Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender; the show and its original characters, location, etc. are ©Mike, Bryan and Nickelodeon. Sura, Kamala, and all other original locations and characters are © me, Lady Asvin.
Chapter 1: Ozai's Lead
"Hello."
He stood regally, the setting sun behind him causing her to catch only his silhouette from afar. Walking several feet closer, she could see that his face had not changed much since the days of the war. His eyes still burned with that same old passion; only this time, instead of chasing the world's only hope to regain his honor, he was leading by his example and marching his grand nation into a new era.
"It's been some time," she replied to his greeting, and smiled invitingly. "Please, come inside. Make yourself comfortable." She had not changed much either; some of the childish fat was gone from her face, and her pronounced cheekbones and tan skin set off her clear blue eyes outstandingly, but it was the warmth radiating from those eyes that made him instantly calm. For a moment, he was seventeen again and about to eat one of her less-than-gourmet meals in a bowl she had cleaned sitting on a mat she had washed; no matter how much she had hated him then, she was first and foremost a caretaker, and that calling nudged her into providing for him as she had provided for her raggedy brood of fellow travelers.
"I've had Sura prepare your hut, and there's food in the main dining hall waiting for you." He nodded in thanks, his coronet gleaming in the late rays.
"I don't know how to thank you for…" he hung his head and gestured to his ship and his belongings. She smiled easily and touched a hand to his sleeve.
"Your message was sufficiently cryptic, Zuko, but you've been such a great help over the years… if there's anything we can do – anything I can do – all you have to do is ask." Their friendship had developed into this easy way of being; months passed where the group was split up, but when its members came together, it was always with the mixed emotions of nostalgia and contentment. He followed her to a fair-sized ice hut and waited as she pulled aside the flap.
"Here you go, home sweet home for a little while!" She turned to go inside and clapped her hands to her waist. "The main room is where you'll sleep and work and, if you feel like it, take meals," she explained. "There's a shelf over there," – she motioned to a built-in ice shelf – "that has a futon rolled up and some extra blankets." A woman came out of a little recessed alcove to join them in the main room.
"Oh!" said Katara. "Good. Sura, this is Fire Lord Zuko; he and his retinue will be staying here indefinitely." She turned to face the man. "Zuko, Sura is the only one I trust around here besides my family. If you need anything, tell one of us or tell her, and we'll get it right away." The girl was younger than Katara, in her late teens, but her blue eyes paled in comparison to Katara's and she hung her hands awkwardly.
"Thank you," he said to her shortly and addressed to Katara. "Are you sure it's ok if…?" The waterbender looked at him deeply, holding his gaze. Belatedly, he noticed that she was not wearing her mother's necklace, nor was she wearing her own betrothal necklace. Outside, she had been wearing a parka and he couldn't tell; inside, she had shed the overcoat. Her neck looked painfully bare. She noted his observation and pinked, unconsciously raising her hand to her collarbones.
"Come on," she urged. "Food time." She herded him outside and to the hut in the center of the village. A plume of smoke was snaking its way out of a hole in the center of the roof, and the clearest of ice blocks served as tiny windows embedded deeply in the hut's walls. He opened the flap and waited until Katara had entered before he followed inside. A long table loaded with food was set up for them. Two lonely chairs were placed at either end of the table, and Katara clucked disapprovingly.
"Do you mind if I sit next to you? I won't be able to hear you across the table." He nodded in affirmation and cavalierly moved the chair for her. He waited until Katara sat down before seating himself. Regarding the waterbender carefully, he took the napkin from before him and spread it over his lap. His manners were stiff and formal, the result of years of etiquette lessons and state dinners. Katara raised her eyebrows at him.
"Is there anything you'd like to try first? We don't have sea prune mash today," – here Zuko made a very un-lord-like face – "but we do have a seal stew and salted cod. There's some spiced rice as well, courtesy of your own trade ships." She smiled at him and waited, apparently meaning to serve him.
"You don't have to serve me, Katara, we're not traveling together anymore." He didn't mean it the way it came out, but he saw the shadow cross her face and instantly regretted the statement. Her incredible capacity for handling idiots, him specifically, was demonstrated when she swiped his plate and looked him straight in the eye.
"You're in the Southern Water Tribe, now," she stated. "Our guests do not go hungry." She loaded up his plate with a bit of everything, pushed it toward him, and sat back in her chair looking satisfied.
"Besides, if you're hungry, how can you tell me why you're here?" He choked a little on his food, and the girl grinned and proceeded to serve herself.
"Dear Katara," she quoted, a touch dramatically. "I know it has been nearly ten years since I have needed your help. I do not wish to burden you, but I don't know what else to do. If you're agreeable, I will get on the next ship to the South Pole. Regards, Fire Lord Zuko." She finished the narration with a flourish of her hand mimicking his signature. "Not very descriptive, eh Sparky?" His old nickname made him smile, and he hastily swallowed his food to bring Katara up-to-date.
"Do you remember that I used to visit my fa- Ozai after my coronation and his imprisonment?" Katara nodded, mouth full, and he pushed on. "Did I ever tell you why?" She shook her head no, hair loopies swinging.
"I was asking for information about my mother." It was Katara's turn to choke on her food; he had told her the story of his mother, her treachery in return for her children, Azulon's death and Ozai's ascent to the throne. Somewhere in the telling, she remembered Iroh's pained face, tearing up, as he remembered his deep mourning for his brave fallen son.
"Well, he finally told me something, although I think he was mocking me. He knows he doesn't have long left." A war tribunal had been established, and as a major proponent and ruling advocate of the war, Ozai had been sentenced to death for his "crimes against the people and Spirits." The tribunal had consisted of ten representatives from each nation, and they had handed down their verdict as readily as Ozai had waged war.
"What did he say?" asked Katara, food forgotten on the table before her. "Where is your mother?" Zuko sighed and leaned back, scratching his head; the more comfortable postures reminded Katara that once upon a time, she and this man had shared the back of a furry beast and slept less than ten feet from each other. Her cheeks pinked inappropriately.
"Ozai said, 'She is alive, of course, unless the cold or her loneliness has killed her. She cannot get away from her isolation, but neither can anyone get to her. Her only supplies come from the surrounding village.' After that, he spat on me; but before giving me his back he smiled cruelly through the bars. 'You failed in your quest for the Avatar, so you changed sides in the end. What will happen if you fail to find your mother?'" He shuddered slightly, looking into the distance, seeing a far-off moment as though from a telescope. Katara put her dark hand over his light one, bringing him back.
"So why do you need my help?" She asked gently, trying to read his face. He readjusted his expression to look at her squarely.
"My mother is alone in a cold place that cannot be reached ," he said. "None of my sources in the Fire Nation found any record of any such place. I was hoping you could help me here." She nodded thoughtfully, taking a swig of the black mead she'd served herself. She squinted, her mouth puckering, and the Fire Lord looked at her questioningly.
"It's- cold-" she choked out, after swallowing it with great effort. "Let me call someone to serve some warm." She was halfway out of her seat when he took her cup and handed it to her. The drink was steaming softly, seemingly out of place in the ice hut.
"Firebender, remember?" he teased lightly, and she sat down sheepishly to take another swig.
"So, can you help me?" Her eyes twinkled fiercely, and the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile reminiscent of the old traveling days.
"Am I Katara of the Water Tribe?" she asked, putting down her cup. "Of course I can help you. Turn in for the night; I'll go ask Kamala for some maps and get right to work." His brow furrowed in inquiry.
"If you visited more often, you'd know," chided Katara softly, a tinge of sadness appearing in her eyes. "Dad remarried about eight years ago. When he died, he passed his personal holdings to her." She said this without malice or envy, and he wondered what kind of woman Kamala must be that she did not strike a sour chord with Katara after marrying her father.
"I'm sorry, Katara," he said, his half-voice catching. "I know I wrote to you, but I'm sorry I was not able to attend Chief Hakoda's funeral." Katara's eyes filled with tears, and she turned away from him abruptly.
"It's been so hard," she admitted, her voice wavery with unvoiced sadness. "It was a little better when Sokka was here… but he has his own life now, and it isn't fair of me to wish him here when he has a family in Kyoshi. " She took a deep breath and tried to keep her shoulders from shaking. "And Gran-Gran is gone, too, with Master Pakku… so it's just me, here, no family, just responsibility. I've been leading alone for six years, and it's just been so hard…" She let the tears go, and Zuko moved awkwardly to put an arm around her shoulder. Her smooth face had turned blotchy with tears, and a deep canyon had formed between her brows. Her sleeve had gone dark with the crying. It was only when Zuko put a calming hand on her forearm that she snuffled to a stop and looked at him.
"I'm sorry – it happens every so often – I know that's no excuse…" she trailed off lamely, and Zuko withdrew his hand.
"You forget that I heard you crying by yourself all of those nights when we traveled," he said in a low voice. "I heard you cry the night you let your mother's killer live." Katara looked at him, eyes wide, but said nothing.
"You'll have some company now, and my soldiers can help the village." At least while you're here, nagged a little voice in his head, but he promptly squashed it. "Maybe I'm not the only one that needs to turn in for the night," he added gently. "Why don't we start tomorrow?" She nodded, rather miserably in his view, and pushed away from the table.
"Come on, I'll take you back to your hut." He followed her without a word, only returning her "good-night" as she left him at his door. He watched her back grow smaller as she headed back toward the center of the village, and a small part of him wondered how she could handle her entire tribe alone when he needed the aid of an advisor from every part of his Nation. Shoulders sagging, he turned into the hut and saw that the futon had already been laid out for him, warming bricks placed near the pillow and at the bottom of the blanket. Better get some sleep, he said, Ozai's cruel sneer invading his thoughts. Tomorrow, I'm going to find my mother.
Katara made her way back toward the center of the village, turning an abrupt left at the center hut. Her feet took her to her father's old hut, the home he had made with his wife after the war. Her spine tingled strangely as she approached the flap, but the hut's single inhabitant had seemingly expected her, and a pale hand pushed aside the leather and welcomed her in.
"Hello, Katara," said Hakoda's widow pleasantly. "I had a feeling you might pay me a visit this evening." The woman smiled, her glassy, clouded eyes not quite focusing on where she stood. She moved through the hut easily for a blind woman, her hands landing on a metal pot and tea leaves.
"Hi Kamala," replied the waterbender. "Do you need help?" The woman raised her eyebrows, the closest to sarcasm she would ever get, and shook her head.
"Sit down, and tell me why you're here while I make some tea." Katara obliged, taking a moment to observe the woman while she scooped leaves. Her silky black hair was wound up in elaborate braids and her eyebrows, finely shaped, hovered over misty eyes that had once been grey. Fine cheekbones created a face worthy of any statue in the Earth King's gardens, although thin lines around her eyes and lips betrayed her age. Her dyed-blue deerskin dress was embroidered with delicate snowflakes and sinuous fish, dotted all around with lapis lazuli. She knew the woman had done the handiwork herself, unseeing, and for a moment envied that talent.
"I gather you didn't come visit to stare," prodded Kamala gently, and the waterbender smiled sheepishly.
"No, I didn't, she said, happy to finally receive the teacup Kamala handed her. "I was actually here about some of dad's maps." The woman nodded and settled herself down on a cushion, prompting Katara to move on with the story.
"Zuko – that is, Fire Lord Zuko – came to me today because he had information about his mother. As far as he knew until recently, she was either dead or banished; he hasn't seen her since his grandfather died." Kamala looked intrigued, and gripped her cup a little tighter.
"He thinks she may be in one of the Tribes," concluded Katara. "His father gave him a clue to follow." Kamala smiled serenely, something Katara had always liked about her.
"All of your father's maps are in the shelf in his strategy room," said Kamala. "You should take them back to your hut." She waved a hand in front of her eyes and smiled ruefully. "They do me no good here, and you could use the old hunting maps and trade maps in your journey." Katara smiled gratefully, remembered the woman couldn't see her, and clasped one of her hands.
"Thank you," she said, smiling, and stood. Rushing to the strategy room, she nearly tripped over the single step up and found a leather bag she could store all of the scrolls in. Being in the presence of her father's things, in a room where he had spent much time, overwhelmed her a little; the calm Kamala had imparted to her fled the moment Katara's shoulder brushed Hakoda's old parka. Choking back a sob, Katara took the scrolls and ran back out, almost running over Hakoda's widow in the process. She calmed herself.
"I'm sorry, Kamala. I just…" the woman's mouth turned down sadly, but her nod was understanding.
"It's hard for me," said the older woman. "I can't imagine what it is like for you."Seizing the opportunity, Katara brought up an idea that had been rejected time and time again by the widow.
"Then why don't you move in with me?" she asked eagerly. "That way you're not alone in this big hut!" Before Kamala even opened her mouth, Katara knew the answer.
"Katara, this hut is all I have left of your father," said the woman. "I know my way here, I don't want to move." Her words were gentle, but Katara's heart still sank a little bit at the thought of the blind woman living alone. Regardless, she gave her a hug as she made her way to the door.
"Thanks, Kamala," she said sincerely, and made her way back to the main hut, pausing for a moment to take a deep breath of the sharp South Pole air. The hairs on her neck prickled and a small streak of adrenaline pumped through her body. The very air she breathed seemed to tell her that the time was ripe for adventure again – and that she held that adventure in her own hands.
"Thank you, Zuko," she whispered into the night. The wind picked up and stole her words, but she laughed all of a sudden.
It'll be just like the old days.
She made her way into the hut, sealed the flap, and went to her own table to spread out the maps and begin her night's work.
...
Author's note: Sura is an Inuit name meaning green leaf/new life. Kamala is a Tibetan name meaning lotus.