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Bitter Alliance	By : Looneyluna Category: Avatar - The Last Airbender > Het - Male/Female > Katara/Zuko Views: 31138 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Act III

Chapter Two –

Warning! There is a rape scene in a dream sequence. Skip the italicized section if you are squeamish!

Looking into the mirror, I stare at my reflection and hope for a glimmer of recognition. I know only what they have told me. I am Fire Lord Zuko, ruler of the Fire Nation and the direct descendant of Agni, ruler of a nation that is at war.

I touch the scars that crisscross my face, neck, and chest. There is no more pain. In fact, the nerves are dead. I feel nothing across the marked flesh. My thoughts linger on the older scar on the left side of my face. Jeong Jeong says I received that one from my father during an Agni Kai when I refused to fight.

I remember nothing of my past. Only my dreams hint to my past. I remember each and every one of them. They play in my mind over and over again as if to taunt me. I wake hard and aching, unable to face any of the concubines that remain in the palace. I shall never forget the look of revulsion on the woman’s face as she approached my damaged body. Any passion I may have felt was quickly extinguished by her reaction.

Besides, she did not have blue eyes. The woman in my dreams has blue eyes and darker skin than mine. Her skin is soft to the touch – not that I would be able to feel much. The scars that cover my body have deadened the sensation of touch. I am a monster – inside and out.

The woman in my dreams begs me to leave her alone, but I press into her soft, yielding core as if I have every right to. The dream replays in my mind…

“Please, no!” she entreats, grasping the chains that bind her wrists above her head. Her voice echoes against the bare walls of the dungeon cell.

I want to honor her request, but I cannot. There are movements in the shadows and I feel that my every breath is scrutinized. There is a man chained to the opposite wall. He is too bloodied and weak to protect the woman I am about to defile.

She wears the makeup like a Fire Nation concubine, but she isn’t one of them. She was prepared, carefully cleaned and perfumed where she stood to make her more appealing to me.

My manhood is swollen with need. Even though she begs me to stop, I won’t. I can’t. I must honor my father’s wishes.

Hissing, she spits at me and tries to kick me.

I pin her legs with mine. Metal strikes flesh and the man across the room cries out in pain.

“Sokka!” she cries, stilling against me.

I can feel the rapid beat of her heart, as I bury my face against the flesh of her neck and shoulder.

“Finish this!” a voice hisses in the shadows. “Prove your loyalty to me.”

“Yes, Father,” I answer, unbuckling my belt and pushing the material of my pants out of the way.

The woman sobs as I angle my hips and nudge the dark triangle at the apex of her thighs. Biting her lip, she opens for me, even going so far as to lift one of her legs around me.

Smelling her feminine musk and feeling her wiry curls against my sex, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. I don’t know why, but it is imperative that my father not see how the woman before me affects me.

Burying my face against her neck, I grasp her buttocks and lift her, forcing my way into the hot haven of her body.

I always wake at that point, shuddering with violent longings and fears. Maybe there is a reason I don’t remember anything. Maybe I don’t want to. I stare into the mirror, realization dawning in my imperfect expression. Perhaps I am the soulless monster my dreams allude to.

Averting my gaze, I pull my tunic on and cover the damage to my skin. Normally, servants would dress someone of my rank, but I cannot stand the looks they give me. Worse than looks of horror are looks of pity.

A gruff voice calls out from behind the door. “Are you properly attired, My Lord?”

I call for Jeong Jeong to enter, mentally preparing myself for his daily briefing.

The flap of my tent opens and the servants who help me put on my armor follow him in. My advisor is similar to me in so many ways. He has a scar. He was hunted as I was (or so I am told). He reminds me of someone…someone I cared for deeply.

“How are you feeling today, My Lord?” he asks, repeating the daily question not out of courtesy or caring, but out of necessity. He takes liberty and places his palm upon my forehead. “Did you have any feverish dreams last night?”

“No,” I reply automatically, knowing better than to answer the question with any other answer. I do not have the time to have my dreams analyzed, nor do I have the time to pay attention to Mahari’s enchanted ramblings. I wince as the servants cinch some of the buckles on my armor, but I look straight ahead.

Jeong Jeong steps away and stares at me with barely veiled discretion. He knows I am lying, for I am feverish even now.

Motioning for the servants to leave, I scowl at my reflection in the mirror. “Damuk has better things to do then attend my illness. There are wounded that need his attention,” I state, referring to the Waterbending healer that saved my life.

The Firebending master snorts in disgust. “Agni preserve me! You are stubborn, just like Katar—”

“Like who?” My gaze snaps to his as the one syllable lingers on the cusp of my memory. “Who am I stubborn like?”

A harsh blush creeps up my advisor’s neck. I have been lied to ever since I woke up, praying for death to take me. Clearing his throat, Jeong Jeong pins me with one of his penetrating gazes and does what he does best – clams up. “We have business, Fire Lord Zuko. Your father’s supporters have gathered more troops and –”

“Katara?” I ask, refusing to be manipulated again.

He stiffens and I pursue him as he tries to walk away.

Speaking the name out loud liberates a memory. It isn’t much, only a color – blue. I catch Jeong Jeong’s armored sleeve. “Am I destined to roam this place as half a person for the sake of secrets?”

His gaze meets mine. It is a fleeting glance – one that shows me how conflicted the Firebending master is. “Am I being punished? Am I –”

“No!” he scoffs sullenly. “It is nothing –”

“Then what!” My anger is a veiled hiss and the embers in the fire pit glow a magnificent shade of blue. I am helpless. I cannot contain the power that ebbs and flows through my veins like a poisoned blessing.

Jeong Jeong’s eyes widen. “Fire Lord Zuko, you must calm down. You must –”

The litany of his words incenses me further. I know I must do as he says, for the power of the comet is like an opiate, empty yet fulfilling, and highly addictive. My strength as a Firebender has increased beyond anyone’s wildest imaginings, including my own. My bending has always been substandard at best. Now it is something else.

The preternatural force became too much for me in my weakened condition upon first waking. The palace was destroyed, the last victim to the final storm of fire rain as I lingered in fever and pain.

I can’t control the comet. I can touch it and study it, but it does not respond to any of my commands. Why should it? It is of the heavens. I am a mere mortal. I may be a direct descendant of Agni, as the title of Fire Lord suggests, but I am only a man – a flawed one at that.

“Your health,” Jeong Jeong reminds me, giving me the reason Mahari has given me since I woke up. “You will remember in time. Your health is still fragile.”

“Do not patronize me,” I growl impatiently, grasping his sleeve with more force. “Tell me what I want to know!”

Lowering his gaze, his voice is barely a whisper. “She is the…mother of your children.”

I flinch, stumbling backward as his words pierce my soul. Children… I have children. Why has this information been kept from me? I close my eyes and fall to my knees. The blue color of a virgin spring tickles my memories. I stare into the calm water, wanting to quench my thirst, but not wanting to disturb the tranquility.

The vision turns, playing on my nightmares and pain. I look down and see that the water is tainted with blood. The face of the woman in my dreams floats upon the surface.

“Oh Agni! No!” I groan softly.

“Zuko,” Jeong Jeong tries to offer comfort.

“I raped her.” Anguished tears stream down my cheeks. “I raped the mother of my children, didn’t I?”

“There were other forces at play,” he says quickly, trying to assuage my mounting guilt. “Mahari is just as much to blame as your father.”

No matter how hard I try, I cannot recall the actual event. I can only recall the nightmare; the nightmare I know now is based in the reality of my past. “Children?”

Jeong Jeong looks away, failing to hide his reluctance.

“Never mind,” I say quickly, quelling the impulse to cover his mouth with my hand. “Tell me nothing of them. I am obviously the monster my dreams reveal me to be. They are hidden from me for a reason and shall remain that way.”

--

TBC

AN – I really wanted to edit the rape scene out of the story. I hate rape. I do not condone it. But I felt that the details that were rendered above were necessary to the character development of Zuko. And, in the immortal words of Forrest Gump… “That’s all I got ta say about that.”

On the other hand, I must pause here and poke fun at the fact that Zuko has amnesia. It’s the oldest trick in the book. The soap opera wouldn’t be complete unless somebody had amnesia. (Insert maniacal laughter here. Exit stage left.)

Thanks for the reviews! They are greatly appreciated.
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Bitter Alliance