And, still going... Zuko chapter! :)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Zuko or any of his messed up life. Except his daughter. I own her, because I made her up. But everything else, nope.
(Though I guess Zuko actually DOES have a daughter... But since we've never seen her or even heard her in name yet in Legend of Korra, I'm sticking with my former statement).
FILLING IN THE BLANKS
He had thought he was tired, but he couldn't sleep.
This must have been the twelfth time he'd turned over in the past ten minutes. The picture of his mother, former Princess Ursa, sat on the table beside his bed as it had for years. It was haunting him. He couldn't face it, for then she would be looking at him. But he couldn't turn away, for then he'd feel guilty about turning his back on her.
Zuko finally sat up and rubbed the back of his neck, glaring at the picture.
"I did my best," he whispered fiercely. "It's not my fault you disappeared."
His mother's soft eyes seemed sad, abandoned. Feeling sorrow for his own sadness. But he wasn't in the mood for any sympathy right now – not even from a picture.
Sixteen years. That was how long it had been since she vanished, and he hadn't been able to find a trace of her in all that time. He would never forget the last night she was with him. He'd gone to sleep fitfully, wrestling terrible thoughts, after his sadistic sister had come to laugh that their father was going to kill him. He hadn't believed it. Azula always lies - that was the mantra he'd repeated desperately to himself that night. He was only eight years old. No eight year-old could imagine that his father was actually a monster and a tyrant, that his father was capable of – and willing to – actually kill him.
It would take another eight years for him to finally realize the extent of his father's cruelty and mercilessness. But that night, he'd gone to sleep convincing himself it was nothing but another one of Azula's cruel pranks.
In the middle of the night, his mother had awoken him. She'd seemed frightened, hurried, and the words she'd said to him were words of farewell, begging his forgiveness for something he didn't understand. He'd been too young, and too sleepy, to comprehend what was happening. That he would awaken the next morning and find her gone, and would never see her again. That she had done the unspeakable – murder, treachery – all in order to save him.
Eight years. It had taken him eight years after that to finally face his father, to finally demand what had become of his mother.
It had been another eight years since then. Eight years that he'd ruled as Firelord, that he'd done his best to bring peace to the lands that his father and grandfather and great-grandfather had torn apart. Eight years since he'd begun searching for her. Yet still, nothing. She was gone.
It had been five years since Mai had died. He'd given up the search around that time. He'd already lost the majority of his hope before then; after that, he simply lost the will.
His father had never given him a clear answer about where his mother was. He'd believed that she was still alive somewhere, but no one – not even the bounty hunter June, with the Shirshu that supposedly could smell out anyone in the world – had been able to find her. And a year after Aang defeated him and left him powerless, his father had committed suicide, unable to bear the humiliation. In his proud mind, Aang's mercy in sparing his life was a worse punishment than death. And when Ozai died, all possible information about his mother's whereabouts went to the grave with him.
Azula hadn't died, though. She had lived on in prison, growing more deranged by the day.
In retrospect, Zuko regretted that he hadn't had her executed for treachery when he had the chance. But at the same time he knew that back then, even if he'd somehow known what was to come, he still couldn't have done it. Even now, if he had the chance, he wasn't sure he'd be able to do it. She was evil, and insane – but she was his sister. Zuko was naturally merciful, and during his friendship with Aang, he had only grown more so – more than he even knew. Something inside of Zuko had always hoped that, somehow, Azula would regain herself; and perhaps, in the process, she would rediscover the heart that he knew she must have had once in her life.
The news that Azula had escaped prison had come a day too late to save Mai.
They'd been married for two years by then. They had a daughter – named Ursa, for her missing grandmother – who was approaching her second birthday and astonishing them all with the quick pace at which she was learning everything. She was destined to be a prodigy, like her demented aunt. She looked just like Mai, and would soon begin to develop the same blasé attitude that Mai was known for. There was little of Zuko in his daughter – but he could see traces of his mother, the one she was named for, in her. She would be a great Firebender one day, and the Firelord after Zuko.
The day that Azula reappeared in their lives, Mai and Zuko had had a terrible fight. Zuko had never forgiven himself for the things he'd said to her that day – vicious things. He'd been angry about not finding his mother, angry about the difficulties of being the Firelord, angry about a million things that had nothing to do with Mai. She'd only come to tell him that Ursa was asking for him, that he ought to take a break and spend some time with his daughter. But he hadn't listened – he'd only shouted that he didn't have time for whatever was bothering her. She was always going on about something. She just didn't understand all he had to deal with every day.
Mai, of course, had never been one to stand for being yelled at. She'd grown angry and left him alone to find his senses again. That was the last time he saw her alive.
Unbeknownst to both of them at the time, Azula was running free, and she was on a crazed mission. During her time in prison, she'd apparently been violently obsessed with the idea that she was still the rightful Firelord. She had formulated a complex plan – no one knew exactly how complex – to take revenge on everyone she believed had contributed to her overthrow, and take back her rightful throne.
And Mai, the best friend who had betrayed her to save Zuko, was the first on her list.
Mai was the first of Azula's "warnings." Since then, others had died at her hand: Li and Lo, her old mentors; some of the Dai Li agents of Ba Sing Se; a servant girl that had once left a pit in Azula's cherry. Literally, anyone who'd been in contact with Azula during her final days before incarceration was in danger. So far she'd been unsuccessful at attacking Ty Lee, Sokka or Suki – though she'd been lurking around Kyoshi Island for years now, with unceasing persistence. Luckily, the Kyoshi Warriors were well prepared to deal with her, but she was still cunning enough to avoid capture. Zuko knew it was only a matter of time before she finally caught them off guard, or moved on to another target.
And Zuko himself was to be saved for last. So that he would be forced to helplessly watch as she murdered everyone he cared about. So that he would know she was coming for him, but be unable to stop it. So that he would suffer most of all. Even in her madness, Azula was a master of manipulation and psychological terror.
Mai's body had been found in the streets of the city, her throat slit, Azula's message folded up in her hand. Azula herself had disappeared.
That was five years ago. So long ago – yet only up until the past year, Zuko had hardly been able to sleep without having nightmares of Azula coming after him, slitting throats as she went. Of Mai, dying alone in the streets. Of himself, slitting Mai's throat with his own knife, and his own hand.
He still felt the loss, the coldness, the numb ache leftover from that shattering, stabbing, incomprehensible lightning strike. He'd quickly lost his grip on his life after Mai's murder. He'd even, shamefully, neglected Ursa, who was far too young at the time to understand where her mother had gone. Uncle Iroh left his tea shop in Ba Sing Se to come keep everything running until Zuko could function again, to take care of the Fire Nation, and of baby Ursa. But even Uncle could not bring Zuko out of the deep hole he'd fallen into. The only reason Zuko had finally been able to go on with his life was because of Katara.
She'd come with the baby about a month after Mai's death. Zuko always suspected that Uncle had asked her to come, but Uncle would forever deny it. Not coincidentally, it had been about ten months since Aang's strange disappearance. Katara had clearly still been reeling from her own loss, but she'd come nevertheless. She'd always been the healer, always the nurturer, no matter what terrible wounds she herself was suffering.
Zuko hadn't wanted to see anyone at the time, and Katara had grown frustrated trying to help him. You think you're the only who's hurting? she'd shouted angrily at him one day through his bedroom door. You think you're the only one who's alone in this world?
Somehow, at last, Katara had broken through. Probably, it was the baby's doing as well. Tenzin. So obviously Aang's son. Zuko and Katara had suffered great losses, and the evidence of their losses lived on in the form of these two children – Ursa and Tenzin – who both needed constant care and attention, and who both bore very unfair resemblances to their respective absent parents. Zuko could never understand where Katara drew her strength from. He'd begun to help her care for Tenzin, and she'd begun to help him care for Ursa again; that was really the beginning of the healing process. Somehow, they'd bonded over the children, over their mutual grief. It was something they had in common.
Katara had never meant to stay. She'd only come to see that Zuko survived, to stay as long as she was needed, and then to return home to the South Pole.
But a week turned into a month, which turned into two months, which soon became three. Before either of them knew it, summer had become winter, and people around the Fire Nation were beginning to talk about the Firelord and the Water Tribe girl that was staying with him, and about exactly whose son that was. Most people believed Tenzin was Zuko's son; that Katara had been Zuko's mistress even before Mai's death, and Mai's murder was just a convenient excuse for him to have her move into the palace.
Zuko loathed those rumors; just thinking of them filled him with burning rage. But he couldn't dispel them. Katara didn't want everyone knowing that Tenzin's father was the missing Avatar, for Tenzin's own safety. No one ever believed Zuko when he insisted that he and Katara were just friends, anyway.
Then, one evening, just after the Winter Solstice, Zuko, Katara, Ursa and Tenzin had all been sitting comfortably around the fireplace in one of the more relaxing palace rooms. Ursa had been drifting reluctantly off to sleep, babbling about something he could only pretend to understand; Tenzin had been in the process of learning to walk, and Katara had been leading him around the room, holding him by the arms and uttering enthusiastic nonsense at him. Zuko had simply made himself an observer, smiling quietly and wondering at the strange turns of fate that had brought them all to this place. He couldn't have said that he was happy; but there was definitely something nice about it.
"Katara?" he'd broken the peaceful quiet suddenly.
"Hm?"
"What's going on with us?"
She'd stopped leading Tenzin around, sitting quietly on her knees and gathering the chubby toddler into her arms. She'd looked at Zuko very seriously.
"What do you mean?" she'd asked.
"You've been living here for almost eight months now," Zuko had said. "You've helped me with Ursa, and I've been taking care of Tenzin with you. We've been filling in each other's blanks for a while. But I've just been wondering… what exactly is going on with us?"
She'd looked away, kept her gaze carefully fixed on Tenzin, who was grinning playfully up at her and gargling some gibberish in his throat. Zuko had glanced for a moment at Ursa, fast asleep beside him, snoring softly.
"People have been talking," he'd added after the silence.
"So I've heard."
He'd sat there for a few moments, waiting. It was her turn to add something to the conversation. He didn't have anything else yet.
She'd finally sighed and looked at him. "What do you want me to say, Zuko? Do you think I should leave?"
"No!" he'd said quickly, quietly, so as not to awaken Ursa. "I mean… not unless you think you should."
She'd lost herself in thought for a few moments, allowing Tenzin to tug on her hair.
"It's been really nice here," she'd finally begun, hesitating, choosing her words carefully. "It's been good for Tenzin. You know – having a… a father-figure around."
She'd looked carefully at Zuko then.
"A boy needs a father," she'd said. "You understand."
He had moved (careful not to disturb Ursa) to kneel beside her on the floor.
"I think you should stay," he'd said.
She'd studied his face carefully. "I can't be Mai, Zuko."
"Well, I can't be Aang," he'd replied.
"Well – I guess as long as we're just trying to be ourselves, then I'll stay."
He'd surprised himself by kissing her then. But she'd surprised him more by not protesting, and then – after a moment – by (carefully) kissing him back.
It had definitely been a strange five years. Ursa had grown. Tenzin had grown. They'd both gotten so big, so fast, and both showed remarkable skills already in their respective Bending elements, fire and air. Katara became something like Ursa's nanny, and Ursa liked to refer to her as 'Aunt Tara' and to boss Tenzin around mercilessly. Tenzin never seemed to mind Ursa bossing him around, though – he seemed rather enamored of her, and gladly followed her every whim.
Ursa had been staying with Uncle in Ba Sing Se recently. She often took trips to see Uncle these days, now that her Firebending training had officially begun. Zuko knew from experience that there was no better teacher than Uncle, and Ursa loved her stays in the big city, always returning with interesting stories to eagerly tell anyone willing to listen (usually Tenzin). Zuko was glad that Ursa was safe in Ba Sing Se at the moment, but he still rather regretted that she wasn't here with him now. He would have been glad of her company.
What's going on with us?
Zuko wondered if, even now, were he to ask Katara the same question he'd asked her that night five years ago, her answer would be any different or less ambiguous. She had been a comforting presence that he'd needed desperately for survival – a kind of human morphine. But she had also been increasingly a constant source of troubling thoughts and emotions for him. It seemed the more she helped him heal, the more she hurt him by her own inability to heal herself. He often heard her waking in the night, screaming after having had some nightmare. She never told him what her dreams were about, but he'd heard her calling Aang's name in her sleep on multiple occasions, so it wasn't difficult to figure out.
When she'd first come to live at the palace, he had used her to fill in the emptiness left by Mai's sudden death. But over time that wound had scabbed over, and Katara had become something different to him: something that took up a space all her own in his heart. He and Katara hadn't always had the greatest relationship. She'd been the first to trust him, and thus the one who'd felt the most betrayed by him when he had made that foolish decision to join Azula in Ba Sing Se years ago. She'd been the last to agree to let him join the gang and train Aang in Firebending. And he could still recall some of the threatening speech she'd given him back then, warning him of the mysterious horrible things she'd do to him if she had any reason to believe he might harm Aang.
He'd always had a great deal of respect for Katara, though. He'd fought both against her and alongside her enough times to know what a powerful Waterbender she was; and he related to her struggle with the death of her own mother. That was something else they'd always had in common. He'd esteemed her skills highly enough to ask her to join him when he finally set off to face Azula. He wouldn't have survived that battle without her.
But back then, he'd never thought of her in any other way except as a colleague worthy of great respect and gratitude. He'd had Mai; he hadn't felt the need to look anywhere else for that sort of love. And he also had known that Aang was in love with Katara, and had strongly suspected that the feeling was reciprocated. It had been almost satisfying to him when his suspicions had finally been confirmed. They were cute kids. They went perfect together. Air and Water – the gentle elements. The healers and movers of the world. They were both so… light.
It was different now. Aang was gone. And Katara – she was something different now, too. She wasn't just a skilled warrior. She wasn't just Mai's replacement. She wasn't just a surrogate mother for Ursa. She was Katara, an entity unto herself. He loved her, in his way.
But to her, he was still just filling in her blanks. He was still only filling the role that Aang had left empty when he disappeared.
Zuko rolled over in bed yet again, and sighed deeply. She had said she didn't know what she would do if Aang came back. But Zuko knew. She would leave. She probably wouldn't think twice.
He wondered if he could handle it, if it ever did happen.
