Sunset flared across the bay of Ember Island, which at one time had been the rim of a massive caldera, or so Zuko told her when they flew in on Appa. The sea glittered and herring-gulls wheeled in the sky in a beauty that belied the war of smoke and flame that had raged across the archipelago for a hundred years. She could barely look beyond the rim of Appa's saddle, because if she saw the rim of the vast horizon and all the beauty it contained, she would have to reconcile the peace to the hunger it produced in the hearts of men just following orders. Men like Yon Rha, who were hollow as rotten trees.
"We're here," Zuko announced.
Unfocussed, it took her a moment to register the pattern of the sky bison's meandering descent to what looked like an abandoned temple complex on a secluded bend of sand. Appa flumped into a courtyard overgrown with weeds, the fountain clogged with detritus from many years of neglect, but even through her exhaustion, Katara could feel the will of the water to rise to the surface. She took in the gaps like old teeth in the roof where shingles should be, the rice paper screens ripped through by rainy season typhoons. The sun had sunk low enough to leave the whole place in shadow, giving it a chill she hoped had nothing to do with ghosts.
"What is this place?" she asked.
"Abandoned," he replied shortly, though his gaze when he looked at her showed a cautious concern. "You unload our gear, I'll find some wood and get a fire started."
She liked that he didn't offer to do everything for her, or to help her. He seemed to understand that for her, doing was preferable to not doing. Still, this worn out old building gave her the creeps. Now she could see it clearly, she could tell it wasn't a temple but a domestic building, a grand palace for some Fire Nation noble, and despite its sad, sorry atmosphere, she had learned not to trust what her eyes told her. She jumped as a sudden loud crack rent the still air, but it was only Zuko, kicking a doorframe to splinters.
"How do you know this place is abandoned?" she asked him when he returned.
The firewood clattered dully onto the courtyard floor and ignited with a soft fwoosh from Zuko's fist. "Trust me, Katara, Nobody's been here for years."
"But how can you know? I know this place looks derelict, but what if somebody comes back?"
He sighed and crouched on the sleeping roll she had spread out for him. "My family hasn't come here since we were happy, and that was about seven years ago," he told her. "That's how I know."
"Your -? So this is…?"
"The Fire Lord's summer retreat," he said with a grim smile. "I hope you appreciate the irony."
For most of the night, they didn't talk. They ate their rations in silence. Above them, the night wheeled, but the brightness of the flames dulled the cold fire of the stars and Katara found herself inching closer to Zuko as thick darkness closed in about her.
"Are you okay?" he asked her when she shivered for the third time.
She did not look at him, but stared at the flickering embers. "A bit stiff maybe. And cold. I keep seeing his face." Without even registering the wetness on her cheeks she dashed the tears away.
"I could help," he suggested. "I mean, not with… him, but if you like, I can, er, warm you up a bit."
She blinked slowly and settled her eyes on his face. "How?"
"Come here."
With the huge, dim presence of Appa at her back she shuffled the final feet to the firebender's side, until she could feel the heat of his body through the fabric of her clothes. When he placed his hands, hot with inner heat, on her shoulders, she tensed, but then the slow movements of his fingers into her sore muscles began their work and she closed her eyes in contentment.
"Tell me a story, Zuko," she asked after a few moments. The lick of flames at the wood and the press of warmth at her back made her think of childhood comfort, a feeling at once delicious and painful.
"What kind of story?" he murmured.
"A Fire Nation story. Something old, like a fairy tale."
When he didn't reply, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Her breath stilled. Like on that night in the Air Temple what seemed like weeks ago now, the low light gleamed on his pale skin, deepening the hollow of his jaw, but it was his eyes that caught her; they glazed with distance, and she realised he saw the house around them not in its current form, but as it was when happiness had been a tangible thing here.
"There is one," he mused. "It's got two different endings. Depending on who you ask."
"Will you tell it?"
He smiled at the soft childishness in her voice. "If you want." He drew her in closer and she clung to him, taking comfort in the hard feel of his chest against her shoulder, the rough hiss of cloth dragging over cloth.
"Once, before the Fire Nation was little more than a collection of remote islands peopled by simple fishermen and farmers, on the night of a great festival, the Lord of a noble house in the East held a great banquet for the whole village. The lanterns were bright and the music so enchanting that even the village on the other side of the island could see the spectacle glimmer over the rim of the volcano that separated them. The two villages had been enemies for years, as both shared the same fishing grounds and thought their way if life better.
"The young lord of the Western house thought it would be great sport to sneak into the party and cause havoc among the guests, so he untied his junk and sailed it across the water.
"There were many beautiful things being served at the feast - exotic fruits and great beasts imported from far away - that the young lord had only seen once or twice in his life. But it was not until he beheld the daughter of the Eastern house that he truly felt breathless. Her beauty and grace captivated him, but when he saw her eyes, full of sharp intelligence, he knew he had been caught.
"She could have turned him in, but she was curious about him, about life beyond her village, so they walked together in the gardens amidst the glowing lanterns and the fireflies and talked of adventure, and eventually… of love. They agreed to meet again, and after that they spent as many days together as they could.
"But the animosity between their villages grew until the daughter of the Eastern house forbade her lover to come to her, because he might get caught. Undeterred, the young lord climbed the highest mountain on the island and begged audience with the dragon who lived there, seeking some way to be with the one he loved. The dragon took pity on him and taught him how to firebend, but warned him about the power of the gift.
"Full of himself, the young lord returned to the daughter of the Eastern House, and everything carried on as before.
"But the lady's brother grew suspicious, and one night he waited for the young lord, and leaped out, thinking to capture him and take him as a valuable hostage. He did not know the young lord could firebend, and he was burned so badly the pain of it drove him mad. Hearing the commotion, the compound's guards discovered the enemy in camp and chained him in the stone vault where he could not escape. The Lord of the Eastern house decided there would be a trial of courtesy and then an execution, which would give him the excuse to annihilate his enemies.
"Distraught, the daughter of the Eastern house came up with a plan. She climbed the mountain and begged the dragon for firebending. It took much persuading but eventually the dragon acquiesced and taught her what she wanted. She took the knowledge back down to her father and, in front of her entire family, declared that it had been she who had killed her brother, as an accident. And she showed them her command of fire in order to prove it, demanding that they set the young lord free."
Zuko fell silent, his gaze deep within the embers of their own fire. As he told the story, he had shifted almost so his chin now rested above her ear. He exhaled and the flames leapt higher, glowing fingers questing for every fibre of raw wood left to burn.
"What happened then?" Katara asked, almost lulled to sleep by the steady sound of his voice. "Zuko?"
A sigh huffed from his mouth and he gazed at the familiar shadows of the house. "Like I said, there are two different endings. The official one is that the Lord of the Eastern house presented evidence that the young Lord of the West was a spy. When confronted with it, the lady realised that her loyalty lay to her family, so she sided with her father and destroyed the enemy village with her firebending." He paused, and his arms tightened infinitesimally on Katara's waist. "She betrayed him," he told her in a heavy voice.
She twisted and stared up at him, her eyes shining in the night. She remembered the peace of a glowing cave shattered by fire and steam, row upon row of faceless Dai Li, and him standing shoulder to shoulder with his sister, the pinpoint focus of all her despair and helpless rage.
She let the image flow through her like water and away. "You said there were two endings."
He had to swallow before the words would come. "My mother told me another version, once. She said that the display of devotion the daughter of the Eastern house displayed compelled everyone in the trial room to beg for mercy on her behalf, and, inspired by their love, the two houses united and ended the war." Still he would not look at her, though now the bright gold of his eyes was shuttered by that all-too familiar guilt.
Gently, like holding her hand for a polar beardog puppy to sniff, Katara reached upward and tugged his chin gently between her fingers. The memory lingered in her skin, the smooth feel of the scar and the warmth of his cheek and such sadness it echoed from every pore of his being.
"I think that's the right ending," she told him firmly. "It fits."
His eyes held indiscernible secrets, but they locked on hers without fear, sharp enough to scorch the breath in her lungs.
And then the weight of the war returned to press its weight on their minds and the moment passed, and Katara slipped past his lips and instead rested her head on his shoulder.
"I prefer that ending, too," she thought he whispered in the moment before sleep claimed her.