Disclaimer: Avatar belongs to Bryke yall
The city is beautiful this time of year, Katara decides, as her unborn baby kicks with gusto. The snow-capped mountains are punctuated by buildings tall and short. The colours of an autumnal afternoon — golds and reds and ambers — dance on the water, her element. Though the fall chill persists, Katara feels a warm glow at the sight of the colours. A memory, uninvited, creeps into her mind. She can't help but be reminded of the man she loves; the man she is so grateful to have in her life; the man who had proved he would die for her so long ago.
Azula slumped forward. Her botched hair fell into her face, dripping water that mingled with her tears. Defeated, the princess had ceased her shrieking and began to sob quietly. Somehow, this was more harrowing than her raucous cries. Azula had always seemed older than her years; still, Katara's heart lurched for the misguided child behind the facade. The fight in her was gone.
Her brother faced her. There was no triumph in his solemn expression, only pity. The treacherous prince was flanked by a young waterbender with her palm on the flat of his back. It was little comfort in this dire situation. Katara eyed the princess, and something acidic swam in the pit of her stomach. She knew that Azula's sanity was waning, but there was something more pressing on her mind. She looked at the gaping, half-healed wound in the firebender's chest and grimaced.
"Zuko," she said softly, "we need to get you to a physician."
The firebender did not respond. She rubbed his back. He still felt…electric, as if there was lightning in his veins beneath where her hand was pressed. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
"Zuko?" Katara repeated in a soothing tone.
"What?" He slowly turned to face her. His reply was more of a statement than a question.
"That…" She winced, unable to name his…affliction yet. "Your chest…I mean, you're still…" It was rare that Katara was lost for words, but the waterbender was deeply disconcerted after the battle. She squared her jaw. "A physician needs to see it."
Katara was a skilled healer, but not a master. The knot in her stomach would surely uncoil once a physician saw to the wound. Zuko let out a breath he did not know he was holding, but nodded. Yet, his eye was drawn to Azula. Panting and feeble, her sobs pierced the air like shards of ice.
"Hey, look at me," Katara urged. "She's not going anywhere." After a beat, she tried in vain to lighten the mood, her voice edging on hysterical. "I am from the Water Tribe, you know!" she exclaimed. She nodded at the knots constricting the Fire Princess.
The sides of Zuko's mouth drooped. "We can find some guards to move her on the way," she said, her voice laden with concern. Katara began to worry that he was in shock.
Ultimately, she took his hand and coaxed him away from his sister. This was what brought him back to the present, the warmth of Katara's hand in his. He couldn't mask his confused expression, but curled his fingers in hers without resistance. Zuko would not squander the opportunity to hold the waterbender's hand.
Zuko led Katara with trepidation, and they walked out of the plaza hand in hand. The air felt heady, thick with something she couldn't identify. Her pulse thudded in her ears; the world was either about to end, or begin anew. They had played their part; now, all they could do was wait. She rubbed small, soothing circles on the back of the firebender's hand. Katara realised that they were not looking for a physician, or for guards to aid the Fire Princess. In truth, they weren't really going anywhere.
Her mind wandered to the Avatar; where was he? Had he returned, and succeeded in defeating the Fire Lord? Or had Aang abandoned the world once again? She thought about the rest of her makeshift family; her zany brother, the Kyoshi warrior, the petite earthbender. Had they disabled the airship fleet? Was her family safe?
Consumed by her thoughts, Katara regretted to notice how Zuko doubled over as he fell into step beside her. Before they reached the palace gates, she pulled him wordlessly onto the concrete with a pang of guilt. Zuko's silence would have perturbed anyone else; it occurred to Katara that they never needed words. She kneeled to face the firebender as he sat cross-legged. His hazy expression had cleared. Giving his hand a final squeeze, she uncorked her waterskins. Doing something practical would calm her, she concluded.
Zuko stared up at the overcast skies, orange with anarchy. His eyes fluttered closed in contentment as the water soothed his chest. Katara's ministrations only served to preoccupy her; there was little that could improve his condition at this point.
"How do you feel?" she asked with a sigh.
"Like I've just been shot by lightning," Zuko responded. His attempt at humour fell flat; his usual wry, sarcastic tone was absent.
Katara smiled anyway. There was so much she had wanted to say to him. She longed to express her concern, her fear, her gratitude to the firebender, as well as something else her fourteen-year-old heart couldn't quite place.
"Zuko," Katara began, "I—"
"Don't," he interrupted. Eyes still skyward, he clenched his jaw.
Her brows knitted together. Zuko couldn't possibly have known what she was going to say, but her heart gave a lurch regardless.
"Don't what?"
Zuko turned to her for the first time. Their faces were mere inches apart, and Katara's breath hitched in her throat. She could see clearly the sweat dampening his brow, the texture of his scar — he'd have a new one now, she realised wistfully — the contours of his face, his tangled black lashes. In his eyes she saw panic, relief, and tenderness all at once. Zuko's eyes had always looked yellow to her, but now seemed gold, gold with victory, as he drank in the view of his waterbender. The boy who would scar for her. The boy who would sacrifice the stability of the world for her. The boy who would die for her.
His expression softened almost imperceptibly. He had never looked more beautiful. Katara had never loved him more.
She squeezes her eyes shut, and swears she can see her children, running away from her with ocean eyes and fire playing in their hair.
Her husband's light steps snap her out of her reverie. He had once taught her to be stealthy, Katara recalls. She kneads the moisture out of her eyes with the back of her hand before he approaches her.
"Maybe it'll be an airbender this time," he murmurs lovingly in her ear, tattooed arms wrapping around her rotund middle. Guilt tugs at her heart as she feigns a laugh. Katara clasps her hands around his, and she and the Avatar look out over Republic City together. The rosy colours seem more sinister to her now.
Katara feels a pop!, and a warm liquid trickles down her leg. She turns to face Aang; his eyes light up, and suddenly he's a sprightly twelve-year-old with a smile full of hope. She knows that it's time; she knows she can't love him. Not now. The baby's coming.
A/N: Hello. I hope I didn't break anyone's heart too much! I listened to a ton of Hozier while writing this, particularly his tune 'Better Love.' Such a zk song
This is dedicated to anyone involved in Zutara week, or indeed the Zutara fandom in general. y'all rock
Reviews are greatly appreciated, and if you've any questions/comments/concerns hit me up :)
momtara XX