Chapter 1

The palace gardens had more plants than Katara was able to count. She'd tried, just as a means of distracting herself. It was of no use, though; she couldn't keep track of anything except that which she wished to forget. With a sigh, she bended some water from the pond into the soil, pulling her fingers into a loose fist as she fed the water to the thirsty plants. Zuko would have said not to trouble herself with such things; the servants would tend to the garden. The young firelord had been watching her from a balcony above for some time now, maintaining a stillness that told her he didn't want to be acknowledged. She glanced up to where he had been standing, hoping to find a disapproving gaze on his face. He was gone, though. Maybe it was just as well.

Zuko had done nothing to offer her any sort of comfort or company, and yet she still felt loneliness' bitter sting knowing that he was no longer standing in close proximity. She was alone out here. It was just her and the many, many plants. She rose to her feet, walking along the garden's path and running her fingertips over each of the plants as she passed them by.

"You know, we have servants to take care of the garden. You don't need to isolate yourself from the rest of the party."

Katara turned around to face the firelord. He wore a small smile on his lips, one that begged her to come up with a witty reply. There was no point in that, though; to make a joke right now would be to put on a facade, and she hadn't the energy for that.

"I just wanted to be alone," she said, although that wasn't necessarily through either. She looked away from him then, her hands trembling as she braided a small strand of her hair. She didn't want to be alone; she just didn't want to be in there with all of those people. All of the people inside of the palace loved her, and they were so happy for her. They were her friends and her family, but right now she couldn't bear to look at them.

"Should I leave you, then?"

The question was so earnest, so considerate, that Katara found herself unable to reply. She stood there, mouth open, searching for the words—for the strength—to tell him to go. Zuko, she knew, wasn't one to pry. It was for the best if he didn't. If she told him to leave, then he would leave, no questions asked. That was what scared her.

"Katara," he said, his long robes rustling as he took a step towards her. "This is a happy occasion. What's bothering you?"

She diverted the question. "You don't seem very happy."

Zuko paused, caught off guard by her bluntness. He tugged at his earlobe, eyes downcast. "I guess I'm not, but that's very selfish of me."

She hadn't expected him to come out and say it—if he was, indeed, saying what she suspected. They weren't supposed to speak of such things. They both had more important things—priorities like duty and country and honor. Things that came before themselves. Things that came before each other.

"I wish that I could afford to be selfish," she admitted, turning away and walking slowly along the path. She could hear him following behind her but didn't dare to look at him as she spoke for fear that the tears welling up in her eyes might fall. "Maybe things would be different."

"How would they be different?" he asked, a newfound eagerness in his voice. She startled as he took her hand, leaving her no choice but to face him. She looked at their hands, now intertwined. In the moonlight, it was difficult to distinguish the red and blue colors of their garments; they looked the same. "Please, just indulge me this once."

Katara shook her head. "I can't, Zuko. You know that I can't."

Zuko's hand dropped to his side, and he lowered his head. "Yes, I know."

They surrendered to silence then, neither of them knowing what to say next. This was wrong, wrong in so many ways—wrong especially because it felt right. Katara looked around.

"Where are the others?" she asked, suddenly paranoid that someone could have overheard their discussion. There didn't appear to be anyone else around; even the palace servants were all occupied with the party.

"In the ballroom where we left them, I'd imagine," Zuko said. "Unless the party has ended already. I admit, I haven't been the most social tonight. I don't really know how do all of this firelord stuff."

"You're doing a fine job." She hated this. Now they were just making small talk. There was no point to any of this, and it was time to put it to an end. "I should probably go to bed. Tomorrow will be a tiring day."

"Katara, please," Zuko said, his words stopping her in her tracks. "If tonight is the last night I'll ever have to spend with you, I don't want to lose that chance. Everything is going to change tomorrow. I don't know when I'll see you again, but if I ever do things won't be the same."

How could he say that? How could he look her in the eye and suggest that they might never see each other again? She wouldn't stand for that. He had to know her better than to think that she would allow that to happen. When she looked into his eyes, though, she could see that to Zuko these concerns were very real.

"Zuko, I will see you again," she said sternly. "This isn't a goodbye. Can't we think of it as a 'see you later'?"

"Yes, but when is later?"

That was a question that she couldn't answer, and right now she couldn't handle thinking in such ways. She covered her face with her hands and walked back towards the palace. Feeling less than steady, she leaned against a pillar in the doorway and admired the architecture; this building was stronger than she was.

"I don't want to think about later," she finally said. "I don't want to think about tomorrow. I want to think about right now—this moment."

She felt the warmth of Zuko's hand as it rested atop hers. If it were anybody else, she would have expected some grand romantic gesture, but this was Zuko; she knew that he wouldn't do anything further until she'd made it clear what she wanted.

"And what do you think about this moment?" he asked, and she bit her lip uncertainly.

Unable to bring herself to say what she truly was feeling—what she truly wanted—Katara said "That I'd like to spend it with you." It wasn't a lie.

Zuko stepped past her, back into the palace. The hallway in which he stood was dark—unlit by any lamps or candles. All that she could see what his pale skin, like the face of a spirit in the darkness. All of that eagerness and curiosity that he had possessed now gave way to the appearance of anxiousness.

"If someone were to see us out here together," he started, looking over his shoulder, "they might get the wrong idea. Perhaps we should go somewhere a little more private."

More wrong that felt right—more choices that might not make sense in the morning. Still, she nodded to him and took his hand. He led her down the long hallway, taking a few turns that she was unable to keep track of. Clearly, he knew his palace well, but she still feared that they might march right into a wall. Not once did Zuko hesitate; he took his steps with absolute certainty. Katara kept close, grabbing a hold of his arm to be sure that she wouldn't somehow lose him. But then, losing him was exactly what she was preparing to do tomorrow, wasn't it? She held him tighter.

They came to a slow halt. With eyes now adjusted to the darkness, Katara could see that they were standing before a pair of large ornate doors. There was no question as to where they were. After taking in an audible breath, Zuko pulled his arm from Katara's grasp and pushed the doors open, leading the way into the imperial suite. This was where Zuko had slept every night since claiming the throne. He had gone from being a fugitive on the run—homeless for much of that time, without any sense of honor—to sleeping in this lavish room. It was unlike anything that Katara had seen: grand golden tapestries hung from the windows, and every seat and surface seemed to be ordained with silky pillows and cushions, and at the very back of the room sat the biggest, most inviting bed that Katara had ever seen. She tried not to look at any of it.

"It's light in here," she said, taking notice of the room's stark contrast to the rest of the palace.

Zuko smirked, but Katara caught a hint of embarrassment in his voice. "I like to keep it this way. It's easier to come back alone to a giant, empty room when it's not so dark."

She folded her arms, now boasting a smug grin of her own. "The mighty firelord is afraid of the dark?"

Zuko grimaced, pulling the headpiece out of his topknot and letting his hair fall down freely. "The mighty firelord is afraid of being alone."

Stunned by his honesty, Katara rocked backwards on her heels. What must it have been like to be Zuko? Finally, after all of these years he was loved and accepted. Certainly, it couldn't have gotten much better than being the firelord. And yet, with all of his success and glory, he was alone. She wondered if he ever missed their old adventures.

Zuko paused before removing the top layer of his robes, clearly looking for her approval. The standard fashion for Fire Nation nobles looked incredibly uncomfortable and restrictive, so out of pure pity Katara lifted her shoulder into a half shrug. Without the spiked shoulders and constricting neckline, Zuko looked much more like himself. At the very least, he looked like almost any other Fire Nation citizen. Even so, he was likely wearing at least another extra layer or two of fabric. In a climate so mild, Katara couldn't imagine what that must have been like.

"I know you don't want to talk about the future," Zuko said, attempting to fold the thick and stubborn garment before giving up and tossing it onto a nearby chair, "but what about the past? Can we talk about that?"

"What about the past?" she asked. Those had been difficult times. In comparison to all that she had been through, life now should have been a breeze. No longer were they faced with war and death. Instead, she faced foolish, civil problems, which somehow seemed just as important. Love and other trivial things seemed much greater in significance when one had time to think about them.

Zuko strolled over to the bed and sat on its edge. He looked across the room at Katara with a eyes full of nostalgia. "The first time we met."

That was not the fondest of memories. The feeling that it gave her was in such contrast to the goofy smile on Zuko's face that Katara actually laughed. "You want to reminisce about the day we met?"

"Not all of the time we spent fighting and shooting water and fire at each other," Zuko shook his head. "I mean the first time that I really met you. The first time that you really met me."

"The caves of Ba Sing Se," she said quietly. The words alone were enough to take her back to that day. She could feel it all: the cool, dampness of the cave, the fear of being separated from her brother and Aang, the anger—the tremendous anger—at seeing the prince of the Fire Nation trapped there with her. She could hear the harshness in her own voice, the softness in his. He hadn't even tried to fight back as she spewed insults his way. Then there was the downfall. If she thought too closely about that day it still hurt, but looking at Zuko now she knew that somehow it had all worked out for the best. Destiny was funny that way. "What about it?"

"Uncle and I had been living in the city as refugees at the time. Life had suddenly become so simple. My motivation was no longer to catch the Avatar, but to run a tea shop. It was actually beginning to feel normal. I was happy." This was new. They rarely talked about the caves of Ba Sing Se and what had happened there, and Zuko had certainly never mentioned this other life that he'd lived. "Then Azula came along and ruined everything—like she always does. She captured me, threw me into a prison beneath the city. I guess you know the rest."

She did. "Tell me anyway."

Zuko looked at her quizzically. The combination of sadness and curiosity on his face was all too similar to the way he'd looked that day. Katara had to divert her eyes.

"You hated me. You hated to even be near me. That much was obvious," Zuko continued. "I remember that for the first time, I didn't feel angry when I saw you; I just felt sorry. You turned around, then, and you were so kind to me. I'd never done anything to earn that from you, but when you looked at me, it was like I was being seen for the first time."

"I think that I really was seeing you for the first time in that moment," Katara said, fiddling with the trim on her long sleeves. She took a few steps towards him, but didn't dare to sit next to him on the bed. "I couldn't believe the things that you were saying, and I was ashamed of myself for the things I had already said to you. How could someone who had done so much damage to us have been so wounded? So gentle? Sitting there in that Earth Kingdom garb with your hair grown out long, you seemed like a different person altogether."

Zuko was still and silent. Perhaps she had said too much. At first she thought that she might have embarrassed him, but the firelord didn't look upset. He seemed thoughtful, his eyes downcast and his lips pursed together in a thin line. Black hair hung over his forehead like a tattered curtain. She'd seen him like this a thousand times, so why now did she feel so different?

Zuko let out an audible breath and rose to his feet, treading towards her with slow steps. "I wanted to take away every pain you'd ever felt—every wrong that I or anyone else had ever done to you. I wanted to take back every fight and every word that was less than kind. Selfishly, I still wanted to keep that moment, even though everything leading up to it had been suffering for us both."

She felt like they were telling the story now—their story. Instead of a specific order of events, the tale was outlined in thoughts and emotions. The actions of the story were played out in the background like shadows on a wall. She had to keep the story going now.

"It was almost as if I'd lost touch with reality for a few hours," she said, folding her arms over her rib cage. Was she cold? What were these shivers running through her body? "I felt as though I'd be imprisoned forever. The more we talked, though, the less bad the idea seemed. Being stuck there with you, out of anyone else in the world, suddenly felt like a spell of good luck."

Zuko stood in front of her now. She had to look up to see his face. It was a face that she knew so well, although it had certainly changed over the years. His was the face that she used to fear and loathe. Now when she looked at it she felt safe; she felt at home in the midst of a terribly dark night. She wasn't going to think about tomorrow. That meant that she couldn't fear tomorrow, and it meant that she couldn't fear tonight.

"I just wanted to reach out and touch you—maybe to make sure that you were real, to feel for myself. Maybe to show you that I wasn't afraid anymore." Just as she had on that fateful night, Katara lifted her hand to touch the firelord's face, gently caressing the rough skin where Ozai had permanently marked him. He leaned into her touch.

"You showed me that I wasn't defined by my past—by my scar," Zuko said. He let out a breathy laugh then, lifting his hand to hold Katara's. "Your hand was trembling back then too."

Where might they be now if she had used the spirit water on Zuko's scar? Her natural instinct was to think it a good thing that she hadn't, because she later used that very water to save Aang's life. With further thinking, though, she wasn't so sure Aang's life would have been put in danger if she'd had just a few more moments with Zuko.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to heal you," she said, heart dropping. She wanted to look away from him, but she found herself far too perplexed by the smile on Zuko's face that remained unbroken.

"You didn't heal my scar," he said, as if to correct her. He reached for her other hand then, holding both of them now. Funny that the only barrier between them was their own hands. "But you did heal me."

He let go of her hands, then, so that he could trace her jawline with his fingertips. His hands were warm—hot, even—but she shivered at his touch. He ducked down to her level, face to face with her now. She could feel his breath against her face, but he didn't move any further. Looking into his eyes, Katara knew what this was: a silent agreement to continue—to have this one night—even if they never spoke of it again. This very well could have been all they would ever have. With the tiniest of nods, Zuko closed his eyes; somehow, the sadness in them was still visible, so Katara closed her eyes too. She waited then, as patiently as she could, until she felt Zuko's lips against her own. He kissed her softly, as if she was a delicate flower. Perhaps he was as frightened as she had been. Now, though, in the moment, she didn't feel scared at all.

Zuko wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Yes, this was the safest that she had ever felt. His arms were like walls, keeping out all the bad thoughts and fears of what tomorrow might bring. It was just them here—no room for doubts, no room for a future that couldn't be theirs. She surrendered herself to him and to this night.

Only good things here.

Only happiness.

Only passion.

Only love.

Katara awoke to darkness. Sitting up, she could see sunlight trying to sneak through the thick tapestries that covered the windows. It was morning; she was supposed to pick up all of her responsibilities again, but that was the last thing that she wanted to do. Was it possible that she dreaded it now more than she had been last night? Now she'd had a taste of everything that she was about to lose. She lay back down, staring at Zuko's bare back. Bending the rules just a bit more, she stretched out her arm and wrapped it around him, resting her forehead against his shoulder blades. Time was only going to get away from her—she was risking everything by not jumping out of this bed immediately and running to her own quarters—but she needed to stay. She needed just a few more minutes.

"Good morning." Zuko's voice didn't sound tired. She could feel him hesitate before taking her hand, and he didn't turn around to face her. "Did you sleep well?"

"I slept fine." It was waking up that had been the problem. Her heart wanted to forget what today would bring, but her mind had been unwilling to cooperate. "You?"

"Fine."

Silence.

"I've been awake for a while," he added. He traced little patterns on the back of her hand. It tickled, but she didn't pull away. "I couldn't keep the sun from rising, but I tried."

If only that was how it worked. The longer they lay there, the more clear it was that today was, indeed, going to carry on; it would only get worse if they didn't cooperate. When she realized this, Katara pulled her hand away, her arm snaking back from around Zuko's body towards her own. For the first time since last night, he turned over and looked at her. She didn't look away because she was ashamed. Rather, because she knew that if she let her gaze linger on his pain-filled eyes for too long she would lose whatever shard of motivation she had left. She had to go on with the plan. There was no turning back now.

"I should go," she whispered, more to herself than to Zuko. She rolled over and put her feet on the floor, willing herself to stand. Suddenly, she felt very exposed. She heard the sound of blankets rustling behind her as Zuko got up. After a short moment he approached her, now dressed and holding out a long robe.

"Here. Take this."

She slipped the robe on, but found that the silky fabric was of little comfort to her. The clothes she had worn last night were in a heap on the floor. After a moment's thought, she decided it would look more suspicious if she were seen still wearing them this morning. She picked them up and clutched them to her chest, nodding to Zuko.

"I'll see you at the ceremony," she said as bravely as she could. She'd barely taken a step towards the door when he called after her.

"Katara, don't do this." It was enough to turn her head, and then her entire body, back to face him. "It doesn't have to be this way."

She closed her eyes, shaking her head stubbornly. "I'm getting married today, Zuko. This is exactly how it has to be."

"Why?" he asked, anger slipping into the sadness in his voice. "Because you have this notion that it's your duty? Because Aang chose you out of all the women in the world?"

"Stop it," she said, biting her lip. She was not going to cry. She refused. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "It doesn't matter why; it just has to be done."

Putting one foot in front of the other, she walked towards the door. She had to will herself to do it, because leaving Zuko now certainly didn't feel natural. She told herself that once she got out of this room she would be fine. Once she got out of here she would realize how excited she was for this special day.

"Please," Zuko said. Truly, it sounded like he was begging her now. Once again she relented and turned to face him. He lumbered towards her. He reached out for her hand, causing her to drop the clothes that she'd just collected. "I know you don't love him."

"I don't know if I do." She glanced at the floor. "But I do love you, Zuko. Maybe in some version of reality we could be together; this isn't it."

"Stay with me." He practically mouthed the words, they came out so quietly. "Marry me."

A tear escaped her eye then, in spite of the vow she'd made not to cry. She was only going to make more halfhearted vows later, so what did it matter? When she felt her tears wetting their joint hands, she let go. It was time.

"Aang needs me," she said. It was a weak excuse, and Zuko's quick response only proved that further.

"I need you."

"The world needs me—to carry on the airbending bloodline."

Zuko looked down at his hands, now empty of hers. All that Katara could do was clench her fists; otherwise she knew that she might reach out to him. It had to end somewhere, but when she'd started this last night, she'd convinced herself that it would be easier. Perhaps if she had been able to close her eyes and block him out she might have been spared a bit of pain. She didn't want to remember him like this; he hardly looked like himself, he was so distraught.

"This isn't fair," he said, his voice tight, probably strained by the tears that glossed over his eyes. "You should be with me."

Katara put her hand on Zuko's chest. She allowed it to rest there for a moment before bowing her head and gently pushing him away from her. It took all of her strength to put just a foot of distance between them. She tried to smile at him, but it felt wrong. "Not all things are as they should be."

She looked down at herself—at the silk robe that should have been worn by Mai, or some woman of nobility, or anyone but her. For the second time this morning, she picked up her clothes from the floor. This time she made it out the door and down the hallway. This time there were no tears that followed.

The wedding came, as she'd known it would. It was a beautiful affair that had been unfortunately tainted by Zuko's kindness in opening the Fire Nation Palace to them. She'd known that coming here would only bring trouble and temptation. Maybe that was why Zuko had offered. Maybe that was why she had been so quick to accept. Poor Aang was none the worse from it all, completely clueless. His happiness only brought her down further, but she was obligated to wear a smile.

Every last second seemed to drag on. Her eyes kept finding Zuko. Even when she tried to focus on Aang, she could see him from the corner of her eye. It resulted in her waiting. Waiting for the ceremony to be over, and waiting for Zuko to object to it all. If he stood up and called for her now, she would have no choice but to be with him; certainly Aang wouldn't want her if he knew what she'd done. It was foolish and wrong for her to wish for such things, but she couldn't help herself. It didn't matter, though. Zuko sat in the crowd, stone-faced and silent. She said her vows in a daze, hanging onto each word as time ran out. Then it was too late. She'd made her vows, and Aang had made his. They were forever bound in marriage. If Zuko wanted her, he'd lost his chance. She'd certainly lost him.

What was she to say now to all of her guests? How was she to address the congratulations of her family and friends? With a polite thank-you, she decided, and whatever smile she could manage. She would give the same to Aang, along with whatever else he wanted from her. Aang was a good man. He needed her, and the world needed him. He was a friend, at the least, and a lover at the most. These were things she could manage.

A grand feast followed the ceremony. When she first caught sight of Zuko, she felt the ache of her heart right down to her fingertips. The Firelord had been gracious enough to give up his seat at the head of the table to Aang (in fact, Zuko had insisted). Still, he sat to Aang's right, directly across from Katara. It didn't take long before she learned to squeeze Aang's hand each time she felt the heartache; it numbed the pain, and if nothing else, it made Aang smile.

Katara knew that she was incredibly fortunate. Today she had married the Avatar. A bright future awaited both of them, and a happy past stood at her back. This was for the best, she told herself. This was better for everyone. She and Zuko never would have lasted anyway. Of course, that was just empty reassurance.