Katara woke up to a knocking at her door with puffy eyes and put a hand to her head. She pushed the heavy silk comforters off her legs and padded over to the large doors.
"Sleep well?" asked Iroh with a raised brow.
Katara waved her hand at him as she walked back to her bed and buried her face in her pillow.
Iroh walked through the door she left open and closed it behind him. He walked over to a short bench and sat down. "Perhaps you should get up, Lady Katara," he advised nonchalantly.
Katara secretly smiled into her pillow though she managed to look up and glare at him. It was nice to have a title in front of her name. Her name sounded nice with "Lady" in front of it.
She hefted herself up from the bed and padded over to the gigantic closet tucked into a wall. There her dresses hung in full display for her perusal. Servants must have rushed to shake them out and press them the night before while she was stuck in the Fire Court, introducing herself to the Fire Lord and worrying over Aang.
Iroh stepped up behind her and considered the gowns.
"Perhaps that one," he suggested. The gown was a deeper red with beautiful embroidery in silk threads of gold, dark grey and a darker, almost purple red. The collar and hems were the darker grey as opposed to gold in favor of Katara's darker skin. A pair of matching loose pants to be worn under the slitted skirt matched a pair of gold and red embroidered slippers.
Katara turned to him with a questioning eyebrow.
"It is very possible my brother will be calling on you today in some form or another," Iroh did not meet her look. "And it would be best for you to show your, erm… appreciation for the Fire Nation. Yesterday you asserted yourself as a member of the Water Tribe, but today you will show your acceptance of the Fire Nation."
"But what if I don't accept the Fire Nation," Katara asked as she fingered the gorgeous gown.
"You accept Prince Zuko, do you not?" asked Iroh with a brow raised.
Katara didn't look at him. "Sometimes I feel like it would be almost impossible for me to leave with Aang – if a rescue were at all conceivable – but at other times I just want to jump out the window and fly away and never look back." Her hand tightened, crumpling the silk. "He makes me feel so conflicted!"
"He makes it like that, Katara, because he is, himself, conflicted."
"Really?" Katara said sarcastically. "And when does that ever show? When he's tricking Aang into being captured by promising his friends' freedom and then keeping me anyway?"
"That is exactly the best example," Iroh settled his gaze on Katara and she fought the urge to look away by blinking. "His excuse for the action was reasonable, but I doubt if he had not enjoyed your… company, so much," Katara blushed at Iroh's blatant innuendo in choosing his words carefully. "I doubt he would have kept you on and not returned you immediately to your flying buffalo."
"Bison," Katara corrected without thinking. "And I don't see why… why he has to…" she struggled for words. "I don't know," Katara pulled her hand away from the dress skirt and lifted it down. "I don't know. I guess I'll wear this one."
Iroh nodded. "I'll allow for you to get changed in here while I sample our breakfast waiting outside."
Katara's stomach gurgled and she smiled. "I'll join you as quickly as possible."
Many minutes later, after Katara had finally finished figuring out the tricky and ornate buttons on the dress and slipped on the slightly uncomfortable shoes, she stepped out to her bedroom to find Iroh munching on toasted bread at a table that had been set up in the middle of the room. Exactly five servants were standing along the wall with impassive faces, waiting to serve.
As soon as she sat down, Katara was approached by one. Before Katara could open her mouth to ask the servant what she wished for, the woman grabbed Katara's hair and began pulling in back through an ivory-toothed comb.
Katara gasped with pain. "What is this?" she asked Iroh.
"She is doing your hair," Iroh said lightly. "Tea, my dear?"
"No."
Iroh took back the tea and began placing little treats on her plate as Katara gripped the arms of her chair in an effort not to be pulled back off it. "You are lucky, my dear," Iroh continued. "Ten years ago the style called for very intricate hairstyles involving wires and pomades and coloring dyes. Nowadays a more reasonable approach has taken to hairstyling and the simpler, the better. I suppose it is considered a more quiet elegance."
"No!" Katara swatted the servant's hands away as she reached for Katara's twin beads dangling strands of hair in front of her face.
"I have always been curious," Iroh admitted as he observed this. "Why you and the women of your tribe wear your hair in that style. It must be annoying to have two ropes of hair dangling in your eyes."
"It's a sign of adulthood," Katara blushed into her breakfast plate. She was loath to say that it was sign she had reached her womanhood in the form of regular monthlies. "I won't have them taken out."
The servant behind her looked to Iroh for instruction. Katara felt a little perturbed that the servant looked to him and not her for instructions on styling her hair. After all, she did spend nearly her entire life growing it.
Iroh nodded his acceptance of Katara's wishes. He understood perfectly what the young girl was speaking about and he didn't want to make her feel anymore uncomfortable than he knew the servants and fine clothing were making her feel. "I suppose you'll wish for your hair to be styled in the same braid?" he offered.
"Yes," she said gratefully. "If that's all right."
"It's fine, now have some breakfast."
Katara dug into her plate with vigor as the servant behind her dug into her hair. What with the stares from the servants, the strange new clothes and the woman attempting to scalp her from behind, Katara's first breakfast wasn't that pleasant.
Four hours had passed and Katara had roamed through the palace for two of them on her own after Iroh had excused himself for a tea he had scheduled with General Lee. He had invited Katara but she had declined in favor of getting more acquainted with her surroundings.
But now it was near lunch time and she was starved, not to mention the fact that she had yet to find a passageway to the dungeons and thus, Aang.
Her stomach gurgled more painfully this time as she turned a corner and began walking down a hallway.
There are no guards anywhere! She passed through a pair of open doors into a dark, cherry wood hallway with large open windows, their wooden screens having been lifted up to allow the beautiful day inside. You would think that the Fire Lord has many attempts against his life! You'd think he'd have more guards to keep him from getting killed by all the people who are upset by his trying to take over the world.
Well, maybe, she thought as she turned yet another corner and passed a beautiful garden with a koi pond. Maybe all those guards and walls and servants and taste-testers in the kitchens are enough to keep him safe.
She turned again and found herself in front of a pair of massive doors. These were not open, however, and were guarded by two men in full armor and spears. Katara slowed to a stop and was about to turn around when both men (as if sharing the same thought) slammed the butt of their spears against the ground at the same time. With no change of expression on either of their faces, the men turned to each other and ceremoniously opened the doors – one to each man – and stood at attention, as if waiting for Katara to walk through.
Katara stepped forward, looking to the men for a clue. Why had they done that? Was she supposed to have come this way?
The men said nothing until Katara was passing but one cleared his throat when she reached them. Katara stopped and looked at him.
Speaking in monotone and staring straight ahead, he said, "Down the hall, a right, a left and the last door at the end."
"Down the hall, a right, a left and the last door at the end?" Katara parroted.
"Down the hall, a right, a left and the last door at the end," he agreed.
"Okay," she said slowly and walked past him, repeating what he'd said. It was obviously instructions for her to get somewhere but she didn't know why or for what purpose. "Down the hall, a right, a left and the last door at the end."
Katara turned right at the first opportunity, then left and found herself in a rather short hallway with no doors on either side. Well, at least there's nothing to confuse it with.
At the end of the hallway was yet another pair of large doors, this time bearing a large, five-toed dragon in replication of the one that had hung in her room aboard Zuko's ship. It was a little intimidating. She pushed one of the doors open and walked through.
The room was a large hall. Though, while it was grand it was no where near the one she'd been in while Aang had been presented to the Fire Lord and the Fire Lord had acted so strangely to her. A long, low, wooden table ran the length of the hall, with enough room to seat ten people at its sides. Stools covered with gold embroidery sat on all sides except for a large throne-like chair at the end farthest from Katara.
It was down there that a young girl sat, her hand hovering above her plate, utensils in hand. She set it down and placed both hands in her lap. With a cheerful voice, she called out to Katara.
"Come, join me. There is space enough for both of us."
Katara walked down the table. As she got closer she recognized her from the night before. She was the girl on the dais with Zhao. Her hair was fastened in the simple knot it had been before, adorned with the same flame hair piece.
As Katara sat down on a cushion-covered seat next to her, Katara could see that the girl's smile and cheery voice did not extend to her eyes. In fact, closer up, her smile seemed a little sinister. It made Katara shudder, an action she barely managed to suppress.
Coupled with that and the fact that she had been so comfortable with such a horrible man as Zhao made Katara come to the point of distrusting her.
"So you are Katara, the Prince's pet," the girl's smile (almost a smirk) grew a little. "Oh, dear." She put a hand to her throat and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, her smile vanishing. She was the picture of contriteness. "I didn't mean that, I'm so sorry. It was so rude of me. I hope you will forgive me."
It seemed sincere enough and Katara was about to forgive her when her hand stopped fluttering, her eyes came back down and the corners of her lips tugged upwards.
"I mean Lady Katara."
The unspoken words, the Prince's pet, rang in the silence following those words, the insult burning on the little ember of truth buried in them.
For in a way, it was true. She was Zuko's pet. His little waterbender he could control with a few kisses and the opening of a fan. She would follow him into certain danger and pain for her best friend, Aang, only because he told her to.
It was obvious though, speaking with this girl Katara's own age, that Katara was not going to make friends simply because their long-exiled prince gave her a new name and commanded the people to respect her. Pretty names and clothes don't change others' minds.
"Who are-" Katara was about to demand the girl's name when she was interrupted.
"I understand you were once the Avatar's friend," the girl said smoothly. "It's all right, though. I completely understand. It must be such a wonder to you, to be seeing the magnificence of a culture when there's so little back at home."
She doesn't even look away! Katara felt her fists curl in her lap. She sits there and looks me brazenly in the eye while she slurs me to my face! But, I can't insult her. I would just be proving how little "culture" I have.
But something made Katara think that if she were polite to this girl, it would only make the girl think she was weak. Katara couldn't think of what to do and after a small moment's silence, the girl continued.
"I, myself, no longer see the magnificence I was born into, sometimes." She waved her hand airily to demonstrate the room. "When I try to imagine what your home looks like, I am without ideas, I'm afraid. The accounts from our generals and admirals on your homeland simply prove that we are what the world needs." Her eyes narrowed in glee as her mouth curved. "Tell me, what was it like to live in the ground? I'm dying to know."
"I didn't live in the ground," Katara managed. "I lived in a house of ice."
"Ice?" The girl feigned surprise. "Well, that must have been exciting. And cold. Who was warming your bed there?"
Katara was about the reply with a horribly brilliant retort when a door slammed.
Both girls turned to see Zuko striding towards them from a smaller door in the corner of the room behind the throne. The girl's eyes narrowed in displeasure at his loud entrance and Katara began blushing. Did he hear what the girl had said?
"That is enough, Azula," Zuko stood and glared at the girl, his voice icy. "You can go now."
The girl rose and gave a short bow. "If that's your pleasure, your Royal Highness. That does seem to be what you are doing nowadays – taking your pleasure from wherever it comes."
"It is my pleasure that you be silent and leave," Zuko menaced.
The girl departed, her soft slippers smacking lightly against the ground angrily.
Once she had gone and the door had closed behind her, Zuko sat down across from Katara. He promptly began moving food onto his plate with his chopsticks.
"Usually we have servants for this ort of thing," Zuko spoke, gesturing with his chopsticks to indicate his serving himself. "But whenever Father isn't present, my sister and I prefer to serve ourselves."
"Will I meet your sister?" Katara asked a little angrily. She had forgotten that Zuko even had a sister and the reminder only made her temper worse. She was galled that he hadn't thought to even mention what that girl had been saying. She understood he would never apologize (why would Zuko apologize for something someone else did, when he never apologized for what he did himself?) but she thought he might mention it, tell her to forget about it, it wasn't worth agonizing over. He could promise to at least try and stop the rumors that were obviously spreading fast.
Zuko stopped and raised an eyebrow at Katara. "You've already met her."
"I have?" Katara asked confused. Her anger was forgotten for a moment. When had she met anyone?
"I'm…" Zuko cleared his throat and rolled his eyes, but still sounded sincere when he continued. "I'm sorry for the way she acted. Azula was always a bit of a brat and she never liked me."
"Azula?" Katara asked. Wait a minute, what's going on? "That girl? The one that just left? She's your sister?"
"Yes," Zuko smiled bitterly, almost a smirk, and Katara saw it.
The girl's smirk was so much like Zuko's own. Her eyes were like his too, so sharp when they were focused on her. Maybe it was because Zuko seemed to avoid looking at people in the eye while the girl seemed to thrive on eye contact, but Katara hadn't seen it.
Katara blanched mentally. Seeing Zuko's sister – a girl her own age – made him seem older somehow. Not that she'd been kissed by someone in their twenties or something like that, but it made him seem more responsible. Like he had more things weighting on his existence than he had before.
It also made her think of her brother.
Katara turned back to her empty plate. Her hands were folded on her lap and she was lost in thought about all that had happened. Sokka and Elsie, Aang and his capture.
"Eat, Katara."
Katara looked up as a huge pile of steaming noodles plopped onto her plate, startling her out of meditation. The jolting feeling and his brusque way of speaking sparked Katara's anger. (She was always so much angrier around him.)
"Just because you're a prince, doesn't mean you can boss me around," she snarled at him.
For a moment, Zuko looked surprised, but it slipped off his face and was replaced by the cool look. "I'm the Crown Prince, actually. I will inherit the throne, you know."
Katara jumped up and started walking for the doors.
"Fine!" she snapped as she stalked away. "I don't need this. I don't need you and your attitude."
"My attitude?" Zuko jumped up and held an arm out in front of Katara. "I was only trying to be polite. You were the one with an attitude."
"Ordering people around isn't polite, Zuko," Katara glared up at him. "Maybe I'm just a water tribe peasant," She spat the word. "But I have feelings, and you and your stupid sister hurt them."
Gods, she couldn't believe she was admitting this! Tears streaming down her cheeks, Katara knew that it wasn't Zuko, really that had made her feel bad; it was Azula and her betrayal to Aang.
But she decided to blame him anyway.
"Wait a minute, Katara." Zuko grabbed Katara's arms as she circumspect his and turned her around. He bent a little looked into her face. Her cheeks were wet and she refused to look at him. "Katara, I'm sorry."
She still refused to look at him.
"What do you expect!" he asked angrily. "I said I was sorry!"
She shook her head and Zuko resisted the urge to shake her.
"Well, what is it then? You have to tell me. I can't fix it if you don't tell me."
She looked at him. He felt a mixture of relief at her gesture and apprehension at what she was going to say. What she was going to accuse him of doing.
"You can't fix it," she said sadly. "It's too late."
Zuko's heart jumped a beat.
"I betrayed him, Zuko," she shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. He felt like his gaze was trapped by her own. "He was my best friend and I practically fed him to the lions." She chuckled weakly. "To the Dragons."
Zuko reached up and wiped a thumb across her cheek, secretly relieved and hating himself for it. She cried harder and he pulled her against him.
He couldn't imagine what she must be feeling. Maybe it would be like if he had betrayed Uncle to the earthbenders who had captured him that one time, around the winter solstice. No. Zuko had gone after Uncle. He hadn't allowed him to be captured and tortured. He had even given up chasing after the Avatar while he…
Oh. What if he hadn't saved Uncle, though? What if he had failed? That pain and anger and guilt must be what Katara was feeling. Anger at him for capturing the Avatar, but also anger and guilt for herself, for not doing all she could to protect him.
Well, what should he do? Encourage her? Tell her to not give up – there must be some way to save her friend? That'd be ridiculous; he'd be encouraging her to steal a prisoner that he captured!
Katara groaned into Zuko's shoulder. She didn't really want to fight him. He was her only friend here, besides Iroh.
Wrapping her arms around his waist she hugged him tighter. She just really wanted a hug. It didn't matter that he had captured her best friend and condemned him to a life-time of misery – she just wanted to feel someone's arms around her and feel comforted by their nearness.
Zuko was a little surprised when Katara moaned and wrapped her arms around him, but he tried to step up to the challenge. Katara was the only person he'd ever really hugged. That he could remember.
He moved his arms and placed them around her shoulders, and tucked her head under his chin.
Hmm. This is nice. He looked out over her head. We should do this more often. I think it makes her feel better.
Katara did feel better. The calmness that comes after a good cry swept over her and she felt sleepy. His arms were so strong and his chest so firm. She could actually feel it! It was there, under the fabric of his robes. No armor today.
She smiled into the dip of his shoulder and chest. He was so solid, so warm. It was like the best blanket ever, covering her up, protecting her from everything. She never wanted to leave.
"Making friends, Zuko?"
Zuko whirled around and Katara stepped back, away from his arms, blushing furiously. She couldn't believe she'd been caught by anybody, hugging the Fire Prince. He couldn't believe he'd been caught by him of all people, hugging the Water Lady.
Lord Ozai (whether fortunately or unfortunately is your choice as the reader) was such a strange man that it was impossible to decipher what he was thinking as he stood with his arms crossed in his dining hall and watched his son molest his guest. All we know is that displeasure colored his every word.
"Father," Zuko bowed quickly and deeply, his cheeks pinking just the slightest. Katara followed suit, her cheeks much darker, but a more pleasant maroon color that went well with her skin.
"Zuko." He did not say anything else. He barely acknowledged Katara's presence except for a brief nod in her direction when she came up from her bow. There was no telling what the man was thinking or how he was going to react. Both of the teenagers were frightened, and both knew the consequences of the Fire Lord's temper, even if one of them might not understand it as completely as the other.
"Zuko, you will leave while I speak to the Lady Katara."
His tone broached no comment or argument and he received none. Though Zuko's eyes flickered between Katara and the Fire Lord's face, he made no noticeable movements other than those to vacate the room. We do know (despite how little we know of the Fire Lord) that the Fire Lord was pleased to note how well-broken in his son was.
Once Zuko had left, the Fire Lord sighed. "Come, Lady Katara," he spoke as he sat in his throne-like chair at the head of the table. "You must sit with me while I discuss with you."
It was funny how every request he made was actually a demand. It reminded Katara of Sokka, except more elegant in a rougher way. How she was to describe it any better than that, she couldn't figure.
"My son, Lady," the Fire Lord said after some time while Katara sat with her hands in her lap, trying not to tap her slippered feet anxiously against the marble floor. "He is… a user of people." The Fire Lord smiled at Katara. Katara did not smile back but only managed a sort of grimace. "He is much like his father, in that respect, how ever much I dislike it."
He smiled and spread his hands to show that while he might be a user, he didn't like it and was trying to reform his ways.
Yeah right.
Katara nodded, though, and let him think her acquiescing.
"You must be wary of him, Lady," the Fire Lord went on. His eyes were boring in Katara's. He sat on his throne, leaning forward, his forearms resting heavily on the table, his golden eyes bearing down on hers in a manner most unsettling. She could see the outline of every muscle in his body, the power of the strength of his arms and chest. Katara could tell that despite the man's years, he was strong and virile.
Ozai smiled inside his head as he noticed the lady's eyes' on his body.
The Fire Lord sat back, his muscles bunching and relaxing with the movement, and Katara's eyes snapped up back to his again. She blushed uncontrollably – not because she was thinking of what a fine specimen he was, but because her thoughts had then turned from him to his son.
His son and her and what the Fire Lord had interrupted.
Lord Ozai cocked his head to the side and smiled slightly. "I understand what attraction a boy like him could hold for you, my dear." The words ran over Katara's face and back like slick oil. "You must be careful. I only say this for your own benefit. A lady such as yourself should be careful of where she places her affections. A boy might not be so worthy of them, so worthy of you –" his smile widened just the littlest bit, but Katara saw it. "– a man of greater proportions might be better suited to your needs."
Katara just barely kept herself from recoiling in horror. A man of greater proportions? Surely he wasn't suggesting… Lord Ozai was a man and larger than Zuko…
Oh gods! Katara felt like retching. Larger muscles! Larger muscles! Not… other potentially larger things. Oh gods! She couldn't believe she was even thinking about that – about the Fire Lord's…
"Yes!" Katara shouted before her mind could take her to places she didn't want to be. "I mean, of course," she demurred, lowering her voice to more of a purr and fighting to keep the shock and disgust from her voice. "You are so right, My Lord. I will be more arduous in finding a worthy person in whom to place my affections. Thank you."
Katara looked down and to her right, a pose Iroh had demonstrated to her as being one attractive enough but not too obvious to help her get out of tricky situations. While Katara had not been convinced while he had been showing it to her (a short old man with a beard does not usually come across as daintily kittenish) it was obviously working now because Lord Ozai waved a large hand.
"You may leave now, Lady Katara," he said, looking across the table at the food there. "I must eat my lunch and you will surely have more interesting things to do other than watch me."
Katara stood and bowed, backing out of the room until she reached the door as Iroh told her to do when in the singular presence of the Fire Lord, and left. As she hurried down the hall, she could hear the roar of his voice and his fire as he called for a servant to serve him. Katara shuddered.
As she was rounding a corner, rushing to get away from the creepy man she had left in the other room, and perhaps going to scrub every inch of her flesh, Katara bumped into someone and jumped a mile out of her skin.
The someone grabbed her forearms to steady her and she placed her hands on his biceps.
"Are you all right? Did he hurt you? Was he angry? Are you okay, Katara?"
Katara looked up, a wave of relief flooding her and driving away all the tension in her shoulders and neck.
"Oh thank gods, Zuko," Katara leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. Surprised, Zuko was stiff, his hands held away from her back until he recognized the pose and laid them gently in the smooth curve of her back. "I was so worried it was somebody else."
"Who?" demanded Zuko. Who did she fear?
"Anybody," Katara took a deep, steadying breath of him. He smelt so good. "I just didn't want it to be anybody but you." Zuko smiled. "Or Iroh."
Zuko frowned. Iroh? How could she even think to put them in the same category as Iroh? She wasn't kissing Iroh.
Or was she? Gah! No bad thoughts, no bad thoughts, no bad thoughts…
"Well, it's just me," Zuko said, stating the obvious. He had no clue what she wanted, but that seemed fine. She didn't laugh or pull away, at least. "What did he want?" he murmured, breathing in her hair.
"I don't know," Katara shuddered. "He was warning me against you – saying you're a "user of people" but he is too. I can feel it. He wants something from me, but I don't know what that is."
Zuko thought he knew. But he wasn't going to tell Katara. No, he most definitely would not.
This is a long chapter but not too many pagebreaks! Review!