Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Avatar: The Last Airbender.


What a tacky sunset, what a vulgar moon.


They meet for the first time when she is seven and he is nine.

The nations are peaceful and unscarred by war.

She is a young girl, excited by the shapes the steam from her tea makes as it coils upwards. Her father is her hero and her brother the "enemy", her mother a saint and her tribe an army. She doesn't understand what it is to lie, for she always says what she means; she is always her best possible version.

He is only ever excited when his father, Fire Lord Ozai, graces him with a simple conversation. His favorite weapon is fire fueled with anger and taunting from his sister. He loves his mother more than life.

He knows all about lying. He sees the young girl's face and wants to teach her what it means to be deceitful.

Her father and Southern Water Tribe chief, Hakoda, has taken their family to the Fire Nation Capitol as a pit stop on a world tour. She has strange mocha-colored skin and hair that would be like his, if not for the gentle touch of brown.

He is standing with his mother at the specialties stand while he watches swift fingers weave a red ribbon through her braid. She laughs as her brother attempts to tie a bow around his meager bundle of hair.

He hears his mother ask the vendor for ocean kumquats, a water tribe dish, and he thinks: for one night, I can be just like you. For one night, we are almost the same.

The girl's mother spins her around gently to button up the back of a shirt and their eyes meet.

Her face is smooth with soft edges, as a child's should be. Her eyes are bright and round and pure. He knows she is startled by the strange and concentrated look on his face, but he can't help but stare at her-who is she? Why is she so…

Her mother spins her back around and looks her over. She nods in approval and takes her hand as Hakoda the Water Tribe chief pays the vendor for the ribbon and clothing.

He hears a faint, "Come along, Katara," and understands.

Happy. Why is she so happy?

His own mother tugs him along after she has finished her shopping and he drags his feet.

"Come along, Zuko," she says lightly.

He looks back at Katara once more before she is lost in the crowd of people, a speck of blue overcome by the dust.

--

For a nine-year-old boy, he doesn't talk much. Even when he overhears his mother and father discussing the water tribe people that will be their guests that night (which certainly explains the ocean kumquats), he has enough sense to keep his mouth shut.

His mother isn't bad but he knows if he lets one word slip out Ozai will shoot him a dirty look and he won't be happy for days. He's a solid believer that children should be "seen and not heard".

Sometimes Zuko sits in the library and reads the history books on the royal families of the world and wonders why his own is so different.

In the Earth Kingdom, it's customary of the king and queen to celebrate the birth of their first child with a lavish ceremony and blessing from the avatar. Water tribe leaders take their families on tours of the four nations to celebrate world peace. The air nomad's oldest monks tend to baptize their young in holy water and take them up on a flying bison in a sky ceremony. He vaguely remembers hearing once that in such a ceremony the children were also tattooed.

As far as he knows, the only things royal families of the fire nation do are throw parties and pass down heirlooms.

And despite the lack of culture, he would feel blessed to come from such a privileged family (he really would) except for the fact that his sister turned out to be a nasty little girl and his father doesn't care (except for his image). He has other family, sure, but isn't a father supposed to be a role model? Aren't baby sisters supposed to ask for help, not throw you to the ground?

Ozai and Azula are a far cry from his uncle Iroh. He visits sometimes, and his stories are a little hard to follow, but he's mostly the best person Zuko has met so far. (Apart from Katara, but he doesn't count that because one fleeting glance can't really determine how you feel about someone, how they are.)

He's in his bedroom; body sprawled over the red sheets of his bed as he thinks about these things. His eyes search out a stained glass picture depicting an Agni Kai and he sighs. His eyes drift even lower to a framed black and white still of his family at the beach. He blinks slowly as he looks at the expressions on their faces.

He remembers the day so clearly, the laughter of his baby sister as she played in the sand, the smile of his mother as she collected shells. He recalls how his father absorbed the sunlight and blew fire over sand to make glass sculptures. There's two matching pieces in the entrance hall. His father had conjured lightning and struck a dune in such a way that it exploded and melted at the same time, forever freezing it in a waterfall-like state. They're the most beautiful pieces of artwork in the entire palace.

The thing that he remembers most clearly is how different they had been – not entirely burdened by duty and honor to the Fire Nation, but instead just a simple family, enjoying a day together.

It takes him a good couple of minutes to quit daydreaming and put two and two together to realize that if his parents are having guests from a Water Tribe over for dinner then it must be Katara's family. What other Water Tribe people would be visiting? (The culture shock is really starting to set in and suddenly the thought of kumquats is making him nauseous.)

The Fire Nation is dry and hot, and not at all the place you'd expect to find somebody that grew up swathed in glaciers and blue. He feels strangely excited that he's going to see Katara again. He wants to get inside her head and hear about her life, far away from the Fire Nation, far away from the doubt and insecurities that poison his family and youth.

(Some would call it curiosity, he calls it the truth.)

--

Years ago, when Azula was still truly a little girl, they would play a game called Ant in the sunroom. There were only ever two players, brother and sister, and one would play the human (this was almost always him) and one the ant (almost always her). The human wore a blindfold. The ant would choose a hiding spot in the room, lower their breathing and close their eyes. And the human would try to sense them.

When the human thought they knew where the ant was hiding, they would use firebending to magnify the sun and burn the ant.

If you were to pull up his shirt, there would be almost half a dozen perfect red circles where Azula burned him. He was never good at playing the ant.

But Azula was burned twice as often as he was. He almost felt guilty for scarring his sister, except that Ozai condoned it. His excuse was that "it helped with tracking skills. His mother was always the one that bandaged them up and mourned over the loss of friendly sibling interaction.

And if you want to know a secret, Zuko was always good at the tracking part (but what good does hunting do a six year old when they really need to know how to hide?).

--

When the family arrives, servants usher them into the sunroom where Zuko and his family are waiting. He's sitting next to Azula and watching her pick at the split ends in her hair. His mother slaps her hand away before taking Ozai's arm and smiling pristinely at the doorway.

Hakoda has his big brown hand resting upon the back of Katara's neck. Her hair has been let down and brushed through so the waves shine in the sunlight. Her eyes are big and blue (he's suddenly and swiftly reminded of where the sky and ocean meet) as she stares at him. He furrows his eyebrows and tries to understand the blinding smile that is stretching over her face.

Her brother pushes ahead through the small group and drops to the floor, folding himself comfortably upon a pillow. His sister sniffs and blinks slowly at him.

Their parents exchange formalities as the children turn their backs.

"Welcome to the Fire Nation," his mother shakes hands with Hakoda.

"We're pleased to be here, as well as gain an audience with the Lord and Lady," Hakoda returns. They sit on opposite loveseats and discuss politics while Azula rests her head on their mother's knee.

He watches their lips move, fascinated by how much their faces reveal about them. His father is tight-lipped and frowning, indicating that he's a liar. He's unhappy. His mother is open and warm and nothing but interested in the foreigners. The Water Tribe people are completely relaxed and content. He's almost jealous.

When he looks back to where he should, he finds that Azula and Katara's brother have begun to argue over a plate of crackers.

"You shouldn't eat so much before dinner," his sister warns. Sokka, Katara's brother, has begun to shovel the food into his mouth. Katara stares with open eyes as he eats cracker after cracker.

"He has a big stomach," she mediates. Azula rolls her eyes and picks at a nail.

"Ish twoo," Sokka defends himself. Zuko doesn't say a word. (It's going to be a long dinner, he knows.)

After almost twenty minutes of watching Sokka choke down the appetizers, a palace servant comes into the room. She squints from the sun and bows formally.

"Fire Lord and Lady, guests of the Water Tribe, I am here to escort you to the dining hall. If you could please…?"

Everybody stands as the servant stumbles nervously. Zuko counts the flames in her robes as they are led down the hallway. He feels the heat envelope him when Katara moves up to walk beside him. He looks at her, so much smaller than he is, and stares at the curls on her head.

"Hello," she says brightly. Her eyes are a strange and captivating blue, her face a foreign expanse of skin. Her features are evenly set and sized, her chin perfectly narrowed from her jaw, her teeth straight and pearly white.

"Hello, Katara," he murmurs. She fiddles with her ribbon and proceeds to tell him all about the Water Tribe, penguin sledding and her world tour. She says the next place they're going is Omashu in the Earth Kingdom. He almost wants to tell her that Omashu is a wasteland and nothing like the stories elders tell, but she is giggling and happy and even he can't bear to crush that.

They are seated next to each other at the table and he watches her hands as she spreads a red napkin over her lap. The clashing colors of her dress and the fabric confuse him for a moment. They push through the courses and their parents make simple conversation, never going farther than touching the surface of politics. It's mostly pleasant.

When the kumquats are brought out, his mother smiles proudly and Katara squeals. Sokka rubs his stomach and Zuko looks up in time to watch Azula and Ozai sigh.

She takes her spoon and puts them into her mouth and he smiles when juice spills over her lips. She giggles and picks up the napkin.

They smile at each other until he hears his father interrupt.

"I've noticed lately that the ice exports have been slowing," he remarks offhandedly. Zuko's mother gives him a frustrated look out of the corner of her eye. She whispers his name sternly under her breath and puts a hand on his arm. "Is there a reason for this?"

Hakoda narrows his eyes and cocks his head. "I wasn't aware," he says carefully.

"The last shipment of ice we received was documented to be about two months ago and even that was a meager supply. My people need ice to keep their food from spoiling. Is there a reason for this? Have shipments been delayed on purpose?"

"I'm not sure why our exports have slowed," Hakoda assures, "but I will send a letter to my second in command, Bato, as soon as I am able. I will find the reason behind the delays."

Ozai quirks a corner of his lips upwards and smiles a little. (It isn't real.) "Thank you," he says solemnly. They exchange nods as the next course is brought out.

--

After the dinner Zuko stumbles out of the grand double doors of the palace and makes his way to the beach. His feet barely make dents in the damp sand and he almost slips on the rocks. There's a random piece of driftwood caught in netting and plant life on the shore. The sun is beginning to set and the sky is a beautiful burnt orange and pink, almost red near the horizon, where water and sky meet. When he turns to look over his back he sees the bruise-colored blue and purple that encases the moon.

He walks aimlessly for a while, thinking about his family and Katara's family and how things aren't at all how they should be anymore (how he's growing up far too fast and his sister never smiles anymore and his mother is breaking) and he chokes on anger he can never properly express before coming to a stop.

There's a lone figure in the distance, arms stretched high above its head as it pulls streams of water from the ocean to dance through. He knows it's her. She spins on her toes and meets his gaze, even from far away. They stare at each other with curiosity and wonder until she smiles serenely and freezes the pools at her feet. He walks towards her hurriedly, aching for anything that can ease the burning of disappointment leftover from earlier, and she watches him with calculating eyes that cannot (in no way) belong to a seven-year-old child (it's impossible).

When he gets a couple dozen yards away she backs up until her bare feet are overcome by the tide and he slows to a stop.

She's perfect in almost every way. He's barely an adolescent and he already knows how things are going to end up. (This of all things is what he's now thinking of.)

When she dives into the water and swims to the rock breakers he turns to leave.