Ozai's Vengeance

Fandomme

T for Teen

Summary: Twelve years after the final battle, Zuko summons Katara to heal the victims of an epidemic sweeping the Fire Nation.

Disclaimer: ATLA is the property of Nickelodeon and VIACOM. No profit is made by this story.

Zuko blinked at his uncle. You've done nothing wrong, he told himself. The room seemed hot, suddenly. Something was pounding, somewhere, and he dimly realized that it was his heart. The last time his uncle had looked at him this way, the old man was encased in glittering crystals and the Avatar appeared dead. Twelve years had done nothing to lighten the burden of his uncle's disapproving gaze.

"What do you want to know?" Zuko asked, leaning against the armoire.

"The truth," Iroh said. "Tea?"

"Yes, please," Zuko said, and took the tea from him. He sank down into the nearest chair. Its ivory silk cushions felt too soft and springy under him. He rested his elbows on his knees.

"Did you honestly think I would not know where that passage leads?" Iroh asked. "Did you forget that I was once intended to be Fire Lord?"

Zuko resisted the urge to hide his face. "I…wasn't thinking about that."

Iroh sipped his tea. "Clearly, you had other things on your mind."

"Nothing happened," Zuko said. "We… I… It's not like you think."

"Please, nephew. Do inform me of what I think. My own thoughts tend to get away from me in my old age."

Zuko looked up into a face that appeared suddenly ancient in its disappointment. He swallowed and tried to recall the anger that had reared up just a second ago. You're an adult. She's an adult. Tell him that. Tell him it's none of his business. "You think I'm doing the wrong thing, but I'm not."

Iroh leaned back. He twisted his teacup between his fingertips. "You think that's what I think?"

"Uncle, she-"

"Silence!" Iroh stood. "I think that you have disgraced this house. I think that you have taken advantage of a widow -- your friend's widow -- in your own mother's bed. And I think that I must be to blame, because you took my good-natured meddling as an excuse to behave in a way not even your father considered appropriate."

"Uncle, it's not-"

"I'm not finished," Iroh said. Calmly, he set down his teacup. "When I arranged things the way I did, I meant for you to court Katara. I did not intend for you to worm your way into her bed so you could sample the goods first!"

"Shut up!" Zuko rocketed from his chair. It and the teacup tumbled to the floor. "Don't presume to discuss something you don't understand, uncle."

"Oh, I understand. I understand plenty. I understand that you're about to ruin the best thing that could have ever happened to you!" Iroh pointed at the armoire. "Katara is the finest woman to look your way, and-"

"Then stop talking about her like she's a thing!" Zuko balled his fists. "She's not goods. I'm not sampling anything."

Iroh folded his arms inside his sleeves. "Then what are you doing, my nephew?"

Zuko looked at the twin blades above his bed. If only all problems could simply be sliced through. "I don't know."

≅

Zuko moved through firebending forms, but didn't feel them. He missed by wider and wider margins, his trainers frowning at one another. "Are you still dizzy, my Lord?" they asked. "Last night, did you feel the waves?"

"What waves?" Zuko asked.

"What we mean to say is, your land-legs might not have returned yet, my Lord."

That's one way of putting it, he thought, and let them lead him through a boring series of deep stretches imparted to them by Guru Pathik years ago.

Then it was breakfast, to which he was late. The others had already gone -- he suspected his uncle of eating sheer vitriol for this morning's meal -- so he ate in his office, picking at fish that had gone cold as he read report after report and dictated correspondence to his best calligrapher, Master Sho.

"My Lord?" the calligrapher asked.

"Yes?"

"How would you like to finish this sentence?"

"What sentence?"

Master Sho smiled gently. "The one you began dictating five minutes ago, my Lord."

Zuko grimaced. "We'll finish it later. Let them wait. What's next on the pile?"

His third-level secretary stepped forward. "A letter requesting an audience, my Lord."

"From whom?"

His secretary frowned. "A group calling itself the Society for Justice in Learning," he said.

"That's creative. What do they want, aside from audience?"

His secretary scanned the letter. "Money, naturally." He raised a dubious eyebrow. "It seems they think there is a dearth of good education for boys in the nation's capital, and elsewhere. Overcrowding, they say. Too many men returning home from war to sow their wild oats, as they say -- as though that could ever be a bad thing. They blame it on the cuts to military spending."

"The letter," Zuko prompted.

"Oh, yes. Of course, my Lord. They have included here a proposal for funding the construction of a new school -- like the Fire Academy for Girls, they say, only for boys too." The secretary sneered. "I suspect this letter was sent by young boys hoping for a prettier classroom."

"Save it for later. I'll look at it tonight." He looked at both of them. "Where is the head of housekeeping? I want the nursery re-opened."

"Your uncle already put in the request, my Lord, when he learned that Lady Katara's brother and his family would be visiting."

Zuko shook his head. "No, I need it sooner than that."

His secretary beamed. "Yes, my Lord. Right away. I shall deliver the message myself." And with that he scurried off.

Zuko turned to the calligrapher. "Sokka's family has agreed to visit?"

"The dragon-hawk arrived this morning, my Lord."

"Master Sho," Zuko said, addressing the calligrapher, "what do you know about choosing a nanny?"

≅

Mercifully, lunch came and he actually had the time to attend. Toph and Ling arrived covered in twigs -- it seemed Iroh had devoted his morning to giving them a lesson in flower-arrangement -- and Katara smiled at him in a way that sent his stomach flipping over. He claimed a spot next to her and glowered at his uncle from across the table.

"What is that awful smell?" Toph asked.

"Strained seaweed and mashed tubers," Katara said. "It's traditional Water Tribe baby food."

"It stinks."

"Well it's lucky you're not eating it, then, isn't it?" Katara tried spooning up some of the disgusting mixture to Kurzu's lips, but the child turned his head this way and that to avoid it.

"He seems very stubborn," Ling said.

Toph muttered under her breath: "Like someone else we know."

"Perhaps the child has more of a Fire Nation palate," Iroh said. "Perhaps he would like some of my duck?"

"Perhaps Zuko should hold him so he can't squirm off my lap," Katara said, and deposited the child on Zuko's available thigh without asking. Zuko had to scramble to keep a firm grip on him. Kurzu sent him a pitiful how can you let her do this to me look.

"Katara," Zuko ventured, "on the ship he seemed to like fruit-"

"Fruit is loaded with sugar. He needs vegetables."

Toph snickered. "You just got told, Sparky."

"Is seaweed a vegetable?" Ling asked. "I never thought of it as one, but I guess it is leafy and green."

"And gross," Toph added.

"It is very nutritious, though," Iroh said. "I know a recipe for a special seaweed mask to clear up-"

Katara grabbed his chin and directed it forward. "Zuko. Focus. I need your help, here." Katara spoke in an undertone. "Just don't let Kurzu wiggle away from you, okay?"

Her firm, direct touch reminded him of the night previous. You've been a very bad boy, Mister Fire Lord. He smiled. "Right." He tightened his grip on the boy. Kurzu still turned his nose up at the food. "If he keeps behaving this way, we'll never find a nanny for him."

Katara's face came up. She frowned. "I thought you were joking, earlier," she said in a whisper, bending down again.

Zuko bent closer to her. "You can't look after him all the time. You're supposed to be resting." He shrugged. "We have to re-open the nursery for Sokka's children soon. We might as well use it."

Katara finally succeeded in landing some food in Kurzu's mouth, but he promptly spat it out. Katara winced. "I guess it would be nice to let someone else put up with this for a while." She gestured with the spoon. "You know, you could help me out once in a while."

"Oh yes. He'll make a great addition to my office. 'Never mind the infant, gentlemen, he's just teething.'" He frowned. "Speaking of which, how many teeth does he have?" Zuko pulled Kurzu deeper onto his lap and tipped him back. The child's mouth and eyes opened wide. There in the back, Zuko saw three tiny, pearly teeth. "Only three? Is that normal?"

"I've been wondering about that, myself," Katara said. "It's like the walking. He's a little over a year, now, I think. He should be walking and talking and growing more teeth." She concentrated on the child's face. "I mean, I know he's small for his age, and underweight, but the other things…" She sighed. "It just worries me."

"Do you think he's sick?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. He seems fine, just a little slow."

"What's this I hear about Kurzu?" Iroh asked. He lumbered to his feet and rounded the table. He lifted the child from Zuko's lap. "They're not telling you that you're slow, are they, little one?"

"The other bloodbenders I know would be concerned if they met him," Katara said. "There are some tests I can do, I guess. I just thought maybe he would snap out of it and start talking."

Iroh lifted Kurzu up and down. "There's no need for that." He nodded at Zuko. "The Fire Lord over there didn't speak until he was almost three."

Zuko blinked. "I didn't?"

"No. Your mother was actually quite worried. We all thought something was wrong. But then one day you started speaking in whole sentences!" Iroh lifted the child again settled him over one shoulder. "Lu Ten was the complete opposite. He did everything early. Walked at nine months, spoke at ten. Your sister was the same. Your mother used to say that Azula ran before she could crawl." His brows knit. "That really should have told us something, now that I think of it."

"I spoke really early, too," Toph said. "My parents used to brag about it to themselves. I guess they were happy when I could do anything right."

"They were blind in their own way, too," Ling said. "After all, they had a prodigy in their midst and had no idea."

"Well said, Ling." Iroh "I think it's time Kurzu and I went on a sojourn to the kitchen for some tastier fare. One can't learn to walk on an empty stomach!" And with that, he sauntered out of the dining room with the child in his arms.

"But…I was feeding him," Katara said.

"I think Iroh has fully entered grandparent territory," Ling said. She gave Katara and Zuko a rueful smile. "Expect to be ignored."

≅

After lunch, Zuko checked on the progress of the nursery. He asked Katara to come with him. The room smelled of yuzu oil polish and fresh bedding. The servants stopped their work and bowed until he bid them to rise. "What do you think?" he asked Katara.

He watched her take in the room. The room was a fat oval, with miniature alcoves for eight small beds and a set of gauzy belled curtains like the ones in Zuko's old room ringing each of them. Long ago, an ambitious painter had done a circular map of the Fire Nation on the convex ceiling. Although the colors had since faded, the map retained some of its old grandeur. Like the most secure rooms in the palace, it used pneumatic locks and had no doors or windows to the outside. Instead, a variety of sconces hung above child-height, framed with burnished copper plates so as to double the lighting.

"The kids will love it," Katara said. She looked around. "Was there ever a Fire Lord with eight children?"

"Not that I recall. This room was designed to house both royal children and their cousins, or the children of visiting dignitaries." I first slept with Mai in this room, he thought of saying. Of course, I was six, and she slept on the other side of the room.

"It's a little big for Kurzu," Katara said. "But I guess it can't hurt to prepare him for life at the temple. Those rooms are huge."

Zuko looked at the floor. "So, you're still planning on taking him back with you."

Katara took a deep breath. "I have responsibilities there."

What, you thought this would last forever? Zuko nodded. "Right." He swallowed. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to." Ignoring Katara's frown, he strode out of the room and into his office, where he stayed until long past dinner.

≅

Zuko had resolved not to see her that night. No matter that Kurzu was safely ensconced in the nursery with a woman from the kitchen who was nursing a child of the same age, thus leaving Katara with that big bed all to herself. No. If this is going to end, better that it end before Sokka arrives. After all, hadn't she told him that it was arrogant of him to visit her in the night without asking? It seemed like a clear enough directive to him: stay away until I invite you.

He could wait. Nothing in Ozai's demeanor or Iroh's stories had prepared him for the avalanche of paper work that Fire Lords perpetually drowned in. He had no end of reading to distract him from his absence from Katara's bed:

The Society for Justice in Learning puts forward two facts for consideration: first, that the population of school-aged Fire Nation children has risen considerably in the twelve years since the war, and that changes to taxation policy related to military spending have deprived half of these children of meaningful education, and second that this glut of uneducated children has a negative impact on Fire Nation society at both the urban and rural levels.

Inside this report, please find submitted data from the most recent census, as well as copies of reports from local militias about the rising trend in vandalism, petty theft, arson, and pregnancy in girls below the marrying age. Also included are written testimonials from craftsmen from all over the Fire Nation, who allege that none of the available workforce is suitably trained for their professions. Further copies of the following documents can be obtained by writing to the Society for Justice in Learning.

The Society offers this evidence to convince the Most Honorable Fire Lord Zuko that the Fire Nation needs new policy regarding-

A muffled knock sounded from Zuko's armoire. He put down the scroll and listened carefully. For a moment, he wondered if it was an especially large rat, or perhaps a sparrowkeet trapped between the walls somehow. But no, the knock sounded again, and it definitely sounded as though it came from within the armoire. Hurrying to his feet, Zuko opened the armoire, and opened the lock with a puff of breath before pulling a very dusty, cobwebby Katara into his room.

"Where were you?" she asked, dusting herself off. "The moon is so high, by now."

He folded his arms. "I thought you wanted me to stay away."

"When did I say that?"

"I can't remember. I was busy getting punched in the stomach."

She rolled her eyes. "I know. You're so oppressed." She looked at the room. "A black bed? Really?" She kicked off her slippers and knelt on it. Her white shift looked terribly pale and inviting against the black, and even more so when she let it fall to the floor. "Aren't you getting in?" she asked over her shoulder.

His head tilted. "Is this some form of retribution?"

She slid between the sheets. "What?"

"Last night I dropped in on you unannounced, and now you've done the same."

She crossed her arms. "Well, if you don't want me here-"

"I didn't say that. I just thought…" He struggled to find the words. I thought this wasn't very important to you. "I don't know what I thought."

Katara held out her arms. "Zuko. I got tired of waiting. So I thought I'd show you that you're not the only one who can use a secret passage." She frowned. "Although since there are pneumatic locks on them, I guess you are."

He sat on the bed. "That's not true. My uncle can use them too. The passage was put there by Fire Lords who wanted access to their Ladies' private chambers without alerting the entire palace. So anyone who has been Fire Lord, or who was trained to be one, knows about them." He winced. "In fact, my uncle was waiting here for me this morning."

He heard her hands fall dryly in the silk. "What?"

He turned. "He was sitting right on that chair, waiting."

Katara blinked several times as her cheeks reddened. "So he knows."

"He knows."

She took several deep breaths. "What did he say?"

Just that I'm a disgrace. Nothing I haven't heard before. "Nothing you need trouble yourself over."

"Don't give me that. I want to know."

He sighed. "Fine. He accused me of behavior unbecoming in a Fire Lord. He said that he'd never intended his meddling to have such shameful consequences."

Katara's mouth fell open. Her hand rose to cover it. For a moment her eyes shined bright and wet. "Iroh doesn't approve of me?"

A distinct chill washed over Zuko's skin. He crawled over the bed to sit beside her. "No. The opposite. He loves you, you know that. It's me." He sighed. "He said I was using you." Zuko sat against the cushioned bedstead and drew his knees to his chest. "He doesn't think I deserve…this. I think he wanted me to wait and court you properly, before…well…" He gestured between her naked body and his.

"But it's my body," Katara said in a hushed voice. "I can do what I want with it."

"I know that. But my uncle is old-fashioned. I think he'd rather I was writing you poems and buying you gifts, not…" He trailed off.

"Not sleeping with me," Katara said.

"Right."

She drew the sheets up around her and bounced her head against the pillows. "But… I mean, I came to you first…"

"That you did."

"And I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want to."

"Of course not," Zuko said. "I have yet to meet the man who can force you into anything."

She grinned. "Thank you." She stretched her arms and flexed her fingers. He heard small bones popping in her shoulders. "Being a master waterbender helps."

"And a bloodbender, too," Zuko said. "You could kill me in my sleep with just one touch." He gave her a sidelong glance. "Are you sure you're not an assassin?"

"You caught me. I've been sent here to avenge an ancient wrong. I only make love to you to lull you into a false sense of security."

He raised his good eyebrow. "You make love to me?"

She turned to rest on her side. The laughter in her eyes sent warm, giddy fingers straight to his stomach. "Would you rather be ravished instead?"

"I think I'd like to know the difference, first."

Her lips quirked. "Well that depends. Have you been good?"

"Very good," he said, edging closer.

She reached over and began undoing the buttons of his shirt with one hand. "Extra special good?"

"Extra special good," he said, and wondered where his voice had gone to.

Her hand paused just over his navel. "Extra special good with lantern-berries on top?"

Zuko lay flat and pulled her over him. "What you said."

Katara laughed and leaned down. She murmured in his bad ear: "Do you trust me?"

"With my life," he said.

"Because there's something I'd like to try…"

He inhaled the scent of her hair. "Whatever it is, please try it soon."

At first he noticed nothing -- aside from her lips and hands and the tickle of her hair on his chest -- but then a thrumming, budding pressure made itself known. She had bent his blood somehow. I didn't know it could do that. But he had little time for apprehension, because they were moving. And he soon discovered that yes, there was a difference, and she could make him feel it: could finish him quickly in a riot of clenched teeth and sweat, or spin him out until he was taut as a shamisen string and uncertain whether to plead for release or let it go on and on. She decided on the latter and he lost track of time. They moved together and he watched her dance and she said No one's ever let me do this and he said Do what you like, I'm yours. His awareness narrowed to a single point and she cried out for a fourth time and said I want you with me, this time and he said Just let go. So she did and he did, too, and his body was just a pulse, just a beat, just the ripples on a pond after a stone has been thrown in.

When she finally moved away and he snuffed out the lights and drew the curtains with a single lazy hand, she lay her head on his chest and asked: "Would you ever write me a poem?"

"I already did," he said, and the darkness made his voice small. "That's what young men do."

"How did it go?"

He counted the syllables by drumming his fingers on her bare skin:

Rain and snow and ice

Cannot quench the desert sand

Only mercy's gaze

"That's very sad," she said, her voice already slow and sleepy.

"I was very sad."

Her fingers dug around his ribs and she gripped him tighter. "I wish… I wish I'd known."

He kissed her hair. "Me too."

Zuko wrapped both arms around her and sank down into sleep. At the very edge, he thought he heard Katara say something. But he was too far gone, and his lips would not move.

≅

In the morning, she was gone. He sat up in the dark and pushed aside the curtain only to find her seated at his desk, reading his papers. She sat naked in the chair, bare heels propped on his desk and legs crossed at the ankle. Her hair tumbled down the back of the chair. Papers sat forgotten on the floor.

"These people make a pretty good point," she said, without turning around.

"Good morning to you, too."

"No, I mean it. They've really done their research."

"The Society for Justice in Learning?"

She nodded. "I think they're on to something. The numbers don't lie."

Zuko lay back on the pillows. "That's right, they don't. Which is why I'm going to grant them an audience, and tell them no."

Katara swung her legs down. "No? Why not?"

"There's no money. It's that simple."

Katara waved a hand to encompass the wealth that surrounded them. "You could have fooled me."

"That's petty cash. It's different. It's not real wealth. It's not land or a primary resource like gold or timber. Those are the things that build empires, not lumps of jade sculpture."

"But you couldn't afford that jade without gold."

"True. But this palace hasn't spent any money on renovation since at least my grandmother's time. Neither Azulon nor my father cared about aesthetics, and I spend only on upkeep. What drains this household's budget isn't sculpture, it's food and soap and thread. I dismissed half the staff after Ozai died, just to save the money. Granted, it didn't make them too happy, but…" He shrugged. "I learned how to run a tight ship while I was away."

She smiled. "You were always good with money. Even back then, you always knew how to get the best deal." She pointed at the scroll. "Which is why I know you can move some money in the national budget to build this school!"

Zuko rolled his eyes. "I refuse to discuss this until after breakfast."

"Ooh, good idea. I'm starving."

"You should be. You wore me out."

She giggled. "Guilty as charged. I want eggs."

Zuko already had a caftan tied about his waist when a stray thought occurred to him: "It'll look suspicious if I order a double portion and we both miss breakfast."

Katara raised her eyes from the scroll. "Iroh already knows."

"But Toph and Ling don't. The palace doesn't. My people don't. Yet." He ran a hand through his hair. "We can't go on like this."

She frowned. "If it's that important to you, I'll just go back through the passage."

"Of course it's important to me. It's a matter of honor."

Her frown deepened and she put the scroll on the desk. Her eyes had gone flinty. He resisted the urge to hold a defensive posture. She stood. "Zuko, if you've got a problem with the rest of the world knowing that you like sleeping with a dirty Water Tribe peasant, than we need to have a serious talk."

"It's not like that."

"Then what's it like?"

Dear sages, a repeat of his conversation with Iroh. "I thought you didn't want anyone to know," he said. "That afternoon in the garden when I slipped up, you gave me a dirty look. I thought you wanted to keep it…private."

"I do. I don't exactly relish Toph and Ling and Iroh and my brother asking me who I'm sleeping with. But if they do, I'm not going to lie to my family just because you're worried about your precious reputation. We didn't hide anything on that boat, so it's a little bit late now to start trying."

"It's not my reputation I'm worried about, it's yours!"

"Oh, because you're so far above public opinion?"

"No! Because stupid people will call you a gold-digger and a whore and sages know what else! Because this world is full of morons who will stop donating to your orphanage if they find out you're anything less than a perfect, pining widow who can't wait to join Aang in the Spirit World!" He watched her mouth open, then close. She tried to speak but he overran her: "And since you insist on returning there, you'll excuse me for trying to keep the place alive."

Katara's hand rose to cover her mouth. Her eyes had gone wide. "Oh," she said through her fingers. "Oh, Zuko."

"What?"

"You're in love with me."

She made it sound like something terrible, like a grave error in judgment. He looked at the floor. His bare feet seemed oddly disconnected from him, as though it were not really him standing there but someone else. "Do you think I'd be doing this if I wasn't?"

Katara bent down and picked up her shift. She pulled it over herself and hugged her arms. "I don't know, Zuko. That's the thing. I don't know."

"What do you think I am, Katara?" He pressed his fingernails into the palms of his hands. "Do I strike you as the kind of person who takes these things lightly?"

She sighed. "No… I don't know. I don't know how many people you've been with. It's not like you ever answered my letters."

"Because I was afraid of feeling something I had no right to!"

"Even after Aang died?"

"Especially after Aang died! Would you rather I have made a move when you were most vulnerable? Is that the kind of man you want?"

"It didn't stop you on that boat!"

"You said it yourself: you came to me first. I thought it was me you wanted." He gritted his teeth. "Apparently I was wrong."

Her mouth fell open. "Don't say that."

"I think we've moved past the point of you telling me what to do. There are plenty of men up at that temple, and if you were feeling lonely you could have-"

The distance separating them meant that he saw Katara's hand before it connected with his face. He could have stopped it, but chose not to. He felt like saying ugly things. If she wanted to punish him for it, that was her right. She stood trembling before him, her left hand still half-raised. "Don't you ever say that again," she said. "I don't take these things lightly, either."

"You could have fooled me," he said.

She paled down to her lips. "Why, Zuko? Because I insist on fulfilling my responsibilities? Because I'm not ready to give up on the orphanage for some great sex and a man who won't even admit how he feels? I'm sorry, but my commitments mean a little bit more to me than that!"

"Oh, so now that you've got it out of your system, you'll sail away into seclusion." Zuko shook his head. "You said it yourself: it's like holding the ocean in a rain-barrel. You hate it up there. You hate not seeing the sea, you hate not seeing your family, and now you'll hate not having what we had last night in this room."

Katara set her chin and shoulders. "You over-estimate yourself, Fire Lord."

He felt a hollow pit open inside his stomach, but resolutely ignored it. "Maybe," he said in a low voice he barely recognized. "But you ask the woman who wept in my arms. She'll tell you differently."

Zuko stepped away. He made for the washroom. Without shutting the door, he blasted fire up the pneumatic pipes. Water came sluicing down from the strange apparatus the Mechanist had installed as a gift when the war finished. He felt Katara's eyes on him. Refusing to turn, he grabbed the nearest bar of soap. It took a long time, but finally he heard his door shutting.