Live By The Sun, Love By The Moon-Forty Zutara flash drabbles
Obligatory Disclaimer: ATLA is the property of Mike, Bryan and Nickelodeon. I make no profit from this work. I am only playing in their sandbox for my own amusement.
A/N: Something I've had saved for years but kept putting off. Inspired by Rashaka's forty prompts on LiveJournal for the katara_zuko community. After sitting on my harddrive for years, it's finally complete. Some...well, okay probably all of them wander into AU territory. Some more than others.
dangle
He remembers how tantalizing his sister's offer had been as she extended it to him-his position as the legitimate heir restored, his father's love and respect; it had been everything he'd ever wanted, ever striven for finally within his reach.
However, he could not help but regret the hurt and betrayal he saw in the beautiful young waterbender's eyes, and he asks himself: Was it truly worth it?
civilized murder
As he sleeps, she stands over him, poised with an ice dagger, knowing how easy it would be to slit his throat, to kill him, to finish him...but seeing him so at peace, so vulnerable and so unguarded stays her hand, and she lets it fall to her side and melts the frozen blade, unable to bring herself to do it.
She knows that in spite of everything, deep down, that it's not within her nature to resort to such depths of savagery.
creaking floor
As she walks through the old beach house to meet him for one of their secret trysts with her disgraced prince, she holds her breath, praying to Tui and La above that one of the loose floorboards won't awaken the others and give her away.
books written by rabbits
Little girls were often fond of saying that "Someday my prince will come." Little did Katara know that for her, it would happen quite literally.
Prime
When they at last have a moment alone, Katara thinks now would be an ideal time to ask about Zuko and Mai breaking off their engagement-she tells herself that all he needs is a friend to listen to him, and tries to not show too much interest in his new status as the Fire Nation's most eligible bachelor.
memory cloth
He keeps her necklace wrapped carefully in a piece of blue silk and guards it as fiercely as a dragon guards its horde-it is a precious thing, but it reminds him painfully, achingly, of their separation but it still holds the promise that she will return to him, someday.
Sanguine
As lovely as she looks in blue, he can't help but picture how stunning she would look surrounded by silk sheets the color of blood, contrasting wonderfully with her dusky skin.
tick tock
In her room, she paces counts down the hours, minutes, seconds until their wedding, her heart beating faster than a rabbit-cat's. Little does she know that on the other end of the palace, her future husband lays sleepless in his bed, doing the same.
gilt and plaster
After Katara's passing, a statue is erected in her honor because no Fire Lady was ever so beloved nor more deeply mourned by the common folk.
snake eyes
When Katara looks into Ozai's eyes, they are as cold and pitiless as a rat-viper's-and she can't help but think that they are nothing like his son's, filled with kindness and warmth.
dibs
Aang clings to her tenaciously as if she were some prize, some hard-won trophy for saving the world from burning, and she resents it deep down-he acts as if he fears the thought of losing her.
She laments that while one boy fights so hard to keep her, the other, she feels, didn't fight hard enough for her.
form and dignity
As she goes through the basic warm up motions of her bending katas and the water bends into various shapes at her command, Zuko notes that she moves with an inborn grace that the ladies at the Fire Nation court would envy, but even with years of practice, they could never hope to match what comes so naturally to her.
time lapse
She knew that marrying the Fire Lord would come with its difficulties and its sacrifices-that he would be called away for diplomatic missions and peace discussions and the like, but she can't help but count down the months, the weeks, the days until his return, as if he were a man that had been drafted into some kind of war, and she were a wife anxiously awaiting his return.
portraits of our mothers
When Zuko places a small hand painted portrait into her hands, carefully, Katara studies it closely as if to etch the features of the somberly beautiful woman into her memory.
"She was lovely," she says softly.
"Yeah," he agrees, throat tightening at her memory.
"You're lucky to have a picture of her to remember her by."
"I guess," he answers.
She brushes her fingers lightly over the edge of the frame and quietly envies him, for she only has her memories of Kya-her face, her voice, and she fears that those will wear and fade away over time.
However, her father tells her later that if she wants to see her mother's face, she only needs to look into a mirror.
starry starry night
She giggles and squirms as he dots kisses along her neck beneath the night sky, goose prickles rising over her arms at the ticklish sensation. He whispers words of love into her ear, soft endearments that she never expected to hear from him-he says that if he could, he'd pluck all the stars from the night sky and lay them at her feet, because, he says, she deserves no less.
Moved, she softens and with quiet tenderness rests a hand against the livid scar on his face-she has no words because that's the most romantic thing he's ever said to her.
hard way to go
It isn't until after she's forgiven him for his turncoat actions in the crystal catacombs beneath Ba Sing Se that she realizes how much it must've took for him to confront his father and leave the Fire Nation to aid them, knowing the risks he would be taking. It would have been so easy for him to sit aside and do nothing as Ozai crushed them and brought the world to its knees. It is because of him, she acknowledges, that they just might turn the tide of battle and have a hope of winning. In their talks, she steadily gets him to open up to her, and she learns more about him, and how his whole life has nothing but one long, never ending struggle, filled with anguish and suffering.
She reaches out to rest her hand over his, and he looks at her in surprise. She tells him, promises him that it'll all be worthwhile in the end.
He rewards her with the faintest ghost of a smile.
violet haze
He lays in the palace infirmary, his vision blurred as he drifts in and out of consciousness and floats in a hazy cloud of painkillers. It hurts to breathe, every expansion of his chest feeling like knives in his lungs.
He dreams of those he's lost, faces of the past; he even fancies that he hears a warm, kind voice telling him that it's not his time to join the spirits; the world of the living needs him far more. He feels a strange glowing, tingling sensation that isn't unpleasant; quite the contrary, really and he feels his discomfort ease and finds that his breathing comes a little easier each time he experiences what he dimly realizes must be a sort of healing.
Opening his eyes, he sees a pair of ocean blue ones set in a worried, drawn face. She smiles with visible relief and lightly squeezes his hand. He returns the gesture.
reflecting anger
In the past, when Katara witnessed his anger and rage, it reminded her of the heat and fury of a volcano, uncontrolled, wild, and terrifying to behold.
However, as he stands poised and ready, preparing to face down Azula, lean and somehow knife like his rage is a cold, focused thing, and in that moment he is as hard, unyielding and unforgiving as the snows of her homeland in winter.
another child who's grown old
Her rejection wounds him deeply, and he feels his heart shatter painfully at her words as she does her best to let him down as gently and easily as she can-she tells him that they want different things, and that they'd never work out, and she wasn't happy with him; she hadn't been for a long time, that he smothered her too much and wouldn't let her breathe, let her just be. Also, she tells him, that she's in love with another, with Zuko.
He gives her his understanding, and then takes his glider to leave and to meditate. He comes to the stinging realization that she's right, and as much as he wanted her, he could never have her. And it would be wrong to try and smother her, to keep her. So he'll release her with his blessing. He knows that the true definition of love is sacrifice, and selflessness, and the desire for happiness for the one you love, even if it means that it's not with you.
He sniffles, wipes away the last of his tears, and takes a quavering breath. He's over a hundred years old, after all. He knows that it's high time that he grew up, and learned to let go.
Starting with her.
blood brothers
Sokka thinks that for marriage prospects, Katara could have done a lot worse than the Prince of the Fire Nation-and so he welcomes him to the family as a new brother, and swears to teach His Highness how to hunt and to see if he can get him drunk enough to streak naked through the South Pole on a dare.
an artist's hands
She is an artist, in her own way. Her medium is not paint nor glass nor parchment-no, it is water. The way the shape arcs gracefully above her head as she executes a complicated move or swirls it around her body, her long silky brown hair whipping around her and her eyes shining with an internal passion that could rival any firebender's-she loves this, lives for it, the liquid she so elegantly commands. He knows what she's capable of; she can set broken bones, bring babies forth from wombs, soothe burns and close cuts-she can also freeze the blood in someone's veins or stop a man's heart with only a single motion of her hand, if she so chooses. She is like some goddess that wields command over the scales of life and death.
To him, she is both terrible and fiercely beautiful, and he's utterly spellbound by her.
proper
After they marry, she is told that it is traditional for the Fire Lord and the Fire Lady to sleep in seperate rooms, and to only visit one another while trying to conceive an heir.
This fact does not sit well with Katara, and she insists on sharing a bed with her husband. Zuko does not object to this, and they spend the nights in each others arms, where he holds her, kisses her, makes love to her, and whispers sweet words into her ear.
Propriety and tradition be Spirits-damned. Nothing will keep her apart from him.
utmost simplicity
For all his prestige, power, glory, honors, and his crown, he would give it all up for her if she only asked-because all he ever could really need is her, and her alone.
the caress of rain
When she presses her lips to his skin, covering him in kisses, they feel like raindrops, and make him shudder and gasp.
devilled kidneys
She lays in her bedroom, clutches her head, and groans in agony, screwing her eyes shut in an effort to banish the sunlight that serves to make her hangover worse.
She curses herself for letting Toph and Sokka goad her into a drinking contest last night. Her own stupid pride had gotten the best of her, and now she is suffering the rather excruciating consequences. Her head feels like it's been stomped on by a herd of Hippo Cows and Komodo Rhinos. She wants to die, and she vows that if she survives this, she'll never, ever drink again for the rest of her days.
Some time later, she hears a delicate knocking on her door. She winces and mumbles a weak "Go away."
The door opens carefully, and she doesn't look up to see who it is, but clearly they didn't listen to her command. She feels the presence stop near her bed, and she looks up gingerly to see none other than Zuko standing there with a tray in his hands. He sits down at the edge of the bed, and as she sits up a bit more, realizes that it's some kind of tea. Her brow furrows in confusion.
"Here." he says softly, handing it to her. "It's from Uncle. He says it's a surefire cure for a hangover."
She thanks him and begins drinking the tea, taking small sips. She feels her stomach settle and her headache begin to ease slowly but surely.
Zuko simply smirks in amusement at her. "So, can't hold your liquor, huh?"
She scowls at him. "Shut up."
He chuckles in response, and she throws a pillow at his head.
"Speak of this to no one," she says in a low, dangerous tone.
"I won't, on my honor," he says wryly.
"Jerk," she says under her breath. But she knows that he'll keep his word. It's one of many things she's grown to like about him.
scarf
A gift arrives for him, and he frowns in puzzlement. His curiosity piqued, he opens the package to find a carefully knitted scarf, it's color a deep shade of blue.
The small note flutters to the floor. He picks it up, and reads it. For your next trip to the South Pole. His heart skips a beat as he recognizes her delicate handwriting.
He decides that it's time for another diplomatic visit. He could stand to further improve his relations with the Water Tribes.
Theoretical
It is years after the war; they've remained good friends even though they both went their separate ways. They've both married, had children, and have found if not true happiness, at least some form of contentment.
When they have a moment alone together on the balcony overlooking his private garden, he asks, hesitantly, if things had been different they could have been together. She quickly shuts him down and tells him no, to his astonishment. The raw, pained look in her eyes tells him: Don't go there. Don't do this to me, please.
She leaves, words drumming like a mantra in her head.
What if...what if I made the wrong choice?
She closes her eyes and takes a shuddering breath as tears begin to fall down her cheeks.
It's moments like these she knows that if she looks back, she is lost.
name your offer
She takes a deep, composing breath as she prepares to sign the marriage document, quill poised above the parchment. She said that she would go to any lengths it took to end the war, even if that includes an arranged marriage to the son of her most hated enemy. It is a sacrifice that she has steeled herself to make, and she will go forward into this union as bravely as she can, if it means that her people will no longer face extinction as the Air Benders once did, so long ago.
The young water maiden signs her name, and thus seals her fate.
conversations with dead people
He catches her under the stars in the South Pole; she talks to her mother when she thinks no one is listening. She tells her of her hopes, her dreams, her plans for the future, and she talks of him-of how lucky and blessed she feels to have found the truest, deepest love she could ever imagine, and how she wishes that Kya could have known him. (She also wishes, more than anything, that her mother was still here for her to confide in.)
Her voice cracks and her shoulders shake at these moments, and he longs to run to her and put a strong arm around her shoulders to comfort her, but he feels that perhaps she'd feel upset, violated at being seen at her most vulnerable, so he holds himself back out of respect.
Still, it always hurts him to see her weep.
straight answer
"Do you love me?" asks the young monk. His voice is soft, quiet, and his mist grey eyes are calm, serene.
She looks at him, hesitant, her vocal chords suddenly paralyzed. She's not sure if she should keep her secrets, keep her silence. She wonders if it isn't a better gift than the truth-that there is a part of her that questions, that regrets that she didn't choose a different path (those golden eyes, the heat of his breath in her ear as he whispered fevered, fervent words of love, of passion, of something that was bright, burning and beautiful.)
She smiles, and hopes that he can't detect its tremulousness, sense its fragility. "Of course. You know I do. I always will." She manages to keep the quaver out of her voice.
His returning smile is broad and genuine, and his fears and doubts seem to have been laid to rest.
The lie tastes like bitter ashes on her tongue.
crisis
He feels like he's in some kind of crisis.
He doesn't love Mai. He feels like he should love her since he's his future wife and queen; but he doesn't. Not the way she deserves.
He panics as his thoughts and his dreams become invaded not by creamy skin, long inky black hair, and eyes as piercing as the daggers she wields, but of dark sun-kissed skin, rich auburn hair, and blue, blue eyes.
Eyes he could drown in.
He feels that every time they lock on him, he loses the ability to breathe properly.
madness of the newly converted
She's fallen in love with him, she realizes with a start.
She would have thought that was impossible, that the entire Fire Nation would have frozen over and the poles would become tropical jungles before she'd ever have feelings for him.
And yet here she is, falling for him.
She knows that it is foolish to love him, to want him, to crave his touch and his warmth and his affection. He is a Prince, and she is a peasant. She knows that life isn't a fairy tale, and that there can be no happily ever after for them.
And yet, in spite of all this, she can't stop herself from reaching towards the sun, towards him.
She supposes it's a sort of madness.
She finds that she's beyond caring.
a broken pot
His fingers slip, and he drops a ceramic bowl and it shatters on the hard stone floor of the house on Ember Island.
Muttering irritatedly under his breath, the twice exiled Fire Prince begins picking up the broken pieces, but drops one of the bigger ones when a sharp edge cuts his palm open. He hisses in pain and bites back a string of curses.
Katara witnesses this and bends down to his level. "Let me see," she coaxes him softly.
Warily, he slowly extends his bleeding hand for her to inspect. The cut is deep.
Frowning a bit, she bends some water from her pouch with an easy flick of her wrist and settles it over his cut, the water glowing an ethereal blue.
After a few seconds, she releases his hand and water recedes back into her skin in a serpentine motion. He looks to see his wound completely healed over, as if it never were.
And in the secret depths of his heart, he silently mourns the loss of their brief connection.
dawn
Dawn breaks, and he awakens to see the curve of a naked back. He reaches out and wraps an arm around her and buries his face into her hair, closing his eyes and inhaling her seafoam scent.
She mumbles something unintelligible, coming half awake at his touch and warmth pressed against her.
He kisses her shoulder and tells her to go back to sleep as he holds her more tightly to him.
It has become a daily ritual for him to confirm that yes, she really is there, and that she's not going to suddenly vanish one day.
He says a silent prayer of thanks to the Spirits that brought her to him.
romantic advice
"If you ever hurt her, in any way, shape, or form, know this, Zuko; I won't hesitate to end you. So you'd better treat her right," says Sokka in a deadly serious manner.
Zuko knows that his future brother in law means well, but he has to fight to suppress an annoyed roll of his eyes. He'd sooner throw himself off a cliff before he'd hurt Katara ever again.
depends upon the forcefulness of character
They frustrate her to no end. She knows from the way their heart rates change when they're around each other and the hidden meanings in their voices that they've got it bad. It's just that they're both too damn stubborn to admit it, and neither Sparky nor Sugar Queen seem like they're going 'fess up anytime soon. Both are as unyielding as the rocks she bends and crushes on a regular basis.
But she knows that even the hardest of boulders can be cracked.
These two are no exception, but the little earthbender wonders which one will be the first to finally give in.
She lays odds that it'll be Sparky.
seven notes in black
Seven love letters he writes, and seven letters he burns, filled with the confessions of things he'll never tell her-above all, that he loves her, for he knows all too well that her heart is commanded by another.
common decency
It's sheer dumb luck that the entire "Gaang" would come across them while Katara is sitting straddling Zuko, her smirk triumphant with her hand positioned on his chest over his furiously beating heart with the two of them panting from exertion.
They spring apart from each other with equally mortified expressions and say quickly, in unison:
"It's not what it looks like!"
the edge of paradise
She is something beautiful, rare, and divine, and as he holds her close, he thinks that she's the closest thing to heaven that he'll ever find. He wonders how she could love him, but she does.
The two of them know that they've found a kind of paradise in one another's arms, and separation would be akin to damning them to hell.
pyramid math
She mentions wanting to start a family.
He quirks his brow at her, the smiles and cuddles her close. "Oh? And how many children do you think we'll have?" he asks. He knows that they'll have beautiful children; he pictures them with coal black hair and eyes as blue as hers.
She shrugs, lacing her fingers with his. "I don't know. I've always thought that maybe we could have five or six."
"Whoa, slow down there. Five or six? Really?"
She nods.
"How about we start with one or two and see how that goes?"
She laughs at that and then kisses him softly.
"Sounds like a plan."
A/N: Holy hell this was a pain in the ass to complete, but I did it. I DID IT! This is one of the more difficult pieces I've ever done, but I think this is one of my finest works, if I do say so myself. :D