*Picks up all of the reviews and stuffs into purse to enjoy forever*
Huge thanks to my beta, The Adamant Daughter. Check out her story "The Rising" – it's amazing!
After a night interrupted by nightmares of the ship tilting and freezing water surrounding him, he woke a few hours before the late Antarctic dawn. He and Iroh ran through firebending sets on deck before morning tea.
Just three years ago, he would have been more likely to stomp away from Iroh if he had corrected Zuko's stance or dump a cup of tea offered to him overboard. The search for the Avatar consumed his thoughts and energy. They scoured the old Air Temples for clues and made a circuit of the entire Earth Kingdom coastline.
And then Zhao had taken to tracking Zuko's cruiser down whenever he felt the need to take more crewmembers to press into service battling Earth Kingdom rebels. He left behind an older officer without families back in the Fire Nation, the men who had served with Uncle Iroh in the siege of Ba Sing Se and couldn't fit back into civilian life, and a few ex-criminals who Iroh had arranged to serve their sentences at sea. Somehow, this smaller, mismatched, aging crew was less intimidating to Zuko than the full crew they left the Fire Nation with.
Zuko stopped searching the skies for a messenger hawk to call him home to regain his place in the line of succession. They took up trading goods for money and stopped chasing rumors of the Avatar.
At some point he realized that these men were all he had, and he needed to treat them with more respect to keep his ship running smoothly. Zuko stopped barking orders. He joined them for music nights. He took watch shifts. He shoveled coal into the furnace. He ran through fire bending techniques with his uncle and drank tea.
They finished their sun salutes as the fluffy snow fell harder from the sky, piling on the deck. After Zuko cleaned up, he checked on the leak. The straw mats and pitch held through the night. Lieutenant Jee and a few other men had plastered more pitch on that morning.
Their main problem was the water that still leaked into the hold. The pump was low on fuel, and they wouldn't have enough coal to get to an Earth Kingdom port if they used much more on the repairs. After he and the crew had bailed out as much water as they could, Zuko set out for a walk to clear his head.
He changed out of his water-soaked clothing and into his warmest layers. He looked at his armor. It would provide a windbreak, but it was also unwieldy and Katara's words about the Fire Nation taking away all of their benders echoed. Probably not good to keep wearing the uniform of their enemy, he thought grimly.
The smell of the warm cook fires wafted to him as he disembarked, but the sting of the wind on his scar kept him from venturing through the village. No need to relive being the Big Bad Dragon, especially since that's how they probably viewed him.
The breeze whipped his hair around, and he silently thanked Iroh for talking him into growing all of his hair out, if only for the extra insulation.
He stuck to the ice shelf that continued on around the natural harbor of the village. After walking nearly a quarter mile, he realized somebody was shouting at him through the stillness of the late morning. Katara ran toward him, waving her blue gloved-hands inland.
"Are you stupid? That ice is too thin," he finally heard her. He looked at his feet and realized his natural body heat had melted a little of the ice shelf away. The ice was almost clear, but the water below was black. He lifted his foot to move inland, but the foot supporting all of his weight cracked the ice.
Time stopped. In one heartbeat, he watched the crack spread like lightning. Water lapped through his boot, burning his pinkie toe. The next, he locked eyes with Katara. She sprinted toward him. The ice beneath him gave way, and his right leg slid into the water. He gasped in shock, scrambling at the surrounding ice to stay out of the water.
The last thing he saw before slipping through the hole completely was Katara still running toward him, close enough for him to see her wide eyes and hear her curses.
The water wasn't black when he opened his eyes. Instead, it was a weak indigo. The sun filtered through it, white and icy and wonderful. Below his feet it was dark, but more like the soft darkness of a cloudy night. He didn't even feel cold, just a strange warm peace as his hair and clothing floated around him and the last bubbles escaped his nose.
Then panic settled in. He gulped in water and began thrashing for the surface. His limbs tingled from the cold shock of the water, and the sunlight winked teasingly at him.
Strong blue arms wrapped around his chest, and for a moment he thought ice mermaid. The body at his back kicked up, not toward some ice castle prison below and he relaxed. Brown hair swirled around him and stuck to the scarred side of his face as they broke through the surface. He coughed and a fist pounded at his chest as he vomited water back up. The oxygen soothed his burned lungs and he gasped for more. The wind numbed his face, but the arms held him firmly and propped him up to float on his back, resting against another body. A gust of wind made the waves ripple around them. He shivered and turned his face into the shoulder of his rescuer for protection.
"What are you doing?" Katara grunted, forcing his face back up to the snarling elements. "Tui and La, you are heavy."
Katara readjusted so she could use one arm to swim and continued to curse his stupidity. They floated on their backs, and she kept his shoulders at her chest with one arm looped across his ribs. Zuko kicked his feet, wanting to help. Their legs kept touching, her feet getting caught up with his. In warmer water he knew how to swim, but he had to be delirious from the cold. They were already much closer to the ship than he thought he had been when he fell in.
Katara yelled for help when they drew closer, and Jee and Iroh helped pull him from the water when she pushed him up. They pulled her from the harbor, her teeth chattered as she instructed them to get Zuko into lukewarm – not hot – water. Zuko stumbled against Jee and clenched his teeth against the needle-like sensation of the cold hitting him. The snow drifting down around them froze into Katara's hair in an icy white halo. Iroh helped Katara up the ramp in a similar fashion. Zuko's limbs were heavy and his mind fuzzy. He numbly registered as layers were peeled off and he stepped into a tub of water that seemed to burn.
Sensation returned to his body. He floated in a tub of water in the middle of his quarters, a towel rolled under his neck to support his head. Someone had removed his outer layers, but he still had on his base layers. He sat up and realized Katara was in a tub next to his, arms crossed and face resolutely facing forward, not looking at him. Her parka was draped over the heating pipes that ran along the outer wall, her boots beneath it in a puddle, and she wore a simple blue dress that clung to her arms in the water.
"Thank you," he said, not knowing what else to do. "You didn't need to save me."
"You're a guest of the water tribe," she replied, steadily staring ahead at the red and black Fire Nation emblem on his wall. "It would have been rude to let you turn into a Fire Nation Popsicle."
She refused to look at him. Zuko sunk under the surface of the water to rewet his hair, and he saw her sprinting toward him again, eyes wide. She had risked her life for him, and he felt a strange spark somewhere near his lower left rib. He tried to quash it, thinking perhaps he would never understand Water Tribe hospitality.
He resurfaced, splashing water on the floor. He combed his fingers through his hair, catching Katara looking at him from the corner of his eye.
Iroh bustled in through the open door, and her head jerked to him. "Lady Katara, are you ready for some warmer water?"
Katara smiled thinly at his uncle and nodded. Iroh poured a steaming pitcher of water in her tub before turning toward him "You are lucky that Lady Katara was also out for a stroll this morning."
Before he could turn to Katara to try to thank her again, she ducked her head under the water. He glanced from Katara to his uncle and shrugged. He had tried to thank her, and wasn't sure what more he could do.
Iroh left the room as she came back up, sitting up and slicking her hair back from her face. Her eyes were still closed and Zuko took the opportunity to watch her. She wiped her face and twisted her hair into a knot on top of her head. His face reddened as he realized that when she sat up like that, her dress clinged to more than just her arms. He whipped his face forward, feeling the temperature of his bath rising.
They sat in the tubs without speaking for the longest hour of Zuko's life. Iroh and Jee brought steaming water for Katara, and he continued to warm his own bath. He thought about offering to dip his hand in her water to warm it, but the thought of mentioning it made his ears burn. She obviously didn't trust Firebenders, so she wouldn't want him heating her water. There was that other thing – the idea of his hand in that water felt so… personal. His water heated another few degrees and he focused on his breath to keep it from steaming.
Iroh returned with a robe and began rifling through one of Zuko's drawers. "Lady Katara, if you feel up for it, I can show you to a room where you can change into dry clothes while you wait for your parka to dry out."
Katara looked at her parka and the puddles of water that had formed under it. "That would be nice," she said. Her eyes flickered from him to her parka, and her mouth flattened with the hint of annoyance.
He ducked his face under the water, and when he surfaced she was wearing Iroh's robe, wringing the hem of her parka. She followed Iroh out as he spoke of her staying for tea, and Zuko stewed in his bath, bewildered what to do next.
He tried to keep calm and his water temperature down, but thoughts kept popping into his mind. The feel of her arm looped across his ribs, holding him close to her chest. The way she had jumped in after him without hesitation, swam him to the ship, and immediately took charge of his care.
She didn't seem to like the Fire Nation or Firebenders very much, but Zuko felt certain that they could clear up that part of history. Neither of them had been alive when the raids had happened, so why should what his grandfather did early in his reign matter now?
After a few minutes of stewing in his thoughts and the gently warming water, he decided he had had enough and stepped out of his tub. He searched through his drawers for a set of clothing that did not have the hem completely frayed and were the proper fit. The best red he could find was so faded it nearly looked like an Earth Kingdom fashion. He changed and headed up one level to Iroh's tearoom.
The tearoom was formerly a vacant officer's quarters, converted in the third year of their banishment when Zuko finally agreed they would not have anyone join their search to take it. Iroh had outfitted it with curios, all of their maps, and any books and musical instruments onboard. It smelled of paper and old tobacco, and was the place that reminded Zuko most of home.
Iroh turned as Zuko walked. "Your hero should be joining us shortly," he beamed. "Now, why don't you run a comb through your hair?"
Zuko swatted away Iroh's hand when it came up to touch his hair. He wrung out more of the water and tied it into a messy topknot. Iroh sighed, but straightened and smiled at the sound of the creaking floor in the hall.
Katara walked in wearing one of Zuko's favorite shirts. It was the first time he had seen her wear something other than blue, and the red brought out the rich copper undertones in her cheeks. Her eyes were still pale aquamarine, even without the intensifying effect of her parka. She had rolled the sleeves back to her elbows, and the tie showed off her slim waist.
Zuko wondered how such a small person could swim so fast while towing him. Noticing him, she clutched the neckline together just below her throat, as though she were afraid it would fall open under his stare.
He blinked and swallowed, looking at her feet, clad in a pair of his socks. They bunched loosely around her ankles. A hands width of a pale brown shin peeked out between the top of the socks and a set of white leggings. He assumed they were hers, and he wondered briefly how she dried them so quickly.
"Lady Katara," he bowed, fist formerly in palm. "Thank you for risking your own life to save my own foolish one."
She sighed, but stood a little straighter. "I accept your apology… Sir Zuko," she replied haughtily, bowing her head slightly in return. "I sincerely hope that this experience has taught you an important lesson."
Zuko pointedly ignored both her comment and how Iroh hid a smile behind his hand.
"Um, would you like tea?" he asked, motioning toward the low table and the cushions. The corners of her lips turned up slightly and Zuko was struck with the idiotic thought that her smile would be very pretty.
He poured the tea like Iroh had taught him, and silently placed stale teacakes on each of their plates. Iroh thanked him and complimented him. Katara made a sour face as she forcefully bit into the cake. Zuko tried to remember when they last purchased teacakes and wondered where Iroh had found this stash. He grimaced.
A faint clanking rose from the hold. Katara sipped her tea and cleared her throat.
"How are your repairs going?" she asked.
Zuko shrugged and looked to Iroh. "We still haven't found a more permanent solution, but your brother's solution with the mats and pitch held overnight," Iroh said, glancing at Zuko. "Thank you for your hospitality."
They fell back into the silence. Iroh took up the teapot and refilled the small cups when they emptied. Katara looked slyly at Zuko's teacake, untouched, and Iroh's, which he had cut into small pieces. She picked hers up and dipped it in her tea before biting into it.
Zuko blinked at her tactical brilliance and followed her lead. She chewed on hers and watched him with a smug look. His eyes widened at how it improved the texture as well as the taste. He smiled at her and nodded approvingly. This time, the corners of her eyes turned up as she smiled with her mouth closed.
"We have biscuits that are impossible to eat if you don't dip them in something," she said, eyes widening. "Not that these tea cakes are impossible to eat!"
Iroh hit the table with his palm, laughing. "I believe this is the first time we've eaten teacakes in at least six months."
Zuko turned to Katara, who steadily met his gaze. He felt blood rushing to his face and realized he needed to say something. "We normally only drink tea," he mumbled. "We thought they would last better than they have."
It was easy to forget their poverty in banishment and their shrinking allowance when nobody else was around. Zuko felt a flash of embarrassment at how little he had. He suddenly saw the room from the perspective of an outsider. The filling in the cushions was lumpy, and the table needed a new coat of varnish. Their tea was still good quality, but only because Iroh knew two things best: the art of the bargain, and how to spot a deal.
Katara continued to watch him as she brought her small teacup up for another sip. Unsure whether this was supposed to be a contest of sorts or simply a test he didn't know how to pass, he looked away to refill her cup. She tilted her head as she watched him, and he did his best not to fidget in his seat.
"I'm glad to see that the peace treaty has held up," he said, comparing the village to his own meager quarters.
Katara looked at him over her cup, brows furrowed. "What peace treaty?"
Zuko swallowed nervously. "The one the Fire Nation forged with the Southern Water Tribe." He glanced at Iroh nervously; his eyes held that thousand-yard stare that arose when they spoke about the war. "At the beginning of Fire Lord Azulon's reign. When the fighting ended."
"You really don't know what the Fire Nation has done here, do you?" her question pierced the silence.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This was not the change of subject he had wanted. He looked at his uncle, who merely shrugged. He probably thought this was the perfect opportunity to discuss cultural differences or something.
"The Southern Water Tribe Push of Aggression was 60 years ago," Zuko admitted, eyeing the books that lined the walls longingly. "They started attacking Fire Nation ships and we retaliated." He felt like whatever he said would be the wrong answer. "It wasn't until the Southern Raiders led successful campaign against the Southern Capital that peace was declared."
Katara had propped her head in her hand with her elbow on the table while he spoke. "It's amazing how you've written your history books," she shook her head. She looked to Iroh. "And what do you know of it, Elder?"
Iroh placed his cup on the table and wiped his upper lip with his napkin. He sighed and folded his hands in his lap.
"Our nation has a habit of writing its history in a way to best portray our… ideals," he admitted. "We have rewritten the old stories and tailored them to justify horrific acts." He eyed Zuko's scar.
Zuko didn't notice how Katara followed Iroh's line of sight, or how her cheeks sucked in as she bit down on the inside.
Iroh uncovered the teapot and peered inside. He poured more hot water over the leaves. The faint clanging of repairs echoed up to them.
"I don't think I want to know how you've rewritten this," Katara exhaled. "But to 'keep the peace,' as you would put it, the Fire Nation took away all of the Southern Water Benders. Do you know what happened to them?"
She disregarded Zuko's wide uncomprehending stare, and looked back to Iroh. He shook his head and spoke when he realized her question was not rhetoric.
"I would assume they were taken prisoner," he stated.
"Taken prisoner," Katara repeated, her voice thick. Her face was red and fists clenched on the table in front of her. "Maybe that first batch of waterbenders, but we've sent plenty of others' bodies out to sea since then, benders and nonbenders alike."
She said it with such conviction – as if she had personally been involved in the funeral rights of casualties of battle. But there hadn't been any battles in the South in his lifetime – probably even his father's lifetime. "That's not right," he argued. "The Fire Nation takes prisoners – we don't kill outside of battle."
"Are you calling me a liar?" Katara slammed her palms on the table, splashing what tea remained over the edges of all three of their cups. Neither Iroh nor Zuko moved to clean it up. "How many funeral shrouds have you helped stitch? How many times have you shifted through ashes to salvage family heirlooms?"
Zuko's face felt warm, but he couldn't take the time to figure out how much was from anger or shame. "We've lost loved ones to this war too," he barked. He couldn't look at his uncle. Katara opened her mouth to argue, but he spoke over her spluttering. "It's not like we personally started it either. This has been going on longer than any of us have been alive."
Her eyebrows flew up, and she snapped her mouth shut again. "I think I should go," she stood, primly straightening the oversized shirt. "Which way is my parka again?"
Zuko looked to Iroh, who stared at the puddles of tea on the table. "Zuko, will you show her?"
Zuko stared at his uncle and shook his head, silently pleading not to go. Iroh's golden eyes flared with annoyance as he leveled his gaze on his nephew. "Prince Zuko," he enunciated slowly. "Please assist the lady in finding her way."
Zuko huffed and rose to his feet. He brushed past Katara, ignoring the stiffness of her shoulders and white-knuckled grip on the neckline of the shirt. He stormed down the hall, turning his head enough to watch her follow from the corner of his eye.
She didn't look up at him, just at his feet. He strode down the hall and narrow staircase and tried not to think about how infuriating she was, how wrong she was. He forced open the door to his room, slamming it against the wall with gusto. He snatched her parka off the heating pipe. It was nearly dry, but he focused his annoyance at steaming the remaining dampness out of the hood and hem.
Katara remained silent through it all, and seized it from him as soon as he held it out to her. She pulled it over her head and scurried out of the room and up to the deck before he could say goodbye.
Zuko pinched his nose and closed his eyes, leaning against the doorframe. The entire day with Katara left him confused. She was unlike anybody he had ever met before – jumping in and saving him from frigid waters one minute, and blaming him for all of the wrongs of his country the next. He tried not to think of her, the way she had held him and swam with him. How she smiled at him over stale teacakes dipped in tea. Her anger and raw hurt. Her blue dress. He sighed, pushed himself up, and trudged back upstairs to rejoin his uncle.
Iroh had mopped up the spilled tea and had a steaming cup waiting for Zuko. Zuko accepted the cup with a nod and smelled the tea. Iroh took a sip of his, releasing a contented sigh.
"When I first attended the war councils, there was talk of the Southern Raiders," Iroh cradled his cup in both of his hands. "The majority of the raids were before I was alive, but from what I gather, they effectively captured or killed all of the benders within a decade." He stopped and sipped his tea. "After that, it was just a matter of having spies in a few of the villages and collect information on new waterbenders. The Raiders mostly ran quick missions on the Earth Kingdom out of Whale Tail Island."
A knot simultaneously untangled in Zuko's chest and coiled in his belly, heavy like a snake at the words "new waterbenders." He forced himself not to look away, to continue to listen to Iroh.
Iroh's face no longer held color, but he maintained eye contact with Zuko. "The airbenders were gone, either dead or scattered. If the Avatar had survived the initial attack, he would be dead soon. The next element in the cycle was water," Iroh paused. "And the Avatar would most likely be a woman born into the Southern Water Tribe."
Zuko propped his elbow on the table and pinched his nose again. "No wonder she hates us so much," he muttered.
Iroh finished his tea. "It is only one of many atrocities in this long war."
He stood and patted Zuko's shoulder, leaving him to wonder what else had been missing from his history lessons.
*begs for more candy*