AN: This oneshot was inspired by an idea for a story in the Original section on Whomever and Booter-Freak's AVATARD: The Last MiSTer site. Go look at it, it's an awesome A:TLA site.
Disclaimer: Not mine... (cries)
M A G N E T I S M
She shouldn't love him. Shouldn't look at him the way she can't help but do. And should definitely not long for him in her dreams the way she does.
"It's wrong," they tell her and she knows it, understands exactly what they mean.
But that night when Katara's all alone, seated apart from her friends, apart from humanity as whole, waiting for him to join her in a world vague and intangible and all their own, she cannot help but wonder as her dreams become reality, oh so quickly. If their love for each other is wrong; they polar opposites by element and creed... then what about the peace the Avatar seeks for the world, shouldn't it be wrong too? Why can their nations, so divided by a century of malcontent and warfare, be united together along with a third party while they, more deserving of being together after their trials than anyone else, be denied harmony?
Aren't they the perfect example of equality despite prejudice and love without hate?
As they press closer together to banish away the cold wind and unfeeling moon, she drifts away through surreal incoherent thoughts and euphoric sensations into a whimsical game of pretend.
They were enemies from the start. She felt nothing but disgust for him as he performed his aggressive dance before her. But as her abhorrence ebbed away and she allowed herself to enjoy the true beauty of his actions and, on a lesser scale, the responses they inspired, she found herself reaping a large amount of pleasure from the show. But it did not halt there, her eyes wandered and she found herself tracing his lithe movements and the barely visible lean musculature beneath his Fire Nation robes.
Her teenaged mind spun intricate possibilities and drew explicit pictures founded in the naive mind of one who knew nothing of such things. And Katara felt a childish blush coloring her mocha cheeks a delicate shade of crimson and was especially thankful for the precautionary mask of her disguise. What would Sokka think if he knew of her impossible infatuation?
The young man upon which her focus had been trailing like a moth to a flame turned to his audience abruptly after his latest performance, a dizzying spectacle in which he did the impossible: brought forth a classic symbol of hope and piece from his destructive element. She felt Aang stir at her side in excitement as the man's stunning flaxen eyes swept over the audience and had to stop herself from doing the same.
As he began to speak, Katara allowed herself to be lulled into a haze of contentment. His voice was wonderfully masculine, warm and deep like a heated spring with a hoarse overlay. So entranced by the sound was she that it took her sometime to realize that it was directed at her.
Resurfacing from the sweet images that her mind associated with his voice, she looked up into gorgeous eyes that peered quizzically back. Curiously questioning they seemed to gaze into her very soul, his eyes.
As blue clashed with yellow he smiled and Katara decided that it was the most lovely sight she had ever seen.
She nearly took the hand that was offered to her before she felt her brother's and friend's agitated presence at her shoulder. Her dream vanished, she backed away confused and unsure, shaking her head.
He had never been one to give up easily and now was no exception. He called upon the crowd that had pressed around her, on the edges of her consciousness, the entire time she had played the silent observer. They came to his aid and she didn't regret it terribly, permitting a few eager Fire Nation citizens to gently urge her to join him.
As she was guided to his side she felt a thrill of happiness as she realized that of all he could've chosen, all who would've been more than willing to accept his hand, he had asked her, her to join him on a level far above the others.
His hand brushed lightly against hers and Katara was lead to sit in a chair. Taking a light strip of blood red cloth, he bound her loosely to the chair and unbidden the word "kinky" hovered in her mind for an instant, before she smothered it, her cheeks stained red.
His pleasantly hot breath tickled her ear.
"You shall be my captured princess."
The warmth left her as he stepped away.
With little effort he conjured a large mass of fire that took on the semblance of a brilliant red dragon at his behest. Katara shuddered inwardly as the dragon soared about her in a wide circle. Sensing her fear he spoke.
"Don't worry, young maiden, I will tame this fiery beast."
And she did not doubt him, his prowess in Firebending was extraordinary. Her faith in his strength did not waver even when he himself began to doubt.
"It's too strong, I can't hold it. The rope, it's breaking!"
The dragon whirled magnificently before her, the fire's reflection dancing in her eyes. It was a different pair of eyes that occupied her thoughts, however.
He would save her, of that she had no doubt. A flash of yellow and red. The colors of fire... no, the colors of fall.
Her beloved muttered something at her savior and Katara found herself sympathizing with his resentment before her brother and her friend whisked her away. No time for goodbyes.
You thought it was Zutara, didn't you?