unheard. Years of training gave him stealth and the ability to blend into the night. He knew exactly when the palace guards rotated, allowing him to sneak into the throne room undetected. His boots barely made a sound on the marble floor. He was almost to the large entry doors, about fifteen feet. The man smirked; his escape would be easy.

Then, the doors opened.

Two guards walked through, their loud voices resonating throughout the large room.

"Wait," one of them said, holding a hand out to stop the other. "Did you see that?"

"See what? It's too dark in here," the other replied.

There was silence for a moment, then:

"I guess it was nothing. Come on, let's go." They resumed their loud conversation as they walked toward the door at the end of the room near the dais.

Behind a column, the young man let out an inaudible breath of relief. He felt in his satchel that hing over his shoulder for reassurance, then continued his escape. His slipped through the throne room doors and the palace entrance without a sound.

He knew that new guards would be taking their places within the palace right then, and everything would be exactly as it was before. In the morning, however, the whole palace would be in a conniption. The man chuckled. The Fire Lord would be spewing fire from every part of body, maybe even bursting into flames!

The young man held onto his satchel as he sprinted to the royal airship fields just east of the palace. Obtaining a transport would be effortless. The fields were poor guarded, for who in their right mind would steal an airship from their ruler?

Taking an airship would be difficult with only one person, as well as being easily detected in the sky, so the man decided on small war balloon. It was up in the air within minutes.

As soon as he could see Royal Harbor behind him, the young man opened his satchel and pulled out a golden object. He held it in the palm of his hand. It was a crown. The Crown Prince headpiece, to be exact.

When the sun rose the next morning, the news would circulate the palace, maybe even the city. They would call him a criminal. A bandit. A thief.

As the golden crown gleamed in his hand, the young man smirked.

How can it be called thievery when he took only what belonged to him, what was rightfully his?

A/N: I post this first chapter with an unfinished outline and no idea how the story is going to end. Lord, help me.

I shamelessly admit to a huge obsession with Tangled. It's definitely one of my favorite Disney movies. And after coming across some Zutara/Tangled fan art one day, almost immediately the plotbunnies attacked.

Now, if you've seen the movie, you might recognize some similar themes or phrases. Despite those, the plot of this story will not be an exact copy of Tangled's.

The coverart for this story is by the amazingly talented zutaraxmylove on deviantArt. Seriously, go check her out.

Thanks for reading!