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Borealis: A Zutara Story	By : jaded_priceless Category: Avatar - The Last Airbender > AU/AR - Alternate Universe/Alternate Reality Views: 34026 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, Avatar: The Legend of Korra, any historical figures or events, or easily recognizable persons, places or things. I make no profit from this work of fanfiction

Chapter List
- 119
- 120
- 121
Chapter 118
Zuko picked up his crown and carried it to the small ottoman in front of the window. He had left it on the dresser and Katara had used it to stab him. It was considered a sign of good fortune and an omen of a long reign when a member of the royal family was able to hold their own bloody crown in their hand. He wasn’t sure if it was of any special significance that the woman he wished to spend his life with had been the one to stab him. Most of the times when a concubine attacked a royal someone, usually the concubine, died.
He turned over in his hand finding it oddly symbolic that the dried blood had settled to one side of the flame. He knew that for the war to end half of the royal family would meet a similar fate. He wondered if he and his uncle would be the survivors or be among those lying dead after his father and Azula had succeeded in conquering the world.
In spite of his dark thoughts, the red glinting among the gold was oddly beautiful. He wondered if any of his ancestors had ever considered adding rubies to the design. He didn’t realize how long he’d been staring at it until Katara stepped out of the shower. Her blue eyes seemed to shimmer in the moonlight and he pondered how she would look in the fabled sapphire crown. It was designed for a Water Tribe woman. He smiled thinking of creating a crown with sapphires and rubies for their children.
“Do you think this is funny? Do you think what you did to me is funny?” Katara snarled angrily.
Zuko shook his head, “I was just thinking that a crown of rubies and sapphires would be fitting for our children.”
“What children?” Katara snorted harshly, “The ones you ensured I can never have or the ones who would have died the moment I learned I was infected with your spawn?”
“The ones we will adopt, Katara. The ones we’ll love and teach how to be strong and fight for their beliefs,” Zuko said rising a taking a step towards her. “The one Uncle Iroh and that fortune teller will have for us. Or maybe we can find a guy desperate enough to marry Azula. We can adopt their children and save it from a life with her.”
“Or maybe we can find a child from the Water Tribes to adopt. I don’t really care where the child comes from so long as I get to spend my life with you and my child calls you Mother or Mom, or Mommy or whatever you call them in the Water Tribe,” Zuko said quietly as he caressed her cheek.
Katara knocked his hand away and shook her head, “I’m tired of this Zuko. I’m not playing your game anymore. You hate me and I hate you so stop pretending you care. I’m tired of smelling your rose scented whale shit and telling myself its flowers. I can’t lie to myself anymore Zuko. I am going to fight you with everything until the day I kill you.”

True to her word Katara stopped talking to Zuko. She rebuked his numerous attempts at affection. Instead of talking she spent most of their time on deck asleep so she would be wide awake and ready to fight when he attacked her in the bedroom. She was expecting him to become angry and more violent but instead of violence he found new ways to punish her. He became kinder and more considerate but stopped taking her on deck and to see her brother unless she provided some type of favor.
If she wanted to go on deck she had to lie next to him and allow him to hold her. The only exceptions were if she were bending the water so the ships moved faster or doing healing katas with Ty Lee. He encouraged her to exercise so she would be healthy. He took her to the library and gave her books from his childhood to help her learn Fire Nation and began teaching her the nuances of their customs. She learned the reason why Zuko sometimes smirked when she styled her hair in front of him and why he’d been so shocked she’d taken his dumpling. In the Fire Nation both were considered sexual propositions. Combing your hair in front of a man expressed a desire for the person witnessing the act to mess it up. Stealing dumplings, eggs or other round filled foods was far bolder; it expressed an eagerness for the contents of a man’s testicles.
She had to talk to him if she wanted to see Fan and give him a kiss if she wanted to go to the spa room. She learned that his cheeks were just as soft as his lips. It confused her that someone who insisted upon raping her nightly never asked for anything more perverted than a kiss on the cheek or to hold her while fully clothed. Now that she was becoming more active she would end up falling into a coma-like sleep and she’d be tied before she knew it.
The doctors had a different theory - she sleep so soundly because she was expending too much energy healing herself.
She had been rolled onto her stomach and tied so often that she had discovered new ways to fight back. Throwing her hips roughly to the side when was deep inside her would make him stop and scream she’d broken his penis. It would be miraculously healed by the next night. Curling in on herself and pretending to allow it would place his chin in perfect position for headbutting. Each battle with Zuko left her injured in some manner.
It wasn’t fair that no matter how fought she’d still end up crushed beneath Zuko with her knees would pushed up to her hips so the parts he wanted were lifted and easily assessable. She had lost count of all the times Zuko had whispered, grunted, moaned, begged for her to stop fighting while gripping her hips and saying she was hurting herself more than she was hurting him. She refused to count the times tears fell onto her shoulders or how many times she walked into the restroom and it smelled of vomit and illness. She pretended not to see the wounded expression on Zuko’s face as he reached for her then pulled his hand back as she turned away.

In spite of the innocent ways he attempted to bribe her there were days he didn’t wait until night to force her. He was rougher was those days and Katara couldn’t understand how someone who had hurt her so badly could be so gentle as he carried her to bathroom and washed her off. His touch was almost timid as brushed their tears from her face and soaped everywhere but her nether regions. Afterwards he would let spend as much time as she wanted with Sokka. If he had been particularly brutal she was allowed to see Aang also.
Now that she refused to use delusion and fantasy to keep her spirits up she was starting to face the reality that didn’t matter if she fought or if she lay there. Zuko had been right the night he put her in the infirmary; there was nothing she could do to keep someone larger and stronger from forcing his penis into her vagina. In many ways fighting was counter-productive. Zuko was larger, stronger and had better hand to hand combat training.
Each losing battle seemed to force more and more life out of her. Zuko had begun to use more oil and spend more time using his fingers before penetrating her. There were nights her vagina was the only place on her body that didn’t hurt. She actually spent more time healing battle wounds than the place between her legs. She had lost most of her fingernails and had several different shades of skin on the back of her hands from constantly healing and re-growing it.
At the North Pole she had seen women whose unwanted husbands had forced their way inside of them but their bodies bore no signs of bruising or tearing.
They choose to fight using non-physical methods and endured their husband’s physical advances. They didn’t need healing only contraceptive services. A few of them laughed that the preference for morning sex was the one redeeming quality of the men their fathers bonded them to. They could swing by get the semen drawn out on the way to the market and not have to worry about the more in depth cleansing required if he had taken them hours ago. There was no excuse they could use to leave home in the middle of the night but their trusting husbands didn’t suspect a thing if they ran away immediately after he crawled off during the day so long as they returned with food and cooked something nice for him.
The woman who most often made the joke had a husband twice the size of Zuko and strong enough to pull a bull-walrus from the ocean by himself but her insides were never torn. Her hips and thighs were rarely bruised. The days they were she blushed and admitted there were days his size was an advantage. So did two other women. There were women who came in with fresh black eyes, split lips and bruised shoulders from being forcibly held down but uninjured vaginas.
They made her question the truth in Zuko’s words. He was the person raping her but she was the one who made it hurt. Her joints seemed to ache constantly from being tied and having his weight on top of her. At times the pain in her shoulders, hips, and back were so great that she woke up crying; she didn’t push Zuko away or the relief his warm massages offered.

Even though she saw Sokka less frequently but she could tell he was still being tortured. He had gotten thinner. There were days he leaned upon the manure shovel for support more than he used it. There was something indescribable in his eyes when he looked at her almost as if he needed help but could not or would not ask. Each inquiry she made was met with hostility “I’m fine Katara stop asking” or resigned sadness, “Take care of yourself, don’t worry about me.”
Even Aang had been beaten. He had sneezed one day when they were taking him for his weekly shower. The force caused his captors to think he was escaping since they were close enough to see land in the binoculars. She could tell it took tremendous effort for him to even sit up when Zuko allowed her to visit him. She didn’t know if it was the increased level of bending suppressants, painkillers or his injuries that made such a hyperactive boy content to lay on his back and stare at the ceiling.
Appa was once again unmoving and his wounds were now covered in maggots. The sea air kept bandages moist and he had developed an infection in several of the larger wounds and between his injured toes after his illness. Mu had the applied the vile creatures as part of his treatment. They ate away the decay and prevented further infection. He had been given a higher dose of sedatives and painkiller so he would not seek to dislodge them.
In their current conditions it would take more effort to free them. They could not readily help themselves and it was very little she could do for them. She couldn’t heal Sokka; the worse off he looked the better off he’d be. She couldn’t remove the bending suppressants from Aang’s body. They were placed in his food and burned in a censure in his cell. His wrist was wrapped so was his torso. It and his ribs were most likely broken. Healing bone was a lengthy process and time was one thing they did not have. Waterbending relied heavily on wrist movement and Airbending depended on the expansion of the lungs. They could very easily be punctured by a broken rib.
With Aang unable to bend Appa was their next best option to escape but she did not have the strength necessary to heal all of his injuries at once. She had almost been caught twice working on the worst of them. She would have been caught if Mu had not lied and said she provided the most expedient way to remove the maggots so he could exam the wound.
They were no longer in the middle of the ocean and there were too many ships around for her to feel confident she could bend them all to safety. War balloons could be launched from the boats to track them and have troops waiting to apprehend them the moment they reached short. Appa was also too large of a target. He would certainly be killed and she couldn’t risk his life carelessly after all he had done for them.
She, who could not fathom why Tyro and the other Earthbenders didn’t fight, was beginning to understand them. Each day as the Earth Kingdom got closer and closer it became more and more difficult to hold on the hope they would be able to escape once they reach shore.
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- 121
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Borealis: A Zutara Story