setting: one year after the war has ended.
disclaimer: I own nothing.
author's notes: 'if I am the phantom, it is because man's hatred has made me so. if I am to be saved it is because your love redeems me.' -g. leroux
In the Fire Nation, she wakes before the dawn; she curls into effortless silks in shades of red and carmine and sits cross-legged next to the Fire Lord on bamboo mats. They let the palms of their hands face the morning sky and close their eyes; they breathe deeply and they feel deeply and they are connected to more than just each other in that moment.
They sneak crooked, barely suppressed smiles at each other when their eyes finally crack open in the brightness of the dawning morning. Sometimes, they realize that their knees are so close to brushing that they knock into each other when they get to their feet; they fumble through apologies, red faced, Zuko hurrying to steady the girl and straightening his robes with pinked ears. She laughs at the stumbling pair that they both make. He tries very hard not to kiss her.
because they are friends, very best friends, and he still wonders if there is more-
Occasionally, after their meditation, the Fire Lord has enough time in his morning to tuck her hand into the crook of her arm and escort her to breakfast. His robes slide through the patterns of dust on the marble floors; her curves are swathed in gentle silks the color of the rising sun and even the most stubborn of courtiers nod in respect to the pair.
They share tea and fruit; hidden smiles curved into their faces, eyes glinting in the light of the early morning. They speak of things come to pass and progress yet to make; ideas for his people, for her people, for their people.
Other mornings, such as this one, he rubs the back of his neck and stammers an apology to the girl with the ocean-eyes that he has grown so fond of.
"I'm sorry, Katara, I have a-"
"Meeting. I'll see you later, then." She smiles easily at the boy with the shaggy black hair and watches him scramble to ready himself. Half the time he cannot remember where his notes are, or where he has last left his crown; Katara hands these things to him with a soft, sly grin and helps him clasp the bronzed gold into his hair.
She watches him straighten his posture, roll his shoulders back; watches him smooth his expression into a cool, marble mask. But the waterbender can also see the black smudges under his eyes and she knows he does not sleep easy.
she, too, lies awake at night. she listens for the heartbeat of intruders, feels the heaviness of poison in his drinks, challenges all those that oppose his rule.
but her nightmares are fading.
Today, he looks down at her at length, his brow furrowing as he stares. He catches her hands in his, and she frowns.
"What's wrong, Zuko?" She is so beautiful, he thinks, constellations reflected in the sea of her gaze. The acorn-tint of her skin is warmed by the approaching sunlight, and he wants to bury himself in the chocolate-russet of her hair. Instead, however, he chews on his lower lip for a moment.
The crease between her eyebrows deepens as he remains silent for another moment longer, and she repeats his name with a strain of urgency.
he almost can't hear her, now, all he can hear is the hateful cry of his father's supporters as he took the throne and the barrage of arrows that fell upon the palace's lawn the day of his coronation, burning the grass, burning the flowers, burning everything-
"There are rumors." He begins, folding her hands to his chest, bending his head just slightly so that he rests his forehead on the crown of her skull.
"Rumors, Zuko?"
"Rumors of another attack. Soon. I'm going to have to ask you to stay-" He barely manages to get out the majority of his sentence before the ocean-eyed warrior in his arms pushes herself free, mouth pursed, arms crossed tightly across her chest.
"Don't even say it. You know that we're more powerful together, Zuko, I won't let you wander around alone." She spits the words and he hears history in them, feels the pain of lightning through his veins and the crackling of the air around them-
it's me who should be thanking you.
The Fire Lord sighs- he has expected this- and he concedes to the girl.
The last time he heard her say those words, they both nearly lost their lives.
"Alright." The word is bitter, tinged with disappointment; she wonders as to why this is.
"You can come along. Both to my briefing this afternoon and down to the city with me. But at the first sign of danger-" Zuko slants her a look, golden eyes chilly and the line of his jaw a slash of tension.
"-don't try that either, Fire Lord. If it comes to a fight, I'll be at your back. Like I should be." Katara quips, picking at the ragged edges of her nails as she delivers a glare out of the corner of her eyes. He lifts his palms to her in defeat; empty of everything but scars and memories and burns. She has never noticed before, but a few of his nails are missing on his right hand; there are callouses so deep that she wonders if he can feel anything in the nerves in his fingers.
"I don't want you to get hurt." His shoulders slump minutely, helplessly, his eyes flicker to the floor- there he is, the lost boy that stumbled after her around the globe- his ears are pinked and he is stubbornly refusing to meet her gaze.
Katara scoffs lightly, and he frowns, looking up quickly at the girl who saved his life.
"Come on, Zuko. You sent for me for a reason. I'm the most powerful weapon you have, and you know it." There is an aged weariness to her words, and the young Fire Lord wants to wrap her in his arms and fuck the council and fuck the responsibilities, he just wants to protect her.
But he knows its true. There is a dangerous edge to the girl he grew up with, a power that echoes in her bones that he doesn't always understand.
With her by his side, he no longer has to watch over his shoulder or fear closing his eyes at night. With her by his side, he feels as if he could actually do this; that he could win the hearts of his people.
She attends the briefing of the council in full Water Tribe regalia, storms whirling in her eyes. A few of his council members murmur protests against her presence; she holds a globe of water between her hands to further unnerve them as Zuko calmly explains that she, too, is allowed access to his private advisory council as she is an ambassador of the Water Tribes.
At first, she is respectfully quiet; listening to the droning of the admirals and the generals as they describe each event that will most positively, in their opinions, affect the Fire Nation.
Some describe the continuing need to assert dominance over the other nations by keeping a large army intact. Katara frowns deeply at this, as does Zuko; the lines in his forehead like cracks in the dry earth.
Precious few have actual, solid advice, and she wants to sag with relief when they speak. One of them is Iroh, who offers some sage words, his comforting tone peppered throughout the conversation.
When Zuko looks to her and nods for her opinion, she pushes herself to her feet so that the room can see she is not one of them. She is here at the request of their Fire Lord, and none of them have the power to banish her; she is determined to make herself heard.
"I believe that it is most effective to completely dismantle the current army and send them all home. It is prudent to find new soldiers, a handful of them close to Lord Zuko's cause, that will serve him should the need arise. I see no need for a large army anymore, gentlemen." The words are cutting, accompanied by a sweet, saccharine smile that makes a few of the men in the room glance away from her. Disapproving mutters ripple throughout the room before an elder man with a drooping mustache speaks, his mouth pursed in distaste.
"With all due respect, Lady Katara, you are not of a Nation with a large army-"
"With all due respect, General," The girl interrupts coolly, and Zuko pales; he knows they have struck a nerve with the waterbender. Iroh visibly steeples his fingers; whether out of amusement or out of worry, no one can quite tell.
"You are the reason my Nation no longer possesses an army of any real size." She pauses here, still smiling widely, too-white teeth bared like a wolf. Her furs are draped around her shoulders and in that moment, she seems almost feral.
The General in question visibly shudders.
"I would remind the council of that, and that they must acknowledge that keeping a large army intact will only further the mistrust between yourselves and the other Nations." Katara's hands are quivering, tight fists by her side, and she is trying so hard to keep herself calm, trying so hard not to clench tighter, to squeeze the blood out of all of these utter morons-
"I believe Master Katara's opinion holds merit." Iroh strokes his beard, humming slightly under his breath with thought. The room falls silent as the advisors regard the elder Dragon of the West, some with disgust curling their lips, some echoing his own pensive expression.
"I agree." The Fire Lord rises, and for a moment, Katara does not recognize her friend; he is all high cheekbones and regal airs, broad shoulders and a smooth, cool expression.
"My Lord-"
"Master Katara is here at my invitation, I might remind you. She is the single most powerful bender in the world, save the Avatar, and I trust her inexplicably. Further, gentlemen, I trust her knowledge of the war. She fought first hand with many of these other Nations, and I believe her opinions to be quite sound." Zuko speaks slowly, tapping the tips of his fingers against the marble of the table.
The girl inclines her head to him out respect, the slightest whisper of a smile curling the edges of her mouth as she releases the hold on the heart of the General that came so close to pushing her over the edge.
"I suggest that we first oversee the dismantling of the factory, then." The man who nearly insulted Katara earlier speaks suddenly, and she feels her brow furrow at the strange eagerness in his voice.
"Dismantling, my Lord?" Katara asks, eyes narrowed, slanting a look at the advisor across the table from her. Zuko motions to a sketch across the room that bears the name and the blue prints of a factory.
"The largest weapons manufacturer in the capitol has agreed to meet with us this afternoon to discuss ceasing production. It's a step towards pacifying our image." Zuko explains, and a chill races through the girl as she realizes that Zuko would be in the line of fire.
"You would emerge so publicly?" Katara questions, and a corner of his mouth quirks briefly at her; a flicker of amusement in his eyes. Her stomach squeezes low and deep at his assurance and his amusement and she wants nothing more than to be alone with him-
"With your protection, Master Katara, I feel quite secure."
"Yes, my Lord, we should set about securing that meeting." The General insists. Katara can feel something else in his voice; she feels the racing of his blood, the quickness of his pulse, and she wonders; if he is so conservative, so interested in maintaining a military front, why this change? Why now?
But she reassures herself that no matter what, she would be by Zuko's side; and she would kill anyone that tried to harm him without so much as a sliver of regret.
The Fire Lord leads the small procession of servants and guards down to his palanquin, where he awaits transport to oversee the dismantling of one of the largest weapons factory in the city. It is an act long in the making, and many in the city are wary of such a change. They are curious as to where they will get their income; they are afraid of falling into ruin.
Surprisingly enough to the crowds, the Lady Katara also follows the Fire Lord; but she is dressed in the full armor of her tribe. The sides of her hair are braided so tightly she can feel her the flesh of her face tugging against it, resisting the pull; she can hear the squeaking of the leather she polished this morning. Her water pouch rests familiarly at her hip; her breastplate is an ornately stitched work of leather. Blue cloth is tucked underneath the harshness of the metal and leather guarding the softest places of her body, and she has swirled blue paint around the edges of her eyes. Her hair is a wild, curling halo behind her head; dark locks braided against her skull with shells and bone. When she turns her head, there is a clicking sound that accompanies the movement.
let them see, she dares, let them come. i will boil the blood beneath their flesh and they will know why i am to be feared.
Zuko is even a little afraid of his friend, who stares at all who glance her way with furious cerulean eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. She is a vivacious, electric sight; beautiful in a fearful way. His people know her as the saviour of their Fire Lord, the woman that saved his life and defeated the mad princess; they are cheering at her appearance, and she is trying not to listen. He can see the fear behind her eyes and he knows, he knows- she is trying not to listen to the singing of their blood.
She is livid when they tell her she is not allowed into the factory with him.
"Lady Katara, please be reasonable-"
"I cannot be reasonable, General. I am here for the protection of the Fire Lord, and if I cannot accompany him, I cannot protect him." She speaks slowly, as if to an infant, the words a low drawl in her throat.
"You are not of the Fire Nation, my Lady. To allow you to enter would be of great offense to the master of the factory. We cannot risk undermining these plans we have so carefully constructed."
The coolness in his tone makes her narrow her eyes to suspicious, deadly slits; and the older General pats her shoulder with condescension before exiting the palanquin with a withering sigh rattling his lungs.
"Reign in your attack dog, Fire Lord. She is not necessary for a peaceful talk such as this one." He snipes, before sliding away to join the others.
Zuko slants a look at the girl, his mouth pinched; his forehead furrowing. she knows all he wants is peace, all he wants is to make his people happy; he will sacrifice his own safety for this-
"Katara," There is a gentleness in the way he smooths her name across his lips, and the tension in her shoulders droops for a moment. The ice-hard clench of her jaw slips; and in the space between her name and the rest of his sentence, she wants to curl into him like water sinking into sand. She wants to tear him away from the sneaking, slippery gazes of the advisors that peddle their own best interests to him.
she wants to unlace his armor and let him collapse into her, let him sigh with relief as he shuts the doors against the prying eyes of the court and let him be loved by her-
But she cannot.
"I'll be okay. Don't worry." He drops his hand from its grip on the exit seam of the curtains. The wall that separates them from the rest of the world slides back into place then, and for that moment, it is just the two of them. She cannot hear the pounding hearts of those outside; all she can feel is the steady thrumming of the Fire Lord's pulse and the solidity it grants her.
She finds her gaze wandering in those few seconds; from the angled slant of his jaw to the sweep of his hair pulled into a top knot, the broadness of his shoulders and the firmness of his stance. she wonders when he grew up.
"I don't want you to go alone." The girl murmurs softly, her voice cracking; and she is fifteen again, scared witless, watching him crumple to the ground, his body writhing with the blue electricity that nearly stopped his heart.
Zuko's eyes are serene; his mouth twisted in a wry smile. There is a long, stagnant pause where they stare at each other, her breath caught in her throat, her palms sweating, fear a metallic tang on the back of her tongue. His eyes are unwavering, catlike; the golden spheres strangely calm as he regards her.
He rises. She gets to her feet as well, ready to argue, a confrontation already poised in her mouth-
and he kisses her.
Calloused fingers slip just under her jaw, curling into the angles of her face. she cannot breathe, she cannot think, she is drowning in her emotion-
His lips are a warm whisper across her own, a momentary caress that startles her enough that when he exits the palanquin, she remains. A moments hesitation- she is pressing the pads of her fingers against her mouth- and then she realizes where he has gone.
She all but flies out of the palanquin, desperation pounding in her ears, confusion ringing through her head. He and his generals have vanished into the smoke of the factory in a flourish of deep-red robes and gold embroidery. She chokes on her fear; bile rising bitterly in her throat, acerbic, burning away the calm that his presence had brought her.
The doors slam shut behind them; heavy iron that she knows she cannot move. She wants to scream and tear at her hair, she wants to slam ice into the window panes until the glass shatters and she can follow him.
how could he do this to her? she knows they are better together, together, together-
She barely so much as draws another breath when the first explosion bursts through the factory- shards of glass are zipping through the air and she is throwing up a wall of ice to protect herself and the passerby. The warrior-girl is screaming his name as the ground rocks with another explosion, the flames licking at her heels as she tears through the doors with water-whips and struggles her way through the smoke.
she knew it was a trap-
There are bodies littering the ground. There are bodies, and she cannot see their faces; she can only taste the iron-smoke that fills the air. His name is rattling stubbornly from her aching lungs and she forces herself to bend her way through the flames, her body cased in water, her eyes stinging.
Pieces of the building are collapsing beneath her feet as a second explosion knocks her to the ground, but she struggles on. The bare skin of her cheeks stings; her fingers come away stained with blood when she touches a hand to the pain.
There is screaming everywhere; people are burning, people are crying- but she cannot stop. Katara sees the hunched figure of the General from earlier, curled into a ball, his shoulders wracked with coughs- or sobs? she couldn't tell.
The stubbornness of her damn conscience forces her to lean over and push the General towards the stairs, shouting at him to move, to use his legs, heaving his body in the direction of the exit until he manages to crawl his way free of the flames.
I will never turn my back on anyone who needs me. The mantra is practically spiritual to her, a guiding force that had pushed her through her days as the Avatar's companion.
zuko, where are you?
She is tearing through the rubble like a mad thing, screams of frustration tearing from her as she searches for the body of her errant, stubborn Fire Lord- she is crying, now, because she never got the chance to tell him anything-
She sees him, then, partially pinned underneath an iron beam. The girl cannot tell if he is breathing, cannot see if he is injured, but she wants to sob with relief all the same.
It takes all of her strength to lift the solid iron with water whips, and then she falls to her knees beside him, grasping at his robes, his arms, anything she can get a solid grip on- and she is struggling to loop his arms around her shoulders so she can heft his weight onto her back.
"Come on, Zuko, you need to lay off of the komodo chicken." She quips to herself, teeth gritted, sweat running in rivulets down her face. The casing she has bent around herself is now encapsulating his body, as well, and the girl is struggling to get them to the stairs. Flames are everywhere; the building is unsteady. The staircase is now curling with flame and smoke and she feels her heart squeeze in her chest but she will not let them die. La, there were so many things she had yet to say.
she wants him to know how much she cares for him, that she trusts him, that she doesn't see his father when he looks at her-
Eyeing the room around them, she realizes that they are trapped; and the moisture is slowly being sucked out of the air. Her watery body-glove is faltering, flickering like a dying flame, and the water-girl is struggling for each breath. She kicks out a window in her desperation, and after glancing down to see the shards fall into the water below, tightens her grip on the boy slung over her back and throws them both out of the window and into the murky waters of the factory's lake.
When they surface, he is barely breathing.
Hands are waiting to drag the pair to safety, and she cannot stop coughing, cannot stop spitting black-tainted ash-liquid. Her fingers are fisted in his robes and she is screaming at anyone that tries to get near him, hunched over his motionless form in the street, eyeing them all as if they all wanted him dead. She knows she is bedraggled and wild-eyed, her robes torn and smoking faintly from the flames, the edges blackened and her hair falling down her back in soaked, curling strands. She knows what she must look like; a crazed waterbender drenched to the skin, but she will not let anyone else touch him.
trust nobody, they are all lying-
There are ice shards all around the pair, a spiked wall between her and the rest of them, and even though her legs are shaking with exhaustion and she can barely draw a proper breath into her burning lungs, she is prepared for a fight. She used to live like this, in constant fear of battle; food-starved, sleep deprived, having just barely survived the last graze with death.
"Who did this?" She screeches, her voice taut; ready to snap. She does not recognize the faces around her, she whirls to see them all; they are staring at her blankly, silently.
"Who did this to your Fire Lord?" Katara's throat is raw from the smoke but it is worn thin with hatred; she is standing over his body and feeling his heartbeat and telling herself that she got to him in time. he will live, he has to live-
Even though it is not a full moon she can feel her grip on the blood of the people surrounding them and she is ready to clench her fists and end the life of whoever did this.
"Master Katara," A voice cuts through the murmurings of the crowd, the nervous glances of the townspeople, the coughing of those that escaped the explosions. The girl spins on her feet easily, eyes narrowed, coming face-to-face with the speaker.
It is Iroh, flanked on either side by two battalions of soldiers, and his face is deeply lined with fear. The girl stumbles, then, her staunch pose drooping as the elder man approaches her.
"Master Katara, we need to get Zuko to safety." His voice is calm and slow, and she casts a look back down at Zuko before letting her ice shards melt into her hands as she surveys his injuries.
her hands skim the pale, bruised flesh of his torso, hesitating when they pass over the star-shaped scar in the center of his chest-
The ocean-eyed girl drops to her knees, then, ignoring the blood that stains her hands and the sting of her own injuries. Her hands glow blue; the crowd watches, entranced, as the waterbender manages to heal the worst of his injuries with the last of her strength before collapsing with her head on top of his chest.
It takes two days for the waterbender to wake. When she does, she moves like a raging storm; all wild, unkempt hair and eyes bluer than the summer sky.
She pauses only to stop at Sokka's rooms to make sure he knows she is alright; he is weary-eyed and relieved when she embraces him. When she asks after the Fire Lord, his gaze wanders to the floor; and fear is suddenly choking her as she flees her brother's suite and dashes down the hall.
She throws the doors open to Zuko's bedchamber with all of her strength, and is relieved to see Iroh seated by his bedside, sipping at a cup of tea and looking not at all surprised to see the girl.
"I'm glad you're awake, my Lady. He's stabilized. He asked for you a few times-"
"You should have woken me! I would have come." Katara cries, self-deprecation heavy in her words as she considers that he might have needed her and she had been sleeping-
"-but you're here now, and he'll awaken soon enough. His wounds were mostly surface-level, thanks to you. You pulled him from the wreckage and healed the worst of his lacerations. Nothing will scar permanently." Calm as usual, the slightly-rotund man smiles at the girl gently and sips at his cup of tea again.
Visibly, the girl sags with relief at this; Iroh gestures to the bed for her to sit. It is large; there is plenty of room for her to pool her exhausted body across from the sleeping Fire Lord and take a proffered cup of tea from the wrinkled hand of his Uncle. They spend a few quiet moments like this; her fingers curling around the slim, pale wrists of the boy she thinks she loves, her eyes watching his chest rise and fall evenly. She skims the dip of his wrist with tracing fingers that have taken lives, her lips pressed together tightly as she passes her water-gloved hands over his torso and makes sure that his healing process is coming along well.
The old Dragon of the West eyes the bruise-like circles under the girls red-rimmed eyes and thinks that she is too much like his nephew; old before their time.
"I'm sorry I couldn't get to him faster, Iroh." She mumbles, her clumsy apology spilling across the silence as a ragged sob tears through the end of her sentence. Iroh sighs, he puts his empty cup of tea down.
"It is by no means your fault, my dear. We have begun the unraveling of a plot to overthrow Zuko; because of your quick thinking, many of the people in the building survived, and we have been able to start questioning the members of the council." He smiles at the girl faintly as he refills his cup.
"Truly, Master Katara, I must be thanking you for maintaining the safety of my nephew. He trusts you a great deal, and I can't imagine anyone more qualified to be beside him during these trying times. Also, please, for the thousandth time, call me Uncle." He winks at her.
Katara flushes at the praise, her fingers anxiously skimming the callouses that line Zuko's fingers.
"I believe that we have guests." Iroh muses, and the pair listen to the pattering of feet from down the hall. Katara pushes herself immediately off of the bed, teacup forgotten; her hands are already cracking into familiar poses and she is throwing herself between the door and the Fire Lord.
She is still fully clad- and quite stiff- in the armor from the attack, which she thinks must add to her already unraveled appearance. By the time the door is rattling on its hinges, she has drawn a long, even breath through her nose and prepared herself; she can hear the heartbeats, one fluttering, one stable. She is hellfire and a brewing storm; she is ready to defend the man that she thinks she has always loved.
But when the door finally flings itself open, she is not prepared for who she faces. A low whine of pain slips from her mouth as she sees a surly, stout Earthbender, arms crossed and stubborn cheeks reddened with blotchy emotions. Beside her stands a surprised looking Avatar, serene in his golden-sunrise robes, eyes wide. He is taller, now, Katara observes blankly, feeling her legs quiver from shock underneath her.
she remembers the letters that she fed to the hearth, remembers the pleading in Toph's notes, begging for forgiveness; every letter was unanswered-
A moment passes in complete silence, Katara's bloodbending poses cracked in the air between them; Aang eyes her hands with a slight narrowing of his eyes and she remembers-
'i can't handle all of the darkness in you, katara, i need someone who is more like me-'
"Out." She hisses, the word strained; Aang flinches visibly at her, falling back a step. Toph sighs in irritation, turning and sauntering out of the room and down the hall before the waterbender can say anything else.
"Get out." Katara repeats herself, this time flicking ice knives in his direction, a growl of fury rumbling deep in her chest; just enough to push Aang back through the doorway.
"-wow, Katara, you look like death-"
"And what the fuck do you think you're doing here?" She interrupts, the words snapping like a whip in the space between them, the expletive making the monk wince. Katara thinks that he is just now seeing her for the first time, just now recognizing her for who she really is; and he doesn't like what he sees.
Somehow, she's okay with that.
"I'm here to see Zuko. He's my friend." The Avatar mumbles, folding his hands across his stomach and staring at her with wide, troubled grey eyes.
A snort of derision escapes the water-warrior, rolling her eyes heavenward. La, give me strength.
"Right, sure. What are you really doing here?"
"I'm being serious, Katara."
"Well where were you when he needed the Avatar? When the world needed it's protector? Where were you when Zuko was dealing with literally dozens of assassination attempts and he nearly died? Oh, that's right, being selfish." She snarls the words, ice-hard, chilly; her teeth are bared and her eyes are narrowed to hateful, electric blue slits. Her hands are balled by her side and she can hear his heartbeat increasing in pace; good, let him be anxious, let him feel the weight of my words.
"Traveling the world without a care for the rest of us. You don't get to see him, Aang. You don't deserve that. He asked me to come help him, and that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to stay by his side and help him succeed, which is so much more than you can say you've done for this fledgling world." She is all tight, quivering fury now, shaking shoulders and bright, vicious eyes. Aang rubs his face with his hand, sighing, and she crosses her arms over her chest.
"Look, Katara, if this is about what I said to you about us-"
"This has nothing to do with the things you said to me before you left. I could care less that you didn't want me around, that you preferred someone else. All I care about is that you left Zuko, who trusted you, alone in a place of power that is still unstable. It almost cost him his life." Katara gestures to the room behind her with jerky, exhausted movements, trying not to listen to the way his blood is singing.
"You won't believe what I've discovered, Katara-"
"I don't care." She snaps, jaw clicking with irritation.
Aang shrugs. She can feel his pain, his childish confusion; but all he does is shrug.
"I'll come back later. You're probably just overtired, Katara. Get some rest." The Avatar eyes her carefully, and she almost laughs; how dare he think he knows her now?
Katara stares at him with boiling eyes until he turns to retreat down the hall, and when he has finally rounded the corner, she reenters the Fire Lord's chambers. Iroh is no longer seated next to him, so she claims the elder man's seat; she pulls his hand into hers and presses her mouth to the center of his palm.
She may be dark, she may possess a bending technique more lethal than a weapon; she may have killed, may have done awful, unspeakable things, but for whatever reason, Zuko looks at her like she is his moon and all of his stars.
"You saved my life again." The words are coming blurrily from the sleepy mouth of the Fire Lord, and she wants to cry with the sudden rush of relief that he is awake. His eyes are dizzy as he tries to regain consciousness.
"Stupid. I told you not to go anywhere without me, Fire Lord." She chides gently, her fingers curled into his. Zuko smiles weakly, brow furrowing with slight pain as he realizes the extent of his injuries. Katara bends a water glove over her hands, examining him, dulling the pain so that his eyes clear somewhat.
"I don't want to go anywhere again without you." He says quietly, seriously; he has grasped both of her hands in his, now, and is staring at her with fevered, golden eyes. she loves him, she loves him-
Her heart slams to a messy halt in her chest as she realizes what he has just said to her; her lips are parting in shock.
"I want you to be beside me. Always. I don't want to let you out of my sight for another moment." Zuko's voice is low and rasping and familiar, the warmth of him spreading to her body; she wants to bury herself into him. His hands are traveling the length of her arms, skimming the pockmarked armor up to her throat; he is pulling her down to him and she is letting him and she cannot breathe because he is so close.
"I wanted to do this properly, but since I've already gone and done it-" Zuko sighs a little, nudging her nose with his, and they are closing their eyes and their mouths are meeting feverishly and fuck it feels like everything is finally right in the world. The waves are crashing and the fire is raging and they have never felt so alive; they are grasping at each other, checking for injuries, and somehow there are tears in both of their eyes.
"Agni, Katara, I'm so in love with you that it hurts." He murmurs against her lips, hands tangled in her hair, and she is curling her fingers around his jaw and pressing herself closer to him and she is mumbling the words over and over again, her mouth against his scar.
"Spirits, Zuko," She whispers, her head tucked into his shoulder as gingerly as she can manage, given his injuries. He hums in response, a crooked, unabashed smile curling his mouth.
"I think I've always loved you." Katara's voice is quiet in the dusky afternoon, the light splaying its spindly fingers across the bed. Zuko is still smiling, and he shifts slightly so he can press a kiss to her forehead lengthily.
"I know," He says thickly, and she can feel the dampness of his tears against her skin.
"I know." The Fire Lord repeats lowly, before leaning over again to kiss her, feeling her smile; they tangle together in the easiness of the afternoon glow.
yay yay yay! i wrote a second chapter!
thanks for all of your encouragement & reviews, they really helped me out so much! i'm planning on a third installment, so hang on for that!
love,
nightfall26