Author's Note: Hey guys, this is the revised first chapter of "Burn to Ashes." I kind of hate how I tainted this story with so much flowery prose, and I hated the direction I was taking this in, so I'll be revising each chapter. Hopefully it'll make more sense after this.

Thanks for your patience and for all the support so far!

"We are not wounded so deeply when betrayed by things we hope for as when betrayed by the things we try our best to despise. In such betrayal comes the dagger in the back."

— Thirst For Love, Yukio Mishima

It's hot, and her body feels heavy, like the flames from the comet above are somehow weighing her down. But Zuko seems more alive with the comet's influence.

There's a lightness in his step that wasn't there before, and even the motions of his firebending mastery are smoother, as if firebending no longer feels like a burden. She wants to be happy for him, he needs this boost in confidence for the impending battle ahead, because he can't hurt his sister without confidence. She can see it in the tilt of his brow and the tightness of his jaw and the darkness in his eyes. But she can't shake the uneasiness that engulfs her being when she sits near him.

He grows quieter and quieter the nearer they get to the capital's coast. Katara can't get a word out of him when they finally see what she assumes are palace towers in the distance.

She's nervous, she has been, they all have been including Zuko, but seeing his shoulders tense, his back stiffen as if touching him would shatter his spine...catching him glance over at her with a strange, undefinable emotion in his gaze has her shuddering in fear. She can't be afraid, she can't, but her partner in this war – her comrade, though ironic given their history – somehow makes her doubt everything they'd ever worked towards.

Appa lets out a low bellow as if echoing her sentiments. Katara pats his head in acknowledgment. Zuko doesn't react, facing forward still.

She wants to hold his hand as an attempt to ground herself, but it doesn't seem right in that moment. So instead she holds her own and continues to sneak glances in his direction.

...

Finally, they are coursing over the palace walls, and she spots Azula kneeling before a small crowd of people.

Ah, this must be her coronation party.

Zuko's expression blanks and her heart steadily sinks. Maybe they're in time, maybe they're too late.

Appa lands too quickly for Katara to prepare herself and suddenly Zuko is gone. She doesn't even get a chance to grasp his sleeve and stop him, and she's not sure why she wants him to stop but the roiling in her belly tells her to hold him back so she can say something, anything.

Sokka used to remind her again and again how important instinct is to him, how important it should be to everyone. Maybe this is her instinct talking.

Katara has a habit of ignoring Sokka's advice.

She should have seen it coming when Zuko chose to fight Azula alone in what now seems almost an eternity ago.

She should have seen it in the way he looked at her.

…

Zuko turns his stance on Katara, away from his sister who laughs behind him with a crown in her hair.

She gapes at them both from atop Appa's rumbling shoulders, until a particularly loud growl shakes her out of her initial shock. She hops down onto the tiled floor, pats his lowered head with trembling hands, whispers in soothing tones to send him away. The sky bison whines in protest but ultimately heeds her words.

Appa's departure leaves a gust of wind in his wake, surrounding Katara in a cloud of dust and ash. Once the veil lifts, she is facing Zuko with a hand on the waterskin at her side.

This isn't part of the plan, none of this is

She hesitates, but her resolve is set. Her duty has and always will be the same.

Defeat the Fire Nation. Protect her family. Achieve Aang's dream of peace among nations. Heal this ailing world.

Even if it means defeating Zuko.

Her chest tightens painfully but she gets into a fighting stance nonetheless.

Zuko makes to say something, but she won't hear it. The waterskin is popped open before he can utter a single word because she won't hear it. Katara swings forward with a slice of water from her side and curses when he dodges it skillfully.

This is why he trained with her, isn't it? To learn her every attack, her every step and her every breath.

There's no time for this betrayal to hurt.

He rolls, he kicks, and a flame of a size she could never have anticipated shoots her way. She gasps, stares, runs just in time and imagines that Zuko begs her to dodge it.

Sozin's comet is a cruel entity, a creature birthed of a god who blesses his people while Katara's own spirits slumber. She is no match against two masters, one swathed in red and the other in blue that is an element deceiving her own.

If there is any remorse in his eyes, she does not see it. She doesn't have time to nor does she get any closer than the width of the wall of flames he's built around him. Her water is scarce, she's used it all and she can't believe it - she can sense more from somewhere else, somewhere hidden but she can't see a source. It's hot, too hot, and she considers using her sweat but that's just desperation talking that she can't come to terms with.

She's losing, spirits, she's losing and she can't – she can't find a way out, she's lost everything, she's lost the world to this -

When he finally approaches her, his pale skin is doused in oranges and reds, and he looks like a demon arisen from the depths of the Spirit World.

He was always a monster, she tried to tell everyone. But even monsters can steal hearts.

…

"I should never have trusted you!"

That's what she wants to say, what she would say if she wasn't trapped in a cage of arms stronger than her own. A searing pain shoots down the side of her waist, effectively muting her. She continues to thrash weakly but her energy is wasted on a futile fight.

Katara lost this battle the moment Zuko's kindness penetrated her fortified, icy walls. He deserves everything she threw at him, this coward. What he wouldn't do for his family, his spirits-damned honor – she should have known.

This wasn't the first time, and if she somehow made it out of this mess, then it likely wouldn't be the last.

She feels her vision cloud over – no, she has to stay awake, she has to fight back, she has to – and her legs buckle beneath her. But Zuko, reliable Zuko holds her up. She can only tell it's him because she knows what it feels like to be held in his arms and the memory is revolting, so miserable and unwanted.

"You lied, " she whispers hoarsely, or at least she tries to. That's all her throat will allow her to say, and it isn't enough, not for her satisfaction. Nothing she ever says will be enough. Yet Katara thinks that the wall of flesh against her back stiffens.

It's not enough, she thinks again and again.

Everything goes black.