disclaimer. after all this time, it still doesn't belong to me

author's notes. a big thank you to everyone reading and who left such kind feedback last chapter! you guys are the best, seriously.

a special shoutout to favlie for her jaw-droppingly stunning fanart for zkfaw last week, everyone go admire it in awe like i did! (link posted in my FFN profile)

as usual, you can find me on tumblr at colourwhirled-writes for fic and other peripherally related updates.

warning that the chapter below features some adult content, proceed with caution or enthusiasm as you see fit...

i give you..

southern lights

chapter xlii. still waters


i could have sworn in you i saw myself
and all the questions that i ever asked

"exit in darkness" / mono & aa williams


They fetch her early the next morning before she even sets foot outside her door.

Flanked on either side by a retinue of men, hooded and masked against the sudden chill in the air, Katara allows herself to be led down the main street of Aujuittuq. In the rising light of day, the city didn't sparkle as magnificently, but shone red as blood instead. The band chiefs' hall no longer the crowning glory of the skyline, its splendour cut short with its towering spire collapsed. And yet, the work on rebuilding it had already begun, with squadrons of waterbenders working to raise skeleton beams where the roof had once stood.

Katara says nothing as they walk past it and toward a smaller manse next to it, an elaborate structure carved from the ice. As they lead her inside down a corridor lit with glowing stones, she surmises at once that this was the "royal" residence where Chief Arnook and his family lived.

Her lip curls at the ostentation, comparing her surroundings to her home back in the south pole. While not uncomfortable by any means, her parents had been humble by nature, taking only what they needed.

They accuse me of sharing more values with the Empire than with them, she thinks furiously, and yet they have no problems pretending to live like conquerors too.

The hypocrisy sits bitterly in her mouth as she's led into a small room, furnished with rich animal hides, bone carvings, and a low wooden table in its centre. A fire spits in the corner hearth, throwing long purple shadows across the stern faces of the men seated cross-legged on the ground.

She marches into the room and tilts her chin upward to meet Arnook's gaze defiantly. Then, she falters.

"Leave us," Hahn instructs the men behind her, from his place at the head of the group.

The door flaps swish in their wake, leaving her all alone in the growing silence.

"Where's Chief Arnook?" Katara asks, caught off-guard.

Hahn runs a hand against the scraggly hairs sprouting like weeds along his chin. "After his shameful display of weakness last night, the band of chiefs made some important decisions."

Her mouth goes dry as he continues placidly, "We stand at a perilous crossroads. The Northern Water Tribe must be ready to do what it takes to survive. At a time when allies challenge our cultural values and enemies may arrive on our shores any day now, it was unacceptable to have a chief so weak, he would allow one stubborn, disrespectful, ungrateful woman to destroy his hall and wreak havoc at his own daughter's wedding."

With a pang of alarm, she notices the purple chieftain's mantle that Arnook once wore, now draped like a warning over Hahn's shoulders as he traces its fur lining with steady fingers. "Arnook and those who shared in his weakness were removed from this band. It was decided by majority vote early this morning that from hereon in, leadership of the tribe belongs to me."

The silence resonates with the crackling of the fire but to Katara, he might as well have dropped an anvil into its midst. She surveys the group of men in growing disbelief. But Chief Arnook was nowhere to be found, nor were any of the other chieftains who had spoken in her favour the last time she had been brought before them. Bunik's father, Jukka's grandfather - of all of them, only Sangilak's imposing father still remained, occupying a whole side of the table by himself.

"You," Katara says, struggling to mask her incredulity, "they chose you to lead the band?"

He chuckles softly, fingering the moon-and-stars tassels hanging against his chest. "Don't sound so surprised, Katara. I married Princess Yue, after all. That makes me as good as Arnook's son. Who else can claim such close kinship to him? And with things as they are...it was imperative to let younger, stronger minds chart the course ahead."

Katara swallows the retort lodging firmly in her throat. Instead, she scans the small band of chieftains again, searching for a sympathetic face among them. Arnook may have been a staunch defender of the North's cultural values, but he had still been kind to her in his own way. But from the hostile glares emanating from the group of men sitting across from her, it was suddenly clear that they intended to exact every ounce of retribution for her actions the night before.

"See, Katara, we in the North want simple things for our people," Hahn drawls, his smile widening into a toothy grin that appeared no less sincere. "Peace. Prosperity. Happiness, even, if it isn't asking too much of us. So far, I was under the impression we could do this for each other, Katara." He motions to the space between them absently. "We wanted to make you happy, we wanted you to make us happy, and we could all live out our lives in peace."

Dread rises up her spine with the sense that anything that could make Hahn happy would only spell the exact opposite for her.

"Last night, you made that impossible," Hahn says flatly, his smile vanishing. "So let this be as plain as I can make it."

Katara tries very hard to stop the scowl from spreading across her face as Hahn steeples his fingers and places them on the tabletop. "Your shameful display last night broke so many rules, I don't have the time or patience to name them all. For that alone, you ought to be exiled from the tribe."

Her stomach plummets rapidly. For all that the Northerners grated on her, being cut off from her people permanently was something she had never imagined. "You - you exile people here?" Being cast out from the tribe was a fate worse than death for a life lived in the poles - an unconscionable horror. Her parents would never have imagined such a thing, not even for the worst among them.

"In theory. We've never done it before." Hahn's gaze bores into her pitilessly. "But for you, we considered making an exception."

"I -" She flounders, and the corners of his mouth turn upwards. "I didn't - you can't -"

"But my new wife pleaded so prettily on your behalf this morning…" Hahn's fingers drum against the tabletop rhythmically, mimicking the panicked beat of her racing heart. "So here's how it's going to be."

She wills herself to stay calm as he continues perfectly calmly, the glitter in his eyes the only betrayal of his triumph. "You are on your very last chance, Katara. One slip, one hint, so much as one breath of defiance out of you...and it will give me no end of satisfaction to tie you to the nearest ice floe and cut you loose. Do you understand?"

Her fingers dig into her shaking palms as she clenches her fists tightly. But she holds Hahn's gaze stormily, wondering how much he must enjoy wielding this much power over her, to think that he had her under his control at last.

"I understand," she grits out tersely.

Hahn smiles delightedly. "See? Wasn't that easy? That's all we needed to hear from you." He waves her off dismissively.

On some unspoken command, a group of unspeaking men appear at her side as though out of nowhere. As they escort her out, Hahn's satisfied voice trails behind her.

"Remember, Katara. All it takes is a little cooperation. We could even find a way to get along, after everything."

She clenches her teeth but says nothing in return.


Healing lessons were over for her, Nerrivik informed her with a twitch of her nose as they commandeered her from Hahn's house over to the communal tents.

Instead of settling in among the sewing circles as she usually would have, she is led instead to the back of the tents, where the kitchens ran in full swing as always. Far away from Aujak and the other Southern girls, in constant supervision of the tribal matriarchs sitting in the corners with their sharp tongues and beady eyes. To work alongside the overbusy girls tasked with all the labour, drudging from cookfire to cookfire with little respite.

After the relative freedom and status afforded to her as a healing apprentice, this was surely meant to her as an insult. A punishment in itself after she had snapped in front of the whole tribe. And an obvious lesson to any other women who thought of following in her footsteps: to comply with the band chiefs' wishes, or suffer the same fall from grace.

But if Hahn and the other chiefs wanted to provoke a reaction out of her, she would leave them sorely disappointed, Katara decides grimly. After all, there were other ways to protest, and now was not the time to attract any extra attention to herself.

Pick your battles, Katara, Yue had warned her before they parted ways the previous night, so late that it could be considered early. No matter how they try to taunt you, there's no shame in living to fight another day.

And so, she remains stubbornly silent as Nerrivik introduces her to everyone else. The wizened old women glare at her like some pariah, while the young girls pause in their work to stare at her fearfully. Everyone gives her a wide berth, as though she carried some disease and they were afraid of catching it.

With a sigh, she rolls up her sleeves instead.


She spends her days in tight-lipped silence, elbow deep in animal carcasses, hunched over baskets of foraged plants that had to be washed and chopped and dried. Her clothes and hair constantly smell of the spitting fat and thick black smoke that choked the air inside the tents and made her eyes water.

From the tents she trudges back to her igloo, conscious of the silent figures trailing her steps with razor-sharp eyes. Sometimes it was a pair of the young kitchen girls who happened to be heading in the same direction as her. More often than not, it was more of the tribe's young warriors, hooded and masked and watchful, ready to report any misstep back to the band chiefs. Her back stiffens under the constant scrutiny, Hahn's threat echoing in her mind in a constant warning.

One slip. One hint. One breath of defiance. As though nothing would delight him more.

Gritting her teeth, she lowers her head and continues as though she doesn't notice them, feeling very much like a ghost in the light of day.

If she crosses paths with any familiar faces - Princess Yue or any of the women from the healing huts - they pretend not to notice her either.


She turns in early, pausing only to retrieve her meals from the army kitchens. If Toph or Aang happen to be there, she makes a big show of being too bone-weary to join them, or to do much else at all.

The silent watchers linger in the periphery of her vision, shadowing her steps until she stumbles into her igloo and sweeps the tent flaps shut behind her. Kindles the fire to a low blaze, settling noisily into the animal skins, as though readying herself for sleep. Watching the silhouettes of the men waiting outside her door while quietly spooning her cooling dinner into her mouth, barely able to taste it as her nerves tighten in the uneasy growing darkness of nightfall.

At last, when she sets her empty bowl down and pulls the animal skins up to her chin, breathing quietly like someone in deep sleep, the shadows outside her door begin to stir. She hears the crunch of their boots against fresh snow, receding into the distance as the men finally retire for the night.

Lowering her head against the folded bundle of skins that served as her pillow, huddling closer to the glowing coals for warmth. Closing her eyes and welcoming what little sleep could claim her for the remaining hours that the tribe still stirred in wakefulness.


And when at last the lights of the city are quenched and only the watchfires glow in the darkness, Katara finally stirs.

The coals of her fire have burned low, leaving her to shiver in the frosty air as she slips out of the pile of animal furs and bundles into a thick parka dyed black as night. Sneaking out of her igloo, flitting silently from shadow to shadow, careful to wipe her tracks clean from the snow and evade the watchful gaze of the sentries on their nightly patrol.

Adrenaline rushes through her blood, tightening her body with the risk of being caught and the consequences that would surely follow, and the heady intoxication of defiance that makes her throw caution to the winds and think only of the next step ahead.

At long last, she slips into the small supply tunnels fueling the city's main locks, empty and dry at night when the water was at its lowest. Slides the manhole cover of the hidden passage leading outside the city walls and into the plains of the unguarded wild tundra, beyond the sight of the defenders on the parapets.

Yue had found it somehow, and suggested it as a place for them to gather. Katara had wanted to meet in the spirit oasis, but that had been too far, too remote. It was too risky for so many women to try and travel there without getting caught, the princess had pointed out with a forward-thinking shrewdness that reminded Katara of her brother.

For a moment, as she clambers out the other side of the passageway into a large snowdrift, she allows herself to miss Sokka. To imagine what he would do if he was here, if he would support her secret, reckless acts of rebellion. Or if he would bristle with brotherly concern and snap at her to drop it. But to Sokka, being safe had never been as important as being free. She hopes that if he was here, he'd understand. Maybe even help her in some way.

But such thoughts were an indulgence. Sokka was far beyond her reach, and she was alone. Instead, she thinks back to the night of Yue's wedding, how powerful she had felt unleashing her wrath upon Hahn and his cronies. Of her friends, supporting her when she was too tired to stand. Zuko, tacitly rebuilding the peace that Hahn wanted so badly to break. How he had radiated cold fury on her behalf, so much so that she questions how he could be the same boy who filled her with such warmth?

She allows herself to smile, wondering what Zuko would think of her now. There was no doubt in her mind that he would support her and keep her secret. Look at you, secretly resisting Hahn's stupid rules, she could almost hear him saying wryly. Who do you think you are, the Painted Lady?

Maybe, she would reply back playfully. Here I am, taking a stand against tyranny and injustice in our tribe.

And so she buries her face into the scarf wound tightly around her neck and trudges onward, fighting the cruel arctic wind with each step. Every now and then, she checks behind her to make sure she isn't followed. In her wake, her footsteps already begin to disappear under the steady snowfall.

She finds the others waiting in a small cave hollowed out of a large pile of snow, packed hard as ice by countless seasons of snowstorms and melt. Nobody dared to risk a small fire, relying instead upon heavy shaggy layers and the crude shelter to protect them from the harsh elements.

Ducking inside, she checks over her shoulder one last time for followers, and sweeps the path outside clear of footsteps, until it appears as powdery soft as freshly fallen snow. The bits of skin exposed around her eyes burn in the bitter cold.

Then she glances at the handful of other women waiting for her, bundled up so heavily that it is impossible to recognize them. Night after night of clandestine meetings have forced her to identify them in other ways. At first, by the sound of their voices, or the colour of their eyes faintly visible in the dark. And soon enough, by their posture and the movements of their bodies as they flowed from one beginner's stance to the next.

"Sorry I'm late," she says to the silent gathering, her quiet voice sounding overloud in the small space nonetheless. She sheds her parka, making it all the easier for her students to observe her as she shifts into a waterbending form. "Let's get started."

As one, the women of the Northern tribe follow her lead, their gazes blazing with determined concentration.


It had to start small, Yue insisted, that long night in the spirit oasis. With women who could be trusted, whose frustration with the tribe's rigid ways outweighed their fear of punishment. Who were young enough to dream of something better, bold enough to dare learn something forbidden. Who had yet to be jaded and embittered by the hardness of life, or fearful enough to court discovery.

The initial small group was therefore composed of women hand-picked among the healers' apprentices, whose ambitions far outstripped the confines of the humble healing huts, who bristled at the additional scrutiny imposed upon them ever since Katara had been ousted from their number. Yugoda and Ahnah had lost far too much face with the tribe to risk asking, even if Katara suspected they would wholeheartedly support the venture. Instead, quiet dutiful Hei had replaced them as the master healer tasked with training the apprentices. There was no more talk of bloodbending or experimenting at all.

To some of the apprentices, this came as a relief. To many others, it had simply been the last straw.

Bunik, dissatisfied with her lot in life and thoroughly soured by the band chiefs' dismissal of her father, was among the first to show up. She had been the one to put out feelers during the morning's healing classes and subtly invite the girls who were interested, who were trustworthy. One by one, they had appeared outside the city walls, multiplying each night like new frost at dawn.

Ulva, the teenage widow. Woka, whose fiery temperament had always been ill-suited to the art of healing, who had the spirit of a fighter trapped in the body of a Northern woman. Ikkuma, who had little else to lose. Even Lusa, who had fled the South and hidden her bending from the world, claiming it had only brought misery upon them all, had surprised Katara, and perhaps even herself, with her presence one night.

"I thought you said you didn't want to learn how to bend," Katara remarks, grinning nonetheless at the presence of the older Southern girl.

But Lusa only shrugs. "I didn't want to bloodbend," she corrects evasively. "I guess I changed my mind."

And so she waits in line with the rest of the girls across from Katara, watching her with starved intentness as she coaches them through the basic techniques. How to feel the push and pull of the water, how to shift and flow through the stances.

She shows them how to raise the water, how to form it to their will. A simple wave, a shining globe suspended in the air and following their every movement. She teaches them how to stream the water into shining liquid ribbons, trailing in suspended arcs following the steady motions of the beginner's kata. When one of the makeshift cave walls nearly collapses from the force of Lusa's giant wave, it takes the better part of her strength to prop it back up with a crooked pillar of ice, glittering in the light of the waxing moon.

"Don't apologize," Katara tells a stammering Lusa. She wipes the sweat beading on her brow in spite of the frost clinging to her hood in delicate silver threads. "You have more power than you know. Imagine what you could do if you unleashed it."

But Lusa only stares at the ice pillar, its edges glinting in the moonlight like a drawn sword. Her green eyes reflect its light, and for the first time, she appears truly happy and whole in a way Katara has never witnessed before.

"I'll bet we'd find out just how quickly all the men in the tribe can get out of our way," snorts Ulva, experimenting with the pile of snow in front of her. Trying to raise a column of water, but succeeding only in creating a sharp ice spear instead.

Katara places a hand on her shoulder already stiffening with frustration. "You're focusing too much on what your hands are doing. Remember, strength in waterbending doesn't come from the muscles," she advises, already sliding into the motions to demonstrate. "It comes from the way you shift your weight, from the flow between stances." The night air sticks like sharp claws in her nostrils. "It comes from control. Mind and body, breath and form, all in perfect harmony."

"You make it look so easy," Ulva complains, trying again. This time, a small spray of water surges upward toward her outstretched palm like a small fountain. She brightens instantly. "Hey look, I almost did it!"

"Almost," Katara allows with a small smile. "A little more practice and you'll have it down for sure." Katara can't see the excitement spreading under the girl's masked face, but she reads it in the way her posture changes, as though she was a thousand pounds lighter.

Feeling somewhat weightlessly giddy herself, she turns to the next girl, already focusing on the next correction to be applied, the next technique for them to master.


She teaches them how to fight. And as their numbers increase, as they rapidly improve, appearing night after night without betraying their secret, they teach her how to hope again.


But as surely as autumn followed even the most glorious summers, it all falls apart.

It starts innocently enough, with Katara stumbling toward the army kitchens erected by the rows of guesthouses on the outskirts of the city. The sun was setting, stretching her shadow along the mounds of snow glowing in the cool blue light. It was flanked by two others, alerting her to the constant presence of Hahn's watchmen shadowing her every move.

Feigning a yawn, she ducks into the kitchens, quickly grabbing a bowl heaped with steaming five flavour soup and making a beeline for the exit when -

"You're leaving already?"

Zuko's incredulous voice stops her in her tracks. She turns to meet the quizzical stare on his face. "Yeah. I'm - I'm tired," she stutters clumsily. The blue parka she'd made for him is draped neatly over his dark armour, making him appear somewhat larger than he actually was. In spite of the shadows lingering like perpetual bruises under his eyes and the weariness etching lines along his face, the sight of him still manages to send blood to her cheeks in a hot rush.

"They let you out early," she remarks in a voice of forced calm, even as her anxiety mounts. In the packed tent swarming with people wearing at least three different uniforms, she momentarily loses sight of her pursuers.

"They do that sometimes." Zuko frowns, reading her distress so easily she wonders why she bothered to hide it at all. He follows the subtle flick of her eyes, and his jaw tightens. His voice lowers as he pins her with his gaze. "Hahn's got you on a tight leash, doesn't he?"

Her throat closes up as she nods shortly, her fingers tightening around her bowl.

He makes a sound somewhere between a growl and a sigh. "This has to stop."

"Zuko -"

"He can't make you a fugitive in your own tribe, Katara."

She smiles bitterly, glancing down at her coat, patterned with old animal bloodstains that refused to wash off. "He's the chief now, Zuko. He can do whatever he wants."

"What he wants is to isolate you entirely" Zuko chances a step closer, desperately. "First, he forbade you from bending. Then he replaced you with his bonehead buddy on Team Avatar. Then, he kicked you out of healing lessons and has you slaving away in the kitchens all day. And to top it all off, he's got his own men trailing you all hours of the day, so much so that you can't even talk to us?" His voice drops to barely a whisper, but she still hears the anguish trembling beneath. "To me? How can you stand it?"

"I can't," she admits quietly.

Around them, the laughter and chatter of the other soldiers seem to blur into a surreal haze. She forces her breathing to a slow calm. It was easier to go without, she thinks desperately. But standing here, face to face with Zuko, everything suddenly felt too hard. He had the luxury of seeing things more clearly than she could, of speaking the blunt truths that she wasn't always ready to hear.

And by the spirits, she missed him.

But then she remembers her nights in the bitter cold outskirts of the city, the excitement glowing in the women's eyes as she taught them how to bend. As they all risked their place in the tribe to strive for more than what Hahn and the other men wanted for them. As they resisted.

Then she raises her eyes to meet his stricken gaze. "But this isn't just about me. It's bigger than that."

"Tell me," he pleads. "I want to know. I want to help."

Part of her rears up at the thought, longing to tell him. But as much as she wanted Zuko to be a part of it, she couldn't. It wasn't just her secret to tell. To say nothing of what that could do to his uncle's tentative alliance with the band chiefs, already teetering so precariously on the knife's edge.

She shakes her head instead, stepping back. "I want to. I really do. But I can't," she chokes out. A pause while he stares at her blankly, before the rest of it blurts out of her. "I miss you."

His face softens, twin spots of pink blooming sharply on his cheeks. "I miss you too," he whispers.

The bowl in her trembling hands begins to rattle, the soup inside it slopping at the edges and threatening to spill over.

She takes another step back, clearing her throat uncomfortably. "I should go," she says absently, tearing her gaze away with some difficulty. In the corner of her eye, she spots Hahn's watchmen skulking by the doorway. Their presence rings a pang of alarm straight through her. "Say hi to Toph and Aang for me. And - and that I wish things were different, too."

She turns away in a hurry, afraid to hear him answer.


She takes her meal alone in her igloo as usual, studying the silhouettes of Hahn's watchers as they pace back and forth in front of her curtained doorway. Closing her eyes, she sets her spoon down into her empty bowl and sighs, thinking of Zuko and the look in his eyes. It had been so long since she'd talked to him privately, not since the day Lusa had caught him leaving her house in the morning. And with Hahn tightening the noose around her neck, to spend more than a moment alone in his presence was to invite trouble. And she was already balancing on the razor's edge with her secret waterbending lessons. The last thing she needed was for Hahn to examine her movements more closely.

A sudden knock on her doorpost tears her from her thoughts, and her back stiffens in alarm, just before a familiar voice cuts through the silent air. "Hey Sweetness! You in there?"

She sighs in sudden relief, her heart already hammering a panicked rhythm before she forces herself calm. "Just a moment!" she calls back, rising to her feet and sweeping the curtain back to see Toph fidgeting on her doorstep, bundled up in her hand-sewn parka with her hands held behind her back. "What is it?"

"Well, hello to you too," the blind earthbender grumps, marching right past her without a moment's hesitation, "it's been a while, how have you been? Hey, I'm fine, thanks for asking."

Katara glances anxiously into the street, the row of guesthouses fading into the shadows. She catches the furtive glances of Hahn's sentries, before exhaling sharply through her teeth and swinging the curtains shut. There was nothing else to do.

"Sorry," she apologizes curtly, turning around to watch Toph settle by the fire. "There's just been a lot going on."

"Ever since you lost your shit on everyone at that wedding feast," Toph observes, sticking her hands out to warm them. "You couldn't build a smaller fire, Sugar Queen?"

"Oh! Right." Katara scrambles for the kindling heaped in a pile next to the fire pit. "Sorry about that. I was just about to turn in for the night."

"Already?" Toph's eyebrows rise. "You really have been living a hermit's life up here."

Katara sighs, tossing some dried twigs onto the fire. A shower of sparks dances off the coals as the fresh kindling starts to burn, the flames licking their peeling bark until it splits. "You can say that again," she mutters, shaking her head. "What brings you here all of a sudden? Shouldn't you be training or something?"

Toph snorts before her face turns suddenly serious. "Actually...I was hoping to ask you for a favour."

Katara tilts her head, sliding back down to sit cross-legged on one of the shaggy animal furs lining the ground. "A favour?" she echoes, staring at her friend quizzically. "What kind of favour?"

"Well...I've been thinking." Toph grabs at one of the dry twigs from the kindling pit, twisting it idly through her fingers. She smiles uncomfortably. "Twinkletoes actually suggested this ages ago, so don't you dare breathe a word of this to him, because I'll never hear the end of it." Her face scrunches into a ferocious scowl.

Katara nods solemnly. "Not a word," she promises, staring with growing curiosity as Toph traces patterns into the snow with her twig. "What is it?"

"I want to send a message," Toph blurts out very quickly, her pale face suddenly flushing very red.

"Well, that's easy enough," Katara replies, caught off guard by Toph's inexplicable secrecy. "To who?"

But then Toph's face darkens instantly, as she crosses her arms across her chest. "My parents," she bites out, her clouded green eyes blazing with ill-concealed anger. "I want - no, I need them to know that the way they've been behaving is unacceptable. They have to know that the more they try to control me, the further away they'll drive me."

"I'm sure they know that, Toph," Katara says gently.

"No. I don't think they do." Toph's hands lower into her lap, still twisting the slim twig through her fingers. "Katara, they've been sending bounty hunters after me, offering rewards to people who want to abduct me and send me home. They even cut a deal with Sparky's crazy sister, just to get me back in their control." The flames reflect in her eyes, suddenly very shiny before she wipes at them with the back of her hand. "This needs to end before they try something even more destructive next."

Katara watches her carefully. "You really do sound like you've talked with Aang about this," she offers. "A lot."

Toph's face twists wryly. "Yeah...him and Sparky too."

Katara tries to digest this with growing discomfort. "I guess Zuko knows all about how to handle crazy parents," she murmurs sadly.

"Yeah, after he told his dad to fuck off, he's basically an expert," Toph agrees. She begins to pick at the twig in her hands, peeling the bark off in narrow, curling strips before tossing them aimlessly into the fire. "I want to tell them not to contact me unless they're ready to accept me for who I am, without hiding or compromising." She slumps dejectedly. "Or something like that."

Katara swallows, choosing her next words very carefully. "That's...that's very mature of you," she tries. "And very brave." Elation swells inside her chest at the small smile spreading across Toph's mouth, prompting her to add, "I'm really proud of you."

"Well…" Toph shuffles uncomfortably, "seeing as I can't exactly write." She reaches into her pocket before unrolling a blank scroll of paper and waving it in the air. "Could you give me a hand?"

Katara smiles. "Of course."


Later that night, Katara can barely keep her eyes open at their secret waterbending lessons. But as she thinks of the small flame of determination blazing in Toph's eyes, she decides she wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Has anyone seen Lusa?" someone asks, jolting her suddenly awake.

Katara scans the group of women, trying to pick out the Southern girl's green eyes or her tall, stately posture. "She must have stayed in tonight," she answers. "Maybe someone was following her and she didn't want to risk getting caught." It was a common enough occurrence that nobody else gives it a second thought.

She spends the rest of the night teaching them the beginnings of an intermediate kata, instructing them on motions devoted to falling and floating. The water trails through the air, reflecting the light of moonbeams until it makes her eyes hurt.


Hahn's men accost her as she leaves the kitchen tents the next evening, exhausted and feeling like a shell of herself after getting so little sleep the night before. As they drag her away, she catches sight of Lusa's chestnut hair in its twisted coil. Her heart leaps in her chest at the sight of the Southern girl, awake and upright and engrossed in conversation in the corner of the tent with - Katara's heart suddenly plummets - Nerrivik.

She isn't sure why the sight of it unsettles her so. Nerrivik and Lusa had plenty of reasons to talk, and all of them were innocent enough. But her eyes linger on the hunched slope of Lusa's shoulders, so starkly different from her square upright posture at nighttime bending practice, just before Lusa furtively glances over her shoulder and catches her gaze.

She stiffens at once, making Katara feel horribly as though she had witnessed something private. Then Lusa turns away, back to Nerrivik and whatever they were talking about that was so important.

Katara tries to ignore the bad feeling striking through her, for reasons she can't fully understand. You're just being paranoid, she tells herself firmly, get a grip already.

Then, before she can pay it much more heed, she's dragged into Hahn's royal house and it vanishes from her mind altogether. In a matter of moments, she's brought before the band chiefs again. The small room is crammed fuller than usual, the fire in the corner kindled to a high blaze but still unable to dispel the deepening shadows stretching toward her.

Her fingers are still stained with dirt from scrubbing and peeling foraged tubers all day, and she shoves them hastily into her pockets. "I didn't even do anything," she complains as the men leave as abruptly as they had arrived.

Hahn glances up at her from the low wooden table with a smile. "Defensive, are we?" He places his palm against his jaw, where more of the scraggly hairs had grown into a sad attempt at a beard. "No need for that, Katara. We just wanted to check in on you and see how you were doing."

Katara studies the impassive faces of the other band chiefs seated around the low table, dwarfed entirely by Sangilak and his father. But Chieftain Suluk wasn't the only one accompanied by his son. She recognizes Chieftain Keelut's older son Imnek seated at his right hand.

Relieved that it wasn't Tartok sitting before her instead, she eyes Hahn suspiciously. "Fine," she answers stiffly.

Hahn tilts his head disarmingly. "So it seems. I hear you've really thrown yourself into your work, Katara. With an unusually single-minded dedication, my men tell me. What prompted this sudden change of heart?"

Katara takes a deep breath, treading carefully. Now was not the time to risk arousing any more of Hahn's suspicions. "You said I was on my last chance here. I - I don't want to waste that." She lowers her head, twisting her fingers in a show of contrition. "This is all that's left of my people. I...I want to prove that I can belong here. That we can make each other happy."

Hahn's keen stare bores into the top of her lowered head, as though trying to decipher the thoughts racing through her mind. "Is that so?" he asks softly.

Katara bites her tongue and nods.

"It gives me great joy to hear this from you, Katara," Hahn says at last, and she raises her gaze to study the uncomfortably knowing smile spreading over his face. "Too much, in fact. You're a clever girl, Katara. What are you hiding under that guise of docility, I wonder?"

She shuffles her weight from side to side, fighting the annoyance threatening to overcome her. Careful, Katara. He's baiting you. "I have nothing to hide," she says, as calmly and clearly as she can manage. "I slave away in the kitchen tents from dawn till dusk, and after that I'm so tired, I can't even eat with my friends. I go straight home and fall asleep. Your own men watch me all the time, so they've already told you that I haven't set a toe out of line." She inhales slowly, fighting to remain as neutral as possible. "I know nothing would make you happier than to catch me doing something wrong, but believe me, that's the last thing I want."

Hahn's gaze bores into hers in an unblinking challenge before he finally looks away, resting his chin on the heel of his hand. "Hm. Very well," he mutters, concealing his disappointment. Katara fights the gasp of relief brimming in her throat. "And yet for all this, you remain close with your friends among the Dragon Army. I saw how they rushed to your defense the night of my wedding, in spite of your countless transgressions. And my men say that they saw you talking with the fire prince, just the other night."

Katara raises an eyebrow. "You mean Zuko?"

Hahn's eyes gleam, and Katara's stomach churns uncomfortably. "Precisely. Now what kind of friendship could a prince of the Fire Empire - Ozai's own son - have with a Water Tribe woman?" Katara's mouth goes dry as he leans forward, clearly excited by the possibility. "And what kind of friendship would you, Katara, have with this prince, as a refugee of the wars that his own father started?"

Katara breathes very carefully, rattled by how close Hahn was to discovering the truth that she had fought so hard to hide. "Are you asking me, or have you already made up your mind?"

"You sewed that parka he always wears," Hahn points out suspiciously. "What am I to make of that?"

Katara shrugs noncommittally. "I also sewed parkas for Toph and Aang. What did you make of that?"

Hahn's eyes narrow as they scrutinize her face for a trace of guile. "I can hardly be the first to remind you of how improper it is for an unwed Water Tribe woman to be carrying on with a firebender prince. His own father was responsible for destroying your home, wasn't he?"

"Zuko renounced his father at great personal cost," Katara reminds him, now thoroughly irritated by the direction the conversation was going. "I may be a woman of the Water Tribes, Chief Hahn, but I will not forget the people who were kind to me before I got here. Even if you and the rest of the tribe consider it inappropriate."

Her nostrils flare and she instantly wishes she could breathe fire too.

"Even when you claim to be trying your hardest to fit in among us, you remain so adversarial to our help," Hahn says at last. Katara's fists clench at the smug smile on his face, so much so that his next question catches her off guard. "How old are you?"

She blinks, surprised by the sudden change in tactics. "Eighteen," she answers slowly. "Why?"

Nothing prepares her for the sound of Hahn's laughter. "Well, that explains everything!" he exclaims, smiling at the stern-faced band chiefs sitting around him. A few of them return his smile, while the remainder only glower. "I thought you to be far younger than that, but it all makes sense now. Eighteen years of age and still unwed? No wonder you're so restless."

Dread prickles along her spine as Hahn turns to broad-faced Chieftain Keelut and his eldest son seated silently at his right hand. "What do you think, Keelut? Kill two birds with one stone? This way, all the rumours about Imnek can be put to rest." He lets out a humourless laugh. "They could hardly persist with such a powerful and aggressive woman at his side."

Katara splutters loudly in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

She isn't the only one shocked by Hahn's proclamation. Imnek's dark face turns suddenly ghostly pale, while on the other side of the table, Sangilak actually slams a fist on the table, splintering its wooden surface.

"Calm down, everyone," Hahn chides. "So dramatic, the lot of you! Anyway, the two of them are hardly likely to come by a better prospect. Imnek isn't exactly renowned for his fighting prowess, but he can keep Katara in line, while she can bolster his perceived strength. It's a well balanced match. Together they can keep things peaceful back in Siliktok."

"Siliktok?" Imnek echoes, turning to face his father. "Dad, I thought that was going to be Tartok's job."

Keelut shuffles in his spot, clearly uncomfortable to be put on the spot. "Son, you could hardly expect to be placed among the band chiefs in Tartok's stead -"

"I'm the oldest son!" Imnek explodes, his fingers clenching together so that they turn bone white. "It's my birthright! How dare you and Hahn conspire to rob me of that -"

"Imnek," rumbles Chieftain Suluk, even though his hard gaze is trained on Sangilak. "You forget. In the Water Tribes, we do not follow a man's claim or his bloodline. We follow his strength."

He lets the rest linger unsaid, an uncomfortable weight in the room. Imnek glares at his father but stews silently in his anger.

"So it's settled then," Hahn declares, clapping his hands together gleefully. "The two of them will be wed and sent back to Siliktok as soon as possible -"

"I won't."

Hahn glances at Katara, smirking at the interruption. "What was that, Katara?"

She clenches her shaking fists so tightly that cuts form along her palms. "I won't. I refuse to marry Imnek. I don't even know him!"

"Oh?" His smirk widens triumphantly. "Are you disobeying the will of your Chief, then? You know what the penalty is for such disobedience."

She closes her eyes, feeling his snare close in around her, trapping her where she stood. "You can't do this," she pleads. "I'm not some property of yours, to barter or sell off as you please!"

"Yeah, Dad!" Imnek protests. "You can't just spring this on us like this -"

"It would be prudent to let this settle, Chief Hahn," big Chieftain Suluk suggests in his deep grating voice. "Clearly, forcing these two young ones into wedlock so abruptly is in neither of their best interests -"

"I hear what you're saying, Suluk," Hahn cuts him off smoothly. "But you forget. The Fire Empire's fleet is sailing toward our shores. We could find ourselves besieged any day. It's in everyone's best interests if Imnek and Katara are wed and sent back to Siliktok as soon as possible. Siliktok is far enough inland to be well defended by the time the enemy arrives..."

He rattles on, listing out the benefits as though he was conducting some sort of business transaction. Katara can no longer hear him, consumed by the sound of blood roaring in her ears, overwhelmed by the urge to smash him into the walls again, maybe even murder him this time. But no matter what she did, it would play right into Hahn's hands. Either she would have to go along with his odious plan, designed to move her out of his way once and for all, or she would protest and give him the pleasure of cutting her loose on an ice floe, to her certain doom.

He had her right where he wanted her.

A shudder racks through her and she is mortified to feel hot tears sliding down her cheeks. She furiously scrubs them away, determined not to show weakness in front of Hahn or any of his lot.

To her surprise, it's Sangilak who leaps to his feet first. The table scrapes loudly against the ground as he pushes it out of his way, barging out of the room without another word.

"Spirits save us," Imnek mutters, before rising and following hard on his heels. His voice echoes in the fluttering door flaps swaying in his wake. "Sangilak, wait…"

An awkward silence descends upon the small room. Hahn waves it off dismissively. "They'll come around. Keelut, I think we can arrange to have this concluded by the week's end. I'll let my mother know, she can get the preparations started. A simple affair will do, no need to draw unneeded attention and risk another scene…"

Katara turns on her heels and storms out the door, unable to listen to another word. It made no difference whether she was there or not, she thinks bitterly, wiping at her wet face with the back of her hand. Hahn had made sure of that. No matter what she did, he would get his way.


Her feet carry her out of Hahn's gaudy royal manse and into the darkened streets of Aujuittuq, the blackness of night matching the thick despair overwhelming her. It didn't matter which way she went, or who followed her now. She never had a reason to pay heed to her future before, but now it clamps down upon her with a predator's devouring jaws.

How did it come to this? It spins in her mind over and over, reeling in her shock.

She pushes through the streets with unseeing eyes, her feet somehow knowing where to bring her, who she needed to see the most.

It isn't until she registers the dim flickering of firelight through the door flaps of his guesthouse that the enormity of it hits her all at once.

Zuko springs up in surprise at her sudden arrival. "Katara, what -?" His eyes widen in shock at the tears pouring down her racked face. His fingers are gentle on her shoulders as he guides her onto the shaggy furs piled by the fire. "Who did this to you? What's going on?"

But the sound of his voice only makes the tears come down harder. She clutches at her chest, as though feeling the ache there, hearing the protesting cries of her heart, all for the very first time.

She barely realizes when he hugs her, his mouth breathing hotly against her forehead, his arms trying to blot it all out, the solid warmth of his body a shelter. His fingers run along the length of her hair unravelling from its braid, over and over again in a soothing motion. "It's okay," he murmurs. "It'll be okay."

"No it won't." She hiccups loudly, choking on the sobs bursting piteously out of her. "He's trying to marry me off."

His hand freezes against her hair. "Who is?"

"Who else?"

It takes a long moment for him to process her words. In the corner of her eye, she sees his jaw tighten. "How dare he - you said no, right?"

"As if it matters," she gulps out. "Zuko, I'm on such thin ice already and - and if I say anything, Hahn's going to cut me loose on an ice floe -"

"No," Zuko cuts her off furiously, his fingers tightening momentarily. "No he won't, because he'll be dead, because I'm going to kill him. Where is he?"

A helpless laugh escapes her as she shakes her head. "You can't do that," she reminds him despairingly. "You need him, remember? What about your uncle's alliance?"

"You think any of that matters now?" Zuko exclaims, cupping her face in his hands to look her straight in the eyes. "I told you before, Katara. I don't care."

"Not even a little bit?" she asks him in a small voice, even as her hands close over his. "Without Hahn and the rest of the Northern tribe, you and your uncle have no way of getting your home back -"

"You think I care about any of that when Hahn's trying to sell you off like a cart of goods to the highest bidder?" Zuko snarls before sighing in frustration, perhaps feeling nearly as lost and trapped as she does. "I can't do this," he blurts out, and even though it shouldn't be a surprise, her stomach plummets at the hurt blazing clear in his eyes. "I can't lose you."

She struggles to swallow past the lump in her throat. "I don't want to get married," she admits in a whisper, cursing the tears that continue to fall, dripping along his fingers in a constant trickle. "I don't want to say goodbye to you. I'm -" she chokes on the revelation, perhaps understanding it fully for the first time. "I'm not ready for that yet."

His sigh of relief cuts more deeply than she could have imagined. His head slumps against her own, as his thumbs move up to wipe the tears smearing along her skin. "We'll figure it out," he mutters. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

She sputters on a wail of protest, her mouth moving to form sounds with no shape, a nonsensical blubbering that vibrated with the shivers racking through her entire body, as whatever held it so tightly wound together finally snaps. Clutching at him like a lifeline, the weight of his touch and the heat of his skin the only things that seemed to matter. The smell of his soap, the smell of him, rises off his hair, freshly washed and damp against her fingers. It settles in her nostrils, the scent making her dizzy and awakening the currents shifting like heat throughout her body.

It had been so very long since she had touched him, after all.

Her fingers brush the trembling slope of his shoulders, pausing along the skin exposed above the neck of his furs. She hears him hiss through his teeth, before his hands settle along the curve of her waist. She glances up, her whole body shuddering as she meets his gaze swirling like molten gold in the firelight.

"Hahn's men," he grits out, casting a tentative glance at the curtains lining his doorway, "what if they -"

"Shh." She places a finger to his lips and he falls silent immediately. "It doesn't matter." The soft bursts of his breath tickle her fingers, and she traces the outline of his mouth, hanging open slack as he lets out a longing sigh. His arms crush around her so tightly that breathing becomes difficult.

A small part of her still manages to panic. What if Hahn's men see, they'll know, they'll cut you off for good. But then Zuko presses an open-mouthed kiss to the palm of her hand and an irrational blaze of defiance swallows it, washing it down the river of heat coursing through her veins.

What more can Hahn do that he hasn't done already?

She isn't sure when or how exactly her mouth finds his, only that the taste of him was a comfort, and that he makes a ragged sound as her teeth rake along his bottom lip. Her hands bury themselves into the soft, silky hair cascading over his shoulders and down the length of his back. Fire throbs under his skin, matching the heat building through her body until the air in his hut felt uncomfortably warm, the furs lining her parka overheated and suddenly dampened with sweat.

With a decisive motion, she undoes the button at the collar of his parka, before sliding down to nip at the pale skin bared to her touch. He makes another sound and it consumes her, buzzing along her nerves like lightning, urging her to peel off the layers of clothing separating them and ease what felt like sudden tongues of flame erupting beneath her skin.

"Katara -" he breathes, before she pushes at his shoulders and he lands on his back with a thump.

Beneath them, the ground was frozen hard and dead, but they spill onto the thick piled furs, soft and warm against her knees. She curves over him, finding it difficult to catch her breath. The glowing heat of the fire brushes them with golden fingers as he gazes up at her through the curtain of her hair, cascading down the sides of her face to block out everything else in the world. His hands run along the swell of her body, reverently tracing the old scars with a practiced familiarity that makes something stir inside her.

Her eyes flutter shut as she sways tentatively, seeking to ease the ache building like yearning where his flesh stiffens against her. He exhales sharply, swearing under his breath as her fingers close over him, and she marvels at the feeling of it, silken and hard and swollen, pulsing against her hand with the frenzied beat of his heart.

Swallowing the nerves battling the heady rush of defiance and making thinking quite difficult, she meets his gaze. Even in the flaring golden light, his eyes are heavy-lidded and darkening with an intensity that matches the need coiling tight where her body rocks against his.

The firelight flares abruptly, dispelling the trembling shadows in its dazzling golden halo as she shifts and lowers herself onto him. A strangled groan strains the shrinking distance between their faces, and his breath is sharp, short bursts of warmth into the underside of her jaw as he rises to meet her, his pace feverishly matching her own.

His hands skim the curve of her spine, twining into the heavy fall of her hair and pulling at it hungrily. She gasps at the sensation, the pain flaring bright along the back of her scalp and yet somehow enhancing the pleasure building deep within her. Until her legs give out and she crumples on top of him, her bones turning to molten gold and her skin so impossibly hot she swears she can see steam curling gently into the air around them. She cries out hoarsely, fisting handfuls of his hair as her spine arches, and his teeth clamp down onto her collarbone, the sounds of his pleasure muffling into the crook of her neck.

"I love you," he gasps unsteadily through his release, starving for air. "I love you so much."

She can only focus on the ripple of his hair, the individual strands separating along her fingers as they trail along the surface of the warmed furs. "I miss you," she whispers back, the realization nearly as shattering as the ache in her chest. "I miss you and I want you and I'm not ready to let go." His grip tightens as she meets his gaze fiercely. "Not yet."

The faint smile that tugs at his mouth nearly undoes her again. She chokes, the weight of her own blundering emotions threatening to suffocate her, even as she rolls off him and he settles in behind her. His breath tickles the shell of her ear, his arms cradle her entire shaking body. She pulls him closer until his chest pushes flush with the curve of her back, curling into him as his lips nip tenderly at the quivering spots along her neck and shoulder.

Closing her eyes as they lie in the fragile silence, it was as though time fluttered to a standstill. The pulse of his heartbeat drums loudly in her ears, in tandem with her own. Her fingers run along the line of his forearms to interlace with his and clutch them against the spot where her chest rises and falls with the swell of her breath, presses her trembling lips against his knuckles and remembering the taste of his skin. Outside the swaying tent flaps, the shadows lengthen and deepen as the rest of the tribe settles for the night, and with the slight dreamlike sensation of floating, she scarcely realizes when she drifts off as well.

It isn't until the fire burns down to cool glowing coals that she stirs awake. Shivering from the icy breath of the night wind that encroaches through the tent flaps, she blinks in the darkness, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliarity of her surroundings. But then Zuko makes a sleepy sound into her ear and she bolts upright, consumed in a sudden panic.

The girls - tonight's lesson - oh no -

Squinting into the darkness as she disentangles herself from a faintly snoring Zuko's grip, cursing silently to herself for losing track of time, she wraps her coat tightly around herself and darts off into the night.

In her haste, she doesn't notice the silent figure trailing her in the dark like a shadow.