Chapter Eight

There was a child on the docks with brown eyes. They were dark yet bright, like wet soil beneath grass and she met the blue gaze high above her with a curious stare. Her hair was bunched into two little buns at either side of her head and she held a loaf of bread to her chest like a precious doll. Her outfit was strange and seemed too warm for the weather, long pants that puffed at the ankles, a long-sleeved dress with a bow that ended just beneath her chest.

Katara watched her and noted the differences between them, Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe. But as their gazes held, she noted new things. She saw the girl's attention drift from bright blue to the brown of her hair, piled atop her head. She watched brown eyes widen in something - fear? interest? confusion? - at the black robe with red trim, too big and billowing on the young woman's form. She watched the child's chin tilt as she looked back, somewhere behind Katara, to where Officer Zhang stood with feet braced, shoulders back, hands clasped behind him.

Her babysitter.

Kneeling at the edge of a Fire Nation ship, waiting for General Iroh to return from market, Katara looked down at an Earth Kingdom peasant girl and saw pity in dark eyes.

--

There was a prisoner on deck and Zuko was not pleased. At breakfast, his uncle had asked if he'd woken on the wrong side of the bed, which produced an unpleasant reaction. Admittedly, this was because Zuko had not woken on the wrong side of the bed - he had not woken on a bed at all.

And when he stirred from the floor at dawn, the peasant he had so graciously given his bed to jumped and glared at him, refusing to look away or return to sleep until he had gone, despite numerous requests.

...Or orders.

In return, the prince ordered her to move back to the brig, despite Iroh's protests. How often did Zhao actually inspect the brig, or Zuko's room for that matter? He would never know.

And Zuko would be rid of those damnable eyes that had looked at him with hatred and fear.

--

The little girl looks away first. An older boy who had been gawking at the ship returns to her side and tries to take her hand. Shifting the bread in her arms, the girl with brown eyes holds tight and lets him lead her away, staring at Katara until she passes between two buildings that hide the ship from her view.

Shifting her gaze from an Earth Kingdom girl to cold, grey floor of the ship's deck, Katara wonders where the hands she used to hold are now. Are they all right, are they feeding themselves, are they managing without her? Has Aang memorized the second scroll she found, the one she bought with real money to make up for Sokka's disapproval? Has her brother been able to keep track of the Avatar-in-training, does he blame himself for losing her?

She wants to see them. She wants to meet with them in the North.

She wants to find a Master and capsize this ship with a thought.

--

Lieutenant Jee has fallen silent and Zuko is grateful without actually looking it. Or acting it. Questions on a planned course are irritating when Jee knows as well as the prince that their knowledge ends at 'the Avatar is heading North.' Even that is questionable with the way their hostage reacts to any mention of her companion.

"Yes, sir" is a vague mumble in Zuko's ears, even if he knows Jee never mumbles anything, much less to the prince or his uncle. The salute is muted and seen only from the corner of his eye, and at the moment, Zuko could not care less about how sharp, how sincere the gesture is.

He watches the girl below as she stands and starts to brush dirt and grime from her robes - his robes, old robes but his, as if Iroh thought he wanted notice. But her hands pause and she lets them drop, turning to glance at Zhang before the officer starts to lead her from the deck down to the brig until Iroh's return.

From the bridge, he catches her eyes, gold and blue, scowl and blankness, and holds it. There is nothing between them, no transferred words or thoughts, expression or spark. There is simply the gaze, two points without connection.

She looks away and follows Zhang to the brig.

Zuko wonders if her hands paused on the robe so she wouldn't touch him any more than necessary.

--

Iroh has purchased blue silk to match her eyes, a darker blue to wrap around her waist to accent. The shoes are strange, not soft like the leather from the South, but hard and stiff, sandals that lift her feet off the ground and make it difficult to walk. The general stands with his back to her, though there is a screen already separating his eyes from her as she changes from the rough cloth of Zuko's robe to wet, blue silk. He smiles when he sees her, steps in to offer his arms when she stumbles in the shoes, and graciously steps away without a word when she recoils from his touch.

He goes through his other bags as she sits before a mirror, trying to incorporate at least a single braid into the chignon. As he goes on about his newly purchased curios (the sculpted dog is excellent craftsmanship, though he must admit, using the creatures as pets has always baffled him as they make far better meals), Katara manages to master her new hairstyle. With the braids in place, it piles easier, cleaner, and looks somehow more elegant and complex.

She started ignoring the general somewhere during his composing of a haiku about a painting of a swan-otter and startles easily when he appears at her back. Meeting his smiling eyes in the mirror, it takes her a moment to notice he is offering her something at her arm, and no amount of bracing is able to keep her from gasping softly.

The hairpins are silver, perhaps even pure, and the beads and pretty stones that hang from them are of the same dark blue of the silk tied around her waist.

"...No one's fooled."

If Iroh expected thanks, he does not seem disappointed. He continues to smile as he picks the pins from their velvet-lined box. "On the contrary, I think you're doing quite well."

"No one looks at me and sees a lady - they see a Water Tribe peasant and a hostage." Her words turn sharp with each syllable until she reaches up and pushes the pins away.

She makes sure not to touch his hands.

He meets her eyes in the mirror even as both pins and hands retreat and she hides from faded gold. "That they see a peasant or a hostage is no matter, Katara. That they see a consort is the key."

"I'm not a consort - you know it, that admiral isn't fooled, that stupid prince can barely touch my hand, and he's supposed to be pretending that he-- he--" She swallows hard and scowls at the floor, cold grey metal more inviting than a general's eyes. "And you..."

He is quiet and at the next touch to her hair, the careful slide of silver pins between thick braids, she doesn't argue. "And I?"

The floor offers no advice and Katara's scowl deepens. "...I don't even think I know what you want."

"Ah, but that's easy." There's a smile in his tone and her eyes widen sharply when she feels him loop the familiar leather and stone of her mother's necklace at her neck. "At the moment, I want to be fifty years younger."

His hands find her shoulders and urge her to straighten and Katara finds herself staring into the face of-- herself.

The silks, the pins, the unfamiliar hairstyle... melt away. What her eyes see, what they are drawn to, are the myriad of braids her grandmother taught her to make, her mother's necklace, the carved stone at the hollow of her throat, her own dark face, unchanged from the reflection she'd peered at in a river a week before.

The general has released her shoulders and is smiling behind her, beaming at the mirror. "Ah, there we are." A sigh, dreamlike, and her suspicions that he is teasing her are confirmed when he clasps his hands together and leans to the side in a mock of a prayer. "Oh, if only I were a young man still..."

She cannot help but smile at the sight of it, her own lips in that familiar curve of amusement sustaining her happiness. "I'd be even more uncomfortable at these stupid dinners," she replies.

--

--Author's Note--

Okay, guys, here's the thing - while I love that you're all so excited about this and really appreciate the praise, PMing me demanding that I continue to write and threatening me if I don't really just makes me want to be spiteful and discontinue the story entirely. Do not underestimate the power of my spite - I'll stop writing just to irritate all of you if you get too demanding while I have RL things to deal with.

Another note - a few chapters ago, "Jee" was "Ji" but it was brought to my attention that he was listed in the credits as "Jee" and, thus, it is fixed here. Sorry about that.

I hope to update a little more often now, so don't worry! I'll be back sooner this time, I swear!