Author's Note: Well, I almost made my self-imposed deadline. But at least it's done! Sorry it's been, like, months since I updated. Whoops. You know, finals and summer and all that. But at least I passed! I am officially a junior in college. It's totally freaking me out.

ANYWAY, a HUUUGGGGEEE shoutout to (randomdays45 on tumblr) for this AMAZING FANART of the last chapter that literally got me through this monster of a chapter. Seriously guys, check it out it's so cool- image/143625786407

I'm going to try to post it below:

I think that's pretty much it. Let me know what you think about this chap! I can't wait for you to read the next one-it's really good! (well, I think it's good...I expect some of you won't be happy ;))

Disclaimer: I don't own these lovestruck nerds

Zuko woke the next morning to aching muscles, sweat-slicked skin, and a pounding head. He sat up, his damp blanket pooling around his waist, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He felt like he'd been trampled by a herd of ostrich-horses, his body was so sore.

And his head.

Through the hangover-induced haze, he realized he had been dreaming. He was certain of it, but had no idea of what—the leftover images were incomprehensible. Cracking his eyelids, he scanned the room. Everyone else was still asleep, which was surprising. They were hardly ever allowed to sleep past sunrise. Usually the emperor had them working before anyone else—save for the guards—were awake. But considering the party last night, it was understandable. He thought back to the banquet, spilling the wine, the nobles, the dancing, and—

Agni, what did I do?

Although most of the night was still blurry, there was one thing he recalled with perfect clarity.

Katara.

Zuko didn't know how early it was, but he leapt from his pallet anyway. Jin was passed out on the pallet beside him, snoring softly, red lip color smeared across her face as if she had gone to bed without washing which, for all he knew, she could have. In fact, most of the servants were still dressed in their ball-wear, and Zuko distantly wondered if they'd had a party of their own after the nobles went to bed. But his thoughts didn't linger there long: he had something more important to attend to.

Quietly, he pulled on his uniform and left the room. The palace seemed frozen in time. The hallways were empty as he walked quickly to the stairwell, ready to dodge guards as needed. But it wasn't an issue, since there wasn't a single palace worker in sight.

He needed to see her. If he hadn't been so drunk the night before, he would never have left her. Not after doing what he'd done.

Well, it wasn't all my doing, he acknowledged with a swirling mix of pleasure and confusion in his stomach, remembering the way she had looked at him, how warm she'd been, how her lips felt pressed—

"Zuko!"

He groaned, recognizing the voice that echoed down the hall at once. "Not again," he muttered under his breath, slowing his steps.

"I was just coming to collect you," Prince Sokka said, emerging from a room Zuko knew held extra weapons for the guards. He wasn't alone. Following behind were a group of young men dressed similarly to Sokka in thick fur coats, carrying packs.

"Your Highness," Zuko grumbled, dropping his head slightly.

"We're going hunting. Jet." Sokka motioned to the guy to his right who Zuko vaguely recognized as the jerk who had bothered Katara the night before. Jet threw an obnoxious fur parka at Zuko—with more force than necessary—and the rest dropped their sacks before him.

Zuko frowned. "What's all this?"

"You don't expect us to carry all this, do you?" Sokka scoffed, sending a look at his friends.

"You have arms, don't you?" Zuko spat back with equal venom.

"Watch it fire brat." Sokka shoved his shoulder and he stumbled back a few feet. Zuko glared. The Prince was obviously showing off for the nobles, and Zuko knew if it came to a fight, they wouldn't have any qualms about taking him five-on-one.

But he needed to see Katara. To talk with her. To make sure the two of them were still okay, and to find out where they would go from here. So much had changed over the last few months, and he didn't know if he could go back to the way things were after last night. He still had his mission, but…well, he didn't know what that meant anymore. He knew if he went with the group they'd be out all day because Sokka wouldn't return until he caught something, which would take ages, and he didn't know if he could physically wait that long. "Listen, your Highness, I don't think it's a good idea for me to go. I'm…I'm not feeling very well."

"Tell me about it!" Sokka chortled. "I didn't get any sleep last night, if you know what I mean." He wagged his eyebrows at his entourage and they laughed appreciatively. Zuko knew for a fact that he had gone to his room alone, but chose not to aggravate him further.

"Really, I don't think—"

"Enough," Sokka snapped, all traces of joviality gone. "You are coming. End of discussion."

A tense moment passed between the group of men, waiting to see if Zuko would argue again. Without breaking eye contact, Zuko shrugged on the parka and slung the packs over his shoulder. Sokka grinned smugly and patted Zuko's cheek. "Good boy. Let's go."

A few minutes later, the hunting party breached the palace wall and made their way towards the southern edge of the city. It was still dark when they left, and Zuko pulled his parka closer to his body, feeling the early-morning chill creep into the spaces between the fabric and his skin. The other five men walked in front of him, talking quietly. A few of them were discussing the ball, and the rest were engaged in a heated discussion about which was better: boiled sea prunes or salted seal jerky.

Zuko let out a heavy sigh.

How did I get roped into this?

His mind absently wandered to Katara, as it so often did lately. He wondered what she was doing. Sleeping, probably, he reasoned. The sky was only just beginning to lighten from inky black to deep purple, the tip of the sun just a specter on the far horizon.

"Hey, keep up!" one of the guys named Tuk called over his shoulder. Zuko had fallen behind and the party was approaching what appeared to be a cliff. Biting his tongue, Zuko hoisted the heavy packs farther up his back and picked up the pace. As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't afford to get lost; he was unfamiliar with the terrain. The day he had gone penguin-sledding with Katara was a distant, but happy memory. They'd stuck closer to the coast, though, whereas today they seemed to be travelling deeper into the tundra.

Zuko paid close attention to how Tuk—who was smaller than the rest of the group, but seemed to move faster—made his way down the cliffside. Zuko stepped into the same footholds and, although the packs weighed him down, touched down at the bottom of the valley without much trouble.

"Would you look at that?"

Zuko, who had been adjusting the packs, looked up at the sound of Sokka's voice. In front of them was a herd of buffalo-yaks spread out as far as Zuko could see. They didn't seem concerned about their visitors. They simply stood there and nibbled on the sparse patches of grass that spotted the ground.

"La, that's amazing," whispered the man called Hahn, who seemed to be the most arrogant of the Northerners Zuko had met so far. But Zuko had to agree with him on this one. It was amazing. Zuko had never seen such an immense number of animals existing peacefully in one place. His parents had once took Azula and him to an ostrich-horse farm on the outskirts of Capital City where they were bred and raised. But there hadn't been this many. Not even close.

During their descent into the valley, the sun had rose in the east and now illuminated the morning sky. It reflected off the ground and the wet backs of the buffalo-yaks, making their brown coats appear golden.

Out of nowhere, Zuko heard his uncle's voice in his head: True beauty is often found in the small, unexpected treasures of life. He used to say this when he and Azula were being petty or impatient, like when their parents dragged them to botanical gardens or made them take day trips through the colonies. He hadn't put much faith in the maxim as a child, but he'd grown to understand it better. A wave of sadness rose in Zuko's chest as he realized that this was one of those unexpected treasures. He wished his uncle was there to see it.

"Hahn, you take the right. Tuk, left." Sokka's hushed orders broke the peaceful silence that had fallen, and Zuko watched silently as the hunters moved into position around the herd. He couldn't do anything about it. This was the natural order of their culture. Years ago, before the Water Empire had risen to power, it was composed of small colonies that relied on hunting to survive; they ate the meat and sold the hides to Earth Kingdom traders. Now, most of the capital's meat was imported or supplied by a few remaining hunting colonies on the outskirts of the south. Zuko grimaced. This was just for fun.

On Sokka's command, the three released their arrows on the still animals, and their cries of pain echoed across the valley. He watched as the herd began to move away from the cliff. The injured buffalo-yaks—there were only 2 of them, since Sokka had missed his shot—limped pitifully behind the herd, but seemed determined to escape.

Maybe it was because he was angry he had to helplessly stand by; maybe it was because of all the stories Uncle had told him about pacifist Air Nomads who hated killing, even killing to survive; maybe it was simply because he despised Sokka; but for whatever reason, he did not follow as the group pursued the injured animals. He looked away when he heard the release of five arrows.

They left the bodies at the base of the cliff.

"I'll send the guards to collect them later," Sokka had said as Zuko handed him his pack. They had climbed back up the cliff and stopped for a mid-morning snack. Zuko took a seat away from the circle of six and gnawed numbly on a strip of seal jerky. It tasted like bark and splintered between his teeth. It made him feel a little better that they'd only managed to catch those two buffalo-yaks: the rest had gotten away. Still, he could practically smell their dead carcasses at the bottom of the cliff, feel the heat draining from their bodies. They didn't have a chance being attacked five-on-two. They'd been surrounded, outnumbered, like Zuko had been that morning. Part of him knew it was ridiculous to identify with dumb, wild animals, but he couldn't help it. This entire country was wild, as were the people in it. At any moment it could turn on him.

Snap out of it, Zuko told himself. Feeling sorry for himself wouldn't do him any good. He forced himself to focus on the conversation.

"Hahn, how's Yue?" Jet asked with a rise of his eyebrows and a sideways grin. Hahn rolled his eyes at his friend, but Zuko noticed the faint darkening of his cheeks.

"Yue?" Sokka cut in, eyes suddenly bright. "The Princess from the North? She and Katara used to hang out when father visited the Northern Tribes."

"Well, now she's Hahn's betrothed." Jet nudged Hahn and Hahn shoved him back, but the smile on his face told Zuko this was true.

Sokka's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "Really?"

Hahn nodded. "We're to be married a month after I get back."

One of the other men, Soot, clapped Hahn on the back. "What I wouldn't give to be you. She's hot, Hahn. I envy your wedding night." If Zuko hadn't been looking closely, he wouldn't have seen the shadow pass across Sokka's face; the way his expression fell, then darkened.

"Can you hold out for a whole month, Hahn?" Tuk joked.

"If it was my choice, I would have had her the day we became engaged," Hahn answered with a kind of smugness that made Zuko's skin crawl. "But she's convinced it would be dishonorable to do anything before we are legally wed. Northern girls." He rolled his eyes. He looked to Sokka, who had been uncharacteristically quiet. "I bet you don't have that problem here in the South. I've heard the girls here have a…certain reputation."

Sokka gave him a tight-lipped grin. "Whether or not there's truth to that reputation, it doesn't really matter for me. I can have any woman I want."

"Oh really?" Soot deadpanned.

"Yes, really," Sokka said defensively. "North or South."

At that, Hahn leaned forward. "What are you saying?"

Sokka glanced up at the sky. "Let's be realistic, Hahn. If Yue had the chance to marry you or a Prince, who do you think she'd pick?" His gaze slid back to Hahn, who was visibly shaking. "Who would her father want her to marry?"

Hahn scoffed. "Yeah, right. You're not even a real prince, Sokka. You're a bastard. Unless Katara dies in some freak accident, there's no way your line will ever take the throne." Zuko tensed as he saw that shadow pass back across Sokka's face. Except this time, it stayed.

"How dare you speak to me like that." Sokka's voice was low, the threat in it reflected like fire in his eyes. Things were about to escalate.

Zuko had been in this position so many times he'd lost count. Here, in the Water Empire, he had to force down the angry pride that boiled under his skin whenever he was insulted. He was a Prince but was treated like scum. At least in his own country, because of the scarce interaction he'd actually had with his people, he never felt disrespected. He could imagine how painful being betrayed by his own people would be. He saw that now in Sokka, who had risen from the ground, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his seal jerky tossed to the side. That wasn't a good sign.

Hahn had stood with Sokka and mirrored his stance. Zuko, who had been ignored up until now, made his way to Sokka's side. "Bastard or not," Zuko began, "Sokka has been legitimized by the Emperor. He is your Prince, and despite whose blood runs through his veins, his power is greater than you can imagine. Greater than you will ever have, no matter who you marry."

All eyes turned to Zuko, surprised, as if they had actually forgotten he was there.

"A big speech for a servant," Jet sneered, standing beside Hahn. "I thought your kind are meant to be seen, not heard." Zuko's fists tightened and he felt his fingernails digging into his palms. He could cut the guy down right where he stood. He doubted anyone would miss him. Katara would be grateful. She wouldn't have to marry him if he was dead. Calm down, he told himself, a little frightened at the intensity of his reaction. But something about these Northerners made him uneasy. The way they were so quick to quarrel with their own Prince, the lack of respect. It would never be tolerated in the Fire Nation.

Jet smirked. "Besides, that's not entirely true, is it? Once I marry Katara, I'll be the most powerful person in the Empire—next to the Emperor, that is. More powerful than you, that's for sure," he added with a pointed glance at Sokka. But Zuko was hardly paying attention to him anymore.

"That's only if she actually marries you, Jet," Zuko said. "And from what I've heard, she's not too keen."

Soot, who had been watching at a distance, cut in. "It's not like she has a choice."

"That's right." Jet lifted his chin. "And I promise you, we won't be waiting until the wedding night." Zuko tensed, about to lunge at the guy's throat, when Sokka stepped forward. The tip of his sword was at Jet's throat before anyone knew what was happening, and Jet stumbled backwards into Soot. Tuk joined the other four and they all pulled out their weapons. Zuko noticed an ax they'd brought for climbing the ice on top of the packs and grabbed it. Even though he was shaking with anger, he had a job to do.

He wedged himself in between Sokka and the other men, ax outstretched. Five-on-two.

"Let's all calm down and remember who we are. If anyone gets hurt here there will be major consequences." He turned to Jet and Hahn. "You wouldn't risk harming the Prince at his own home, would you? Do you really think you'd get away with that?"

Only Hahn broke the staredown to glance at Zuko. Apparently, whatever he saw was enough to give him pause. His grip tightened, then loosened on his sword, and he let it fall to his side.

"The fire brat's right, Jet."

Jet was breathing heavily, like the buffalo-yak he had slain only feet away. Sokka, to his credit, seemed completely composed. Even though his arm was outstretched, it didn't shake or waver, nor did his deathly stare. He was daring one of them to make a move. It was a fight he could not win—not even with Zuko on his side—and they both knew it. But pride, Zuko had learned at a young age, was like a thorn. Once it dug under your skin, it hurt just as much to pull it out as it did to let it dig deeper. There would be no winner here.

Jet gave in first, dropping his sword in the snow and backing away. Sokka didn't lower his weapon until Jet was a good three feet away, and even as he sheathed it, did not break eye contact. Zuko hadn't seen this dangerous confidence from Sokka since that first time they'd sparred. Back then, he had thought it was sadistic, the way Sokka had treated him like an animal. Now, he recognized it as a means of survival. This show of power was the only way for Sokka to remain the predator in a world where everyone saw him as the prey. It wasn't so different from Katara's situation, although she responded with grace whereas Sokka responded with violence.

Zuko waited until all the others had sheathed their swords before he hung the ax from his belt. He wasn't about to let down his guard in the company of these people.

"Zuko, get the packs," said Sokka. "I think it's time to leave." Zuko did as he was told, relieved to get out of this situation. Plus, he thought, I'll get to see Katara. That thought alone carried him through the trek back to the palace. He stayed close to Sokka's side, careful to keep the others in his peripheral at all times. The sun was almost at its apex, and it was warm enough that the furs on their backs began to visibly bother them all. It was a much-needed distraction and their mutual discomfort began to ease the tension from before, although Zuko noticed that Sokka never lost contact with the hilt of his sword.

It was a morning like any other. The sun had risen over the mountains in the distance about an hour ago, turning the sky pink, then gold, then the lightest blue Katara had ever seen. The early breeze was soft, but biting, and the tips of Katara's ears were beginning to turn numb. She'd left her room before sunrise in only her training uniform and parka, worried someone would come find her before she got a chance to get away. But she had navigated the hallways with no interference. In fact, it had seemed as if the whole palace still slept as she crept up to her spot on the roof, where she'd been for a few hours now, thinking.

Her head throbbed with a blistering hangover, but she remembered everything with crystal clarity.

Unfortunately.

Tui and La, what have I done? was more or less what had been running through her mind since she woke up. At first she thought the whole thing had been a dream. She had hoped it was a dream. But the butterflies still hovering in her stomach and the faint buzz on the surface of her lips told her otherwise.

Katara buried her head in her arms.

It's not like she wasn't happy. After all, wasn't this what some deep, private part of her had wanted for so long? She could still feel Zuko's breath on her cheek, his hands electrifying her skin, his lips pressed so sweetly—so briefly—against hers. But she shouldn't want it. Not only was it incredibly dangerous for her, it was even more dangerous for Zuko.

Katara had no solid proof that Loka's disappearance was because he was with her, but what other explanation was there? He must have realized how dangerous it was for a servant to be caught with a royal, and took off. It had hurt at the time—if she was being honest with herself, it still hurt—but she understood. The punishment for a servant having relations with a royal, no matter how innocent, was imprisonment for life. If it was really serious, the sentence was death. Sure, the male royals were allowed relations outside political alliances, but they couldn't be official. Katara had seen girls from the brothel in town enter Sokka's room late at night and were gone by morning. Sokka's own mother had been nothing more than her father's mistress.

It was certainly a double standard. Katara had to remain "pure" for her inevitable marriage to some suitor her father chose. She shuddered as Jet's face flashed across her eyes and wrapped her arms more tightly around her legs. Loka had barely even touched her, and it had been too dangerous for him to stay.

Zuko had kissed her.

She wanted to do a lot more than kiss him.

Her mind betrayed her by playing out a whole scene in her head: She wasn't tied down by her title, they were away from the Empire, and they were together. She was allowed to walk down the street holding his hand, kiss him whenever and wherever she wanted. She could touch him, and he could touch her.

Katara shook her head, clearing the image. She knew the dangers and consequences, and if he got hurt, it would be entirely her fault. Groaning, she fell back against the roof. There was no way this could work. With a depressing resolution, Katara decided to break it off. Hopefully, Zuko wouldn't even remember what happened between them last night. After all, they were both pretty drunk. It would be easier that way. She could just say she changed her mind. That wasn't out of character, right? She was a Princess. She could do whatever she wanted and change her mind whenever she wanted—as long as it was okay with her father. Even if things could never be the same, she would rather lose Zuko as a friend than lose him entirely.

A new sound separated itself from the whistle of the breeze and the soft slush of the waves in the distance. Katara sat up and saw a group of people coming through the gate. She huffed. More nobles, probably. The Northerners were supposed to leave within the next three days, but some more had been trickling in even though the festivities were over. But then she heard a distinct voice cut through and her stomach sank. Jet was in the group, laughing obnoxiously loud. Looking more closely, she recognized her brother leading the way, and Zuko stood close to him. The way their heads were inclined, it looked as though they were speaking to each other. Katara leaned out over the roof as they reached the steps. Zuko was carrying packs, and they were all dressed in thick parkas with bows slung over their torsos. They must have been hunting.

She leaned forward a bit more, but her foot slipped and she began to slide down the slick, sloped roof. She let out a small cry as she groped for purchase before freezing a ledge below her. Only one person in the hunting party stopped, and of course it was the person she most dreaded seeing her. Zuko, who must have heard her, looked up, and she flattened herself against the roof, her chest heaving. She waited a few moments before peeking at the ground. No one was there. Her head dropped back to the cold roof.

She wished she could just stay up there all day. The wind skirted over her face, brushing her hair back. The sky was a perfect blue, and she thought that maybe, if she just didn't move, neither would time. She could just wait in this limbo where everything was still good and she didn't have to marry Jet and Zuko didn't hate her and she didn't have to face her father's wrath for embarrassing him at the ball.

"Limbo could be nice," she said, losing her voice in the wind. But limbo was a luxury that she—even with all the riches in the world—could not afford.

She found Zuko in the armory.

She hovered just outside the door and looked around the corner. He was wiping down a bow, his back to her. Rows of bows, swords, axes, and daggers lined the walls. Spears leaned on wooden racks, their shining blades pointing towards the ceiling. Zuko's parka was thrown over a chair in the corner, and some dark hairs stuck damply to the back of his neck. She could tell his skin was flushed even from across the room, and she wondered if he was just hot or if it was something else. Anger, maybe. If so, what she was about to do wouldn't help. She allowed herself five more seconds to watch him. Five more seconds for possibility. Then, she took a breath and walked into the room. Zuko, hearing her footsteps, turned around immediately.

The way his eyes brightened nearly knocked the air out of her lungs. "Katara!" he exclaimed, and tossed the bow and cloth on a nearby table.

She tried to put on a smile. "Hey."

"I meant to talk to you this morning, but I got stuck with your brother and his…friends."

"I know." He looked at her funny. "I mean, I understand. It's fine."

Zuko crossed the room slowly, as if he might scare her away. She wanted to laugh.

"Look, last night—what happened—spirits, this isn't coming out right." He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks flushed.

Looks like he remembers, Katara thought. Even though her head was still aching with the memory of her hangover, she suddenly wished she was still drunk. It would make what she was about to do easier. She took a step towards him. "I wanted to talk about that too."

His face fell at the tone of her voice. "Are you upset?" She could see the disappointment written all over his expression.

"No! No, I'm not upset, Zuko." On instinct her hand moved to touch his cheek, and she had to physically force it back down. "It's just…." She took a deep, shaky breath. "What happened last night was a mistake. A good mistake!" she added quickly, seeing the hurt in his eyes. "But a mistake nonetheless."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

A silence fell between them, a deflated, empty silence unlike the comfortable pauses in conversation they'd shared before. Katara racked her brain, trying to think of the right thing to say.

"Can't we talk about this?" Katara's heart lurched at the note of pleading in Zuko's voice. She could talk about it. She could give him that much. Maybe if he understood the brevity of their situation, he would understand her decision. Katara checked the hall to make sure no one was around, and closed the heavy wooden door, isolating them from the rest of the palace.

"I don't want to do this, Zuko, but—"

"Then don't," he interrupted. As if it were that easy. She walked back to him and shook her head sadly.

"It's too dangerous. Not just for me. For you, too."

Before she could stop him, he cupped the side of her face, and before she could stop herself, she leaned into his touch.

"I never want to put you in the way of danger, Katara," he said. And she believed him completely. "But I can take care of myself."

"I know." But she didn't know, not really. He was skilled with a sword, but there were dangers out there impervious to a piece of metal and a dogged determination. She harbored one of those dangers deep inside of her. Bloodbending wasn't something she had asked for, and although she hated to use it against other people, other people weren't of the same opinion. Her father gave the use of bloodbending the same amount of deliberation as he did choosing what he wanted for breakfast every morning. If it came down to Zuko's sword or her father's bending, there was no question who would win. To continue this—whatever this had become—was irresponsible on her part.

She pulled his hand away. "But if you got hurt because of me, I don't think I could live with that."

"If doesn't mean that I will get hurt." He chuckled softly, sadly. "Don't you have any faith in me?"

She gave him a look and laughed lightly. "Of course I do."

"Then come on. Give it a chance. Give us a chance." He squared his body and put his hands on her shoulders, looking down at her. His familiar eyes burned orange in the dim light, and his palms were warm on the thin fabric of her tunic. Irresponsible. This is irresponsible, said her brain. And it was right. This was a terrible idea. But for so, so long, she had let her brain lead. It made every decision and what had she gained from it? Letting her heart take over had given her Zuko and the most happiness she'd felt in a long time. She had to trust that if her heart got them in trouble, then her brain would help them get out of it.

Zuko, seeing her resolve falter, placed his hands on her neck and ran them up to her jaw. His thumbs traced her lips, sending sparks straight down to her toes. It was incredible how much power he had over her. But she was pleased to find that she didn't mind. She felt safe with him, even though she knew he wouldn't be safe with her. But if he was willing to take that risk….

"No one can know," she whispered. That had to be her one condition, his one protection against her. His smile was brighter than the shine of the sun on the ocean.

"Whatever you say, Princess."

He leaned down, his lips only a breath away.

"Katara," she said. She didn't want to be the princess with him. She didn't want to feel like she belonged to a title. His eyes opened, peering into hers, and he gave her a soft look.

"Katara."

He kissed her, her name falling from his lips, more beautiful than she ever thought her own name could be. Her hands balled against his chest as his mouth moved against hers, as his hands brushed the sides of her face, tangled in her hair. Soon her arms were hooked around his neck and she pressed her body against his, deepening the kiss. Her trepidation melted away with every kiss she pressed to his lips, every breath of his that caressed her cheeks.

Zuko pulled her closer, walking them backwards until he hit what she assumed was a table and she fell into him. He had to grab her waist to keep their balance, and she found herself smiling against his lips. Soon he was smiling too, and their teeth kept clashing together, and they were suddenly laughing instead of kissing.

He looked at her—really looked at her—and she found herself tracing the outline of his scar. She didn't really notice it anymore. Of course she still saw it—it was part of him—but it didn't stand out to her as it once had. "Does this hurt?" she asked, ready to pull back if he said so.

"No." He took her hand in his and pressed it flat against the rough auburn skin surrounding his eye.

"Have you tried having it healed?" As soon as she said it, she wanted to smack herself. Of course he had tried. Why did she always—

"No, I haven't," he said, surprising her. She gave him a questioning look, and he looked away, as if finding the right words to say. "This scar is part of me. It's a reminder of my past. Where I came from and where I'm going."

Katara knew the story. She remembered him speaking in the dim light of her room, remembered overstepping her boundaries, insulting his father. They hadn't talked for a while after that. It was a discussion she still wanted to have, but she had to let him come to her. She wouldn't make that mistake again.

She pressed a chaste kiss to the scar, then wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her head into the crook of his neck. Although this hadn't gone the way she'd expected, she was happy.

"So, speaking of where you came from," she said into his shoulder, "how was your hunting trip?"

Zuko leaned back to look at her. "I knew I saw you up on that roof!" She giggled, biting her lip. "Agni, Katara. If I thought your brother was bad, those Northerners are, like, a billion times worse."

She laughed at that. "How about I get Toph to make us some tea and you can tell us all about it." She laced her fingers through his and pulled him towards the door.

"Sure. Oh, wait, I forgot something." She expected him to let her go, but instead he tugged her back and grabbed her by the waist, planting a kiss on her lips that made the hair on her arms stand on end.

When they broke apart, she stared up at him, dazed, as he smirked at her. When she could finally form a coherent thought, she said, "Wanna bet how long it takes Toph to figure it out?"

He snorted. "Knowing her, she probably already knows."

She did.