Avatar The Last Airbender Fan Fiction ❯ Life Behind the Curtain ❯ The Talons of the Harpies ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Life Behind the Curtain
By: ChiaraBrie
Disclaimer:  I do not own any rights to Avatar: The Last Airbender. This story is purely fiction, from a fan.
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“Blake said that the body was the soul's prison unless the five senses are fully developed and open. He considered the senses the 'windows of the soul.' When sex involves all the senses intensely, it can be like a mystical experience.”- Jim Morrison
**
Chapter Three: The Talons of the Harpies
Prince Zuko was a distant lover.
Perhaps distant was not the right word. If anything, distance was the last thing between Katara and the Prince throughout the night. And yet that was how she remembered the entire experience.
When she first revealed herself to him in the moonlight, he responded appropriately. He marveled at her body, letting his amber eyes trail over her nipples, to her navel, and down to her sex which was almost level to his eyes.  He gingerly felt his way up her smooth legs, squeezing the firm skin between his fingers and testing her resistance.
“To the bed,” he told her, and she had listened.
He came up from behind her and used his hands to lean her forward until her hands gripped the frame. Katara stood still, waiting for him to move her where he liked, but for a while there was nothing. He simply ran his hands down her spine, relishing in the feel of her back arch instinctively to his touch.
After what seemed like an eternity, he flipped her over and laid her back on the mattress, his eyes never leaving her with his cold stare. There was something so formal about his movements, as if he were inspecting a prized animal for purchase at the market.  But as he took off his clothes and folded them neatly on the night stand, Katara felt there was something else. She just wasn’t sure what.
Prince Zuko was a beautiful sight to behold, despite Katara’s attempts to keep her mind focused. No matter how handsome, or charming, or tender a man can be, understand there is one goal. Do not allow yourself to indulge in such fancies. Those are not permitted for the likes of you.
Akane’s student tried her best to behave.
If she said it didn’t hurt, that would be a lie. Katara certainly felt the acute agony her sex must endure during these times. Yet she tried her best to show happiness and ecstasy, faces she had to practice in the mirror for days on end. Give too much, and they know it’s a lie. Give too little, and they feel unwanted. All is for their benefit. All of it is a show.
Perform.
Yet the Prince seemed unconcerned either way. He took her that night with the confidence and assurance of a man who did not need any instruction; perhaps the presumption of his virginity was wrong. His large hands knew their place, as well as other areas of his body.
He was the perfect gentleman, for a whore.
The night wore on in this fashion, until both the fire and water bender were exhausted and spent. It was early in the morning, before sunrise, when Zuko finally stood and went to his wash room, leaving Katara alone amongst the damp sheets.  He had not said a single word to her the entire time.
While he was gone she gingerly rose from the bed and made to stand, only to find her inner thighs shaking from pain. It wasn’t that he was particularly rough—she had heard horror stories from her schoolmates about their first times—but he was not careful either.  She would surely feel this way for a while, unless she was able to heal herself soon.
Since she was never allowed to practice her bending, any and all knowledge of her powers came through accidental discoveries and hidden attempts to practice. It took a particularly cruel lesson the first month of her time in the Fire Nation for her healing abilities to be discovered.  But without a master, and only snippets of information from their book collection, she has been unable to develop her bending to its full potential; perhaps she would not be skilled enough to handle this type of affliction.
She wouldn’t be allowed to clean or touch herself anyway. She needed to return back to Akane for her final examination “fresh from the sheets” so to speak.  After a virgin is taken, her purity needs to be validated before and after by both client and proprietor; beforehand to insure her value, afterwards to conclude its disappearance. In this case, the sheets would remain for the palace maid to give to her superiors; she in turn would wear the proof for her teacher and doctor.
And as she stood erect and a drop of blood trickled down her leg, she wondered if there was much difference in her worth to that of the Fire Prince’s silken sheets.
Carefully Katara dressed, and swallowed a spoonful of Akane’s morning concoction which tasted like mud and acid, with a hint of garlic. Zuko had yet to emerge from the bathroom. When she heard the bath tub begin to fill, she knew he would not come back for a while.  She then turned to the bed, and began to fold and clean up the evidence of their night. She made sure everything was in its proper place, because it would please the man behind the bathroom door.
She specialized in pleasure.
She noticed how meticulous he was with his belongings, either from good grooming or severe obsessive issues she was not sure, but it would be disrespectful to leave it otherwise.  Katara did not mind the work; if anything, the first few years of her lessons were finally going into use.  There was a glass of wine that had spilt during the evening, and she used her bending to extract the stain. Akane would have recommended a different method, but whenever possible Katara enjoyed utilizing her skill. Despite raising Katara for almost her whole life, Akane had no knowledge (or interest) in the fact that she was a water bender.  She simply ignored it, like an unwanted weed in a vast garden.
But there was someone in the room who found her gift to be quite the surprise.
“Fucking and cleaning all in one evening. My, my, father knows how to get our money’s worth.”
Katara whipped around quickly, causing a serious pain to shoot through her sides. There in the farthest corner of the room, shrouded in the darkness of the velvet curtains, were the pointy clad feet of a woman.  Her hands were folded in her lap, and her thumbs twirling slowly over one another.
To the left, Katara noticed the bedroom door slightly ajar. She must have just sneaked in as Zuko began to run the water, otherwise she would have heard.
“Who are you?” she asked her.
“Come now, don’t tell me you don’t see the family resemblance.”
The woman leaned forward from the shadows and the light washed over her face to reveal the white mask of the Royal Princess Azula. Her mouth was turned upwards in a twisted smirk; she was enjoying herself.
“Maybe this will help,” she said as she mockingly covered her left eye. “I must find the Avatar to restore my honor.” Her sickly laughter shook Katara to her core. But still, she remembered her place. As quickly as the pains allowed she went down on her knees in a formal bow.
“My Princess,” she said.
“Oh you are smarter than the others. Perhaps that’s why ZuZu chose to take you to his bed. Before he was banished Father tried many different whores, but none seemed good enough for him.” Azula rose from her seat and marched over to the kneeling girl with long and sure strides.
“Maybe he finally is a man after so long. Wouldn’t you agree? Tell me, was he any good?”
Katara did not respond. She knew that Azula wanted no answer; she only wished to hear the sound of her own voice.
“Huh. Perhaps I was wrong about your intelligence after all.”
In the other room, the splashing sound of Zuko emerging from the bath was faintly heard. Katara turned her head to the door, trying to decide how to respond, but the Princess spoke first.
“When he emerges tell him our father wishes to have breakfast with him in the west wing. You will be let out the back, where the carriage will take you back to wherever it was you came from.”
“Yes, Princess.”
Katara made the mistake of locking eyes with the woman, unable to break away from her gaze. She knew it was impudent to do so, but there was something so innately evil about her that she could not tear herself away.  Azula looked back at her, and then to the wine she cleaned up, and once again broke out into a smirk. In another moment she was gone as quickly as she had come, just as the handle to the bathroom turned.
Zuko emerged fully clothed. He did not ask why she was kneeling on the ground, but instead made his way across the room. His eyes noted the folded sheets and tidied room, and she could swear he seemed almost…grateful.
He stood before her and put his hand inside his robe, and extracted a thin blue ribbon with a circular blue pendant.
“I believe this is yours,” he said as he held it out to her. “It fell off during—well, during.”
“My moth—my necklace,” she said, quickly trying to cover her excitement at its discovery, and her shame for not noticing its absence sooner. She didn’t want him to know it was her mother’s. Again, it was another piece of her soul that he had no right too. Yet again she slipped! And if he asked, she would have to tell him.
“This was your mother’s?”
Shit.
“Yes, it was hers.”
“And isn’t this an engagement necklace?”
“Yes.”
“Then why is she no longer wearing it? Surely you have no use for it.”
Bastard.
“Because the dead have no need for such lavish jewelry.”
One day, one happy and lucky day, she would learn to watch her tongue. But instead of the reaction she expected, she watched the harsh lines on Zuko’s face soften. Was it her imagination, or did he regret his words just as much as she regretted her own? Certainly if that were true they regretted for different reasons.
He kept his mouth shut as he folded the piece in her palms, lingering on her fingers a minute too long to be accidental. The silence between them was deafening.
“You…are requested in the west wing, to dine with your father,” Katara whispered as she tied the necklace around her throat, just remembering her orders from before. Zuko did not say another word, but turned on his heel and left her there alone to wonder about the strangeness of it all.
**
The return to the school went according to schedule.
She arrived in the morning and was instantly herded into an empty room where her examination would take place. Seated against the wall was the official capital doctor, who would conduct the exam to make sure there was no beguilement on the madam’s part.
He was a stout man with a long white beard and a bald scalp who wheezed when he walked. He told her to disrobe, which she did, although Katara felt it was unnecessary to be entirely nude to do the procedure.
She watched as the doctor took her form in with his eyes, and knew that he enjoyed his job too much.
His cold hands found their way between her legs, entering the sore and tender flesh which caused Katara to gasp.
Quiet, Akane’s gaze told her.
When he finished his examination, he told Akane that all seemed to be in order. He would report back to the Fire Lord of the success of their transaction and testify that indeed she is no longer intact after the events of the evening.
Katara let out a breath as the man left, and suddenly felt acutely tired. She put her clothes back on, and made for her room. But before she could leave Akane spoke to her.
“You did well,” she said.
It was the closest thing to a sincere statement the woman ever said to her. Akane walked over, and put her infamous claws around her shoulders.
“But if you did your job right, we should be getting a call within the next few days for another appointment. I hope you did not disappoint the Prince.” She squeezed down hard on her shoulders to emphasize this point.
Or else.
**
Luckily for Akane, and Katara, there was a message waiting in the hall the next morning. She was requested again that very evening.
“And so soon!” cried the old woman.  The giddiness in her voice made Katara sick. The message made her worry.
Career wise this was an excellent step. Yes, she made a good impression with her first sale, especially to the royal family, but this kind of attention usually indicated there was a possibility for a permanent position. If a man enjoys his whore enough, he would buy her from the madam and keep her as his own personal concubine. This was the highest dream she could hope for—or rather, she was supposed to hope for.
There was still her soul screaming for escape, for freedom. But that tedious thing kept getting in the way of her reality.
She also could not deny her ego the small satisfaction. Katara could have sworn that the Prince detested the act almost as much as she did. She saw it in his body, with the way he moved when he was on top of her. All mechanical, all product of a lesson taught.
Just like her.
But there was the moment when he held her hand; where his body softened for just a second to allow a small glimpse behind the screen.  Was he intrigued by her? The train of thoughts she had all day indicated she was intrigued by him, although her personal rules would not allow it.  
Before she knew it, she was getting prepped again for another night. The same routine of hair and makeup and clothing was almost comforting to her. There was a strange sense of solace in such repetition. Katara believed it helped calm her nerves.
Once again, as the moon raised high into the sky, she made her way to the Royal Palace. Already the lavish red walls and plush carpets were becoming familiar to her as a tiny servant led her along.
“In here, Miss,” he said to her, indicating to a tiny red door on her left.
This was not Prince Zuko’s room.
In fact, this barely looked like a door against the wall. But when she turned around to ask if there was some sort of mistake, the servant had vanished. Hesitating, she slowly opened the door to reveal a blackened room with one lone fire burning in the corner.
“Tell me, whore, do you enjoy livening on a secluded island like a leper?”
That voice. It couldn’t be.
“Because if you do, I regret to inform you that you will not be returning there.” Out of the shadows Princess Azula stepped into the light, an ominous greeting just like her first. Was it really only two nights ago since she had come face to face with such a demon?
“I’m sorry Princess, I do not understand. Where is the Prince?”
“Don’t you worry, you will be returned to ZuZu soon enough. You and I need to discuss the parameters of your employment.”
Employment? Katara was certain that there was more behind the word than what her job usually entailed, and she had just finally fulfilled the first part of it the other night! What fresh hell could possibly be upon her now?
“There are certain clauses in your contract that you need to be aware of. These are demands that come directly from my father, Fire Lord Ozai. You wouldn’t want to upset him.”
I wouldn’t want to upset you either, Katara thought. Azula began to circle Katara like a hawk, playing in and out of the shadows as she spoke.
“We have great need of you,” said Azula as she came up from behind. Her warm breath tickled the back of Katara’s neck, sending her hair on edge.  Her left eye looked down to her shoulder, and she watched as the ghostly white hand of the Fire Nation Princess reach out and grab her.
“Don’t you wish to…serve your nation?”
The hand squeezed down hard on her shoulder, and Azula’s long black nails dug through the fabric and into her skin.
It seemed she was about to leave the talons of one harpy for another.
**
Author’s Note: Inspiration, you flow like a river this week! Thank you to all those who reviewed, it really set a fire in my heart to try and develop this tiny idea a step farther. Please don’t stop!
I am trying to place tiny little parts of the real series into this universe whenever possible, such as Azula’s mimicking of Zuko in this chapter. I hope you all catch them as they are thrown in.
Also, if there are any artists out there, I would love to have a cover piece for this story. If anyone is interested please PM me and let me know.
I hope you are all intrigued and enjoying so far. Until the next one,
ChiaraBrie