The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear, with not a cloud in the sky; the slanting rays of the sun brought the temperature up to almost tolerable levels. There had been a fresh snowfall the night before, and the ground was sparkling white, the igloos glistening in the bright and clear morning sun. As Zuko stepped out of the door of Hakoda's igloo, turning to the east and squinting into the morning light, the crisp and clear air tasted like a fine wine.
Hakoda had lent Zuko his best parka for the occasion; it was thick, luxuriant tiger-seal fur, with an overmantle of white polar bear fur, and arctic ferret tails with black tips arranged at either shoulder. A necklace of intricately carved and worked bear canines, inlaid with pearl and mother-of-pearl, had been placed around his neck and as an armband around each arm, and he wore a heavy headdress made from the preserved head of a saber-toothed bear, with long curving fangs arcing down on either side of his face. Underneath it, he wore his Fire Nation garments, but the outer furs were so thick and heavy that he barely felt the intense cold.
Sokka stepped out of Hakoda's house right after him, dressed similarly, though without the bear headdress. He looked at Zuko coolly, but was polite as he said, "Ready?"
"I think so," Zuko replied, his voice slightly unsteady. Sokka gave him a jaded glance, but said nothing.
"Here you go." He handed Zuko the wrapped hide piece of whale meat from their hunt. "Where's Iroh?"
"Right here," Iroh called, emerging from the igloo right behind Sokka. Iroh had borrowed some of Pakku's furs for the occasion, having been carefully altered by Kanna; Zuko thought it looked strange to see his uncle swathed in blue and white, and realized that he himself must look similarly strange. He smiled beatifically. "What a lovely day."
"Let's go."
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Water Tribe custom required that the man meet the woman at her house, from whence they would then proceed to the ice altar set up at the village outskirts. Katara had moved into Pakku's and Kanna's addition the night before; it was either Zuko or she that would have to move out for the custom, and Pakku had been icily formal with Zuko since the day of the whale hunt, so Katara had volunteered to move. Therefore, this procession was only around back of the igloo. Zuko walked the few steps in a daze. He couldn't believe it was finally happening: at last, he would have Katara for his wife.
Hakoda met them at the door, standing with his arms folded and a solemn expression on his face; he also wore a luxuriant seal-fur parka with a headdress, but his was of arctic beaver. Kanna was standing beside him, her hair woven with bone beads and chunks of amber; Pakku was to the left of her, a chill in his eyes, but he nodded to Zuko politely enough. Sokka nudged him with an elbow before going to take his place to the right of Hakoda.
Zuko's mouth was dry as he bowed, first to Hakoda, then, deeper, to Kanna; he managed to hand over the chunk of whale flesh to Kanna without dropping it, saying the words he had been told—"Should I be able to prevent it, your daughter will never know want, nor hardship, nor suffering, nor shall her children, nor her children's children.". Kanna accepted it with a single nod, but he thought he saw a twinkle in her blue eyes. Next came Iroh, handing over a small chest to Hakoda and Sokka both; most of the bridewealth had been given earlier, at the same time as Katara's wivesgifts, but some of it had been kept back for the ceremony. He missed Iroh's words, but Hakoda's came to his ears clearly: "These gifts show the honor in which you hold us and our daughter; we accept them as a fitting token of your esteem."
Katara came to the entrance then; Hakoda and Kanna moved back and to the sides, and she stepped into the yard, smiling brighter than the sun. Zuko could scarcely breathe. He knew in that instant that he had never seen her look more beautiful, and that he would never forget that moment.
Like him, she was dressed in furs, but her furs were dyed a deeper, darker color, of the hue Zuko had heard called "royal blue." On her head, she wore a bear headdress like his, but hers was of the female, and around her shoulders was clasped a cloak made entirely of ice-ferret tails. Into her hair on either side of her face were braided pure white snow-hen feathers.
Iroh and Kanna had come up with a unique solution to the problem of bridewealth: instead of gifting Katara's family with massive amounts of traditional gifts such as furs and hides and meat, Zuko would give only a few gifts, but those that he gave would be priceless. As a result, Katara was wearing part of her bridewealth at that moment: a necklace of flawless sapphires interspersed with moonstones, surrounding a sea opal carved with the water tribe crest; a pair of heavy diamond and pearl earrings in the shape of water droplets, a girdle of interlocking white gold links studded with diamonds and shaped like the crescent moon, and solid white-gold diamond-and-sapphire bracelets and armbands. A single star sapphire hung from a silver chain in the middle of her forehead. To Zuko's bewildered eyes, she looked like a goddess, an incarnation of the ocean or the moon. He wondered what she was seeing when she looked at him.
"You look wonderful," he murmured as Kanna took her hand to draw her through the doorway, then placed her hand in Zuko's. She reddened faintly and smiled a small, secret smile.
"Thank you," she whispered back. "So do you…."
Hakoda came up on one side of them and took Katara's arm; at a nod, Iroh took Zuko's arm on the other side. "Let's go," Hakoda told the two of them as the others fell in behind them. "To the boat."
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They took Katara's umiak through the canals of the ice village, with Katara and Zuko seated in the stern, kneeling side by side, and the rest of the party paddling. The village was empty as they made their way through the silent canals, and the sun gleaming off the ice walls turned the houses into sparkling crystal under the pale, luminous sky. Zuko was filled with silent wonder at the beauty around him; it reminded him of the stories of enchanted cities his mother used to tell him when he was a child. Beside him in the stern, Katara was quiet and thoughtful, her hands folded in her lap.
"Where is everyone?" he asked her in a low voice.
"Probably waiting for us at the glacial altar," she answered.
"Not much farther," Hakoda told them, looking back over his shoulder. "Aang and Toph are probably there already." Aang had agreed to bless the ceremony.
As they reached the snowfield surrounded by low hills where the ice altar had been set up, Zuko stiffened in surprise; the white of the snowfield was blue with the parkas of the entire population of the town. He saw men, women, children and the elderly, clustered in knots and clumps on the expanse of white, and a low, hushed buzz of conversation came to their ears. "There's so many people," he said, surprised.
"Of course," Hakoda told him. "This is the wedding of Katara the Mighty, after all."
The gondola drew up to the side of the bank, as the assembled crowd all watched silently. Hakoda stepped from the boat to the snowy bank first, and turned to offer his assistance to Katara; she took his hand, and with her skirts clutched in one hand stepped out gracefully, her head lowered. Zuko was afraid that when he climbed out he would lose his balance and fall in the water, but he didn't; he climbed out as smoothly as if he were watching himself in a dream.
Under the bright morning sky, the party proceeded toward the ice altar; Hakoda and Iroh were in front, then Zuko and Katara; Kanna and Pakku came behind with Sokka bringing up the rear. The crowd watched silently as they proceeded, pulling back to form a center aisle for them; many pairs of blue eyes followed their progress. The hush that hung over the assembly was almost complete; the crunching of their footsteps as they passed over the snowy ground was the loudest sound in the still air. It reminded Zuko of the silence at the great ceremonial events of the Fire Nation. Zuko spotted Toph and Suki side by side at the front; Suki smiled at them, then whispered a word to the blind earthbender, who waved. Those strange waterbenders from Foggy Swamp were right next to the two of them, still wearing their leaf hats, and they waved as well, calling out to Katara.
The altar was a single block of ice, carved in a shape similar to that of the standing stones that Hakoda had shown Zuko earlier; it was clear as glass and detailed exquisitely with images of the moon, of stylized waves, of whales and seals and hunters. In the clean rays of the morning sun, the ice shone like purest crystal. Aang stood there, buried in masses of water tribe furs—he was wearing what looked to be an entire polar bear skin, head, legs, claws and all, over his blue and white parka—waiting for them. Zuko was faintly surprised the little airbender wasn't casually sitting on top of the altar, but he looked as solemn as Zuko had ever seen him. He bowed to them as they approached.
It all seemed like a dream to Zuko: the calm, ritual words by Hakoda and Iroh, as the two of them, acting as heads of the two families, pledged their mutual affection and loyalty toward one another; Kanna pronouncing that as matriarch, she gave her approval for this match of the daughter of her blood; himself, carefully repeating the words he had been told to say, glancing at Hakoda for occasional cues: This man pledges to shelter this woman from ice and snow; to provide for her meat and blubber; to protect and defend her against all those forces, human and inhuman, who would assail her; and to nourish and shelter the children of their hearth until they are grown. Katara's expression was quiet and thoughtful as she made the return response: This woman pledges to shelter this man from wind and cold; to provide for him hearth and home; to fortify and succor him against all those forces, human and inhuman, who would assail him, and to nourish and care for the children of their hearth until they are grown. The resolution he saw in her face as she spoke those ritual words startled him; she means it, he realized faintly. She actually means it….
Try as he might to remember it in later years, that day would always come to him in a series of flashes: the pale blue-gold of the sky; the altar, caught in a ray of the morning sun, shining so brightly it appeared to be lit from within; his hands, swathed in heavy Water Tribe mittens, trembling slightly as he handed a chunk of meat cut from his bridal portion to Katara; her own, steady, as she accepted it and handed back to him a packet of jerky that she had made. Hakoda placed her hand in his, signifying that as patriarch, he gave his consent to this match, and then Sokka stepped forward, pronouncing that as oldest male of Katara's generation, he had no objection; he did not look happy about it, but he said the words.
When Aang rose to speak, Zuko hardly heard a word of the blessings he invoked upon their union; all he could see were Katara's deep blue eyes, dark and mysterious in the shadow of her bearskin headdress, the small smile playing about her lips; he had to shake himself to remind himself that it was all real and not a dream. Aang spoke of Tui and La, the Moon and Ocean spirits, and added the name of Yue whom Zuko vaguely recognized. Aang closed his small hands about their joined ones and raised them high, By the grace of the spirits, this man and this woman are joined in marriage, he said, and then stepped back, leaving them alone at the altar.
As he looked down at his new wife, Zuko realized he was trembling with emotion; he saw that Katara was too. Their eyes met, and both of them burst into laughter from pure joy; that laugh felt clean, cleansing, as if it were opening up parts of Zuko's soul that the hadn't known he had; or perhaps healing him in places he hadn't known he was injured. The watching Water Tribe slowly began to applaud, first one, then others, then more and more, until the sound of their applause swelled into a mighty chorus.
They're cheering for us, Zuko realized dimly, then, No. No, there's more than that… For a brief moment it felt as if he could feel the crowd's mood. They were cheering because the warriors had come home, because the whale hunts had resumed. Because they had all survived. They were cheering because it was all over, and life could finally get back to normal. The war at last was over, and what better way to end a war, he could almost feel their thoughts, than with a wedding….
His thoughts fled before Katara's radiant smile. "I love you," she whispered; she reached up, quite deliberately, and pulled him down to her. They kissed, with the thunderous cheers of the crowd ringing in their ears.
So they were wed, on that day and in that year, under a luminous southern sky, as the snow shone like crystal, to the applause and approval of the entire Southern Water Tribe.
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The two of them knelt, facing each other, on the tatami mat in Zuko's cabin back on the ship. Their heavy parkas lay on the foot of the bed; Katara was in her blue kimono, while Zuko was back in his gray Fire Nation robe. The only light came from a lantern above their heads; Zuko had lit it when they had entered the room, and it shed a pool of subdued warmth around them. Katara's skin of bending water lay between them.
She smiled at Zuko, who was pale and quiet.
"Are you ready?" she asked him.
The lamplight flickered across his scarred face, casting parts of it into shadow. It was dim enough that the metallic gold of his eyes was muted to dull amber. He nodded once.
"Yeah." His voice was low.
Katara studied his face. His eyes were down. "If you've changed your mind, just say so." As he still said nothing, Katara added, "You don't have to do this for me, Zuko. I will love you whether you have it done or not. You should only do this if you want to."
"I w-want to." But his voice trembled a little.
"Are you sure?" she asked him softly. "We can do it later if you want. After we've gotten back to the Fire Nation…."
He glanced up at her. Then closed his eyes and drew a breath.
"No. Do it now." Before I lose my courage, Katara almost heard him say.
"All right."
Katara picked up her skin of bending water, uncorked it, and drew the water out, so that it formed a glowing light in her hand. Zuko watched silently. The faint light was cool and steady, in contrast to the flickering glow from the lamp above them.
"I'm not even sure it will work," Katara warned him. "I think it will, but I've never done anything like this before. So don't get your hopes up too much."
"If it doesn't work that's okay." He looked as if he meant it.
"Here goes," she told him. She started to raise her hand to his face, when he suddenly pushed her away.
"Stop," he said quickly, leaning back out of reach.
"What—" Katara began to ask, but he had closed his eyes. As she watched, fascinated, he reached up and laid one hand over the twisted, discolored mass of scar around his left eye. His brow furrowed, and he drew a steadying breath, then another one, as he explored the disfigurement that had marked his life for the past three years. She waited, silently watching.
Slowly he lowered his hand. His eyes were still closed, and he drew a deep breath, then swallowed. "Go—go ahead," he said in a thick voice.
"All right," she said again. She lifted her hand. "This shouldn't hurt. Do you trust me?" she asked softly.
He gave a quick nod. "Yes. I trust you." But he groped for her free hand convulsively. Katara took it, feeling the warmth in his fingertips. As she reached out to Zuko's face, she raised his hand to her own face as well.
"Feel how much I love you," she whispered, and laid the healing water against his scar.
It was easier than Katara had thought it would be. She knew that her bending was affected by her emotions; she poured all her heart into this now. Zuko sat, eyes closed, without moving as the ruined area of his face diminished; his lips quivered, and he swallowed once or twice, but other than that made no sound. His hand was warm against her face; Katara squeezed his fingers so tightly she could feel the pulse in them. At last, she let the water fall away, and sat back, looking at what she had done. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
He's beautiful, Katara thought.
"Did…did it work?"
"Shhh…" Katara reached up and very gently brushed away some beads of water that were clinging to Zuko's newly restored eyelashes. He drew in his breath sharply as he felt her touch. His eyes opened to her smile.
"Look." She pooled her bending water in the air between them, then froze it into a mirror. "See?"
Zuko stared at his reflection. Slowly, as if in a dream, he reached out the fingertips of one hand and laid it against the ice, then touched his face again, running his fingers over the smooth, unbroken skin where his scar had been. He turned to look at her, with a trembling smile.
"You…you did it…" His smile widened into a shaky, disbelieving grin, and his shoulders lifted almost as if a huge burden had been taken off them. He looked very young in that moment, in the flickering yellow light; Katara thought she might be seeing the face of the boy he had been so long ago. His eyes shone gold. "You healed me. You actually…."
He made a noise that could have been a laugh or a sob, grabbed her hand and laid it against the side of his face. He put his arms around her, drawing her close, and then they were kissing, and he was holding her so tightly it hurt. She felt tears on her cheeks, and didn' t know whether it was because he was weeping or because she was.
They held each other and kissed again and again, laughing through their tears, as the ship's engines hummed around them. The propellers turned, driving the ship through the cold southern seas. Smoke trailed behind from the three smokestacks as the shore of the southern continent grew smaller and smaller in the distance. They were heading north, to the Fire Nation.
Finis.
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Endnotes: Below follow a variety of endnotes related to technical matters that I'm sure aren't interesting to anyone but me.
For depictions of Water Tribe culture and terrain, I drew heavily on the culture of the Inuit and other tribal societies, some polar, some not. Much of the technology Katara's people uses in this story is Inuit; the culture depicted comes from a variety of different tribal societies. I also spent some time reading up on the trials and tribulations of the polar explorers, in particular, Robert Falcon Scott, the British explorer whose expedition was wiped out attempting to return from the South Pole after they had been beaten by Amundsen—his journal is online at Project Gutenberg. I strongly recommend it—it is a powerful evocation of tragedy and of humans struggling desperately against an incredibly harsh and unforgiving environment. I also recommend Into Thin Air, about the 1996 tragedy on Everest—it was reading that book that really got me thinking about just how incredibly difficult it was to survive in extreme conditions.
There's one trope I've seen batted around enough that it has essentially become fanon at this point: the idea that firebenders can self-thermoregulate. I find this idea convincing, but it kinda bugs me when fanwriters use this possibility to depict Zuko as somehow better adapted to cold-weather survival than Katara. The real Inuit have a variety of biological adaptations to cold weather—from unique blood-flow patterns to specialized body shapes—that give them an edge in the extreme temperatures of the Arctic and that have developed over thousands of years their people have lived there. Even if Katara has none of those, she still has been raised in this environment since birth and presumably would have developed an ability to withstand such temperatures that Zuko lacks. I do find the idea that Zuko can heat himself to deal with cold intriguing, but I suspect it comes with a tradeoff. One of the main problems with cold-weather survival is that the body requires great amounts of energy to fuel itself and maintain its own temperature against the harsh weather (that's one of the reasons why traditional Inuit diets place heavy reliance on blubber—blubber, or any fat, is a really great energy source). I'm willing to grant that Zuko could do some of that artificially with firebending, but I suspect it would be a massive energy drain on him to do so in the extreme Antarctic cold. Essentially, he would feel fine right up until the moment when he dropped dead from exhaustion. So that's where I was coming from when I wrote this—at the very least it's an interesting idea to me.
The whaling scene depicted here is not historically accurate—to the best of what I could find, Inuit whalers did not use the method where the entire boat was used as a drogue. Instead, Inuit whalers (much like other preindustrial whaling populations) would attach floats and drags to the whale to attempt to slow it down and wear it out so they could catch it and kill it. This technique had a relatively low success rate, which was why it was succeeded by the "fast-fish method" with the rise of industrial whaling in the 18th-19th centuries. I really liked the idea of Zuko being dragged along on a "Nantucket sleigh ride," so the explanation I came up with was that the Water Tribe method of whaling was undergoing a transition from the more ancient method to the more industrialized one…possibly due to advancements in harpoon technology including the introduction of iron harpoon heads. (Inuit harpoons were bone and flint, but if Sokka could manage a metal boomerang, the Water Tribe must have access to some metalworking technology.)
That's all I have to say. If you sat through all this boring stuff, kudos, and have a candy bar on me. Should I ever get "Fire Wedding" written, finished, and published, I hope to see you then!