Chapter 12: Masquerade

Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads
Masquerade! Seething shadows, breathing lies
Masquerade! You can fool any friend who ever knew you
--"Masquerade", The Phantom of the Opera

The golden lights and bright chatter hit her face like a bomb. Trying to keep her head high, Katara slipped into the hall, sidling along the wall, trying to escape notice. It didn't help when she almost ran over a potted plant in her way; startled glances and thinly veiled glares were sent towards her.

"Sorry," she muttered to no one as hastily righted the miniature tree and hurried along. If she could only find her fellow soldiers, then she'd be safe from all this scrutiny. They'd laugh and chat together among all these self-important nobles. Who would dare talk down to an Elite soldier? There was no need to stare; why was everyone staring?

With much relief, Katara finally sighted Hiro's unruly head of brown hair over the crowded dancers and flirters. Apparently none of the maids had managed to tame it. Lt. Ensei, Faozu, and Qin stood next to him. Hiro caught her eyes at the same time, and she winced when Hiro began to wave enthusiastically, disturbing his chatting neighbors.

"Katara! Over here!" he shouted over the crowd. She tried not to shrink back from the interested and amused glances from nearby listeners. Why did he have to be so obvious about it? Couldn't he have just waited for her to come to him, like any normal, patient human being? Now the whole room knew where she was. She would never make it in time over there without somebody accosting her.

Mumbling "excuse me" and "pardon me", Katara shuffled her way through couples and groups. She was almost there, and could hear Qin's loud laughter through the noise.

A beautifully manicured, slender hand caught her arm, and Katara barely avoided groaning in defeat as she stilled in her movement. Adia.

The hostess slowly let go of Katara, raising her hand to gently arrange a strand of her perfect ebony hair. She smiled, eyebrows raised. "How are you liking the party?"

Katara swallowed, averting her eyes. They were attracting attention. "It's wonderful."

That smile mocked her. "Good. I was so hoping you would enjoy it. Now tell me," Adia continued, turning to the side as a servant slipped through the crowd with a silver tray of delicate wineglasses balanced above his shoulder. She plucked three of the slender goblets off the tray, the manservant bowing politely, before returning her attention to Katara and offering her one of the glasses. "Have you had the chance to dance yet? The musicians I hired are playing the latest and greatest." Adia raised her wineglass to Katara before sipping the blood-red liquid.

Katara drank her own wine to stall time for her answer, trying not to choke as the foreign, bittersweet wine slid down her throat and over her insides. "No," she finally had to say, after downing almost half the glass in an very unladylike fashion. "In fact, I just arrived."

"I see," said Adia. "If you're at a loss for dancing partners, may I suggest—" Her smirk changed to an expression of surprise as she glanced at something over Katara's shoulder. "—Emperor Zuko?"

"What?" snapped Katara, before she realized Adia hadn't meant it that way, and indeed there seemed to be a royal presence behind her, judging from the murmured greetings and hasty bows made by the people in the surrounding area. Clutching her glass in one hand, to the point of almost breaking it, she turned around to face his Majesty.

Their eyes met, and his expression looked just as shocked as hers.

"G-good evening, Emperor," she managed to stumble out.

There was an awkward period of silence as his mouth remained open but silent. Finally regaining his own wits, Emperor Zuko managed to sketch out a stiff bow to both her and the Lady Adia. "Good evening."

Adia wasted no time. Smoothly inserting herself into the little space left between the Emperor and Katara, she placed one alabaster hand on his arm. "Would you care for a dance, your Majesty?"

Katara kept her expression neutral. What was it to her if the Emperor agreed to twirl around on the floor like a mad fool with a beautiful lady such as Adia? Nothing. Nothing at all!

"By the way," Adia slanted an up-and-down look over Katara as she left with the Emperor. "Nice dress. I've seen it before, somewhere."

Emperor Zuko gave her one last surreptitious look before leaving.

Then Adia was gone, taking the Emperor with her and Katara was left standing alone on an empty section of floor like a lost child. Slamming her wineglass onto a nearby table, she strode off, back towards her original destination.

"What took you so long?" asked Lt. Ensei as Katara finally approached her real friends, friends who were immune to the seductive charms of a flirtatious lady.

"Stepped on something nasty," Katara gritted out through her teeth.

"Nice dress," commented Hiro.

She tried not to react, when the same words had come out of Adia's mouth not two seconds earlier. And in an entirely uncomplimentary fashion. "Thanks," was all she said.

"You know," Lt. Ensei said drily, sending her a look. "Katara's pretty cute, when she's not running around in the mud and trying to kill everything that's green and moves."

Katara made some sort of sound along the lines of "Arghphmf!" before shooting the laughing soldiers a dirty glare. "I'm hungry," she hissed, and turned swiftly towards the lavish banquet tables on one side of the hall.

She wasn't really any hungry at all, but she determinedly picked out a few choice bits from the tiered plates in order to pretend like she was busy with something. After all, the food here was magnificent, like nothing she'd ever had before. She should enjoy it while it lasted.

Picking a dainty silver spoon, she set it on her plate and reached down for the enticing-looking chocolate covered mangoes. Her hand tilted, and the spoon slid towards the edge of the plate; "Shit," she hissed as she scrambled to keep it from dropping—

And stopped when a stranger's hand caught it before her.

Katara looked up into the face of a Fire Nation man, dressed in ceremonial military uniform, a slight, amused smile on his face. He must have been in his early or mid-thirties; she couldn't tell. His posture was straight, every movement steady and self-assured. Somebody powerful.

"Having trouble?" he asked, setting the spoon back onto her plate.

"Th-thank you," Katara managed to stumble out.

"You're welcome," he bowed, a small tilt of the head. "Let me introduce myself. I am Admiral Zhao, commander of the Fire Nation fleet." His tone and the expression expected her to recognize his name and position. Definitely somebody powerful.

Katara remembered his name, and remembered what she'd heard of him.

Zhao especially likes it when I come out on mission. Each time he hopes I die on the way and never come home, leaving the Empire without a suitable ruler.

So this was the ambitious Admiral Zhao she'd heard about.

"My name is Katara," she replied, head high and trying not to let any of her thoughts show through. "I've heard a lot about you."

"All good things, I hope." Zhao smiled back, an easy and charming expression. This man had charisma, she'd give him that.

"Katara," he pretended to think for a minute. "The new Elite I've heard so much about?"

Katara nodded.

"A soldier, eh?" His eyes swept her up and down, up and down. She couldn't help but stiffen. It was the same judgmental, mocking look Adia was so fond of giving her. Except this time, Katara wasn't sure what Zhao's motives were. "You look like an admirable young woman to me, Lady Katara."

A compliment. So he was trying flattery first. She bobbed a little curtsy, a poor imitation of a true lady's gesture of respect. "Thank you, sir."

"If you would permit me to part you from your dinner," his eyes swept over the plate in her hand. "Would you care to honor me with a dance?"

This was what she had been dreading. Dance? She didn't know how to dance. But if she said no, the Admiral's eyebrows would raise, she would be disrespecting him, and word would get around.

Trying to conceal the shaking of her hand, Katara set her plate down on the table and placed her hand in Zhao's outstretched one. "It would be my pleasure."

He drew her onto the floor, steady and confident. They joined the other dancers, and Zhao turned to bring her closer to him. One hand clasped hers, and the other rested on her waist. Placing her own hand awkwardly on his shoulder like she had seen the other women do around her, she tried to relax. But they were too close, much too close. It didn't seem to matter that she couldn't dance; the Admiral was leading well enough, and all she had to do was follow him.

"So how is it serving under the famous Emperor Zuko?" questioned Admiral Zhao.

Katara swallowed. So he was trying to make conversation. Conversation was not good. "Uh—interesting. No different than any other soldier, I suppose." There. Was that an acceptable answer? Neutral and unassuming.

"But you aren't just 'any other soldier', are you Katara?" His voice was cool amusement.

She tried very, very hard not to react.

It was impossible for him to know anything. Those gold eyes of his were shrewd, calculating. He was waiting for her to trip up and reveal something. But he couldn't possibly know. How could he? She'd met him a mere two minutes ago. Had he seen through her so easily? Seen past the oily film of lies and masks and into her dirty, dishonest core?

No.

He continued, clear voice striking through her jumbled thoughts. His hand felt like a vise around her waist. "After all, being the first woman to merit an entry into the Elite division must make you more than an ordinary soldier, my lady."

She relaxed. So that was what he meant. Alright. She could be a woman, as long as she wasn't a Kyoshi Warrior. She could put up with sexism, as long as her identity remained hidden. "I'm flattered, Admiral," she said slowly, fluttering her eyelashes the tiniest bit. "but there are many soldiers in the army who exceed even my abilities and deserve your compliments so much more than I do." Act the part of a shy, embarrassed young woman. It always worked.

"Modest as well as beautiful," Admiral Zhao smiled down at her, and she resisted the urge to rip herself from him and proceed to dash out the nearest doorway. "Maybe the Emperor saw something he liked in you. I can't blame him"

"Maybe. Maybe not," she replied, the only answer she could come up with. Ugly rumors, suggestive comments, all pertaining to the Emperor. First Adia, and now Zhao. She wished she could end the dance and go back to the barracks and fall into bed and enjoy her solitude. Over Admiral Zhao's shoulder, she could see the Emperor and Lady Adia together, not ten feet away. For a split second, her eyes connected with Emperor Zuko's, and his gold ones narrowed.

"Did he pick out that dress for you?" said Admiral Zhao, snapping Katara's attention back to him.

"No," Katara couldn't resist snapping. What was it with the dress? And why was it that everything she did, whether it was joining the Elites or her choice of clothing, seemed to make everyone think about Emperor Zuko? If nobody had noticed, she did have an independent brain that could operate without the help of any man, Emperor or no. "I chose it."

"Flattering color," Admiral Zhao looked absent-mindedly at her. "I seem to recognize it from somewhere."

Adia had said the same thing. Katara's eyes narrowed. Were the Admiral and the Lady Adia in cahoots over something? Did they know something she didn't? Oh! She understood now. Admiral Zhao was dancing with her not because he wanted to, but probably because Adia had asked him in order to keep Katara from the Emperor, so the court lady could sink her own claws into his Majesty.

Before she could decide whether to kick Admiral Zhao, or find Adia and kick her, a soft tap on her shoulder made her turn around, thankfully giving her an excuse to leave Admiral Zhao's grip around her waist.

"Emperor Zuko," the Admiral spoke first, executing a perfectly respectful bow that held defiance and annoyance in every line of his body.

Katara tried to curtsy again; her second attempt was little better than her first.

"My apologies for disturbing you," Emperor Zuko flicked a quick glance at Katara before returning his attention to Zhao. "If I may—?" He held an outstretched hand to Katara, a clear invitation for the formal dance of the Fire Nation court.

"It is beyond my power to refuse anything to you, your Majesty," replied the silky tone of the Admiral as he bowed himself out.

Katara swallowed as she took his hand. She had exchanged an Admiral for an Emperor; had things gotten better or worse?

He drew her in towards him, much in the same way Admiral Zhao had. She tried not to flush at their proximity. There was one knife strapped to her thigh underneath the dress, and she could feel its cold metal burning her skin as the Emperor held her closer.

She couldn't see Adia or Zhao anywhere. The Emperor lowered his head so his mouth was right next to her ear, his un-scarred cheek brushing hers.

"That dress," he hissed, so softly none of the neighboring dancers could hear, "is the worst possible choice you could have picked for tonight."

Katara was so shocked she didn't know what to say.

And so she merely sputtered, quite indignantly.

The Emperor continued as if he didn't notice her utter surprise. "I've already had it from three nobles and several of my advisors about your choice of clothing. Rumors are going to be everywhere by the time this damned party ends." He seemed to pick up steam. "I don't know what kind of statement you are trying to make—"

"What are you talking about?" She finally gasped out, pushing him back. They were getting attention now, their raised voices causing raised eyebrows through the crowd. "I can't believe that—I don't understand what you're—just a dress—"

"Don't act the fool with me," he snapped back. "Don't act like you don't know what's going on—That dress isn't one of the ones available for guest use; it's kept in a room, her old room, and nobody's allowed to go in there except for the royal family—"

She glared at him now, separating herself from him until they were two still figures on a floor of moving dancers. "Are you implying that I went and stole this dress?"

His eyes were hard, flinty. "How else could you have possibly gotten it? How could someone not recognize it, with that enormous painting my insane ancestor was obsessed with?"

Painting? What painting? "It was in the closet the maid showed me, along with about a hundred others!" Katara couldn't resist stamping one foot; immature she knew, but it her shoe made a resounding smack on the hard floor. "What is the big deal? I didn't steal it, and it's just something I'm borrowing for the night." She pointed a finger at his chest. "You can have your precious frills back when I leave. Which," she added, turning her back on him pointedly and striding off. "Is now."

"Hey!—" Katara could hear him calling behind her, but she ignored the Emperor of Fire and continued to thread her way through the dancers until she reached the opulent double doors. Fists almost shaking with embarrassment and anger, she rushed by the liveried servants, who gave her looks of confusion. She almost tripped over the skirt; ladylike steps were used in a contraption such as this, not the soldier's long stride she was effecting.

"So," Huang said quietly, an amused smile on his wrinkled face as he watched that female Elite storm from the room, leaving an angry-looking Emperor in her wake. "How much did you have to pay the maid to steal the dress from the locked rooms?"

Zhao sipped his wine. "A fair amount."

"It's sure stirred everybody up." Huang's eyes were shrewd. "Not the least of which is the Emperor."

"I knew the Elite girl wouldn't be able to resist the color," Zhao remarked calmly. "She even looks like Water Tribe scum."

"But they're all dead."

"Even stupid rats can escape the poisoned trap."

Huang shrugged. "I don't give a damn about her pedigree—it's enough to me that people have seen them, remembered that cursed painting, and are beginning to gossip."

"Support will be low for the Emperor this season, I predict." Zhao's face was an artist's mask of friendly congeniality, nodding and smiling at the nobles he recognized as they passed by.

"Infatuated with a Water bitch," Huang commented lightly. "Must run in the family."

Zhao smiled and finished his wine.

Hurrying along the brightly lit passageway, Katara lifted up her skirts awkwardly and prayed that no one would see her leaving the banquet hall. Passing by the silent glares and grim faces of previous Fire Nation rulers, she finally entered into the plain, unadorned hall with the covered painting hung so obviously on one wall. She remembered the Emperor's words about the portrait. The room was empty; her footsteps echoed in the silence.

I'm tired of being left in the dark. Striding up to the hidden portrait, Katara set her face in firm determination and grasped the lower left corner. Yanking as hard as possible, she tore off the cloth, the brown canvas sliding down the gigantic, smooth surface and revealing a flurry of color.

Gold. Blue.

Scarred. Smiling.

A man and a woman.

Zuko and Katara.

She gaped into the Emperor's painted face and her own mirrored reflection.

He was standing, that straight, stiff and proper pose she knew so well. The light the artist had included was soft, illuminating one side of his pale face and throwing the damaged side into shadow. That darkness continued across his left shoulder, down his arm and onto his hand where it rested on a golden-brown shoulder.

Her own shoulder, left bare by the stylized blue dress she wore. Her shoulder, her neck, her face, her hair, her eyes. It was almost nightmarish in its exactness and perfection, like gazing into a mirror that would not let you look away. She sat in a small, high-backed chair, hands folded gently in the lap of her blue gown, head turned ever so slightly towards the man behind her, tiniest of smiles on her face.

Those fingers rested so lightly on her skin; she could almost feel it there like a ghostly touch, gentle, but sending a clear message across time and distance to the present. This will be mine forever.

Katara screamed when an angry hand grabbed her own shoulder, in the here and now, spinning her around.

"What the hell are you doing?" the Emperor hissed, face inches from hers. "Don't you think you've caused enough trouble already? I had this painting covered for a reason!"

She gaped at him. In her mind, the calm, reposed face of the Emperor Zuko in the painting interposed the currently angry face of the young man in front of her. The scars were perfect replicas.

Katara lifted her chin. "I wanted to see it!"

His hand gripped her upper arm, shaking her. "Are you satisfied now?" His face was an expression of controlled anger. "Are you happy about what you've done?"

"You could just get somebody to cover it back up again—"

"You idiot," he said. "Not the damn painting. I mean about them," he jerked his head towards the enormous portrait, the still, painted eyes of his bygone ancestors gazing down at them. "Looking like—like us."

She stared at him. "She looks exactly like me," Katara whispered. "The same hair, the same skin, the same eyes, the same dress. It's like looking in a mirror."

"Which is why I had it covered!" Emperor Zuko snapped, fingers digging into her arm. "People will talk! Rumors spread like wildfire at court!"

"They're already talking," Katara remarked almost absent-mindedly, eyes returning to the portrait looming above their heads. The artist must have been an extremely close friend of Lady Katara, to paint her so realistically. She'd been dead by the time this thing had been comissioned by Zuko I.

Emperor Zuko shook her slightly, drawing her attention back to him. His eyes were suspicious. "What was Admiral Zhao talking to you about?"

"Huh?"

He was impatient. "When you were dancing. He was talking to you. What did he say?"

"Nothing important," Katara answered, a bit surprised. "Just small talk really. Empty flattery."

His face was all intensity. "He'll try to use you."

"What?"

"He's going to try to use you against me."

Katara recalled the probing, calculating eyes of the Admiral, and the uneasiness he'd left on her skin when he'd held her. "I wouldn't be of any use to him. He doesn't want anything to do with me." Even as the words left her mouth, she knew she doubted herself.

The Emperor knew it as well. "Watch out. Watch out for him. He'll try to get information from you, and use you to betray me, maybe he'll even ask you to kill me-"

She cut him off. "You're insane." Her tone was one of annoyance and disbelief. Good. At least her voice wasn't shaking.

"Kill you?" Katara laughed nervously. "Wh-why would I do something like that?"

"Zhao's got a way with words," Emperor Zuko said, almost omniously. "He's manipulative and ambitious."

"And you're just paranoid."

Emperor Zuko opened his mouth, then closed it, letting go of her arm and stepping back. Belatedly, Katara recalled the things she'd just said to him. You're insane and you're paranoid. Not only were they things you wouldn't necessarily say to your monarch and commanding officer, they were said without any sort of respectable title attached to the end. She was worried about repercussions now, yes, but more worried about the fact that the comments had slipped so easily from her mouth. So comfortably, like she wasn't talking to the Emperor but to an equal.

He seemed to recognize it now too, and a silence filled the air between them.

A soft chuckle came from the door.

An old, gray-bearded man stepped into the room. He was short and squat, wearing traditional Fire Nation armor.

"Nephew," the old man said as he came closer. "Is this the girl soldier I've heard so much about from you? Katara, yes?"

She nodded dumbly. He's told his uncle about me?

Emperor Zuko's lips thinned. "Uncle," he said, voice coming through gritted teeth. "Not such a good time for introductions right now."

"Oh no," said Iroh. "It's no bother for me. I love meeting beautiful young women." Turning to Katara, he smiled benignly. "I am Iroh, my lady. General Iroh. I am retired now, and spend most of my time taking care of my nephew. Fixing his mistakes, teaching him lessons, training his Bending-"

"Uncle."

"Oh. So sorry, Zuko."

Katara gaped.

General Iroh smiled at her, hands tucked in his sleeves. His nodded his chin at the painting behind them. "Such a beautiful portrait, yes? I don't understand why my nephew felt the need to cover it up. It's part of our heritage; nothing to be ashamed of." Behind him, the Emperor rolled his eyes in a very immature manner; Iroh frowned for a second at Katara. "But the similarities! Like twins! I always knew Zuko here looked like our ancestor, but with the both of you it's like reincarnation!"

"Uncle-"

"And I shall be leaving you young people now." Iroh smiled first at Katara then the Emperor. "Enjoy your night. It was my pleasure to meet you, lady Katara. You're not much of a talker are you?"

She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, he was out the door and gone as fast as he'd arrived.

The Emperor said nothing to fill up the silence left by General Iroh; instead he turned around and began to call for a servant to bring a ladder and fix the portrait cover.

Katara took this chance to leave through another side door; the evening was over for her.

It was a pleasant rhythm, this constant thump on wood, her sword moving through fluid motions, cutting down invisible enemies. Images of Suki accompanied her practice, the way her best friend had used the sword like an extension of her body, the utter completeness of her form. Katara would never be able to accomplish anything like that, and considered her efforts achievement enough.

The practice field was all but empty. Hiro and Qin were a small distance away, throwing spears into a straw target. A few more people she didn't know well were sparring with wooden swords next to the armory. It was quiet except for the sounds of weapon on target and a few occasional grunts of pain.

A sudden noise at the gate caught her attention. Letting her sword fall to her side, Katara turned to see a small group of black-clad Elites swagger in from the side gate. A patrol of five, led by the familiar features of Lt. Sakai. Katara's eyes narrowed as she recognized one of the followers—Borr.

They were noisy, laughing and chuckling about something Lt. Sakai had said while they took their practice weapons from the armory. Katara grimaced at the intrusion, but brushed it off and went back to her business. Hiro and Qin looked over their shoulders before identifying the newcomers and shaking it off as well.

Concentrating on her strokes, Katara determinedly blocked out the noise behind her. It was when the sounds stopped, and she began to hear whispers and murmurs, that she truly became annoyed. Footsteps drew closer, and the back of her neck prickled. She tried to ignore them, to not give them a reaction, and kept her back to them. It went against all her natural instincts—having your enemy at your back wasn't a good survival decision.

"Long time no see, Katara," came the slow, taunting voice of Borr from behind her.

Letting her sword drop to her side, held loosely by one hand, she turned around to face them. A patrol of five, Lt. Sakai at the center, stood in a semi-circle around her. From the corner of her eye, Katara could see Hiro notice and tap Qin on the shoulder.

"Good afternoon," Katara said pleasantly, her voice strong. Present a non-threatening façade, and maybe they'd get bored and go away.

"Heard you had a party thrown in your honor," Lt. Sakai said. "But we didn't get any invitations."

"They messenger must have lost them."

"Must have," Lt. Sakai replied, thin smirk on his face. "But we wouldn't have gone anyways. We were busy in the city. Lots of things to do in the city."

The men sniggered, and somebody echoed, "Lots of things."

Katara said nothing, sword point touching the ground.

"We heard you had fun, though," Borr chimed in. "Dressing up. Pretending to be a lady. Dancing with important men."

"Don't be jealous, Borr," Katara said with a lazy flick of one hand. She hoped she was the only one who noticed it was trembling. "It's terribly immature of you."

Lt. Sakai's patrol whistled low and elbowed Borr. His face grew red. There was a man who couldn't control his temper. "What is there about you I would ever be jealous of?" He shot back, trying to look confident. "I worked to get into the Elites—you, you just sweet talked the Emperor and fluttered your eyelashes and you got in," he snapped his fingers. "just like that!"

With every word he said, Katara's throat constricted with something beyond anger. She was tired of it. All of it. First Adia, then Admiral Zhao, and now Borr was spouting the lies that probably half the nation believed. What did she have to do to prove herself around here?

"You're so full of bullshit you don't even know it," Katara said calmly, staring Borr straight in the eyes. "You're so deluded with your prejudices that you won't even admit it when you're threatened by somebody better than you, somebody who deserves your respect!" Now she'd lost her previous steadiness and her voice was climbing in volume. She could see Hiro and Qin hurrying over. "I worked my assoff," she snapped, one finger pointing directly at him. "I worked just as hard as you to get accepted, Borr. Harder."

"The only thing that was hard for you," Borr sneered, "was the Emperor's—"

Katara leapt for his throat, and Borr never got to finish his sentence.

She landed on him, knocking him to the ground, hands clenched around his neck. He choked, one hand scrambling at his throat, the other one drew back and punched her in the face. Reeling from the pain, Katara loosened her grip on him for one second, and he used the opportunity to wriggle out from under her grasp. Shoving her off of him, he stood up, breathing harshly.

Stumbling, Katara rose to her feet, and was barely ready when Borr let fly another fist to her face. She twisted at the last second and he caught her shoulder instead, but she kept her balance and drew up her leg to slam her foot into his side as he was still pulling back his fist. There was a circle of spectators around them, Hiro and Qin and Lt. Sakai included. None of them would interfere. This was a manner of honor for Katara and Borr, protecting their pride and reputation. Nobody would try to stop either of them. And Katara was perfectly fine with that.

Borr stumbled a bit before catching her foot before she could retract it and twisting it so she fell, front-first, onto the ground. The wind was knocked out of her; she didn't even have enough air to gasp in pain. But now she forgot about breathing and getting hurt. There was something more pressing to deal with. She forced it all those little distractions to the back of her mind and rolled over, trying to get back up again.

When Borr tried to kick her in her stomach to keep her down, she knocked his leg out from under him and he landed in the dirt, gasping. Flipping over, Katara reached out and punched his nose, feeling the crack and squish of cartilage under her fingers.

Katara was beyond reason now. She was tired of the rumors, tired of all the fucking talk, and for once, just once she was going to stop being nice, biddable little Katara and she was going to let go and if that meant killing somebody, then so be it—

"What is going on here?" There was somebody there, a voice of authority permeating through the haze of pain and whatever it was she was doing to Borr currently. She knew it was the Emperor; she ignored him.

Borr, blinded by pain and completely beyond any sort of rational reasoning or thought for consequences, swiftly turned around and snarled, "Your bitch is in heat, sir!"

Katara, still trying to stand from the ground, watched in blurry amazement as another fist came out from the side of her vision and smashed into Borr's jaw, driving him through the air until he landed on his back in the dirt some few feet away.

"Say it again," The Emperor almost taunted him. The entire crowd was silent, watchful. "Say it again."

On the ground, all Borr could do was whimper.

Katara got her feet under herself and stood up, wavering like a drunken idiot. Eyes blurred, she couldn't pick out individual faces as she stumbled through the crowd, people moving aside for her silently. Hiro was by her side; she pushed him away, intent on getting somewhere, getting anywhere, getting what was owed her—

She could barely hear the commanding tone of the Emperor. Fuck him. Fuck his great majesty. Just when she'd had Borr in her grasp—she had been winning, she knew it—then he had to come in and take away her glory, her final victory, everything she'd wanted and everything she'd worked for—gone like that—like a tiny flame under a rushing waterfall—

Why did he have to interfere? She was never going to forgive him. I don't care if you're so damned sorry.

Where was she now? Outside of the practice field, going towards her barracks? This place was huge; she never would have gotten lost back in Kyoshi.

"Katara," he called behind her, quick footsteps catching up. "Katara, stop!"

She did. But only, she told herself, because she was too tired to go any further and she need to take a little break.

The Emperor arrived. "Katara—what happened back there? I—"

"You," she whirled on him, finding that she still had a little energy left, at least for this. "You happened. You ruined it. You came in and screwed everything up! I was doing fine! I was winning!"

"Why were you fighting in the first place?"

"You!" Katara shrilled, letting it all come out. "You're the reason I was fighting Borr! Because of you! All the bullshit that's going around is because of you! And then you had to come in and interrupt me by asking what was going on!"

"I was just trying to help—" He looked frustrated.

"I don't need your help!" Her throat hurt. "I don't need you!"

He seemed to realize, belatedly, what sort of state she was in. She wouldn't listen to reasoning, and wouldn't accept any of his excuses as an answer. This was not the normal, obedient soldier Katara he was used to dealing with.

"I apologize," he said, voice tight and controlled. "I'm sorry I helped you."

He wasn't sure she heard him. Instead, she was walking off again, mumbling to herself, and he, the Emperor of Fire, stood there and watched as Katara stumbled all the way to her barracks, a lonely figure between the high buildings of the army complex.

And there was still hell to deal with back at the practice field. Emperor Zuko hoped somebody had taken Borr to the medical building by now. When he'd left, Lt. Sakai had been red in the face with rage over Borr's condition, talking crazy about finding Lt. Ensei and teaching him a lesson about controlling his patrol soldier's temper.

The Emperor sighed. He'd better go find Ensei and tell him what had happened. Things weren't looking good at all.

A/N: All the people who wanted to send in art, please do so! I love looking at eye-candy! Or, since this chapter dealt with the portrait of Zuko the first and Katara the first, I'd like to see that in real form too.

A whole bunch of you predicted the dress thing, which was a good thing, because I would be scared if you hadn't. I thought I certainly went into enough DETAIL about it to merit some kind of attention... good job!

Well you know how majority (actually, ALL) of this story so far has been specifically from Katara's POV? Whereas in THATP, I often switched between Zuko and Katara? That means that in LTE, less of Zuko's history and background and experiences are shown. There was a bit of Zuko-POV at the very end of this chapter, but I promise, don't worry, he'll have his version of the tale before we complete and end this (not that it's going to end anytime soon... not if my outline has its way with me).

the description of the dress makes it sound more Western/European where I think that in this Avatarverse such clothing would not exist and katara would wear something more like a robe/kimono. --Spleef
After reading your review, Spleef, I must say I agree and I'm glad you told me that. You're very right... and now I wish I could go back and change parts of the description. Nice observation. Can't believe I didn't think of it. Thank you very much.

Coz I'm such a LTE groupie --Red Hawk K'sani
OMGWTFTHISSTORYHASGROUPIES!211!1!1

If I missed your question, I'm sorry, and ask me again!

Edit: WHO WANTS PICTURES AND MUSIC? Some pretty photos and a sample of some of the music I listen to while writing this/wasting time. All at the trusty little LJ. Go now.