Author's Note: I really don't have an excuse as to why it has been literal months since I updated (other than I'm a junior in college lmao). I know this isn't the happiest of chapters, but here you go! This is mostly a filler chapter, and I'm not too happy with it, but it was SO HARD to write for some reason. Anyway, the next few chapters are p much ready to go, so stay tuned :) Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays!

Disclaimer: I don't own A:tLA nor any of its characters.

By the time Zuko and Katara went to visit Toph with a fresh pot of tea, the palace was just beginning to wake up. Servants roamed the corridors completeing their chores with lidded eyes and sluggish steps. They'd only seen a few nobles in the courtyard behind the palace sitting beside the frozen pond, conversing quietly and yawning every few seconds. Toph had been waiting in Katara's room, sitting on the side of her bed, arms crossed and expression stony. She hadn't seemed surprised to find Zuko walk in behind Katara. She'd merely dragged them both upstairs to the room she and Zuko frequented to strategize, slammed the door, and demanded to know why Katara hadn't been in her room that morning.

Katara simply looked at Zuko, but it was enough to tip Toph off. He always forgot the earthbender was more perceptive than she let on.

"So it finally happened, huh?"

Katara notched an eyebrow at her. "How did you—"

"Can it, Sweetums," Toph cut her off. "I knew this was coming before either of you did." Katara rolled her eyes and Zuko glared at the earthbender through the blossom of steam rising from the kettle of tea between them. She sat with her legs propped up on the table, arms crossed, as per usual. But there were dark circles under her eyes and her skin was slightly paler than normal, as if she were getting ill. Zuko made a mental note to ask her later.

"I don't want to know all the gory details." Toph visibly shuddered. "Just be careful, alright?"

"I think we can handle ourselves," Zuko said, hearing how defensive he sounded. It was the same argument he'd had with Katara, and the fact that he was having it now with Toph, too, was frustrating. But he didn't doubt his decision. He watched as Katara took a small sip of her tea and smiled at the way her eyes closed contentedly, how the lines in her face softened as if the warm drink melted her stress away.

"Oh, please stop," Toph groaned at Zuko. "I can feel your heartbeat all the way over here." She crossed her legs on the seat of the chair—she had ripped both sides of her dress to reveal leggings underneath. He could only imagine how livid the palace seamstress, Koma, would be if she found out. At her words, Katara gave Zuko a questioning look and he worked to keep his blush under control.

Toph turned to Katara. "Oh, by the way Princess, your pops wanted to talk to you. He had his maid give me this note." Leaning across the table, she tossed a folded piece of paper at Katara, who read it for a few moments, her brows knitted together.

"I'd better go." Katara finally said, setting her cup on the table. "I guess I'll see you both later?" At the door, she looked back at Zuko with a sweet smile. It was pleasantly odd how much he depended on 'later.' As soon as the door was closed, Toph slammed her palms on the table, making the teapot rattle.

"Are you crazy?" she half-shouted.

Zuko frowned. "What's your problem?"

"I asked you to protect the royal family, not shack up with them!"

This time, his blush was uncontrollable as it raced up his cheeks to the tips of his ears. "No—I—we're not shacking up, Toph, for Agni's sake!"

Toph's hands had curled into fists and he could tell how much she wanted to launch herself across the table and sock him in the jaw.

But he stood his ground. "If anything, you should be thanking me. This way Katara won't be suspicious if I start hanging around her more."

Toph's eyes narrowed angrily. "So this whole thing between you two is just, what, part of the plan?"

"I—no, that's not—ugh." Zuko buried his face in his hands. It was nearing midday now, but it was still too early for him to be dealing with Toph. "No. I'm just saying that having our thing is convienent for me to protect her. And Sokka. And her mother. Even the Emperor." Zuko wasn't convinced about this last part, but it couldn't hurt to throw in. Toph levelled a look at him. She was probably trying to tell if he was lying. But he wasn't. At least, not about all of it. He knew that what he and Katara had was real, and that he'd do anything to protect her. With any luck, she'd never have to find out that she needed protecting. That annoying voice in his head bitingly laughed at him.

You're the one she needs protecting from, it said, and he closed his eyes. He knew that things had changed. But he couldn't help but remember what his original purpose in coming to the Southern Empire had been. Despite himself, he wondered how his family was doing. They should have received his letter by now. He didn't expect a reply—it would give him away instantly, and his parents knew that. But he hoped they had gotten out of the city, or at least figured out who was spying on them. How disappointed would they be in him, that he hadn't managed to complete his mission; that he probably never would? Zuko shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He couldn't dwell on that. If—no, when the time came to decide the fate of the Emperor, he would deal with it then. Right now, he had a responsibility to Katara, and to those she cared about.

Toph hadn't said anything since he sunk into his thoughts, and when he climbed his way back out, she was simply watching him. He licked his lips nervously.

"Fine," she sighed. "But remember what I said: be careful."

Zuko nodded once, his eyes downcast, and she left the room. Zuko remained at the table, the last wisps of steam from the tea disappearing into the air. Zuko held the pot between his hands, pretending Uncle had brewed it. He could almost smell his signature mint jasmine tea, although he knew it was really only chamomile. He took a few calming breaths, making his fire simmer down, and let it travel through his palms into the cool water. Within a matter of seconds, the steam had started flowing from the spout once more, and Zuko smiled.

Jin, Orchard, Tuuk, and Karper were already sitting at a long, wooden table in the mess hall when Zuko arrived for lunch. Orchard was the one who saw him and waved him over.

"Hi everyone," said Zuko to his friends, three of whom responded cordially. He sat down beside Jin, who wouldn't even look up from her plate. Zuko nudged her with his elbow. "Hey, Jin."

She stabbed a sea prune with unnecessary force and stuffed it into her mouth. Zuko glanced at Orchard who give him a sideways smile, as if to say, You asked for it.

Zuko frowned, confused, until he realized; he had disappeared from the ball. To be with Katara. Zuko bit his lip. No surprise Jin was angry with him.

Swallowing his pride, Zuko nudged her again. This time she looked up only to glare at him, murder in her eyes. He tried to look ashamed. "Sorry about last night. I guess I forgot to tell you that I had to leave."

"Yeah," she snapped. "You did. We had to do your work and clean up for you. Where did you go, anyway?" The three other people at the table became all of a sudden intensely interested with the gray piles of slop on their plates. Zuko grimaced. I guess I'm on my own.

"I'm really sorry for disappearing like that. Thank you for helping with my work. All of you," he addressed the group. Karper waved him off and Tuuk and Orchard grinned. Jin still held her fork like she wanted to shove it through his eye.

"Where were you?" she repeated, her voice low.

"I—I was…" he trailed off. He couldn't tell her the truth, especially not with so many people around. "There were some things I had to take care of."

Jin's eyes narrowed. "Some things."

He nodded. She opened her mouth, as if to question him further, but then pursed her lips. "Some things, or some one?"

He didn't know how to respond. Tuuk was the only one paying attention to them now, Orchard and Karper in the middle of a conversation about a pack of polar bear dogs spotted in the East. But as soon as he caught Zuko's stink-eye he grinned fakely and stood, plate in his hand. "I'm going to throw this out."

As soon as he was gone, Zuko turned back to Jin. "I can't really talk about this here," he said under his breath.

A light seemed to turn on in Jin's eyes, and her glare softened. "Ah. I see."

Does she know? Zuko wondered, trying to read her. She looked…he couldn't place her expression. It was somewhere between resignation and disappointment. He put a hand over hers, and when she didn't pull away, took it as a sign to continue. "I really am sorry, Jin. I don't appreciate your friendship nearly enough."

She sighed, watching their hands. Her free hand drummed on the table, as if she was contemplating something. Then, finally, she gave him a small smile. "You're not wrong about that." But she didn't say it maliciously, and Zuko felt his chest relax.

"Okay, okay, break it up," a voice cut in, and a body shoved its way in between the two of them. Toph plopped two plates of sea prunes and seal jerky on the table and dug out a space for herself on the bench. Jin recoiled, irritation plain on her face, and Zuko growled.

"Toph, there are a million seats in this place."

"Yes," she replied, ripping off a piece of jerky. "And I want this one." She shot a wide grin at Zuko, bits of meat stuck in her teeth. He flicked her on the forehead. To his surprise, Jin began laughing.

"What? What's happening?" Orchard asked, tuned back into their conversation. "Oh, hi Toph. You've got some…" she pointed at her bared teeth. Toph opened her mouth, revealing chunks of half-eaten food, and Orchard squealed, making Jin laugh harder. Even Zuko cracked a smile.

"Now that you've all arrived," the Emperor began with a pointed look at Katara, "let us begin."

Katara sat to the right of her father, Sokka to his left, and the rest of the table in the war room was filled by the commanders of the Water Empire's military. The note Toph had given her contained the details of the meeting Hakoda had scheduled last minute, the meeting which Katara had already been late to when she received the note. Katara kept her face still, refusing to let her embarrassment alter her features. After the fiasco that was her performance at the banquet and her disappearance from the ball, she couldn't afford to have her people think of her any less than they surely already did—especially not the heads of the military.

Hakoda gestured to the scrolls laid in front of each seat. "This is the first draft of the plans to invade the Fire Nation. General Attika, Admiral Bato and I have worked tirelessly since the Summit to prepare a foolproof plan, one that will ensure our victory overseas. I present it to you all today."

Katara expected shouting, cries of exhilaration like at the Summit, but it was strangely quiet. The commanders simply looked over the plan, nodding or shaking their heads, an occasional grunt of confusion. In her mind, Katara could see the nobles sitting in their places hanging onto Hakoda's every word, raising hell when he said something they liked, which was nearly everything. The men around her now, however, had experience with war: it was not something they were necessarily eager to get into. They knew the inevitable prices they would have to pay, the lives they would lose. While the nobles were rabid flame, the commanders of the Empire were the smoldering coals beneath the fire.

Katara realized she still had much to learn, starting with the battle plan.

She had to give Hakoda credit—it was thorough. The Empire already had a small band of spies in place in Caldera who were smuggling out information. Once they were informed of an opportunity, the Water Empire would employ a group of soldiers to infiltrate the Fire Nation palace and stage a coup to take down the royal family. From there they would spread through Caldera and the Capital—Katara frowned, remembering how upset Zuko had been when he learned the Capital would be targeted—and Bato would follow close behind leading a naval battalion.

Katara glanced at the Admiral, the most decorated sailor in all the Empire, and her father's former best friend. Ever since he was promoted Katara did not see Bato often, but she used to, back when she was just a child and he was just a Captain and her father still had some human qualities. It was probably for the best they had drifted apart—if would've broken Katara's heart if Bato was poisoned by power like Hakoda had been.

Bato was frowning at his scroll, his eyebrows bunched together. The wrinkles around his striking blue eyes seemed more pronounced than they had ever been.

"4,000 troops?" he said aloud, and half the room looked up at him, including Hakoda.

"Is there a problem, Admiral?" the Emperor asked, a warning in his voice. The purpose of revealing the battle plans to military personnel was to prevent any oversights, any inconsistencies—not to argue against it. In any way.

Katara knew this. Bato also knew this by the way he hesitated before saying, "Sending 4,000 seamen…it will be a slaughter for our people."

Hakoda's mouth tightened. "4,000 troops should be more than adequate to secure the Fire Nation Capital, Admiral."

"With all due respect, your Highness," Bato pressed, not meeting Hakoda's eyes, "you forget that the Fire Nation Navy is one of the most powerful in the world. Even with that many waterbenders we would need to launch a full-scale attack from both the East and the West to—"

Hakoda held up a hand, silencing his friend. General Attika, sitting to Katara's left, spoke up. "Only 1,000 of the 4,000 will be waterbenders, Admiral, and they will enter from the West. 3,000 Earth Kingdom soldiers will attack simultaneously from the East, sourcing from our posts in Gaipan and Omashu."

"Earthbenders, you mean?" Katara said before she could stop herself. She could feel Hakoda glaring at her, but kept her gaze trained on General Attika, who shifted uncomfortably. "You'll be sending earthbending troops, correct?"

"No, your Highness. Our earthbenders are already spread too thin in the mines surrounding Ba Sing Se, and defending the rest of the coast." The General licked his lips. "The 3,000 non-bending soldiers will be a decoy to throw the Fire Nation navy off the trail of the Empire waterbenders approaching from the West."

Katara's jaw dropped. Even Sokka, sitting across from her, had the decency to look subdued. I should have expected this, Katara thought to herself. Her father was evil, vindictive, and cruel. He never did anything by the rules unless it benefitted him personally. He'd cheat his way to the Fire Nation throne, cut down the Fire Lord in his sleep, even kill a child to get what he wanted.

"You can't." Katara's voice was low, but every head around the table snapped up. "Bato's right," she said, pointing to the Admiral, desperately trying to get them to see reason. "It'll be a slaughter! What kind of message are we trying to send? How will the Fire Nation citizens ever succumb to our rule if we show we're willing to slaughter anyone who isn't Water Empire if it is in our best interests?"

Bato started to say something to her, but with a sharp glance Hakoda cut him off. All of a sudden Katara couldn't breathe. She felt as though everything was moving in slow motion, like she could fall asleep instantly and never wake up.

Bloodbending. The Emperor held up his hand. His eyes narrowed as they watched his daughter gasp for breath.

And then, he smiled. "My daughter, you should not be so quick to offer your strategic opinion when you cannot even protect yourself." His hand fell and his hold on her with it. Katara's head fell to the table, her lungs on fire. Before she knew what was happening, she heard the doors open and guards barking orders, scuffling feet, muffled cries.

Four people were paraded into the room, their heads covered with burlap sacks. Katara winced as they were shoved to their knees by the guards. Hakoda gave a signal and the sacks were removed. Katara forced down a gasp; she recognized them instantly. Their clothes were torn and their faces were dirtier than when they had previously met, but behind the grime, Katara knew them as her attackers from the village. The waterbender—the one with the scar—scanned the room, passing each face before landing on Katara. She expected to see confusion, terror, something. Instead, he simply looked resigned. Like he had known this was coming all along. She couldn't say the same for his companions who were groveling at the Emperor as if their lives depended on it, which they likely did.

But Katara was not safe, either. Her father had somehow found out about her situation in the village. Between her previous mistakes and the disasterious ball, this was the very last thing she needed. From the way Hakoda was looking at her, she knew he was mocking her and praising himself for further proving her weakness—this time, in front of witnesses.

"You call yourself a master waterbender—you strive to be the military leader of this empire—yet you couldn't even protect yourself against an amateur waterbender and a couple of non-benders, despite every advantage." He laughed condescendingly. "Poor form, my daughter. I'm surprised you managed to survive at all."

Katara's breath caught in her throat, but it wasn't because of him. Did he know about Toph's involvement, her abilities? She forced herself to stay calm and say nothing, as she didn't want to mistakeningly give anything away, but her heart raced in her chest.

Hakoda laughed again. "If the village officers hadn't shown up, Sokka here might've had a chance at taking the throne." Sokka gave his father a forced smile, but Katara didn't have the energy to feel sympathy for him. She locked eyes with the waterbender who merely raised his chin. But it was enough. He hadn't told about Toph. She had no idea why not, but she found herself insanely, inexplicably grateful towards this man who had tried to kill her, yet potentially saved the life of her friend.

"Nevertheless," Hakoda continued, standing up and motioning for Katara to do the same, "attacking a member of the royal family is considered treason, no matter the cause which they will not disclose. And the punishment for treason is death. Therefore," he raised his eyebrows at his daughter, "you shall kill them."

Katara, standing before the four men, froze. She barely heard the snickers of Sokka from the opposite side of the room, or the intake of breath from someone at the table. When she looked back at the commanders, they all appeared stoic, save for Sokka who was fully grinning, leaning forward as if to get a closer look.

"Your Highness," Katara breathed, "I don't know if—"

"You dare doubt my decision again?" he bellowed, grabbing Katara by her braid and pulling her head back. She winced, fighting her instinct to lurch forward, as she knew he would not let go. He tugged again and her scalp screamed at her. Through the slit of her eye, Katara saw the waterbender watching her, something akin to pity on his face.

I cannot do this, Katara realized with sinking clarity. Despite everything these criminals had done to her, had almost done to her country, she could not kill them in cold blood. She looked at her father, steeling herself. Seeing her resolve his nostrils began to flare and she could see the fury in every line of his face. He threw her back against the table and, without a second thought, sent four shards of ice into the hearts of the four men.

Each one doubled over, screams ripping from their throats. If their hands had not been bound behind their backs, Katara knew they'd be clutching at their chests, trying to remove the ice. But Hakoda was slowly shoving it deeper, inch by inch. Katara ducked her head, trying to drown out the animalistic sounds.

It took minutes for the men to die, but it seemed like hours. Katara was the last one in the war room after the meeting was over. Bato had tried to talk to her after everyone else had left, but she wouldn't respond. She merely sat there, staring at the four bloodstains on the floor where the assassins had drawn their final, agonized breaths. She hated her father for not simply stopping their hearts when he had the ability to shorten their pain. She hated him for approving the invasion plan and the slaughter of thousands of innocent people. She hated him for being alive.

She hated herself for not being able to stop him.