Hearts and Thoughts
A Zutara one-shot/preview for a bigger story that I may write. Takes place eight years after the defeat of Fire Lord Ozai. Inspired by Charlotte Martin's version of Pearl Jam's Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town. The premise for this is that Zuko, now Fire Lord, is throwing a masquerade party in honor of the anniversary of his father's defeat. This party will be rather Western since I couldn't find anything on Chinese masquerades, sorry. Avatar nor this song belong to me. Now please, read, enjoy, and review.
Zuko raised his hand and signaled for the servants standing discreetly against the wall to disassemble the banquet table and couches while the guests retreated to the private chambers of the palace. They bowed their heads deferentially to him as they scurried from their positions and quickly cleared away the porcelain platters of roast duck, steamed fish, and other lavish dishes he'd had prepared for this occasion. He'd spared no expense this night, calling in every favor and using ever ounce of influence he and his uncle carried. The party was intended to make a statement, to further distance himself from the legacy of his father's reign. Zuko's relation to Ozai still tainted him in the eyes of many, and there was no mistaking the resemblance between the two. Without his scar, the present Fire Lord was nearly the spitting image of his predecessor. It almost made him thankful for it, almost. It had been Iroh who suggested the masquerade ball in addition to the banquet and other festivities. It would help to separate Zuko from his father both in physical appearance and disposition. Ozai would have never indulged in something as frivolous as a masquerade ball, and Zuko wasn't that keen on the idea himself. However, it was too good of an opportunity to glean information from potential enemies to pass up.
He sighed as he monitored the activities of the servants carefully stacking away the plates and sections of the table to be cleaned in the kitchens. When all seemed to be in order, he turned and headed for a side door that led through a narrow, dark corridor into his personal chambers. Lighting the tip of his index finger, he examined the coiling iron lock that wound itself over the door frame and barred entry to anyone who might stumble across this passage way. Zuko normally kept a heavy wardrobe in front of it just incase someone skilled enough happened to find their way there. Tonight, he'd moved the chest so he could easily sneak in, don his costume, and sneak out before anyone noticed.
He placed his finger on the inside of the metal tube and shot a finger of flame into it, just hot enough to trigger the inner mechanism. The temperature had to be just right or else the lock would somehow activate a small bell on the inside of the room to alert anyone in there. He wasn't entirely sure how it worked. He had little time to examine things like that these days. The lock clicked free, and he pushed it open with the toe of his boot.
Out of habit, he checked the room for any would be assassins, his eyes rolling up to ceiling. That's what usually gets people, he thought, they never look above them. Of course, there was nothing there. The palace was heavily guarded. Ozai had turned it almost into a fortress during his time as Fire Lord.
Now certain that no one was lurking in the room, Zuko shut the door and reactivated the lock. He knelt down on the floor and lifted up a polished wooden panel that served as storage space. A package laid inside was wrapped in crimson papier-mâché and twine. His fingers plucked at the knot and carefully folded away the layers of wrapping. The Blue Spirit mask grinned up at him demonically, almost begging him to put it on. He'd managed to find another one almost identical to the one he'd thrown in Lake Laogai. The Blue Spirit had become something of a folk hero amongst the commoners with the fall of Ozai. Zuko smiled to himself as he ran his fingers over one carved fang, many others would be dressed as the renowned outlaw as well. No one would have any idea that one of them was the Fire Lord slinking among them.
He stood up and unbuttoned the top of his formal robes, tossing the heavy layers of clothing onto his low bed. He rolled his shoulders in gratitude to finally be out of those confining things. Being Fire Lord had its perks, but clothing was not one of them. Zuko slipped into the pants and shirt quickly, sliding a small dagger into the band of his sash. No one was allowed to carry weapons during the celebration, but he thought it better to be safe than sorry. He hid another one in his right boot as he slipped them on. He studied himself in a mirror for a moment to make sure that nothing gave him away. Then he picked up the mask and placed it in front of his face, slowly tying it in the back. When he looked at his reflection again, he didn't recognize himself. It'd been years since he'd worn this disguise. It was like he'd become another person. Here was a character wholly outside of convention, something elemental that would not bow to the creeds of men. His hands began to itch for his broadswords at the prospect of such freedom.
You have to give up that life, you idiot, he thought bitterly as he stared at the grinning face in the mirror. But just for tonight he could revel in it again. Zuko turned away from the mirror and kicked the wooden panel back into place. He walked to the door way, opened the door, and shut it quietly behind him. Stealthily, he crept back down the corridor and gently nudged the door open before he snuck out into the main dining room, now converted into a makeshift dance hall. Scattered throughout the room were small clusters of nobles and guests mingling together. They all wore costumes, most incredibly gaudy and elaborate. For a moment Zuko feared that he was the only Blue Spirit, when he espied several blue devilish masks floating around the room, each uniquely carved. He let out a deep breath in relief and began to make his way through the room. No dancing had started yet, though a band sat playing in a corner. The Fire Nation had been suppressed for so long that it came as no surprise to him that they found it hard to enjoy themselves. He couldn't even remember seeing anyone dance until he'd left the palace at 13.
He slithered between the groups of guests, keeping his ears alert for anything that might sound suspicious; until, he reached a corner of the room thrown into shadow. Until the crowd starting mingling more, he wanted to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against a wall and simply watched the party goers. Occasionally, someone might sway on their feet to the rhythm of a small lap drum, but no one dared actually to dance. Finally, someone managed to gather up enough courage to approach a noblewoman wearing a badger-mole mask to dance. The two bowed to each other and extended one hand out to the other, their palms pressing against each other in the air. The drum player slowed the tempo of his playing to match their stiff movements as they spun and bowed before the intrigued eyes of their peers. Soon others joined in and mimicked their movements. The dance soon grew into something smooth and graceful, and Zuko could not help but be reminded of the movements of a tiger-snake.
He watched them dance with grudging fascination. He'd never been much of a dancer himself. He was incredibly inept when it came to social situations like this. The thought of dancing made a lump form in his stomach. It was better just to watch and take note of the others festivities. He dimly wondered where Aang and the others were. He'd sent them personal invitations, but he hadn't spotted them at dinner. He'd been busy meeting dignitaries and making small talk with spoiled nobility. The Fire Lord felt a twinge of disappointment at their absence. He hadn't seen or heard much from them in years.
Zuko soon got lost in his own thoughts as he was prone to do. Uncle was constantly chiding him about daydreaming in the presence of others who might easily take offense at the slight insult. Surely, Sokka would come. I made sure to include the fact that there would be free food, he mused. A hand on his forearm pulled him out of his reverie.
He blinked in confusion as a young woman stood smiling expectantly in front of him. Her face was partially hidden by a thin veil of tattered gauze hanging from a farmer's hat, but he could make out a face painted with red whorls on her cheeks, eyes, lips, neck, and shoulders. Thick, brown hair framed a face and a pair of blue eyes that shined up at him. His breath caught in his throat for a moment at her surprising arrival. Something nagged at the back of his mind. He couldn't quite pinpoint it, but there was something about her.
"So are you going to say anything?" she asked in a low voice.
"Like what?" he answered in an annoyed tone.
She quirked an eyebrow at him and placed a fist on her hip. "Like hello for starters," she replied curtly.
He shrugged. "Hello."
She rolled her eyes but smiled at his stubbornness. "I saw you standing over here all alone. Everyone's dancing, but you and me," she said innocently.
"What's your point?"
"Ugh, c'mon," she grunted in disgust as she offered him her hand.
"I. Don't. Dance," he hissed through gritted teeth. He couldn't help but admit to himself that she was attractive and the offer was tempting, but Zuko didn't dance for anyone with anyone.
"Listen, if it makes you feel any better I'm a little self-conscious to about this sort of stuff, but it's really fun once you get into it," she encouraged.
"You're not going to go away until I do, are you?" he sighed while he rolled his eyes in frustration.
"Nope," she answered confidently.
"Fine, but just one dance and then we're through," he mumbled as she dragged him along by the hand to the well-lit dance floor.
"Whatever you say," she said in a placating voice, a smile playing at the edge of her red lips.
I'm going to regret this, he said silently to himself.
She stood across from her and pressed her hand against his gloved one. Despite the layer of cloth between their hands, he could still feel the heat coming from her palm. She bowed her head forward to him. He repeated the gesture. Then she dipped back, her long hair swinging out behind her. He watched each movement carefully, trying his best to imitate her. She crossed her foot with his and then spun away, leaving him standing stunned for a moment. She laughed at his confusion, but soon he copied her. They stood across from one another, slowly moving in circles that grew smaller and smaller.
The feeling that he was being watched gradually disappeared as he lost himself in the pacing of the dance. His eyes only focused on the fluid movement of her limbs as her arms arced out and she laced her fingers with his. He took note of the small blush that seemed to creep through her cheeks and down her neck to her collar bone. Every small quirk of her lips he noticed and memorized. He wasn't sure why he was feeling this way about her. Zuko could only attribute it to the fact that he'd had so little time for a love life that being in the presence of a woman was a thrill for him, and yet, he couldn't deny that it was something about her. He knew her somehow he thought. He wasn't sure when he'd met her or if it was just wishful thinking. She felt so familiar and comforting. The recognition was there hovering on the cusp of his thoughts, ready to manifest itself at any moment.
It wasn't until she linked her arm around his waist that he realized they'd already danced through a set of three songs. This one had a faster beat, and he found that his feet didn't work quite as well as he thought they should. She winced as his heal landed on her toe.
"Sorry," he murmured in embarrassment.
"It's alright," she said, her voice strained.
"Maybe we should stop," he suggested as they continued on in a fast circle.
"No, no, you'll get the hang of it soon enough," she whispered into his ear.
For some reason his scar itched. It rarely did that anymore. It only felt that way when he recalled the day he'd gotten it, or when someone touched it. There, the recognition was almost there. Dammit, why can't I remember who she is?, he yelled inside his head.
He followed her lead as their linked arms plunged down, and the front of their bodies dipped forward past each other while she arched her leg behind her back. The others around them paid no notice, lost in their individual beats. The fast pace kept up for another two or three songs while Zuko did his best to twirl and dive with her without crushing anymore of her poor toes. The set ended with the side of her body pressed against his, both of them panting from the exertion. The music stopped abruptly as the other dancers cheered around them.
"Told you you'd like it once you got into it," she taunted with a playful grin.
"How did you know?" he questioned, hoping to gain some sort insight as to who she was.
"I was the same way when someone wanted me to dance. I was terrified as first, but it's fun once you get into, isn't it?" she said as she moved her body away from his.
"Yeah, it is," he mumbled, already missing the presence of her. Don't be stupid, Zuko, why are you acting this way? She's just some woman.
She smiled and turned her head away as someone stepped upon a makeshift dais at the center of the room.
"I would like to thank everyone for attending tonight's celebration. It was truly something to behold, a show of the unity and brotherhood that may be accomplished among the nations," the person stated.
Zuko could tell from the gravelly voice and exaggerated dragon mask that it was Iroh speaking. He smiled to himself. His uncle always was the better diplomat.
"Now however, tonight must regretfully come to a close. It is time for the unmasking!" the old man shouted as he lifted his cup into the air.
Everyone shouted with excitement as they pulled off their disguises and stared in astonishment at the person they'd been dancing with. Zuko began to untie his mask when he saw the woman lift off her veiled hat. There was a brief glittering as the light bounced off of something nestled in the hollow of her throat. That necklace.
Oh by the spirits, it's her. It's . . .The young lady began to wipe off her make up with the long sleeve of her robe, revealing the face he had not been expecting.
Katara smiled up at him.
How could I not have known? he thought.
"Well, aren't you going to take your mask off?" she said as she reached up to help him.
He ripped it away before she could get her fingers around the edges of it, and let it hang limply in his hand by his side.
"Hello, Lady Katara," he greeted her as he took a bow.
"Z-Zuko?" she said in disbelief, her jaw hanging open in surprise.
He nodded slowly, trying to give her his best smile. His heart was pounding in his chest at the realization he'd been having that reaction towards her of all people.
"By La, it's been so long since I've seen your face!" she exclaimed as she threw her arms around his neck, completely unaware of the growing tension between them.
"Yes, it has," he mumbled into her hair as he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her.
"You haven't changed a bit," she said warmly as she stood back and held him out at arm's length.
"Neither have you," he responded, a lump in his throat.
"How many years has it been? Two, three?" she asked.
"Four," he replied, fighting the urge to shrug off her touch and embrace her again at the same time.
"It's really been that many years," she whispered sadly, something flitting across her face before she replaced it with another sweet smile. "I guess I don't realize how much time passes being in the village and all. This is the first time I've been away from home in quite some time."
"Really how is everything?" he asked curiously.
"Fine. Everything's fine," she said softly.
A thick silence fell between them as they registered just how long it had truly been since they'd last seen each other.
"Well, I guess I'd better go to bed," Zuko said awkwardly, trying his best to end this strange conversation.
"You're right," she answered. "Well, it was nice seeing you again, Zuko, Fire Lord Zuko."
With that, she turned and walked through the other departing guests. Zuko's eyes followed her the entire time, unable to bring himself to tear them away from her. He was confused to say the least about the reaction she'd elicited from him. He wasn't sure if it good or bad or just plain stupid. He watched in sudden fascination as she walked up to a man still wearing his mask. He pulled it off and revealed a bald head and a blue arrow tattooed onto it. Aang, the Avatar. Her husband. Zuko suddenly remembered that he'd heard they'd gotten married some years ago on the spur of the moment. Well, that settles that, he thought bitterly as he turned to retreat back to his room.
Okay, well there you have it. Please tell me what you think of it. Obviously, I got some inspiration from the Headband episode where Aang and Katara dance together, but I made it a little different. Thanks for everyone who reads this. If it gets a good enough reception, I'll probably make this into a full story.