Ah, second Avatar fiction! As one can tell, I'm re-watching the finale and getting inspired by the tiny moments. I've never written as Katara – she's actually tougher than Zuko in some ways – and to be honest I never saw most of season one so I have no idea if Gran-Gran scolds or not. (I assumed she did, seeing as Katara does and she had to learn somewhere.) In any case, I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: Trust me. You would know if I owned Avatar. (I wouldn't have made a fanart-based joke-reel, for one.)
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Curious
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When she first woke up and the fire encircled them, Katara was terrified that they had been caught. A million thoughts ran through her head – I knew we shouldn't have trusted that Jun woman, at least Aang isn't with us, why didn't anyone keep watch? – but before Katara could summon any water to her hands her worries were placated and she let her guard down.
Was that - ?
Seeing the men standing before them – Pakku, Jeong Jeong, Piandao, and Bumi – sent a huge wave of relief through her, her lungs letting out a breath she hadn't known she had been holding. Katara could feel her body instantly relax, her tense muscles loosening as she beamed at the quartet. They weren't being attacked at all; they were among friends, and powerful friends at that. If Aang had been there, Katara thought with an ache the others stepped forward behind her, she knew that he would have been overjoyed to see them.
Katara always forgot how much she missed adults until she saw them again. It was like when Sokka and Zuko had broken her dad out of prison, or when they had run into Bato all those months before; a strange feeling of security always came with seeing an old, smiling face. She wasn't sure if it was born from all those years living with Gran-Gran as her main source of companionship, but Katara had grown a fondness for the elderly, and when they were as strong as the ones standing in front of her, as fierce and majestic as Gods, it felt like they had won the war already.
The news from the Water tribe – engaged! – made the girl's heart jump in excitement, and she couldn't contain herself. Embracing Pakku, she breathed in his scent, a fresh salty smell that reminded her strongly of home, and when she closed her eyes she could almost imagine Gran-Gran in the background, chastising Sokka for tracking snow onto the pelts. Letting go, she proceeded to introduce the others to the remainder of the men, feeling Zuko in particular might be interested in meeting Jeong Jeong. It didn't occur to her until that moment that the two might have more in common that she thought.
Before she could continue down that particular train of thought, however, the men began to explain themselves, and she forced herself to pay attention. She felt the astonishment in her grow as she realized that the teachers they had met on their journey were all connected; the idea of a friendship existing between them had never crossed her mind. When Zuko not only seemed to be unfazed but knew the name of the group – the Order of the White Lotus? – Katara was flabbergasted. When she learned of Iroh's position in the Order, a Grand Master, her head reeled. In retrospect it made sense, but it was unexpected to say the least; the man who had helped track and attack them countless times, had helped the banished prince hurt and attack her and her friends, was one of the leaders of an organization that had been helping them the entire time. Not only that, it looked like Zuko was already quite familiar with the information; he knew the name of the secret organization, after all, and only smiled when his uncle's position was mentioned.
What was going on here?
As they followed the men to the Order's camp, Katara felt like she would burst from questions itching to be asked: how did they choose their members? Had they all been communicating with each other this past year as she and the others traveled? Were all their meetings by chance, or had they been planned? Had they been feeding Iroh information from the very beginning? And how long had Zuko known about the Order, anyway?
There wasn't enough time, she knew, to ask all she wanted. An answer was craved for all of her questions, but for some strange reason, Katara really wanted to know the answer to the last. She didn't know why, but after being presented with such staggering knowledge, a nagging voice in the back of her head warned her that she didn't know half as much about those she called friends as she thought. And she found herself dreadfully curious.