A/N: Sorry about the delay in this update everyone. I got a new job so it's been taking up a chunk of my spare time. As always I hope you all enjoy and please let me know what you think! :)

Finding a private moment in the palace is practically impossible. And yet Katara manages to find one way in the back of the gardens after some serious searching.

Tonight she is to have dinner with her fiancé. And since she cannot avoid him without causing insult, then she will spend her time before dinner avoiding everyone else.

This is my duty, she reminds herself. I promised father. Hakoda is a good man, a kind man. Katara knows he'd never do anything to purposely make her unhappy.

Katara sighs, slumping a bit in the thick grass, not caring if she gets her dress stained. In two weeks she'll be shipped off to Storm's End and there she shall become a stag.

But not for true, she thinks. Never for true. Something inside her soul will always howl at the starry night sky. She knows this.

A twig snaps and she's on her feet in an instant. "Come out," she demands, sounding bored.

And out he comes, hair perfectly trimmed and clothes perfectly in place. Katara rolls her eyes, not caring if she's being rude. "Aren't princes supposed to be gentlemen? I don't think stalking women is very gentlemanly, do you?"

"I wasn't stalking you," Prince Zuko says quickly. "I was simply keeping an eye on you because—"

"So you were watching me?"

"Well, yes—"

"So stalking me, then."

"I—no. I was not. I was just making sure that you were all right. You seemed—"

Something inside Katara stirs in anger. He feels sorry for her. She can see it in his golden, clear eyes. And Katara cannot stomach his pity.

"Well, Your Highness, I'm perfectly fine. I don't need anyone, including you, to follow me in order to confirm that. Now, please excuse me. I have a dinner to go to."

She brushes past him, not caring as much as she should whether she smacks him or not.

His fingers wrap around her hand. His grip is not hard; he releases her instantly, but Katara freezes in her steps none the less. He looks just as shocked as she does at his transgression.

And then he clears his throat, quickly muttering apologies, but she is gone before they can be properly heard. His touch is now nothing more then a ghost upon her skin.