Zutara Week Day 3: Memories

Authors Note: This is an AU. Sokka is much older than all the others. Katara is eight at the start of the story and he is sixteen (eight year difference). The storyline is very much different, so this story takes place at around Fire Lord Azulon's reign, around the time Azulon was assassinated in the original series. Roku is still alive and Aang is not frozen in the iceberg. The Southern Water Tribe is a backwards nation, due to Fire Lord Sozin's war which completely crippled them, which was stopped when he was killed in battle and his son, Azulon took over. Just some bg info to clear up everything and prevent confusion. Also, This story has been divided into three parts. Enjoy 3

-the 2 noobs

you rule a kingdom but i rule your heart

-part 1-

On the day that Katara arrived at the Fire Nation, she had puffy red eyes and a snuffle from the crying. Just days ago she had clung on to her mother, only to be ripped away by her father and sent onto the big black ship that was always so hot. She had stayed in her room for most of the journey – the only reason she even went out was to stare longingly into the horizon to catch a glimpse at even the last Water Tribe iceberg that passed by. The moment she lost sight of that, she just stayed in her room. Food came, sometimes so did people, and sometimes toys and whatever things the others thought that would cheer a sad child. They didn't. The food was bland, and everything was dry. Everything was sad.

Then she had seen the Fire Nation. Hot, red. Dry. Smoke coming out from its centre. Red. Her home was warm and soft and full of love and family. It was blue and calm and made her feel good. In the fire Nation everything was dark and striking and all angles. The walls were spiked and the grass-less ground was nothing like a soft cushion of snow. Then a bump, loud chattering as soldiers came home. She wasn't home. It was supposed to be her home. But just because something is supposed to be your home doesn't mean it is. She stepped on to sand. She was greeted by a friendly man with a beard and a topknot on top of his head. He said his name was Iroh and he was the son of Fire Lord Azulon. He said he was glad that she was here, and that his niece and nephew would be glad to meet her. He mentioned a brother, Ozai, but not very much. Katara looked at his red robes, then at her blue ones. The tears pricked her eyes again. Iroh noticed. "There, there." He said kindly, patting her on the head kindly. "Everything will pass so fast and before you know it, you will be back home again." Katara let the tears flow, and she was led sobbing back to the palace.

She wasn't really clear on why she was there in the first place. Something had passed between her parents as a peace treaty, a start of something good. That Katara would go there to study in the Fire Nation. That the Water Tribe's teachers were not enough. Something like that. They barely told her anything, she just eavesdropped. But when her mother helped her to pack, she told Katara that it wouldn't be for long, that it was better for her. Katara knew that she had to learn from somewhere, but at home was good enough, wasn't it?

Katara had asked, "What about Sokka?"

"Sokka is needed here." She said.

Sokka was sixteen and Katara was eight. "Why?"

"He is one of the few male members of our Tribe. He has to protect us with Daddy."

"From what?"

"I don't know." Kya said finally, after a pause. It was an honest answer, but history taught them never to take chances. Especially with children.

Katara didn't like this answer, but her mother wasn't going to say anything else, so ended there. She had heard from her escorts that the Fire Nation education system was famous, almost elite. Was she supposed to be happy? Was that supposed to make you happier? That was good, she supposed. It wasn't much of a comfort though.

But that didn't make her want to go to the Fire Nation even more. One night, she had screamed, and pouted and moped. She had cried into her father's parka, shouting "Idontwannago, Idontwannago, pleasepleaseplease Iwannastatywithyou pleasepleaseplease" but all he did was hold her head and shake his own.

"It hurts us too, sweetie, but we want better things for you." Said Hakoda.

So it was nice when Iroh had comforted her. It was the most she had had in a while. Human words and assurances, rather than the wooden komodo rhino toys they had slid into her room. They were in a pile in the corner. She wanted to burn them. She wanted her stuffed seal. But she had left it under the bed. She had forgot. She expected that she'd forget a lot of things about home.

The first time Katara entered the Fire Nation Palace, she was stunned. Red everywhere, with gold. Hot. Dry. Again. Then the giant throne room, with the Fire Lord, whom she bowed gracefully to, controlling her tears. She was sad, but the Fire Lord didn't need to know. Then she bowed to Prince Ozai, and Lady Ursa. Prince Ozai looked like the Fire Lord, but Lady Ursa looked sad. Like her.

"Katara of the Southern Water Tribe," the Fire Lord's voice boomed. "Welcome to the Fire Nation. Anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, just ask and you shall receive." At this Katara thought bitterly that they should bring the entire Southern Water Tribe here to make her stay 'more comfortable', to make snow fall from the parched skies, but she forced her mouth shut. "We will let you settle in. Prince Zuko and Princess Azula will show you around. Your classes start tomorrow."

Katara bowed again. As she rose, a skinny young woman scurried out of the shadows and ushered Katara to a door leading into another hallway. Katara was flustered; who was she, why did she needed to be shown out of the room? But mostly it was just how big this palace was. She was brought down a winding path, passage after passage, and she wondered vaguely whether she will even be able to find her way back to the throne room in the first place.

"Your chambers are here, miss." The young woman said, bowing and gesturing to a simple red door.

"No need to call me miss." Katara said quietly.

"Of course, miss." The woman replied quickly.

Katara twisted the doorknob and slipped inside. The room, admittedly, was gorgeous. To the back corner was a huge four-poster bed, fit with gold-and-red drapery, and embroidered bed-covers. In front of it was a massive black wardrobe, which was opened to reveal an assortment of Fire Nation outfits. The front of the room was dominated by a large divan, and a kid-sized desk with parchment, quills and ink stacked neatly on top. The walls were decorated by paintings, mostly of Fire Nation scenery (which wasn't that jaw-dropping to begin with) and some flowers. The Fire Nation insignia was emblazoned all over the place.

Katara suddenly felt out of place in her blue clothing. The woman quickly moved away and she was left alone in this big, big room. The bed could fit her entire family. The clothes could clothe her entire Tribe. The fire in the fireplace was bigger than she had ever seen. She saw that her small brown wooden chests were tucked away in the corner. She sighed loudly and squished herself into a corner of the divan. She hid her face in her knees. Minutes, hours, many moments later, she looked up at the sound of a rapid knocking. The door was flung open and a young boy, who looked a little older than her, shuffled in.

"Hi."

"Hi." Katara said. She still kept her knees tucked underneath her chin.

The boy stared expectantly at her, but she did not say anything, and they just stared at each other for a while, before the boy coughed and said, "What are you wearing?"

"It's my clothes." Katara said simply.

"They're weird."

Katara became angry. "Nice of you to come in and be mean to me. Now leave me alone."

The boy shuffled around awkwardly. "Sorry. I've never seen blue clothes before." Katara stared, dumbfounded.

"Then you've seen them now." She said.

"Yeah."

They stayed like that, until Katara said,

"I'm Katara, by the way."

The boy stepped forwards, and took her hand, shaking it.

"I'm Zuko."

"I figured," said Katara with a grin.

-part 2-

The next time Katara saw her parents again, it was a year later. Sokka was with them, tall, handsome, warm like she remembered him. He still had the goofy smile and a wolf tail. If anything, the only thing that had changed was his voice. Deeper, scratchier. But she loved him the same. Her parents were older. One year and they had aged five. Wrinkles, eye bags. A ready smile but no sparkle. Mother said being Chief wasn't always easy.

They brought presents. Special scents for the Lady Ursa, fancy stuffed toys for the children. Special pelts for wall hangings for the Fire Lord, along with beautiful white bone carvings. Uncle Iroh got a large box of their Water Tribe tea blend. Katara got her old stuffed seal back. It smelt like salt water but it did make her unimaginably happy.

Zuko had accepted his toy with politeness and a smile, but Azula only scowled. Afterwawrds, she would prance around the palace with her two friends Mai and Ty Lee while Katara would walk quietly with Zuko. They had made a smashing pair, the two of them. Water and fire. Polar opposites, but it worked. Katara would make lame jokes and Zuko would tell her that they were lame. Zuko would started rambling about his father and Katara would ramble about her father. Katara would tease Zuko mercilessly at his ponytail while Zuko only sunk into silence, angrily muttering that it was an Imperial Ponytail. Zuko smiled and joked, and Katara, grudgingly would admit that his jokes were by far much better than hers. He would reply that the bar wasn't set that high in the first place.

Azula hadn't been particularly welcoming on Katara's first day. She had only scowled, and commented on 'ugly clothes' and a 'fish smell' coming from Katara's end at dinner. Zuko had indignantly said that Katara's clothes were 'fine' and the fish smell was just coming from Azula herself. Katara had blushed furiously at this. One day and the Prince of the Fire Nation was already defending her? Had she really made such an impact?

Later after dinner, Zuko had walked her back to her rooms, since she had been very much lost, and said, "Sorry if I embarrassed you."

"For what?"

"For defending you."

"'s alright."

"Just that, you're the only friend I have right now."

Katara had been taken aback. "Well, almost-friend."

"Close enough," Zuko shrugged. "I guess I've never been the kind of person to make friends. Plus Dad doesn't let just any kid come inside."

"You'll have me."

"Yeah." Zuko smiled at her.

They chatted idly about the food for a while, before reaching Katara's door. "G'night." Zuko said. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye." Katara said quietly. She was about the step into her room when she stopped. "Hey, Zuko?"

He turned. "Mind if you meet me here tomorrow morning? Otherwise I'll be lost again."

Zuko brightened. "Sure."

"Thanks Zuko. Bye." She shut the door. She heard his footsteps as he ran back to his own chambers.

The next morning, when Katara opened the door, Zuko was standing there. He smiled at her. "Nice outfit."

Katara had looked at it. She had worn a simple red tunic-dress, with a drawstring through the middle which gave the top a bunched out kind of look. The sleeves had been gathered at her wrists, and on her feet were a pair of gold sandals. "Thanks. Not as nice as my blue stuff?" She quipped mischievously.

"Uh…almost." Zuko said, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Let's go. Otherwise the Fire Lord will be angry."

Katara hadn't really expected things to be like that every morning, but only until she managed to find her way around, but Zuko just kept coming, and she wasn't going to stop him. In this gigantic palace, where the corridors which all looked the same, it was hard to find your one and only friend.

Zuko and Katara usually spent most of their day together. They attended the same classes with the same teachers, and studied and did their work together. During free time they would feed turtle ducks and play in the courtyards. Sometimes they would prank Azula, Mai and Ty Lee, but it got boring after a while (Azula kept sensing danger; an uncanny ability). Other times they would go have tea with Uncle Iroh. It was weird for Katara to get used to calling him Uncle, but it settled pretty easily once she was in the habit. Every time they visited him, he would get them to taste a new blend, only to brew a hot pot of jasmine tea, and sip on that while enjoying the view of the courtyard his room looked out on. One time, he had made a fruit blend.

"Pomegranate with oolong." Said Uncle. "With a dash of pear."

Katara didn't exactly like it, but for Zuko, who seemed partial to fruit teas, sipped it up as quickly as it came. Uncle smiled at his nephew, then at the Water Tribe girl. "I do not need to ask my nephew whether he likes it. Katara, what do you think?"

"It's tasty." Katara offered.

"Ah, then you must not like it very much." Iroh said knowingly.

"I didn't say that!" Katara blushed ashamedly.

"Don't worry, my dear. Different people, different tea, as I always say." Said Uncle matter-of-factly. "Let me brew you some jasmine."

Zuko stifled a groan. "And for you, my dear nephew, some more of the fruit one?" A cup was put forward eagerly.

Katara looked serenely onto the courtyard, sipping slowly on her jasmine tea. It was peaceful here. The warmth was wonderful. It had been then when she realized that the Fire Nation wasn't as bad as she thought it was.

Zuko was always around his mother, when he wasn't with Zuko. The two seemed to share an unbreakable bond, and Katara didn't dare disturb them when they were together. Zuko would sit by the pond and feed turtle ducks with his mother; Katara would watch. Lady Ursa always seemed so happy when she was with Zuko. She never stopped smiling, she rarely didn't laugh – but next to Fire Prince Ozai, she was silent. She was stone. So Katara left them alone.

When Katara's parents came, they were greeted with the normal procedure. Katara had rushed up to them, on the verge of tears. She almost screamed. When Sokka passed her the seal toy later in her room, she had cried. Big fat tears. Then she felt so tiny, and Sokka so old. So different but just the same. Seventeen and nine. Weren't they curious? She introduced him to Zuko. Zuko had not smiled. Katara had begun to notice that more frequently. That Zuko didn't smile. That he was sad. That Azula was meaner than usual. A simple handshake, an exchange of introductions. Zuko said he had stuff to do. He walked off.

"He's not the brightest rainbow I've seen, Katara. How can you stand him?"

"He's alright. He's just grouchy."

"Aaaaalright."

Afterwards, Katara showed Sokka her writing – which she thought was pretty good, given the circumstances. Sokka praised her readily. "Now, you can write letters!" He said happily, forgetting that most of their family could barely read, and only write the simplest of things. She supposed that was what happened when you were in a tiny village in the South Pole. She felt a bit sad.

Later than night, Katara was curled up in her bed, when she heard people next door arguing. She pressed her ear to the wall. She knew that there was a spare room next door, which her parents were residing in.

"Kya, we have to go back, soon." Her father said angrily, though there was resignation in his tone.

"But what about Katara? She's nine, Hakoda. She's nine and she's not seen us for a whole year. We missed a year of her growing up."

"You know what's happening at home. The unrest. Bato cannot keep control for long. People are hungry. They are angry. You know that."

"I know but she's our daughter…Bato can hold on for a few more days, surely."

"No he can't!" Her father thundered. "There's rebellions. We're a small tribe, but growing fast. People need food we cannot provide. The education is absolutely atrocious. The war, Kya. They took all the things we needed. Our warriors. Our teachers. Our elders."

"Hakoda…" Her mother said sadly. "Our daughter. Our daughter." Her tone suddenly turned angry, and accusing. "You said that we'd be here for at least a week. And one day in and we need to leave?"

"I love her, you know that, but the only reason we sent-"

At this the door flew open, and Sokka came swaggering in. His eyes widened in alarm at the sight of Katara with hands and ear pressed to the wall. He rushed over, but Katara had already fallen onto the mattress with a poof, and was looking at Sokka curiously.

"What do you think you are doing?"

"Nothing," Katara said innocently.

"You'd better be telling the truth."

"I am."

Sokka's lips twitched. He knew she was lying. "Go to sleep, Katara."

Katara resolutely shifted in between the bed clothes. She placed her head on the pillow and stared up at Sokka. "Good night, Sokka."

"Good night, Katara. Sweet dreams."

"Positively sugary."

"Yeah. Positively sugary."

Katara rolled over and shut her eyes, squeezing them tightly. Sokka sat on her bed for a while, watching her, and then got up, a loud sigh escaping his lips.

"She's just a child."

Then he walked out.

The next morning, it was weirdly ominous. Katara quickly got dressed and opened the door, looking for familiar red clothes and ponytail. Not there. Katara shrugged, but couldn't shake off the bad feeling. She checked her parent's room. Not there. She moved through the halls easily, a year of wandering with Zuko was substantial practice, and quickly flitted into the dining hall.

Empty.

There was a terrifying silence overhanging the place. The palace itself was already terrifying, so the weird silence made it even more so. That a huge place like this wasn't alive with activity was unsettling. She moved from important room to important room to not so important room. Then she entered the section where the royal chambers were. She was allowed. She went straight to Zuko's chambers. The door was slightly ajar, and she peeked in through the crack.

"Zuko?"

There was a gasp and a golden eye, smeared with tears appeared. It drew away, revealing a blotchy face and flushed cheeks. His hair was messy, gathered in a simple low ponytail at the base of his neck.

"Oh, it's you."

"Are you alright?" Katara said, alarmed.

Zuko looked deadly serious, when he said, "No."

Katara slid into the room. It was pristine, as usual – except his bed. It was singed on the edges, and a few ruined pillows were sitting sadly on the ground.

"What happened to-"

Zuko slumped into a divan. He started to cry. Katara immediately curled up opposite him, cradling him in her small arms.

"It's okay, Zuko."

"It's not okay." Zuko said angrily. "She's gone. And he's gone."

"Who?"

"My mother!" He said with a wail. "She's gone and Grandpa is dead!"

A horrible thought crossed her mind, but she didn't speak it. "What?"

"My. Mom. Is. Gone." Zuko said slowly, almost furiously. The tears split even more. "How could she leave me?"

"It must be for just a little while."

"No!" He screamed. "It's not! Its not! It's not, it's not, it's not."

"She loves you, Ko."

"If she loved me she wouldn't have left."

"She loves you." She said again.

"She DOESN'T!" A huge blast of fire burst from his fingertips, and licked the furniture around him. Katara shrieked and jumped away; she could feel the fire lick and blister his arms. She saw the burns on her inner arm. Zuko looked mortified.

"Katara, I'm-"

Katara rushed out of the room, crying. She heard a loud crash behind her when the ruined sidetable Zuko had burnt to pieces crumble onto the floor.

She found her parents in their room. Arguing again. Their bags were on the bed, half-packed. Her mother was stubbornly holding most of her clothes in a pile in her hand.

"We can't be here, Kya." Her father said. "The Fire Lord is dead. Everything is going to change."

"Hakoda, we've been here two days. Katara-" She stopped when she saw the person she was talking about. "Honey, what are you doing here? And what happened to your arm?"

Katara backed out of the room. "You're leaving? It's only been a day." When she heard to reply, she wandered to her mom, and hugged her leg tightly. "Mom?"

"We have to, sweetie. We have to. You understand, right, Katara? My little girl? Now tell me who did this to you." Her father walked up to her and knelt down, holding her arms with his big hands.

"I don't. I really don't understand." Katara said, shaking her head furiously. She remained close to her mother.

"Mommy and Daddy have to do things at home. Important things."

"Sokka too?"
"Sokka too."

"You couldn't stay one more day?"
"Not one more afternoon. Our boat leaves in two hours."

"Uncle Iroh will be a good Fire Lord. He's very nice and makes me tea." Katara said. She remembered her Fire Nation History lessons. "He will help you at home. He will let you stay. "

"Uncle Iroh isn't becoming Fire Lord, Katara. Prince Ozai is. Now, who hurt you?"

The next few months passed slowly. Zuko stayed in his room. Katara ate under the intimidating gaze of Fire Lord Ozai. Uncle Iroh and his son, Lu Ten, ate with them, but only Uncle talked much. He talked about the sun and the marketplace and tea, mostly. No one contributed to the conversation but Lu Ten, who was a pleasant person. Most of the things Katara knew about Lu Ten was what she had learnt from Zuko. Mostly that he was a brave warrior, and a great leader. He talked to Katara sometimes, but it was very fleeting, and he was way too old to play with children.

Zuko was sullen; sad. Azula was meaner. She was snarky, especially towards Zuko. Constantly belittling him. "If Mom loved you more, she wouldn't have gone." Katara would furiously defend him. "You barely knew Lady Ursa," Katara would shoot back – Azula always flinched, she knew it was true. The "It's your fault she's gone" card had been played more than once. So more than once Katara was outside Zuko's door, pounding on it furiously, begging him it come out. He never did.

Only the next morning would he be at her bedroom door, as if nothing happened. Katara didn't want to feel satisfied with this relationship, but she had to make do. Zuko was sad. She knew how that felt. And she also knew that sadness passed like the rain: all at once, then just puddles.

A year after Fire Lord Ozai was crowned, Katara was ten, and Zuko was decidedly more upbeat. He still maintained that sad aura, that distress, but his bitterness at his mother was mostly gone. It had taken weeks of comforting and assurances, but Zuko slowly managed to see through the grief.

He told her: His mother had visited him that night.

"No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are." She had said. Then she had blown by. Like the wind. There one minute, gone the next.

"Then, who are you?" Katara asked Zuko.

"Zuko." He said. "Either that or I don't know anymore."

Katara and Zuko were back on track with their relationship. He joked and laughed. Smiled and strolled. Drank tea and fed turtle ducks. And most of all surprising was, he drank jasmine tea.

Uncle Iroh called it a miracle.

Katara said someone had kidnapped the real Zuko.

Zuko only said that it wasn't that bad.

The years passed by like wildfire. Katara's eleventh birthday,

"We'll be friends forever, won't we, Zuko?"

twelfth,

"Yes. I can't imagine us being anything else."

thirteenth,

"You promise?"

fourteenth,

"I promise."

and then her fifteenth. It had been six years since she had last seen her parents and brother. She had almost forgot what cold felt like. She was in her final year of school, and she was going to go home this winter. Problem was: She didn't know what was home anymore. She wondered if it was normal. She had spent six years in a foreign country - and now it was her home as well. She had grown up. She was no longer the little girl scared of the Fire Nation. She was very much comfortable in it.

Her stuffed seal was in the corner. Not really used very much, and it had long since lost its appeal. Her blue dress she had brought with her seven years ago was still hanging there as well. At least six sizes too small, but pressed and clean and still bright blue, albeit a little faded. When she woke up on the day of her fifteenth birthday, she looked out the window and imagined snow. She tried, but not hard enough. Then, she thought of Sokka. His jokes. His boomerang. His wolf's tail. She saw a twelve-year-old Sokka, throwing snowballs at her and laughing. Snowballs.

Now she knew what snow looked like. It was good.

Zuko was the same. Sixteen, tall, strong, her friend. His hair was different now, not too short, not too long, but enough to tie a neat top knot at the top of his head. Slanted gold eyes. A straight mouth. A sharp jawline. Her friend. Her best friend.

She changed, into a wraparound red top which revealed her navel and loose long pants. She tied her hair into a half-up, half down, and strapped her gold embossed cuff-bracelets around both wrists. She creaked the door open, and smiled brilliantly at the Fire Prince standing outside her door.

"Happy Birthday Katara." He said. "You look beautiful." He passed her a small box.

"Thank you Zuko." She smiled appreciatively at him. She took the box gratefully. "Should we go?"

"Yes, we shall." Zuko said, offering her his arm.

"How chivalrous of you," Katara said, taking it.

Zuko only smiled. There was a hint of a blush in his pale cheeks, but Katara was completely engrossed with being on Prince Zuko's arm.

They walked for a while, before Katara said suddenly, "Remember when you first showed me to my room?"
"How could I forget?"

"I called you my almost-friend."

Zuko chuckled. "I hope I'm not your 'almost-friend' now."

Katara winked at him. "Definitely not. You've just crossed into the 'friend' zone, and it's only been seven years."

Zuko laughed. "Thanks, Katara."

"For what, being the stone in your boot for half your life?"

"No, for being there."

Katara smiled slightly. "Like I'd be anywhere else."

Zuko's smile disappeared. "You're going home at the end of the year." He remarked.

"Yeah. Though is it really home when I've lived here for half my life?"

"I dunno. I suppose it is. It's where your family is."

"I barely remember what the South Pole looks like. Is that home?"

Zuko remained silent. "You can stay, y'know."

"I know."

They kept walking.

The night was a night of dancing. Katara had danced with several young Fire Nation men, and enjoyed herself, at that. She was slowly building up a theory that every Fire Nation person took a lesson in dance. She and Zuko definitely did. Fire Lord Ozai for some reason was so focused on educating his children in dance. Katara was just there because he had extended the invitation rather harshly after Zuko had asked if she could come along. In fact, the wonderful feast for her birthday, which was a disgruntled arrangement was made by the Fire Lord himself, had been at Zuko's insistence, again. The music had stopped for a while, and Katara was enjoying some punch by the drinks table, when Zuko approached her.

"Don't mind me, just avoiding Azula." He jerked his head in his sister's direction.

Azula was flirting mercilessly with a teenage boy, around Zuko's age; someone from one of their outside classes. She believed his name was Chan. Chan looked a little bit intimidated by the Fire Princess showing such interest. He kept nodding and staring, while Azula shared loudly with him her plans for the world. Tactful. Katara noted to take some tips next time.

Zuko curse softly.

"What's the big deal, hothead? Can't take it that your sisters having more fun than you?"

"It's not that. It's just kind of…gross?"

"Shut up, Zuko, you baby." Katara chided. Zuko rolled his eyes.

The music resumed almost as soon as Katara finished speaking. Her eyes sparkled. "C'mon, Zuko. Let's dance!"

Zuko groaned when he was pulled ferociously onto the dance floor. Katara kept spinning around and around, leaping and twirling and moving so fast, and Zuko did the same. The music was lush, loud, and infectious. The colours of peoples clothes – mostly red and gold – swirled around them, and the little yellow lights which hung from the ceilings game looked magical. The beat of peoples feet stomping across the floor as she music pulsated through the room. She was hypnotised by the beauty of it all, and as much as she hated to admit it; it was all for her – just for her. She kept dancing, she didn't want to stop, then Zuko grabbed her shoulders and he took control.

"Don't call me Ko," he said softly. "That was my name when we were children."

"That's all you'll ever be to me, Ko."

"Really?" Zuko said roughly.

Katara did a quick twirl before replying. "Yes."

Zuko's face hovered close to hers. Dangerously. "Don't call me Ko."

"No." Katara said with a giggle. "Don't act tough with me, Zuko. I've seen you at your worst. I can handle you just fine."

"Is that right?" Zuko replied. His voice was lower, gruffer. The music was faster, wilder, and Katara's heart was in her throat. "Can you handle this?"

"Y-yes." She stammered. Their faces were so close now, she could feel her heart beating like a drum and the blush forming in her cheeks already. She could feel her wishing him to come closer. Closer. Closer. He did, almost, painfully close, millimetres apart…

And she ducked away. "I'm tired. I need to go to sleep." She risked a glance. Zuko was almost expressionless, but she could see that he was stunned. "Good night Zuko." The magic, the exhilaration, had disappeared, and cold, hard dread started to pool in her gut as she walked away from the dance as quickly as she could.

He didn't reply.

Katara made her way back to her room, heart racing. What was that? Why did she want it? Her friend…her best friend. What was that feeling? Why did he have to come so close? He was so close.

She rushed into her room and slammed the door behind her. She reminded herself that she was leaving in a few months. A kiss would have broken both their hearts. She wouldn't want to ever, ever, hurt Zuko.

Ever.

She flopped down onto the divan and took a few deep breaths. It's okay, it could have been harmless. You left didn't you? You didn't know what really was going to happen, right? It took her a while, but eventually she managed to calm her frayed nerves. At that point, she slipped the box Zuko had given her earlier onto her lap from where she had placed it before going for the dance on her side-table. It was small, square shaped and was made of a dark black wood. If she closed her fingers around it, it would be a perfect fit, cosily nestled in her fist. A soft gold-hemmed maroon cloth was wrapped around it loosely, and she untied it with a gentle tug. She unlatched the box and pried it open. Heart brimming with anticipation, she folded away the layer of cloth inside and grinned at what lay beneath. From the box, she lifted out a delicate gold chain necklace, with a circular, flat pendant at the middle, engraved with the Fire Nation and Water Tribe insignias, each set with a red and blue stone respectively. She placed the necklace around her neck, and looked at herself in the mirror, liking how it looked. It was simple, and from far the engravings were hard to see, but the two stones were so pretty. She wondered why Zuko had put both the Fire Nation and the Water Tribe's insignia there.

She was pondering about this for a while when there was a knock at the door. A servant, the same woman who had served her on her first day here, walked in. She was more comfortable now, but wouldn't drop the 'miss'.

"Letter for you miss. From your brother, miss."

"Thank you, Sen. Leave it there for me."

Sen set the letter on the dresser and bowed. She walked out. Katara sat for a while more before plucking up the letter. It was in Sokka's scratchy handwriting. Almost illegible, but if you looked closely enough, her name was scrawled across the front. Were those…water stains? Must have been the ice or something. Smiling at the writing, she concluded that it was much better than a year ago. Sokka had started to pick up some basic reading and spelling in his free time, taught by Mom and Dad, but he wasn't up to scratch just yet.

She sliced open the seal with her paperknife and unfolded the letter. The sentences were broken, short, and letters large, as per usual. Not that she got many letters. Sokka wrote sometimes, but they were always looked the same. Big letters with big spacings in between, and even bigger spacings in between words. This one was short, but messier. More water stains. Wow. Must have been wet. They smudged the ink in some parts, and Katara strained her eyes to read it.

Dear K,

Bad news.

Mom's gone.

She luvs you. She sed it everyday befor she died. Wish yu were here with us.

Dad n I miss yu.

Luv,

Soka

Katara set down the letter. She walked, robot-like to the mirror. She stared into it. She could barely remember her mother's face, and now she was dead. Sokka wouldn't lie. But her mother had died; from what? She stared at her own impassive reflection, the hand holding the letter slowly tightening its grip on the paper.

Katara wishes she could have felt more emotion instantly upon reading the letter, but she didn't. She found it hard to shed a tear for someone she had half forgotten. So, it took a while for the tears to come. Then she realized - Kya was her mother, and Kya loved her. That was the thought that started the crying. She picked up the envelope and looked inside. Katara cried even more.

She pulled out her mother's necklace.

In the days that followed, all Katara could think was why, what happened, why did she die, what happened to her, who killed her, WHO? WHO?

Zuko had understood. His mother was gone. His siblings were distant and so was his father. He barely talked to them without provoking their anger while Katara could barely visualise her own family. Her dead mother. Faceless. Sokka, the face of an eight-year-old kid throwing snowballs. Her father. Fierce. Sad. Too old. She remembered the wrinkles, the eyes. But never his voice.

Katara didn't cry that much, but that didn't stop the bone-crushing feeling she had whenever she re-read the letter. It didn't stop her heart from splitting open when she learnt over and over that her mother was dead. That someone who was part of her, who loved her with all the love you could wish for, and she was dead. Her mother was barely a memory, barely an image in her mind, but Katara's wasn't heartless. Deep down inside she knew; the purest of feelings can never fade for someone you truly, truly loved, no matter how deep you push them into the depths of your heart. They always seem to be unearthed when that person comes back into your life.

Our daughter. Our daughter.

A month later, Katara still winded, snuck into a war council. She wasn't even sure why she agreed. It wasn't like it was going to be more fun than hanging out around the emptied palace. She'd gone to political talks before, but never had been involved very much. She only ever went for the ones Zuko himself attended, which was very few. Obviously, Fire Lord Ozai prefered Azula's ferocity to Zuko's calm calculations. Zuko didn't know what he was doing there either. His Uncle was there, had recommended him. They didn't see the harm. Zuko didn't see it, either. None of them did.

Zuko had been outside Katara's room, knocking urgently. When she had opened the door disgruntledly, Zuko had eagerly said that he was going for a war council and he wanted to bring her.

"Why?" asked Katara grimly.

"Because it might take your mind off of things." Zuko said shyly.

Katara had said yes, but ever thought she would have to be snuck in. She was not very happy when she had to squeeze in the back rows of the room, staring straight at the back of a fat noble, unless she craned her neck to the left. Zuko had sat next to Ozai. He smiled slightly when she peeked over the pudgy shoulder.

The war council was very long. Katara was barely listening. She wondered why there was a need for a war council in the first place. Wasn't the war over? This was the first official war council she had gone to. "Our last meeting." Fire Lord Ozai had said. There had been others. Obviously.

"Report, Admiral Zhao." The Fire Lord said.

"We have ended our raids. The first one was around a month ago. The Poles have been ridded of all benders."

The Poles? Katara sat up. She had gotten tired of leaning to the left and bored of the unchanging view, thus had leaned back in her chair. She moved to the left again.

"Good job. How many casualties?"

"Not many sir. At least fifteen prisoners from both Tribes. Only two deaths. One in the North, one in the South."

"Anyone important?"

"Princess Yue of the Northern Water Tribe. And another, unnamed from the South. She got in our way."

Ozai laughed.

Katara started to listen. She was focusing now. She couldn't stop the burning anger boiling up at the pit of her stomach. Water Tribe. She was Water Tribe. She remembered. The blue dress in her wardrobe, the necklace around her neck told her so; her stuffed seal was from Water Tribe.

"Good work, Zhao."

"It is my honour to be in service to the Fire Lord."

Katara's brain slowly pieced the puzzle together. Another casualty, from the South, unnamed. One month ago. Around one month ago. Katara's mind clicked. She felt her legs push out from under her, and heard the scraping of a chair on the ground. She heard footsteps as her feet brought her, running to the front of the council-members. She surprised herself when she screamed at Admiral Zhao.

"You cold-blooded, filthy-faced murderer! You killed my mother. You're a monster. Fire Lord Ozai, HE'S A MONSTER!"

The silence that followed was deafening. She bloomed in it. Her anger was unfathomable. Her grief, beyond words. Her mother died because of nothing. A waste of life. They killed her because she was in the way. And Ozai laughed. He laughed.

"What are you doing here and what did you say, Katara?" Said Ozai, sugary-sweet.

"Your admiral." She said furiously. "Killed my mother. Remember? The one who visited me? The woman you hosted?" Katara could barely believe what she was saying. She was angry, sure, but what was she doing, arguing with the Fire Lord? "And you laugh? How dare you laugh at the death of an innocent woman? How can you laugh in the information of death?"

"What is the meaning of this, Katara?" Ozai demanded, absolutely enraged. "Are you challenging my morals?"

"Of course I am! He killed my mother! She's innocent!" Katara screamed. "He should pay! He should be jailed, not praised!"

"No! He certainly shall not. You shall pay. Admiral Zhao is a valued member of our force. You are not. You. Shall. Pay. As for your mother, I barely remember her face." Ozai said maliciously, his golden eyes flashing with anger. He definitely looked a lot like Azula. Nothing like Zuko. Lady Ursa looked like Zuko and she was just like him-

"No!" Zuko rose to his feet. Katara felt her heart sink. No. "She doesn't mean it, I swear. She doesn't mean it, she's sick, she can't think straight. Please, believe me. She doesn't know what she's saying. Don't hurt her." Katara cursed under her breath. Why did she come? Sit down, she begged. Take it back. I can take it.

"So it was you, Zuko. My own son. Who disobeyed his father and snuck a child of a ruined nation into our halls." Ozai said slowly. Katara's stomach flipped over because of two things – 'ruined nation', and the warning, the evil in his tone – "She may not think straight, but you certainly do, my dear son."

Zuko didn't stop. "Katara, take it back. Take it back. Apologize and we can leave. It'll be forgotten." He looked at her earnestly. He begged her. There was a layer of something underneath the fear (for her). He wanted her to sit down, she wanted him to sit down. Why? Now both of them had to suffer.

"There will be no such thing happening in this palace! Forgive my son's utter impertinence, my fellow council members. He shall be justly punished. As for you." He turned to Katara. "How dare you talk back to me? How dare you question me? How dare you defy me? How dare you, try to order me, the Fire Lord around? And how dare you enter this war council and willing flaunt the laws? You are a peasant. You are a Water Tribe peasant and peasants don't stay in palaces. You are a failure. You are nothing. You are nothing compared to us. You are nothing compared to kings and princes."

But I'm not a killer.

The next morning, Katara was on a boat. Back home. Back to the Southern Water Tribe. Carrying nothing but a Fire Nation education and a deep, deep hatred.

The very same day, a Prince was challenged to Agni Kai by a Fire Lord. "Impertinence is a sign of defiance. Defiance means Agni Kai. Where we settle it like Kings, but only one can sit on the throne."

Thousands watched. Thousands gasped. Fire flew, and there was an animal-like howl. A screech. The sound of pure human torture. The boy that beheld them was horrible. Half of his face had been melted off. Red flesh. Human suffering. Unimaginable. Pain. Iroh's hands would shake, dropping the tea cup he was carrying.

That would heal, but not all things are the same. They hurt every day, every moment of our life. That was the Prince's shame. Shame at losing, shame at his actions, shame of his abilities, and most of all, shame of becoming friends with a Water Tribe girl who had essentially, ruined his life forever. To think he had even – oh, the thought was enough to make him rile. On top of that, something bordering on loathing but not quite.

Thus begins the task of trying to forget for the better of the future. But that never really works out, does it? Because it's the past that makes the future.

"We'll be friends forever, won't we, Zuko?"

"Yes. I can't imagine us being anything else."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Honestly, when I was proof-reading this, I realised that the story can actually end here. There is an entire third part, so I will be posting it in the next chapter, so if you want, you can stop reading it here. If you like angst and tragic endings, that is.

If you want to know how I wrote it to end, read the next chapter.

See ya on the other side.