So, I'm not sure where this came from. I have never written anything for ATLA before. I always did like Zutara better than Kataang when I watched the show, but I never really did anything with that.
This'll be a twoshot, I think. Second part is almost finished, so it won't be long.
It can be classified as an AU, and it gets a little dark here and there-just a head's up :) Rated T for implied sexy times and violence.
Let me know what you guys think!
Love,
Annaelle
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Smiling Faces Sometimes
Smiling faces sometimes pretend to be your friend
Smiling faces show no traces of the evil that lurks within
Smiling faces, smiling faces sometimes
They don't tell the truth
—Smiling Faces Sometimes, Undisputed Truth
Katara
She doesn't know how long she's been in here.
She doesn't know how long it's been since she last laid eyes on her friends and her family—since she last saw someone other than him.
She knows it's been at least a few months—but less than nine months. She cannot comprehend it being more than that, because that would mean no one has bothered to come looking for her, that they don't care enough to look for her and she can't believe that about any of them.
She curls in on herself, curling her fingers around the smooth metal of the ring that sits prettily on her left ring finger—the metal is always warm, and its weight is a constant reminder that she can't give up, no matter how long she's trapped in here. She has someone waiting for her out there (and she knows he is waiting for her, he has to be, he loves her, she knows he does) and she can't leave him like this.
She promised to never be that person.
They fought too hard to have a chance at a peaceful life only to have it taken away when they finally had it.
She shivers when she realizes she can't quite curl in on herself as tightly as she could before—her belly is swelling steadily, her only indication that time is indeed passing outside of her dark, lonely prison cell.
"It's okay," she whispers to her belly, rubbing it softly as she speaks, "It's okay, little one. Your Papa will come for us—he'll save us, I promise. We just have to hang in there until he does." A bittersweet smile twists her lips when she feels the soft kick on the inside of her belly, right about where her hand is resting—she wants to believe her own words, and she does, but there are moments (often when he comes in to feed her and taunt her) that even her strong heart is not strong enough to fend off all doubts.
Her blood is humming in her veins, and she knows that means a full moon is approaching—it makes her fidget uncontrollably. Full moons are usually around the time he shows up the most. She's fairly certain it's because he knows that while her bending is magnified by the power of the moon, her mental state is always more fragile on nights that the moon is full.
Even before he had locked her up in this place, he had known of the moon's power over her—they all had; they'd all travelled together long enough to notice.
She huddles a little closer to the wall on the small, thin bedroll, huddling under her flimsy blanket as her eyes begin to water with tears. She doesn't attempt to bend them to escape; she's tried before, many times, before she had realized it was not just her safety she compromised when she made him angry.
Now, all she can do is long for her family, for her friends, for her love—she even longs for the humid heat in the Fire Nation; anything but the dry, not quite freezing cold she feels here. Anything but the searing loneliness that is getting worse each day.
She has prayed to every deity that she knows of and pleaded with Yue and Roku and every other spirit out there, begging them to free her from his clutches—to free him from the clutches of his own mind; she knows he is still a good person.
She has to believe that, deep down, her friend is still alive.
She has to believe that the boy she had grown to admire and love as much as she loved her brother is still in there somewhere, even if he is lost in his inner turmoil and can no longer see what he is doing to himself—to her.
"La," she whispers, "Tui," she directs her eyes to the small, unreachable window near the ceiling, "Agni, please. I just need an opportunity—if you can't find it in yourself to save me, please save my child. She is innocent—and she will be the best of your people combined. She will love both fire and water, and she will unite the nations in a way no one else can. If you can't save me, at least return her to her father—find a way to show him the proof of our love. Please," a tear rolls down her cheek, her voice thick with emotion, "I'll do anything to keep her safe."
Of course, there is no answer—there never is, nor did she expect one.
Instead, she curls up on the ratty bedroll and closes her eyes, focusing on her breathing—she's had enough practice falling asleep in these circumstances lately.
She's asleep in minutes.
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Almost seven years ago
Hakoda
The sky is clear of any and all clouds for the first time in months, and the it is almost as though the entire village breathes out in relief at the same time. Hakoda has not felt this kind of peace and calm in many a year—if ever—and it unnerves him greatly.
He is certain something is to happen soon, and he cannot decide if it will be good or bad.
News of the war has been sparse and it frustrates him greatly; he wishes he could join the resistance in their efforts to bring an end to Ozai's tyrannical reign. Alas, he is well aware he cannot—not with two young children depending on him.
"Papa, papa," Sokka screams as he runs towards him, "Look! There's a boat coming this way!"
Hakoda's eyes widen in alarm and he immediately runs towards the small wall he and his son had built around the village a while back, staring out over the icy ocean before him, easily spotting the small boat that is indeed heading towards their village—it is tiny; no bigger than an average-sized dinghy; and he wonders how in La's name the small boat made it this far onto the Southern Seas.
"You have a good eye, m'boy," he tells his son proudly, patting Sokka's shoulder when his ten-year-old seems to swell up with pride after his father praises him. "Go watch over your sister while she practices," Hakoda then orders, gently offering his son a smile, "I will welcome our visitors."
Sokka nods, a determined look on his face as he hops off the wall and runs towards their home, where Hakoda knows his mother and his daughter will be—Katara will likely be playing with her water bending abilities once again, and if this boat does carry Fire Nation spies, he cannot risk letting them find out about Katara's skills.
"Nanuq, Kesuk," he jumps from the ice wall, approaching the two men by the large fire in the village, "We have company—see to it that the women and children are safe inside the igloos. I do not know who they are, nor their intentions."
Nanuq, a man his own age with a son Katara's age, nods shortly and strides back towards where the women are washing clothes and skinning fish, to order them inside.
Kesuk follows Hakoda back to the ice wall, frowning thoughtfully as he studies the boat that steadily grows larger. "Do we know anything?" He asks gruffly, crossing his arms over his broad chest, "They are not flying any nation's colors, are they?"
Hakoda shakes his head and sighs. "No. And I have received no messages from the other White Lotus members, so I am not expecting anyone."
"Perhaps," Kesuk offers hopefully, "They are simply sailors who were shipwrecked—who knows how long they have been on that boat." Hakoda smiles sadly; even after everything Kesuk had already seen, the young man insisted upon seeing the brighter—almost non-existent nowadays—side of things.
"Aye," he nodded slowly, "Perhaps."
Fortunately, they are joined by the other men quickly as they wait for the small boat to dock. It holds only two men—one small and slight, curled up underneath a heavy coat and blanket, the other tall, portly and vaguely familiar to Hakoda, though he cannot quite see the man's face.
"I think," he says slowly, when the man's face suddenly becomes clear, "That I wish to handle this one myself. Go see to your wives and children—tell them there is no threat. Kesuk," he turns to the kind young man, "Please go see to my mother and children; tell them that it is safe."
The men all nod, though some grumble in dissatisfaction—they had been looking forward to a good fight—and Kesuk bows slightly in respect before hurrying towards the family's large igloo.
Hakoda swallows thickly before he makes his way over to the small, near-crumbling dock where the still-hooded man is tying up the dinghy while the smaller one still sleeps.
"Iroh," Hakoda says dryly, crossing his arms over his chest, "I cannot say I was expecting to see you here. What brings you to the South Pole, my old friend?" He watches as Iroh rubs his hand over his face tiredly before striding over to where he is waiting.
The two grasp each other's forearms in a tight grip, and for the first time since he had recognized his old friend, Hakoda allows himself to smile and to believe that seeing Iroh might not be a bad thing, as he had initially feared it would be.
While Iroh was once the Great Dragon Of The West, one of the Fire Nations' proudest soldiers, he had retired a long time ago, and joined the Order of the White Lotus shortly after; and that is where he and Hakoda had met.
"Hakoda," Iroh sighs, glancing back to the dinghy, where the second man is still sleeping, "I fear I may carry more bad than good news. My brother—" Both men wince at the reminder that Iroh is, in fact, related to the Fire Lord. "—my brother has truly lost his mind, I fear," Iroh continues, "He challenged my thirteen-year-old nephew to an Agni Kai for speaking out of turn."
Hakoda pales, nausea abruptly finding its way into his system as he tries to imagine challenging Sokka to such a horrendous challenge. "Spirits, please tell me he did not go through with it." His eyes stray back to the man—who is no more than a boy, he now realizes—who is still sleeping soundly in the dinghy, a feeling of absolute dread heavy on his stomach.
Iroh drops his gaze and shakes his head sadly. "No. Alas, he followed through, even when my nephew pleaded with him, told him that he would not fight his own father—in return, my brother…" Iroh's breath catches, and Hakoda almost asks him not to continue because it's a kind of horror he simply can't imagine. "He burned him and then banished him. Banished us, actually, when I refused to let him send a child on a wild-goose chase to find the Avatar."
"Uncle?"
A soft, almost timid voice emerges from the dinghy, and Hakoda and Iroh both startle when a boy, not much older than Sokka, climbs from the boat, the thick coat and blanket still covering him. Hakoda bites his lip to stifle a horrified gasp at the sight of the stark white bandage that covers half of the boy's face.
"Zuko," Iroh hurries towards the boy, presumably to introduce him, to tell him where they are, when Hakoda suddenly hears familiar laughter and squealing behind him—he barely manages to turn around in time to catch Katara as she launches herself at him, giggling delighted when Sokka—who is soaking wet—comes running towards them with the biggest pout Hakoda has ever seen on his face.
He raises an eyebrow at his daughter, who just smiles innocently, before shaking his head and turning back to Iroh and the young boy—who, he's assuming, is Prince Zuko—, who are standing right behind him now.
"Hakoda," Iroh smiles tightly, "this is my nephew, Prince Zuko. I hope you can offer us sanctuary, while he recovers."
Hakoda swallows, setting down his daughter as he pulls Iroh aside to discuss this sanctuary he would be offering the banished firebenders—because he knows Iroh is a bender, and he is fairly certain young Zuko is one as well; he could not have been in an Agni Kai if he was not a bender.
Neither of the men pay any more attention to the children.
Katara gazes up at the young boy before her, with golden eyes like she has never seen before—everyone at the Tribe has blue eyes; various shades, but all blue. She frowns at the white bandage and tilts her head to the side.
"Does that hurt?"
She points at the bandage, smiling brightly when the boy looks at her funnily.
"Not so much anymore," he finally replies, his voice a little off, "Who are you?"
She smiles sweetly and holds out her hand, like her Papa taught her to do when she was meeting someone new and says, "I'm Katara and that—" she points to where her daddy is talking to the other new person, "—is my Papa. Who are you?"
The boy looks at her hand strangely for a long time before he finally moves to hold it carefully, like he's afraid she'll bite or something. "I'm Zuko. The man he's talking to is my Uncle."
"Hi Zuko," Katara squeals excitedly—she loves meeting new people, since it doesn't happen all too often—gripping the boy's hand tightly, "We're going to be great friends!"
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Katara
"Katara," a voice coos in her ear, and for a moment, she allows herself the delusion that she's actually where she belongs—not in the cold, icky cell, but in her warm, comfortable bed back in the Fire Lord's palace with—
"Katara!"
The delusional bubble bursts immediately when she's jerked upright roughly. "Hey, what the hell?" She exclaims—even though she's learned long ago that talking back to him isn't a good idea anymore. Last time he had slapped her so hard, he'd split her lip and blackened her eye. She can see that darkness seep back into his grey eyes when she yells at him and cringes away from his touch immediately.
"I'm sorry," she whimpers, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, don't hit me—I didn't mean to be rude."
His features contort into something that she could've seen as a kind smile, once upon a time, but she knows better now.
"Oh, sweet, sweet, Katara," he coos, gently stroking her cheek, "You know I love you. I wouldn't hurt you. You just need to remember that we are in love."
Katara has to force herself not to flinch, to not back away from his touch—he seems to be in a good mood, and he has far too few of those. "I do love you," she has to force the words out of her mouth because they're just not true, because he's not him and nothing is ever going to change that she loves him, she's always loved him.
She just wishes everyone would have simply accepted it.
Of course, that is not what happened—nothing can ever been simple in her life, can it? Ever since she and Sokka found Aang in that iceberg… Hell, even before that, when she first met the scarred, damaged, banished prince of the Fire Nation when she was eleven and he was thirteen.
Her life stopped being simple the moment she laid eyes on him and his Uncle—the moment her father had accepted them into their Tribe to keep them both safe from the Fire Nation.
It stopped being simple when she and Zuko fell in love—it stopped being simple the moment he asked her to marry him when they were old enough—it stopped being simple when she accepted and promised she would wait for him when he had to take Uncle to the Earth Kingdom to find medicine for his illness.
Her life had been complicated a long time before she ever even found Aang.
She'd been thirteen when she promised Zuko she'd wait for him as long as he needed her to. She'd been fourteen when she and Sokka found Aang and started to travel the world with him after Zhao tried to capture him.
She'd been fifteen by the time she and Zuko had finally been reunited in Ba Sing Se, in 'The Jasmine Dragon'. She'd also been fifteen when she'd been forced to explain to Aang that while she cared deeply for him, she wasn't in love with him, and was never going to be.
She was seventeen and ready to marry the love of her life when she finally realized that Aang had never fully accepted that she was with Zuko.
By the time she did, it was too late.
"Good," Aang smiles that twisted little smile, "Good. Because I think it's time we start travelling together again—you know, so we can see everyone again before our baby is born—when he or she is here, we won't be able to travel for a while."
Katara barely registers anything he says—she doesn't even bother correcting him this time—the baby's not his, never was, never could have been—because he's going to let her out.
She nods eagerly—though she forces herself not to appear too eager. She doesn't want him to get suspicious and change his mind about letting her out—she needs the opportunity to escape Aang. If he's going to take her to see her brother and Suki, or even just her dad and Gran Gran, she'll be able to tell them what Aang is doing to her and they'll help her.
At the very least, even if they can't go up against Aang, they'll be able to tell Zuko and Toph and even Master Pakku and Bumi—if nothing else, they can contain Aang and help him get better. And she'll be able to go back to Zuko, to give birth to their baby, to marry him, just like they had always planned.
"Okay," she says shakily, "So… W—when are we leaving? And, uh, who—who are we going to see?"
The way his eyes light up makes her feel slightly nauseated, but she paints a smile on her face and waits for him to answer.
"Oh, we're seeing all of them," he grins manically, "One of our dear, dear friends is finally getting married—of course, he invited all of us to attend this happy occasion." Her stomach clenches and she swallows thickly—she knows it can't be good; he wouldn't be telling her this unless he had something else in mind.
"Oh," she manages, chewing on her lower lip nervously, "Who's… Who's getting married?"
Aang's smile becomes dark and sinister, and her heart squeezes painfully—she knows before he even says the words.
"Zuko is."
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Five years ago
Katara
"Do you have to?"
She knows it's a ridiculous, childish, selfish thing to ask, because of course he has to. It's not even a real question—he loves his Uncle; she loves his Uncle.
"You know I do," he whispers, gently touching her cheek, "I wish you could come with me, but—"
Katara just smiles sadly and looks down, her fingers curling around his wrist to hold his hand to her cheek—she knows why she can't come with him and Uncle to the Earth Kingdom; it's inappropriate for her to travel with him, even with his Uncle as an escort, before they are married—and she won't be of marrying age for another three years.
Uncle can't wait another three years to find medicine.
"I love you," she says quietly, "I really wish you didn't have to go—not so shortly after dad…" She sighs and shakes her head again, "I know that it's stupid, but I'm so scared that you will just… Disappear as well."
Zuko smiles sadly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. "I know. And because I know that, I want to ask you something." He reluctantly pulls away from her, leading her towards the soft furs near the entrance of the igloo, so they may speak privately but comfortably.
Katara watches as he pulls a small leather pouch from his pocket when they are seated, before he reaches for her hand—she willingly lets him have it, smiling a little at the heat radiating from his skin. She loves that he is always warm, that whenever she is cold and afraid, all she will have to do is reach for him and allow him to hold her, and she'll be warm and safe.
"I am aware," he starts slowly, "that your grandmother is not yet convinced that I am a good match for you—perhaps I am not. I am sure you could find a far better suitor than a banished Fire Nation Prince, but," he sighs, "I can assure you that none would ever love you as I do."
He looks down, and she wants to tell him to stop hiding his beautiful golden eyes, she wants to tell him that she's never going to want another either—but she knows he will just tell her she is young still, that she may one day change her mind about him.
She knows she will not.
She knows.
She knows that she will never love another man—female waterbenders can sense their mate; it is rare, but she has read stories of the event happening before, and she is certain that what she feels when she sees Zuko is the kind of love that will never abate, nor disappear.
"I know that," she smiles, squeezing his hand softly, "and you need to know that I will never love another like I love you."
She does not need to look at him to know there is a small, bittersweet smile tugging on the corners of his lips—she knows he will not fully be able to believe that she loves him until they are married. And she is okay with that—she understands that it is his father's fault for making him believe that he is worthless, that none will ever truly love him, and she understands that it will be difficult to make him believe—but she intends to fight for him for the rest of her life, whether he likes it or not.
He is quiet for a long moment, as though he is gathering his thoughts, turning over her hand in his, her palm up. "Wait for me," he then breathes, his hands shaking when he opens the pouch, shaking out its contents into her open hand.
"I love you," he repeats, "And I wish to marry you when I am allowed to. Wait for me."
Katara gapes at her hand, in awe of the beautiful carved necklace that rests there—she does not recognize the material he used to carve the pendant, but it's beautiful and smooth, the color a mix of gold, blue, red and silver. The design is flawless, a perfect mixture of their two cultures—the waves of the Water Tribe meshing perfectly with the flames of the Fire Nation.
"Zuko," she whispers, tears filling her eyes—she had feared he would never gather enough courage to ask for her hand—, "Of course." Her hands shake as she removes her mother's necklace from her neck to replace it with her own—the one Zuko has made for her.
Slowly, she takes his hand and lays her mother's necklace in his hand, curling his fingers around it. "Keep that," she smiles, "as a token of my affection. Your necklace will remind me, and that one will remind you."
"Of course," he grins, wrapping the silk around his wrist a few times, securely tying it, "I'll cherish it."
"I love you," she chokes, tears of joy running down her cheeks, "I love you and I will miss you so much." She launches herself to him before he gets the chance to respond, pressing her lips to his—he responds eagerly—though chastely, as they are in her grandmother's home, with her standing no more than a few feet away.
"I will wait for you," she whispers when he pulls away, "forever if I have to."