This is a little 'what if' scenario, based off of the season 2 finale. What if Katara and Aang did not get away? Crack!Pairing, I know... enjoy.
She stood quietly against the wall, watching the uneven rise and fall of his chest as the fever burned through his body, causing him to shiver. There was a fine sheen of sweat covering every inch of his pale skin, glistening in the soft, flickering lamp light. He was moaning every so often, calling out for his friends, but mostly for that annoying water tribe peasant who had tried to save him.
A slow smile spread across her shadowed lips. She had given that girl to her brother as a 'reward' for his timely assistance. It was a deliciously satisfying punishment, seeing her fear and hatred and knowing how much additional pain it was going to cause her favorite prisoner.
Her new 'toy'.
Oh, how satisfying it was to see him there, shackled and dazed, under her power at last. He wouldn't be here forever, once her father received word, but for now he was hers. And she meant to take full advantage of it. It gave her a secret, wicked thrill, having this god-boy completely under her control.
She couldn't help it – she snickered softly to herself.
Suddenly, he stilled. His back was turned to her, baring the wound that she had caused to her view.
It pleased her to see it.
"Katara?" He called out softly, his voice hopeful, wanting. He turned towards her slowly, his eyes bloodshot and blurred with tears. Drunk with fever as he was, he didn't seem to recognize her, opening up several interesting and amusing possibilities.
"Shhh," she whispered, as she slowly approached him. His glazed eyes followed her, yet they were not really seeing her at all. She knelt down in front of him, frowning a little at the discomfort she felt when her knees hit the cold stone floor. "I'm here."
He lunged into her arms, his forehead scalding her as he nestled it against her neck. The cold steel of his shackles scraped against her uncomfortably as he dug them into her side.
She felt his sigh against her neck and frowned, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable with the intimate position they were in... as if they were lovers. Cupping his face in her hands gently at first, she pulled him slightly away from her, digging her nails in the soft flesh of his cheeks once he was level with her own face. His eyes widened slowly, recognition swirling in their deep gray depths, followed by a shiver of fear that began at his temple and travelled the full length of his body before leaving him.
"Azula." He whispered, his heart racing so much that she could actually see the skin on the left side of his chest fluttering in response.
She raked her nails down his neck, drawing blood, and causing him to wince with pain. He did not cry out though, and for that she felt an unbidden and unwanted tremor of respect before she discarded it.
"How dare you speak to me so familiarly, Avatar," she spat. "You will only address me as Princess Azula. Understand, brat?"
His fear seemed to disappear for a moment, his eyes burning with rage as he hissed at her, his voice bitter and lucid and dripping with sarcasm.
She found his hate to be far more alluring than his fear. Her lips flushed red and twitched slightly, showing the merest hint of a smile.
"Good. You'll find I can be very agreeable, Avatar, when you submit to me." She said in a very low voice directly against his ear. She wet her lips and let them briefly touch the warm, soft skin of his neck before pulling away. He shivered again, his eyes glazed in confusion before constricting again in hate. In a show of defiance, he pulled away, in the process turning his back to her,
"Go 'way." He mumbled, once again sounding like a scared little boy. She had unnerved him and the knowledge of it made her laugh, openly and loudly, the sound of her voice vibrant and yet eerie as it echoed off the walls of the dark stone cell.
She leaned forward, following him in his retreat, and worked her hands around him, tantalizingly slowly, following the path of the tattoos on his arms and eventually stopping on the metal shackles binding his wrists. Again, she pressed her lips against his ear.
"Are these bothering you?" She purred, taking delight in his erratic breathing. "I can have them removed, you know. That is, if you behave yourself like a good little boy."
He whimpered, turning to her, his face bright red, contorted into a mask of confusion and embarassment.
Azula smiled to himself. Such innocence... it will be great fun to break him.
Shivering, the boy shook his head as if to clear it, and cried out softly.
"Princess Azula... go away... please," he begged her, his lips trembling.
Snickering, she brushed her lips lightly against his cheek, watching with satisfaction as his face fell, the fever bringing a bright red tint to his soft and somewhat plushy cheeks. She was cruelly toying with him, and they both knew it.
"Alright... for now... but I will be back, Avatar. And I own you now... don't forget that." She said, and with one last laugh, she left him, confused and filled with despair.
A/N: Azula's such a rotten bitch... ;). I have five chapters of this written already, and I am working on a sixth, so expect updates to come fairly quickly... at least for now.