chapter: gnossienne: a moment of awareness that someone you've known for years still has a private and mysterious inner life, & somewhere in the hallways of their personality is a door locked from the inside.
setting: six years after the end of the war.
disclaimer: I own nothing.
author's notes: I feel really terrible for not updating sooner- yall can thank my job in retail for that! early mornings & long nights are a quick way to kill my creativity! I hope you enjoy this chapter though, my loves~
She moved through the morning light like a ghost, the lavender hues wisping around her frame like fog as she stepped evenly through the tall grass. She'd been walking since before the sun rose, her limbs stiff from lack of sleep and her eyes raw with exhaustion. Nightmares had kept her up, screams sticking in her throat and her fingers knotting in her sheets. Sweat had matted her hair and dark bruises were collecting under her eyes like pools; making it obvious that she hadn't been able to fall asleep.
The silence was comforting. Occasionally she'd hear the whistle of a breeze through the dry grass or the hum of an insect, but it was far from the trumpeting noise of the wildlife she'd left at home. Back in the icy depths of her Nation, one could hear the ice cracking if you sat still enough.
Oddly, she was reveling in the warmth of the sun against her shoulders. It made her feel like he was there; if only through an element.
After a few more paces, she decided to settle at the base of an old sycamore tree, keeping her toes in the sunlight and her face in the shade. She didn't need a burned face, as much as the royals might like the tinge of red among her features.
"I should have worn the red dress." Katara murmured to herself, her lips dry and cracked, rubbing against each other uncomfortably in the arid air of the morning. Zuko's eyes had burned with a tired sort of agony when he'd looked at her last night, and she wondered vaguely if Mai had left him because of her.
Or was that too vain of her to think, that the older woman had left her betrothed over a foolish water tribe wench that had left him long ago?
Regret was sitting heavily in her stomach like a stone, and she leaned her head back against the bark of the tree, staring down the hill that she'd just walked up. The palace sprawled beneath her, shining distantly in the sunlight. She could spot some of the servants going about their chores, the figures blurred in the distance.
It was strange to her that the nobles here had servants underneath them to attend to all of the work. At home, the women of course attended to most domestic matters, but for the most part, everyone pulled their own weight. In both cases, it wasn't exactly fair, but somehow this system seemed a little more skewed. Perhaps that was just because it was different than what she was used to. Judgment couldn't be passed for their lifestyles, she figured, but that didn't mean that she could agree with it.
Katara blew a long breath out of her mouth, pulling her knotted hair into both hands and over her shoulder so she could braid it. She hadn't pulled it into a braid in years; not since she'd committed herself to Aang. Braids were for pure, young girls, she'd been taught, girls who weren't involved with men. Girls who hadn't been coated by the ash of war and the bruises of fighting, girls who bended for sport rather than survival.
Snorting, she knotted the end of her hair with a piece of the dry grass that she'd plucked from the ground, thinking of the times where her hair had been singed by flame. There was one time in particular where a good inch or two had been completely burned off, and Zuko had trimmed the ends carefully with a knife so that she didn't smell like burned hair anymore.
Now that she thought about it, she'd trusted Zuko with a lot more than she'd trusted Aang with. Pursing her lips, she worried the ends of her hair between her fingers, feeling the coarseness of the texture rolling under the pads of her fingertips.
The morning was just beginning, so she took another long moment to breathe deeply through her nose and feel the coursing of the fresh air through her lungs. It grounded her somewhat; refocused her chaotic mind and tugged her back to a place of half-peace. The disappointment in Zuko's eyes had been almost too much for her to bear- she could count the friends she had in this world on one hand right now, the fact that the firebender wasn't among them made her stomach churn sickly.
The walk back down the hill went by quickly. Her eyes didn't wander this time, didn't skim longingly across the wilderness, didn't burn with emotion as she thought too hard about how her life was a desperate game of chance now.
The room she'd been given was cold. Her bare feet padded quietly across the floorboards as she moved to the bathroom, splashing some water on her face and making sure that she didn't stink- as some of the nobles had pointed out yesterday, her clothes had smelled of salty air and fish. Today, she washed carefully and even managed to use a little of the bottled perfume Iroh had left on her dresser.
She hadn't been summoned for breakfast, she noted, somewhat dryly, sitting on the edge of her bed wrapped in a towel. A dress had been laid out for her by the grumpy serving maid from yesterday, but she hadn't spoken to her. Passing her hand over the article of clothing, she was a little surprised to feel that the material was soft.
"I'll just try it." Katara murmured, the words filling the room, and she realized that she wanted to please Zuko in some way- to ease the tension between them, perhaps. Her stubbornness raged underneath her skin, but just this once she'd do what he asked of her. Not that she particularly cared if the nobles gossiped about her- she just didn't want them making up rumors about him.
The hem of her crimson-tinged dress was just a little too long for her, and so she had to sweep it in front of her carefully as she walked so that she didn't trip on the excess material. It was made from layers of linen, each a darker hue of red than the last. As much as she hated to admit it, it was a beautiful dress. Peeking into the mirror by the door, she wrinkled her nose at her reflection. The color didn't necessarily suit her, just like she remembered, but at least she was in good shape and the cut of the dress flattered her figure.
"At least there's that." She spoke, moving her hands down the curve of her waist with a certain touch of pride in her gaze. Her stomach growled, then, disturbing her vain staring contest with the girl in the mirror. Since she hadn't been royally invited to breakfast, she'd have to go look on her own for something. Clasping her bracelets onto her arms carefully, she took another look at herself in the glass. Much better, she figured, feeling a little more herself with the silver adorning her arms.
It was so like Zuko to do something like this; leave his guest to starve while he went about his tasks moodily. He was probably giving her the cold shoulder for her display the other day. Not that she could completely blame him, really, but food was slightly essential to her wellbeing. Moving out of her room and into the hall, the warrior left her beads and shells out of her hair for today. Her armor was in her impeccable posture and the coolness of her eyes, the taut muscles that rippled beneath her skin and the harsh line of her clenched jaw.
"So, you're going to be the next Fire Lady, are you?" The snide comment came from behind, and she turned, her chin jutted out defensively as she did so. The words had come from one of the courtiers she'd met messily at dinner the other night, her glossy little mouth pinched in a sneer. Katara raised one of her eyebrows as she nodded once, slowly, flicking her gaze up and down the offending woman.
"That's the plan." The words were barbed as they exited Katara's mouth, a bad taste lingering on her tongue as she grappled with the concept of being a ruler of this harsh, judgmental Nation. They were unyielding in their tradition- how would its people ever accept someone with browned skin and eyes bluer than the brightest skies?
The other woman had mousy brown hair pulled tight against her skull with two heavy gilded combs, and her fingers were tipped with raking nails that were painted with- of course- red polish. She wasn't necessarily an unattractive girl, Katara decided, but it was obvious to see her inner qualities were anything but beautiful.
The bender missed the days where she had the freedom to soak someone with a water whip if they were rude to her. She'd been Lady Katara then, Master Waterbender, healer, and part of the crew that had managed to salvage the last, desperate shards of the world they knew. She'd been respected. Now she was gawked at like a common peasant girl, sniffed at, disrespected, and even hated in some circles.
"Best wishes to you. I hope you survive longer than the last one." The girl snipped, sliding past the waterbender in an awfully snake-like way. Katara shuddered at the words, wondering what the other woman could have possibly meant by them. Mai wasn't here, obviously- perhaps she'd left Zuko. Or maybe he'd left her. One way or another, the oily presence of the sallow girl was absent.
Iroh was sitting at one of the long, wooden tables with a cup of tea and a book when she got to the dining hall. He greeted her with his usual smile, the lines around his mouth etching farther into his face.
"Good morning, Lady Katara. I trust you had a sleepless night, from the circles under your eyes." His voice was low and calm, and he shut his book slowly as he watched the bender approach.
"You look like you haven't slept a wink. Not that you should be sleeping much at all, now that you and that boy of yours are official."
"Morning, Iroh. You're right, as usual. Yesterday's antics weren't very sleep-inducing." Katara shifted uncomfortably, her hand resting on the curve of her arm. Iroh gestured to the table, come, sit, and she slid easily into a chair with a sigh of gratefulness.
"You look lovely today, my dear. But that's nothing new." Iroh sipped at his tea, waving over a servant that had been scrubbing down another separate table.
"Could you bring this marvelous girl some breakfast? I'm sure the chef has some leftovers." He said to the girl, who nodded once, bowing her head respectfully and moving off to the kitchen soundlessly. Katara picked at her nails, trying not to look at the younger girl who would probably spend her whole life serving her.
"I wore red today." She blurted awkwardly, not looking up from her desecration of her fingernails. Iroh chuckled at her words, amused, somehow, by how difficult it was for her to admit that she was trying to do something nice for his nephew.
"I'm amazed you gave in to his demand so quickly, Lady Katara. The old stubbornness you had the last time we met is but a small flame, and I wonder why that is." Again, he took a long, noisy sip of his tea, quietly assessing the girl in front of him. She was very much still a girl, not quite a woman, not quite at peace enough with herself to embrace the second half of her life.
She bristled at his words, trying with some struggle to not take them as an offense. She maintained a silence for a while, holding all the things in her mouth that she so wanted to scream to the world about the past few years of her life, tasting the stench that the words carried, feeling the grotesque ooze of the negativity it created.
A plate was set before her then, warm, steam rising from it like the clouds of warm air that drifted lazily from a volcano. The smell of the food made her stomach clench, and she was suddenly grateful for the distraction of the meal. As long as her mouth was full of potatoes, she wouldn't have to speak aloud the things that had tormented her for so long.
"I'm sure in time you'll be comfortable enough with telling someone about the destruction of your soul, Katara. I just hope that you can learn to trust my nephew with such things. He means well, I assure you. He always has. He's just been suffering a great amount in the past few years, just as you have, I'm sure." Iroh's words were always so metaphorical and yet somehow so applicable.
"What happened to Mai?" The words whipped from her mouth, surprising her.
She lifted her eyes from her breakfast, blinking once, twice, staring at the older man with an expression that he seemed to recognize.
"He'll be happy to see your dress today. Why don't you stop by his office after you finish eating and pay him a visit? He works too hard."
How could she stand to see him, after the things he'd said to her last night?
"I can't, Iroh." Her words were softer than she intended them to be, exposing a weakness within her that she would rather have left covered. Slowly, his eyes moved from his tea cup to connect with hers, his gaze softened with a weariness that she understood.
"There's a jadedness to my nephew now that wasn't there the last time you knew him, Lady Katara." Iroh's voice was careful as he stirred his tea with a finger absentmindedly, warming it to the point that steam rose from the amber liquid.
"I don't understand." She managed to take a bite of her breakfast after she uttered the words haltingly, not catching on to whatever the older man was trying to tell her.
"These are personal matters, Katara, and it's best if you ask him yourself. I feel I would disrespect him if I spoke on this topic." He spoke kindly, reaching across the table to pat her hand reassuringly, looking away as if he had fallen into a daze. The waterbender frowned, feeling as if he had been trying to tell her something and she hadn't been able to catch on.
"I think I'll go for a walk through the gardens." She tried to lighten her tone, setting her fork down and placing her napkin on the table.
"You've barely touched your meal." His observations astute as always, Iroh's brow furrowed with worry for the girl who rose from the table. She shrugged.
"I'm still adjusting to Fire Nation food." Whirling away from the table with a bow, she felt her throat closing on a lump of emotion. What could have possibly happened to Zuko in the years of her absence to return him to an all too familiar bitterness? She remembered the way his golden eyes had once fixed on her like a predator eyeing its prey, how the muscles in his shoulders had rippled with tension and pain as he stalked down the honor he'd believed he'd lost.
That was the Zuko she'd been afraid of, the one that had left her alone and distrusting, the one that had burned her soul with a writhing, agonizing passion. That was the banished Fire Prince, not the powerful, praise-worthy Fire Lord that sat on a throne that he'd worked his whole life for.
Her chest tightened as she thought about how his arms had once felt wrapped around her torso, the firmness of the muscle, the warmth of his skin pressed against hers in a way that made her cheeks flush. She'd spent the past several years of her life remembering how their breath-long embraces had lasted just a moment too long, how occasionally, her eyes had wandered after him when they shouldn't have. She could feel the searing heat of his gaze when it trailed after her sometimes, and her throat closed on itself now to think of it.
Their relationship had never been anything but a strong friendship, but an ache had pulsed in her chest the moment she'd met him and she was only just now coming to terms with why that was.
She hadn't thought of it when Aang had walked out of her door for the last time, his back hunched and his hands squeezed tightly around his staff. But she'd remembered Zuko in the darkness of that night when she was curled in a ball of tears and wretchedness, feeling the chill in the air for the first time in her life.
Her home had remained cold to her until the day she'd left for the Fire Nation.
As the memories inked over her, she swallowed hard against a sudden lump of emotion in her throat. Fresh air might do her some good, she decided, and she moved towards the hall that lead to the gardens. The waterbender walked slowly, taking in the heavy smell of incense in the air and letting her heavy skirts fall through her calloused hands, the material catching on the rough patches on her fingertips. The sunlight fell upon her in waves, trickling over her tanned skin and leaving little spots of warmth wherever it wandered. She inhaled once through her nose, letting her eyes close as she rested her palms on the door to the gardens, pushing it open with both hands.
The rush of fresh air was immediate.
The dizziness in her head lifted, somewhat, and she opened her eyes to the sunlight, gazing up at the clear sky with eyes that echoed the jeweled-blue tones. Her skin welcomed the warmth of the day, and she stepped onto the stone path that lead through the maze of gardens. Her skirts rustled affectionately against the smooth surface of the rocks.
Her attention was so diverted by the peace that nature brought her that she hardly noticed the figure behind her, standing just beyond the turtle-duck pond. The Fire Lord had been feeding the little creatures, making small clucking noises at the animals while he tossed bits of bread into the water. Once Katara had stepped out into the sunlight, though, he'd stopped, frozen for a moment by the appearance of the girl who was so much more woman now than he'd ever believed possible. The slope of her shoulder in the morning light curved into the gentle arc of her throat softly, and he found that it was suddenly a little more difficult to breathe as he noticed this small detail.
He'd always had an eye for details. Now it was the shine of her long, chocolate hair that curled just slightly at the ends, trickling down her back in waterfalls. It was the sound of her bracelets along her fiercely sculpted arms that were flecked with raised white scars- if he squinted, they looked like a trick of the light.
It was the crimson dress that flowed along the length of her like a great, regal gown, setting her apart from the childhood best friend he'd known up until yesterday.
Her name was a sigh in his mouth, sticking to his throat like a long-forgotten song.
"Katara." What a blessing it was, to murmur it out loud and to watch as she turned just slightly in the light to face him. Her eyes, big and wide like a doe's, were bright and clear and open, the familiar endless expanse of blue making his shoulders slump a little with relief.
"Fire Lord." She didn't speak his name; no, and the way she said the title made her face harden and her frame tense as if he brought her pain.
She hadn't even known he was there. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she made eye contact with him, watching his hands wrestle with each other before he finally pocketed them in his elaborate robes.
She wondered for a brief second if the pockets were as large as his shoulder pads were.
Katara turned towards him, her eyes skimming him coolly as she remembered their last interaction. Thinking about what Iroh had said previously, she wondered if wearing the dress made him any less angry at her.
She lifted her chin a little higher, just in case, making sure not to forget the warrior that she was.
"You look lovely, Lady Katara." His voice, as stiff and awkward as the compliment was, somehow seemed to warm to her this time. She inclined her head towards him once, accepting his peace offering.
"Red isn't a great color for my skin tone, but it'll do." Stubborn as ever, she kept her head high and her back straight as she faced the man who had once been her best friend in the world.
She was only just realizing how important it was to have a best friend.
please do review my loves!
I apologize for the long wait!
xx,
nightfall26
