Disclaimer: All rights belong to Nickelodeon, Bryan Konietzko, Michael Dante DiMartino, and all the men and women that created the A:TLA show, books, and comics. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
Rating: T for violence, character death, some implied scenes
Author's Note: Chapter 4, as promised. This is a Mulan AU that is based partly off the 1998 Disney animated Mulan, mostly based off the 2009 live-action Chinese Mulan: Rise of Warrior move (which I literally cannot recommend more, and if you need a link with english subtitles then hit me up on tumblr), and a tiny bit off the 2020 Disney live action (but not very much, because that movie was garbage and not even culturally or historically accurate in the least and we don't stan the CCP or the government of Xinjiang). Plus I added in some original scenes of my own to tie all those different but similar movie parts together. This is probably my favorite chapter of the fic, although I also like the next chapter a lot, too (which is a Viking AU!)
That all being said, major spoilers for Mulan: Rise of Warrior ahead. As for the dates I put in, they are not very specific - the movie is set somewhere between the 4th and 6th centuries AD, so I shot for the middle of that timeframe
402 A.D.
The sun is rising over the mountains in the distance, its warm yellow rays just beginning to touch the lush green rice paddies all around them. The dew on the grass has soaked through Katara's shoes, but she ignores her cold toes as she diligently follows her father's lead.
He stretches his arm out to the side, lets it hang in the air for a moment, and then slowly and smoothly brings it back in to his chest. He lifts one leg and reaches out with his other arm. Katara attempts to copy, tottering on her one leg.
"Breathe," her father says, setting his leg down. Although his voice is low and serene, there's an undercurrent of pain in his tone. "Breathe and clear your mind. Let your chi flow along its natural pathways. Relax into the motions."
He says it as much for himself as for her. Katara takes a deep breath and steadies herself. She closes her eyes and focuses inward. Her body begins moving of its own accord. She can feel her chi, her lifeforce, flowing from her head to her stomach, from her stomach to the tips of her fingers and to her toes. She feels it swirl around inside of her, uninterrupted.
For a few minutes she focuses on this energy, letting it guide her motions. When she finally opens her eyes, her father is facing towards her, leaning heavily on his wooden cane and smiling.
"I felt it," she whispers.
He nods. "You have an awareness of yourself and your surroundings that few other people have, even at your young age. Now that you have learned how to feel it, you must learn how and when to use it."
He reaches down and picks up a wooden staff that he had brought out with them. Katara hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now her curiosity is piqued.
He tosses the staff towards her and she catches it lopsidedly, the end of it scraping her chin.
"The how to use it, I can teach you. As for the when…" He smiles slightly. "That you will have to learn yourself."
Katara holds the staff in her hands, her palms facing up. She looks up at her father, who shifts his weight to his good leg and picks up his cane. He shows her how and where to hold the staff, then he thrusts it forward, standing with his feet shoulder-width apart. Katara copies.
He shows her a few other basic moves, all of which she copies to varying degrees of success. When the sun has cleared the distant mountains and the village in the middle of the swaths of vibrant green rice paddies begins to wake, he signals the end of their practice.
"We shall do this again tomorrow." He takes her staff and wraps his arm around her shoulders, his other arm bearing his weight against his staff as they return to the village. She can feel the uneven gait caused by his old war injury in his leg, jostling them both with every step. "We shall do this until I have taught you all I can."
407 A.D.
"Hey!"
The group of boys who had stolen Katara's basket laugh and push through the crowded streets. Katara stomps her foot before grabbing up her skirt in her fists and running after them. She slips around the village men and women, oftentimes side checking them in her haste. She pays them no attention; her eyes are on the fleeing boys, but she still notices them tittering and complaining behind her back.
The crowds part in the main square, where the boys run around the center well. A few of the sellers glare at them from their stalls set up along the edges of the square, but most ignore them; after all, a group of boys causing mischief is nothing new.
Katara bursts free of the street and runs right up to them. "Give it back!" she demands, setting her hand on her hip.
"Or what?" sneers the oldest boy, who is about three years older than her and a half foot taller. "Are you going to make me?"
The other boys laugh. Katara scowls at them. She reaches forward to snatch the basket and the boys dances out of her reach. One of his friends reaches out to shove her, but she grabs his wrist and uses his momentum to flip him over her shoulder. He hits the ground with a thud and cries out.
The other boys start shouting at her. One swings at her. She ducks and grabs his shoulder as he soars by, setting her other hand on his back and shoving him even further along. He trips over a dip in the ground and pitches forward.
She sweeps her foot under the legs of a third boy, felling him, and moves onto the next. The last boy, the eldest, simply drops her basket and runs, the others on his heels. Only one boy, the first one, remains.
The adrenaline rush from the fight over, Katara becomes aware of the adults. They've all frozen in place, staring at her in horror. Her cheeks grow red and she ducks her head as she begins to walk quickly away.
"Wait!" a voice calls out from behind her. She turns quickly and sees the first boy holding out her basket. "You forgot this."
She stomps over to him and snatches it out of his hands. Before she can turn again, he says, "My name is Haru. I've never met a girl who could beat me up before."
Katara doesn't respond. She hurries back out of the main square to her house on the edge of the village.
Katara's father paces in front of her in their small dining room. She sits on a cushion on the floor, her eyes cast downward.
"What am I to do with you?" he repeats. His bad leg suddenly gives out and he pitches to the side, just barely catching himself in time. His jaw clenches in pain.
"I'm sorry, Father," she says, the tears welling in her eyes, both at her shame and with sympathy for her father.
"I didn't teach you how to fight so you could beat up foolish boys in the town!"
"I'm sorry, Father."
"You have brought dishonor upon our family, Katara."
"I'm sorry, Father."
He suddenly stops in place, burying his face in his hands. He leans against the walls and slides down to the floor, his cane resting across his lap.
"No, my dear child, do not be sorry; the fault is mine." He looks up at her, and his eyes are filled with tears. "It was selfish of me to teach you the things I did. I taught you how to fight, but I did not teach you when."
"You said I had to learn that on my own."
He shakes his head. "I was wrong. As the one who taught you to fight, it is also my responsibility to teach you when it is appropriate to do so." He pauses, then his face hardens and he captures her gaze. "You are getting older, Katara. You are growing into a woman. It is time you started acting like one."
She stares at him, her mouth slightly agape in shock. She is a girl, so whatever she does is what a girl does, right? What does getting older have to do with anything?
"As a woman, it is your duty to bring honor to our family by being a good wife and marrying a good man. For far too long I have put off this conversation. For far too long I have let you run wild. It is my fault you are so; I have raised you as a son, and not as a daughter. That must change now."
Katara bows her head, half in submission and half so that he won't see the tears leaking out of her eyes. "I will do whatever I must to bring honor to this family," she promises. "I will make you proud."
She keeps her head lowered as he slowly pushes himself to his feet as limps over to her. He sets a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"I know you will. Whatever my failures as a father, you are the best daughter I could have asked for."
Zuko's parents are fighting again.
They're always fighting about something. On the surface, it always seems like it's over the most insignificant matters - a chipped teacup, an unravelling thread on a tapestry, even the way his mother dresses. But they've been fighting his entire life - long enough for him to know that it's never about those things. Those are just excuses for them to scream at each other for the real issues.
He doesn't like to stay around when they're fighting. He disappears, usually going to the courtyard. He likes to feed the ducks that swim around the fountain, or watch the turtles sunbathe on the plants. He could sit there for hours if he was allowed to.
On days when his parents fight - which seems more and more frequent these days - he usually has that freedom. Even though he's certain some of their fights are about him and his sister, they seem to forget about the two of them while they yell at each other. He shouldn't be relieved about being forgotten, but it's better than having his father's attention.
His father would probably yell at him if he knew that Zuko spent so much time observing the animals in the fountain. He'd claim it was a waste of time and probably drain the fountain. Or he'd make Zuko throw rocks at the ducks and turtles until they left and never returned.
Zuko isn't like his father. He doesn't want to be like him. But he doesn't really have much of a choice. The older he becomes, the more his father expects of him - and the less his mother can protect him.
His sister doesn't understand. She's always mad at Zuko for not wanting the life his father is laying ahead for him. She would kill for the same opportunities he's given on a golden platter. His sister throws stones at the ducks and turtles without being told to do it - and she does it with a smile on her face.
Out of the corner of his eye he can see her sauntering into the courtyard, that wicked smirk of hers in full view. It's an even crueller look than their father can manage.
She sits down next to him in front of the fountain. "Enjoy the view while you can, Zuzu," she says, for once not making a move to frighten or abuse the animals.
He's immediately suspicious. "What is it?"
"I was eavesdropping on Father and Mother's argument."
"And?"
"They're sending you away to military school."
Zuko isn't surprised. He's disappointed, of course, but not surprised. "It's hardly 'sending me away' when it's just on the other side of the city."
"It might as well be. Students at the military school don't get to go home. They don't get breaks." She sighs deeply. "I wish they'd send me."
"Why would they? Girls don't fight."
She glares at him. "There have been female commanders before. Not many, I'll grant you, but they've proven to be successful. Like Fu Hao."
"That was a thousand years ago."
"Then it's about time for another one. Don't you think I'd make a great commander?"
"No one who wants war makes a good commander."
His sister rolls her eyes. "And those who detest war also make poor commanders, because they do nothing but sit around until they're attacked. We could balance each other out."
Or cancel each other out, he thinks. He tosses a small rice ball to the duck who's slowly waddling closer and closer.
"You're taking this awfully calmly," she accuses. "Do you really think Mother is going to get you out of it?"
"No." Zuko wipes his hands off his robes and stands. "I'm tired of hearing them fight. I'm tired of hearing Father's disappointment. At least in the military school, someone else will be disappointed for a change."
Her eyes sparkle with amusement as she observes him. "I think you'll do well in military school," she says.
He knows her well enough to not take it as a compliment.
415 A.D.
"Danyu!"
The chieftains kneel in front of their leader. He sits upon a throne of animal furs and raises his arms.
"We have not seen such activity in a long time," he tells them. "This time when we plunder the Great Plains, we shall have the strength of nine major tribes behind us. It is the strongest show of military power ever. Come! Drink!"
The other chieftains smile at each other and drink deeply. Yue, daughter of the Danyu and princess of the nomadic tribes, steps out of the shadows and to her father's side. She's dressed in resplendent white furs and beautiful jewelry. Though she's the fairest woman in all the plains, she is not married, nor is she promised to anyone.
"Father," she says, bowing before him.
"Where is your brother, Mendu?" he asks her.
A bitter taste fills her mouth. She is careful not to let it taint her words. "He is releasing the captives."
"Releasing?"
Out on the great plains, not far from the site of a recent battle, an encampment of nomadic soldiers are set up along the grass. Mendu, prince of the nomadic tribes, reclines on his side in luxury, a wineskin in his hands. Before him is a large pit, filled with a hundred prisoners. Archers surround the pit, aiming at the fearful men.
Mendu casually waves his arm. His assistant raises his voice. "Kill!" he cries.
The archers let loose their first volley. Dozens of prisoners collapse. In the distance, dust kicks up behind a group of riders galloping towards the massacre.
Yue and her father ride up, her father shouting "Stop!" Mendu looks up with a disappointed expression.
"Brother!" Yue says. "Is killing defenseless prisoners something a good man would do?"
Unlike before, she lets her disgust creep into her voice. She has no fear of her father, nor of brother.
"They are sheep already in my mouth. How I eat them matters not." Mendu laughs dispassionately.
"We cannot waste any more time here," their father says. "We must be back on our grasslands before the first snow."
"Is plundering the Great Plains every year all we strive for?" Mendu asks. "Every year our bounty decreases. We should take advantage of our united tribes and powerful army to cross the plains and conquer China. Once we take their Imperial City, their fertile farmlands are ours for the taking."
Their father stares at him silently. Mendu bows his head in deference.
"Of course, it's your decision. You are the master of the grasslands and the leader of our forces."
Yue waits for her father to put Mendu in his place. He's pushed against the rules too much; he's become cruel and greedy and unpredictable. Now her father finally has an excuse to assert his dominance.
Her father simply says, "We aren't killing any more prisoners."
A small, arrogant smile stretches across her brother's face as he bows. "As you command."
Fear begins to grow in Yue as she regards her brother; but it is not her place to say anything. She is not the master of the grasslands.
She will never be the master of the grasslands - not as a woman.
Katara hefts a large bag of chicken feed in her arms and staggers across the yard. Holding it around the bottom with one arm, she reaches up and unties the top with her other hand. She tips it forward, meaning to sprinkle only a small amount onto the ground.
The entire weight distribution of the grain shifts and, taken by surprise, she pitches forward and dumps nearly a quarter of the bag onto the ground. With a soft curse, she frantically begins gathering it back up and dumping it into the bag.
The chickens begin swarming the area, frantically pecking up all the feed. She fights them off with one hand while still trying to recover the excess feed with her other. A few of the chickens peck angrily at her hands, leaving large red welts and a few lightly bleeding scratches. She finally gives up and takes the rest of the bag away before they can peck through the burlap sack.
Next she brings up a bucket of water from the well to bring to their family horse, Black Wind. The war charger is useless for farmwork, but she and her father love him too much to sell him. She dumps the bucket of water into his trough and pets his silky black hide. He neighs softly and nudges her with his velvet nose.
By the time she finishes her chores and returns to the house, her dress is covered in dirt and chicken feed and horsehair, and clumps of her hair has fallen out of her bun. She ignores her outward appearance and sets to making her father's medicinal tea.
"Oh, Katara," he says when she brings out the steaming teapot to the dining room. "Did you go to war with the chickens? And lose?"
She ignores him and pours him a teacup. "Drink, Father," she urges. "It will help the pain."
He grumbles something unintelligible under his breath, but he takes his cup and sips at it. She hides the self-satisfaction that blooms within her. It fades when he sets the cup down and examines her carefully.
She sits on a cushion across the table from him. "What is it, Father?"
"You have spent too much of your youth caring for an old, sick man."
Katara smiles. "There is no higher honor for me than to take care of you."
He frowns. "That's the problem, isn't it? You care more for me and so little for your own future. As your father, I have been selfish and taken too much of your time."
"You cannot take what I give freely."
He simply shakes his head again, looking troubled. Katara isn't as bothered as she should be; she's never desired the things the other girls in the village seem to care about. Not because she's better than them in any way - there are plenty of times she'd wished she was like them.
It's something else that separates her, something fundamental inside of her. It's as if she knows there's something missing from her life that can't be found in the village. But as long as her father is alive, she won't leave. So she's in no hurry to get married, nor to run off.
She'll wait patiently and make the most of what time she has left with her aging father.
These are the sorriest men I've ever seen.
Zuko stands at the entrance to the training camp, watching the captains drill the men back and forth. Almost ten years of military training has taught his eyes to immediately pick out the incorrectly adjusted armor, sloppy footwork (if what he's looking at can even be called footwork), and poor use of body weight. Though the exercises the captain run them through are similar to what Zuko used to do as a warm-up, the men are drenched with sweat and breathing hard.
Most of them aren't even men at all, but rather boys not much older than Zuko was when his parents sent him away. They're strong from working in fields or apprenticing with tradesmen, but they haven't learned how to transfer their brute strength into the art of combat. And many of them appear to have been underfed.
It's a sick joke, Zuko thinks as he continues to watch. My father knew what a sorry lot this was. He didn't send me here to be useful, he sent me here to prove that I'm incompetent and useless.
It's exactly like his first post, only his first post had been on the frontlines of the border skirmishes with the nomadic tribes. Even an experienced commander would have struggled to pull out a victory in those conditions, not to mention the lack of information, lack of access to proper weapons and armor, and being outnumbered three to one. Zuko had only lasted a few months before returning in shame in defeat.
He was set up to fail, he knows, but that doesn't make the stain on his pride or honor any lighter or easier to remove.
He's determined not to fail again. He refuses to let his father win this twisted game of his. Those soldiers under his command were real people with real lives that had been lost. His father may have thought them expendable for his amusement, but Zuko knows better. These are men with fathers and mothers, with sisters and brothers, with wives and children. They deserve to go home at the end of all this.
At the very least, they deserve a chance.
The task ahead of him seems daunting, but he refuses to accept that it's impossible. He knows he probably looked very similar to them on his first day at military school. He was never naturally gifted like some of the other students. He had to work twice and hard to claw his way up the ranks. Whenever he felt like giving up, he recalled all the times his father screamed at him and it motivated him to work harder.
He has to credit his father with that, at least. For all his faults, he did end up giving Zuko the strength and perseverance to keep going. Most of these men don't have that. They don't even have self-discipline, if today's training is any indication. He'll have to be that harsh voice for them. They may hate him for it now, but one day, when they're standing in the aftermath of a battle very much alive, they'll thank him.
"Zuko!"
He turns to see the Unit Commander walk up to him, wearing his full armor except his helmet, which is wedged between his hip and the side of his arm.
"Commander Feng," Zuko acknowledges, bowing his head slightly.
"It's an honor to have you here," the older man says. "I think the men will be pleased to hear that the s - "
Zuko holds up his hand and Feng instantly falls silently. "I believe I wrote in my letter that, per the Emperor's orders, I will not be immediately receiving any rank. I shall simply be overseeing the training at this time. I don't want the men to see me in any other manner."
"Of course." Commander Feng dips his head. "I am afraid you shall have your work cut out for you. In all my years of service in the Imperial Army, I have never seen such a poor assortment of soldiers."
Zuko gazes back out at the men. "We should have sufficient time to prepare them. But in the case that we are needed sooner rather than later, I should like to start immediately."
"We have a tent prepared for you at the edge of camp, along with nondescript armor as you requested. Most of the conscripted men have already arrived, but some from the further provinces are still travelling. My scouts say there is a group of several hundred arriving tomorrow."
"Tell the captains to continue with their training for now. I want to meet the new recruits as they report."
Commander Feng gives him a strange look. "May I ask what for?"
"My teachers taught me traits to identify in possible leaders. I want to know who to keep an eye on in training and who to push more. I may come to replace some of your captains in time."
Feng's lips twitch with what Zuko thinks might be displeasure, he simply nods. "As you wish."
The request may sound strange, and like a waste of time - any soldier who can read can accept conscription scrolls and mark off family names on the rolls - but Zuko has several reasons for wanting to do so. One of which is the reasoning he gave to the commander. He also wants them to see him and associate him with authority. Most importantly, he wishes to look at each recruit as they come in and burn their faces into his mind - he needs the reminder of what he's trying to save.
Zuko doesn't like being cruel. He hates that he's inherited his father's temper and propensity for knowing exactly how to hurt people the most. But if he can use those for good, then he has to. And he can't let himself feel guilty about it.
He'll feel far more guiltier if these men die under his watch than if they get their feelings hurt by his words.
The next day when Katara returns from her chores, her father appears jumpy. He looks at her strangely, as if silently evaluating something. Whatever questions she asks, he answers with as few words as possible.
She finally slams her teapot against the saucer. "What is it, Father? You obviously have something to say!"
He sighs loudly. "Katara, it is time for you to move on. There is no future for you here. When I die, you will be left alone."
"That will be many years. Why worry about it now?"
"I am your father. It's my job to worry about you." He gives her a small smile. "I have spoken to the matchmaker. She would like to meet with you and evaluate your potential for a match."
Katara's jaw drops. She stares at her father.
"I do this for your own good. It's time for you to begin your life. It's time for you to bring honor to your family."
She wants to scream. Is caring for you not honorable enough? She wants to fight, to use the abilities he spent years teaching her - for what? For nothing, apparently. Perhaps out of some wish-fulfilment of having a son instead of a useless daughter.
She pushes down the anger, picks up her tea, forces herself to swallow a mouthful, and nods. "As you wish, Father."
"I only wish for your happiness, Katara. You won't find it with me - not forever, at least. You have no friends here. You rarely socialize with the other women your age. I have been holding you back. Once you are married to a fine man, you will be much happier."
How can you judge what makes me happy? Katara thinks, a tinge of bitterness crawling up into her mind. Do you know my thoughts better than I do?
No. Because then you'd know there is no future for me in this village beyond you.
Those are thoughts she cannot speak, so she simply nods curtly. They fall back into a tense silence that shrouds them like a dark cloud. Katara can't shake the feeling that following her father's wishes is wrong - that it's not what she's meant to do.
But defying him would be to dishonor him and their family. She is all he has - to dishonor him would be to ruin him. She loves her father, even if she doesn't agree with him, and she doesn't want to hurt him in any way.
What does she choose when the decision is between the rest of her life and her father's happiness and wellbeing?
One of their neighbors, a woman who was friends with Katara's mother before her untimely passing, helps Katara dress up, do her hair, and put her face paint on appropriately. Katara fidgets while she works, the cramped stool causing her legs and bottom to become sore.
When the woman finally holds up a mirror, Katara doesn't even recognize herself: her face is painted white, her lips bright red and her eyes rimmed with black and the lids colored purple. Her hair is swept up in a complex bun and held together with two silver pins and a comb with a jewel blossom on the top. It had belonged to her mother; wearing it now, Katara feels a deep pang of sadness inside of her.
What would her mother think of her if she saw her now? She's nothing but a fraud, and her mother would have seen through it.
Before she and the woman depart for the matchmaker's house, Katara's father sees them off. He holds her arms gently and stares at her. Then he breaks out into a smile.
"I have been blessed with the most beautiful daughter in all of the kingdom," he says, reaching his hand up to her cheek but stopping just short of her skin, lest he smudge her make-up. "You look just like your mother."
"Were you matched with her?"
"Yes."
"Was she…" The words die on Katara's lips, her courage failing her.
"Was she nervous?" He laughs. "Yes. But she was a brave woman, and so are you. Now go and bring her memory honor."
"Quiet...poised...graceful...these are the characteristics of a good wife."
Katara pours the tea slowly, trying to hide the shaking of her hands. She sits with her back ramrod straight. Behind her stands her neighbor, who is also her sponsor in place of her mother or any other female relative; before her sits the matchmaker, a large woman with atrocious face paint and a cruel gleam to her eyes.
As Katara sets the teapot back on the saucer, her trembling hands cause it to clatter slightly. The matchmaker raises a painted eyebrow. Katara takes a deep breath.
She sets one of the teacups in front of the matchmaker. She then sets one on either side of the table, presenting to imaginary guests, and finally sets hers in front of her. As the matchmaker begins speaking again, Katara gets distracted by a fly buzzing around in front of the woman. She watches with dread as it dive-bombs into her tea.
Katara's heart begins to race as the woman raises her tea to her lips, completely oblivious of the bug. Though Katara did nothing wrong, the woman will still fault her for the insect, and her prospects will be ruined.
A small, rebellious part of Katara's mind wonders if that would be so bad, but then she remembers the hopeful look in her father's eyes that morning. If not for herself, then she does this for him. He's done so much for her; the least she can do is what all women her age do.
She clears her throat, and the matchmaker pauses with the tea nearly to her lips.
"I believe I let the tea leaves steep for too long," she says. "May I please try again?"
"Try again?" The matchmaker sets her teacup down, an incredulous look crossing her ghastly features. "When your husband comes home after a long day of work and the food you prepared is not perfect, you will not have the chance to try again."
"Please. I insist."
"I shall taste the tea first, then we shall see." The matchmaker raises her cup to her lips again. Katara panics. She reaches over and grabs the side of the cup.
"I insist," she repeats.
"No, you do not!" The matchmaker tugs back. Katara's hand slips and the force of the woman's tug causes the steaming tea to splash all over her face, neck, and chest. Katara sits back in her chair in shock and horror, her sleeve catching on her own teacup and splashing it onto her lap. With a cry, she jumps to her feet.
The matchmaker slowly stands up, tea and white paint dripping off her chin, the front of her dress soggy. Katara's pins are loosened by the force of her sudden jump, and a section of her hair falls out in front of her face as the woman regards her.
"Get out," she spits out lowly. "You are a disgrace to your family and to this village. You shall never find a good match. Now get out of my sight!"
Katara gives up all semblance of grace and flees. She pushes out the door, past her stunned neighbor, and through the streets. Tears build up in her eyes and spill down her cheeks. She can't see anything through her blurry vision, and her frantic flight takes her to the opposite side of the village from where she lives. Hiding her face with her sleeves from curious onlookers, she finds refuge in a dark, out of the way alley.
She sinks to the ground and wraps her arms around her legs, letting her sobs rack through her body. She cries out of anger at the unfairness of the world; she cries out of self-loathing, for not being a good enough woman; but mostly she cries out of shame, for she cannot bear her father's reproach when she returns home. She wonders if she should even return home at all.
If she's only in the village for his sake, and he's dishonored by her, then wouldn't it be better for her to leave?
The sound of footsteps causes her to choke off her sobs. She slowly turns her head up to see one of the boys from her village, Haru, standing a few feet away.
His eyebrows shoot up when he sees her face. "Wow, you look terrible."
"What do you want?" she demands. "I want to be alone."
He holds out a piece of fruit. "Do you want one? I have an extra. I was going to give it to my sister, but you look like you could use it more."
Katara hesitates before reaching out and snatching it from him. He takes a seat next to her and she takes a large bite, ignoring all standards of propriety.
"Bad matchmaking?" he asks.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Really bad matchmaking," he confirms. "But did you set her dress on fire?"
Katara looks over at him in amazed confusion. "What?"
"Your matchmaking went poorly, but did you set her dress on fire?"
"...no."
"Then it could have been worse." He smiles.
She glares at the ground, fresh anger coursing through her. "I brought dishonor upon my family. I betrayed my father. Nothing could be worse."
"Nothing?" Haru raises an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"
She looks over at him sharply. "What do you mean?"
"You're the most graceful woman in this village. Everyone knows it, even though you barely ever leave the vicinity of your home. You must have been a queen in a past life."
Katara scoffs, but only to cover the sense of alarm rising within her. Something about his phrasing shakes her to her core, as if touching upon forbidden knowledge. But how could that possibly be, when she can't even feed the chickens without tripping all over herself?
"I'm serious," he insists. "Every guy in the village is interested in you. There's no way you would have failed your matchmaking if you didn't purposely sabotage it."
His words sow doubt in her mind. Did she subconsciously ruin it for herself? Did she make a much bigger deal about the fly than she should have made? Or was there a better solution to that issue that she completely overlooked because she secretly knew that she wasn't meant to matched?
Before she can reply, the sound of a drum echoes through the village, along with startled cries. Katara and Haru share a look before climbing to their feet and following the nose to the front gate.
A small group of Imperial soldiers on horseback are gathered at the entrance. The entire village, as far as Katara can see, is present. Through the crowd, she can see her father; she immediately ducks her head.
"We come with a message from the Emperor himself," the lead soldier, a man garbed in fine robes and gleaming armor framed in gold declares. He reads from a scroll. "A group of Nomad tribes has gathered a large army and is marching towards the Imperial city. They have already taken out two of our most important garrisons along the Silk Road. To build up an army strong enough to oppose them, the Emperor has decreed that one man from every family report to the nearest training base to serve in the Imperial Army and protect our land from invasion."
A ripple of uneasiness runs through the crowd. Their lives in this remote village are hard enough already; losing one strong man from every family will cause great suffering, not to mention the heartache of losing someone they love.
The soldier begins reading off names. Katara watches as Haru steps forward to accept his family's conscription; as far as she can remember, his father had been captured and killed in the last war.
"Hua family," the guard reads. Katara's muscles freeze as sudden realization reaches her.
She's rooted to the ground as she watches her father set aside his cane, steel his face, and walk as straight and normal as he possibly can, his chin lifted high. He kneels down in front of the soldier.
"I am Hua Hakota. I served in the last war and it is my honor to serve the Emperor once again."
The man stares at him, a sympathetic look splayed across his face. "Have you no sons to fight in this war?"
"I am blessed with one daughter."
The soldier nods and hands him the conscription. Halfway back to his place in the crowd, her father puts too much weight on his bad leg and he sprawls across the ground. Katara's chest constricts painfully. She wants more than anything to run to his side, but she knows he would only be humiliated further.
He climbs to his feet and returns to his cane, the entire village watching in somber silence. Everyone knows that when he goes to war this time, he will not return.
Katara bites her hand to keep from screaming out loud.
It rains that afternoon. When Katara finally cannot bear the cold and the wet any longer, she drags her sodden body back to her house, her hair falling in various chunks around her head, her dress soaked and mud-splattered, her make-up mostly washed off but still starkly visible in a few places.
She stops first by her family's shrine and prays to her ancestors, begging for their forgiveness and their help. As always, they refuse to answer.
The house is dark and quiet. She slips away to her room and changes, washing the remains of the make-up off and taking her hair comb and pins out and tying it back in a more simple and stable hairdo. She heads to the kitchen and boils water for tea.
Her father sits at the table, silent as she pours him a cup. Her heart pounds in dread as she waits for him to lay his wrath upon her. The seconds wear on and he says nothing.
Finally, after he's drunk not one but two cups of tea, he speaks.
"Many things happened today," he says, his voice quiet. "Many things will happen in the future. We must accept what we cannot control and make the most of what we can."
"Father, you can't fight," Katara interjects.
"I can, and I will." His eyes flash. "I am doing what I have to do to bring honor to our family. You would do well to do the same."
Katara's cheeks heat up and she looks away. "It is not fair. I already lost my mother, and now the Emperor is taking away my father."
"Do not blame the Emperor. Blame the ones who would attack us, who would threaten our homes and our lives and our safety." He reaches out across the table and lays his large hand over her smaller one. "I do not want to spend our last evening together fighting, Katara. Do not let me leave while we are at odds with one another."
She reaches up and wipes away a stray tear with the back of her other hand. "I don't want that, either."
"Good."
They talk quietly about inconsequential things for the rest of the evening; they recount memories and her father lays out his plan for her in his absence. Although Katara doesn't want to fight with him on the eve of his final parting, she also wishes there was more heart in their idle talk.
After she goes to bed, she sneaks back to watch him prepare for his departure the next morning. He opens his wardrobe and gazes at his armor; he pulls out his sword and sharpens it; then he begins moving slowly in the motions that he had once taught her, many years ago. Although she has not practiced in years, she still remembers how it felt to feel her chi, her energy, at work in her body; she remembers how her mind and body worked together in harmony in a way they never had before; she remembers how she found peace in the light of those early sunrises.
For a moment, she sees her father as he once was: a formidable warrior who accomplished many tremendous feats in the Imperial Army. Then his leg twists and he falls with a cry, and Katara's heart aches. She feels absolutely useless sitting here, doing nothing.
I am blessed with one daughter, he'd said. They were much kinder words than Katara deserves. She has been nothing but a curse to him, and she will be the death of him one way or another.
Isn't that just as dishonorable as failing to please the matchmaker and earning a proper husband?
She slips out to the shrine, careful not to let him hear her leave the house, and lights some incense for her ancestors. She prays again, this time seeking wisdom.
It's so late when she returns to the house that her father is already asleep. She slips her hand into her pocket and feels the beautiful comb he had given her that morning. The only thing she has of her mother's.
An idea pops into her mind then. It's a crazy idea that will most likely end in her death. As the implications of the idea shift into place, Katara realizes that she'd rather die trying to restore her honor than to die huddled in a poor village while her father dies unnecessarily in a battle he's unfit to fight in.
She'd prayed to the ancestors for wisdom, and for once they'd answered.
She sets the comb on her father's nightstand and sneaks into the room with his equipment. She takes his armor, his sword, and his conscription scroll. In her room, she stops briefly enough to shear off her hair, leaving it just long enough to pull up into a bun at the very top of her head. She wraps her chest with a binding and then puts on her most formless and plain tunic. She slips the armor on overtop and then heads out to the stables. She quickly saddles the Black Wind, who prances giddy as she works, as if he also senses a return of purpose.
Katara mounts him and with one last look at her house, she digs her heels into his side and takes off.
Perhaps Zuko judged his father prematurely.
As he nears the end of his first week working in the camp, he begins to think that his father's intended punishment wasn't humiliation in failure so much as built-up frustration. Zuko barely made it through one week without blowing up at someone; he has no idea how he's supposed to survive months, perhaps years, in this position.
It's not that the men are stubborn and refuse to learn - not all of them, at least. Some of them are genuinely trying their hardest. A few are making tremendous progress. Most seem unable to kick bad habits that will prevent them from progressing any further.
Zuko is harsh, he knows. He allows the captains to continue running the training, giving them suggestions for drills from time to time, and focusing his own efforts on singling out soldiers and giving them personalized advice. He wanders through the ranks, adjusting foot placement and grips and occasionally yelling at men who he knows are purposefully not giving it their all.
The men don't fear him, though. At the young age of twenty, he's barely older than the youngest among them. Without a rank and without any accolades or fancy armor, they see him as nothing more than a bully. Some of them graciously - or grudgingly - accept his advice, but most ignore him or only listen to him until he moves on.
It's frustrating beyond measure. Zuko didn't spend eight years learning how to be the best just to be shrugged off because of his age and appearance. If his sister were here, he knows she'd beat the men into submission until they cowered at her feet when she passed.
He doesn't want to be like her, or his father. He wants to earn their respect the traditional way.
One day, when one of the more skillful men makes a comment under his breath while Zuko is assisting another recruit, he snaps. He whirls on the man, who is a few years older than Zuko and has the plump skin and shiny hair of someone who's had a relatively easy life, and challenges him.
"Do you want to take my place?" he growls. "Prove that you're better than me, and you can have my tent and my pay and my job."
The men form a wide circle around the two of them. The man still seems cocky as he twirls his staff around, grinning at his friends.
Zuko lunges, catching the man off guard. The end of his staff connects with his abdomen and the man staggers back, the breath knocked out of him.
"In battle, your enemy will not give you the courtesy of waiting until you're ready," Zuko says, loud enough for all to hear. He nods at the man. "Again."
This time the man attacks him first, a snarl on his face. Zuko sidesteps him easily, angling his staff down and sliding it towards his legs as he passes. The man trips and sprawls into the dirt face-first.
"Never let it become personal," Zuko says, once again speaking to everyone. "You'll make stupid mistakes if you do that. Always keep your head and remember your training. Again."
The man's face is red with fury, but he seems to finally get the message that Zuko knows what he's talking about because he takes a deep breath before attacking again. This time they trade a few blows before Zuko claims an opening at his neck, stopping his staff a finger's width away from the man's skin.
"Better," Zuko says, retracting his staff. "You have a good grasp of the fundamentals. I expect you to assist your brothers." He glances around the gathered circle. "The men beside you now are the ones who will be beside you in battle. Look around right now. Do you honestly trust the men around you to keep you alive? Do you think they'll have your back when the enemy is crushing you from the sides and you're tripping over bodies beneath your feet?"
A murmur goes through the men. Apprehension lines their faces as they glance at their neighbors.
"I'm not here to point out your failures because I enjoy doing so. I'm here to give you skills that will hopefully keep you alive one day. If you think I'm cruel, just wait until the enemy is bearing down at you. They will show no mercy. They will show no compassion."
He waits, allowing his words to sink in. Then he returns his staff to the soldier he'd borrowed it from.
"What are you standing around for? Back to your lines!"
He watches with satisfaction as the men scramble into position. The captains look to Zuko with awe as the men return to their drills, an immediately noticeable change in effort in their ranks. Now when he corrects someone, they obey without hesitation.
There's still a long battle ahead of him before they even reach the real battles. New recruits are still pouring in, most of them without any training of any sort. But Zuko is confident that today marked a turning point.
Now he knows how to reach the men. A few more displays like this for the benefit of the new recruits and those with poor memories, and he may have something that looks like a half-way functioning army.
A week of hard riding later, Katara arrives at the training camp. Four watchtowers are constructed on the edges of a sprawling grouping of tents, a clearing in the middle set filled with clashing warriors. A line meanders along the side, rows of young men fidgeting or talking amongst themselves with excitement as they wait, all of them clutching white conscription scrolls. Some have full armor like her; some have none; and some have a spattering of mismatched equipment.
Katara is directed to the stables, where she finds an empty stall and brushes Black Wind down while he munches on hot food and gulps down gallons of water. Her stomach rumbles as she watches; she ran out of food two days ago.
After Black Wind is taken care of, Katara joins the line of men. A few of the boys give her strange looks. Her heart races; is her deception that obvious? She'd cut and styled her hair like a boy's; she's dressed in male armor; and her skin is covered in grime from her journey. If she doesn't look like a boy now, she'll never be able to pass.
One of the boys digs into his side bag and offers her a ball of rice. She reaches out and takes it slowly, unsure of his intentions or how she should respond.
"I've never seen a skinner boy in my life," he says. "You won't last a day here like this."
Katara means to nibble politely on the rice, but her stomach aches and she shoves it all in her mouth. The other boys laugh and slap her on the back.
"That's the spirit," one says.
"Did your family spend all their money on that fancy armor and none on food?" another asks, admiring her sword.
Katara swallows the last of the rice, feeling it hit the bottom of her empty stomach, and then clears her throat. She deepens her voice. "My father was sure the army would feed us, but he wasn't sure they'd invest in good armor."
"I'd be impressed if they do either," the first boy says, and the others laugh again. Katara turns around and melts back into the line, breathing out a sigh of relief.
She waits in line for another hour, the soles of her feet throbbing and her stomach growling. She drinks the last of her water to try and fill the void. When she steps to the side to see how long it still is, she's disheartened to see that she has at least an hour, if not two, if the line continues at this speed.
Suddenly she feels someone grab her arm and yank her to the side. She brings back her fist to deliver a solid punch but takes the time to see who grabbed her first. When her eyes alight on a familiar face, her fingers relax and her arm drops slightly.
Haru stands in front of her, wearing piecemeal armor. His long, dark brown hair is swept back with a black bandana and his face is covered in grime not unsimilar to her own.
"Katara?" he asks, his eyes wide with surprise.
She puts a finger to her lips, glancing around in alarm. To her relief, no one else heard or took notice of him.
"What are you doing here?" he asks, dropping his voice to a whisper.
"Same as you," she shoots back.
"But you're a - " He cuts off abruptly. "You can't be here. They'll execute you if they discover who you really are."
"It's a risk I'm willing to take." She crosses her arms over her chest. "Are you going to tell them?"
Haru seems taken aback. He shakes his head. "No. But Katara - why?"
She feels sadness envelope her as she remembers seeing her father collapse in front of the whole village. She could feel his shame in her own heart. She doesn't let herself think about what he must be feeling since her departure.
"I may die," she says, "but if my father had come instead, there is no doubt he would have died. You know about his injury."
A shadow crosses Haru's eyes. He nods. Then a small smile flickers across his lips.
"What?" Katara demands.
"Do you remember the first time we met?" Katara shakes her head. Haru continues, "I was with a group of boys and we were bullying you. I went to shove you and you grabbed my wrist and threw me over my shoulder. I'd never been beaten up by a girl before."
"I'm not sorry."
"No," Haru agrees. His mirth fades and a serious look crosses his face. "We grew up in the same village, Katara. Our actions in this war reflect on the honor of our village. Our success determines the safety of the people we've spent our whole lives around, whether we love them or hate them. For this reason, I will do everything in my power to protect your secret."
Katara feels a swell of gratitude rise up in her chest. Before she can thank him, his voice turns hard.
"You must train harder than any man here. You must be brave and strong; if you are injured, your secret will be revealed. It is better that you die on the field of battle than be taken to the hospital. If you are injured in a minor way, you must hide it and take care of it yourself. Whatever happens, you must not let the truth be revealed. No matter how well you fight, or how smart you are, or how brave, they will strip you and your family of honor and execute you if your secret comes out. The honor of our entire village will be tarnished."
Katara nods. He isn't being cruel; he's reminding her what the stakes of her charade are. She had thought long and hard on her journey here about them, and she knows what she has to do - and what she might have to do in the future.
"I will do whatever it takes," she swears. "I swear on my life."
Haru seems to relax. "You will need a new name," he says. "Try...Xing. It is common and unremarkable."
"Xing," Katara repeats. "I will. Thank you."
He grunts. "And stop thanking people - men aren't grateful."
They return to the line. As they wait, Haru gives her tips in a low voice on how to better pass as a boy.
When Katara finally reaches the tables, she steps forward and presents her conscription scroll, kneeling on the ground and bowing.
"I am Hua Xing," she says, making her voice as gruff as possible.
She waits while the two men glance over her scroll and then at her. One of the men is middle-aged, a few gray streaks in his black hair. He's dressed in ornate armor and his face betrays no emotion as he examines her.
The other man is younger, not much older, if at all, than she. The front part of his shaggy black hair is pulled back into a queue with a golden ribbon. He's wearing black armor and has two crossed swords sheathed on his back, the leather-wrapped hilts sticking up just above his shoulders. He scowls as he looks at her with his golden eyes.
"Is it just me or are they just getting scrawnier?" he gripes. "How are we supposed to win the war with boys like this?"
Katara feels a surge of anger rise in her, but she keeps her lips pressed tightly together. There's something about him that she just can't put her finger on - a nagging sense in the back of her mind that she should know him. It's absolutely ridiculous and just makes her hate him all the more.
"You've had great success with the training so far, Zuko," the other man says calmly. "When we are finished with them, they will be fierce warriors worthy of protecting the Emperor himself."
Zuko's scowl doesn't lessen. He glances coldly at her. "If they don't accidentally stab the Emperor instead of the enemy," he mutters. Something about that comment catches Katara off-guard, and her jaw drops. Before she can figure out what it is, he barks, "You're dismissed. Report to Company Three."
Katara spends the rest of the day accepting a small pile of uniform clothes, finding an empty mat and space in her company's tent, and then reporting to the mess hall. The slop of rice and gravy she receives is less than appetizing, but she scarfs it down with abandon. The other men around her laugh and jeer and trade stories and crude jokes. She ignores them all and keeps to herself.
Haru is in the same company as her, which she finds a massive relief. It's nice to know there's at least one person in this camp that she can trust with anything. Unlike her, though, Haru quickly makes friends with some of the other soldiers in their company. Katara watches them laugh and arm wrestle and jokingly insult each other. She begins to wonder how she's ever going to pass as one of them.
That night, when she returns to her tent, the men begin stripping down to their underwear. Katara quickly averts her eyes and stands awkwardly by the edge of her mat, unsure of what to do.
Their captain, a thin man of twenty years, bursts through the tent flap and stands at the forefront of their group. They all hasten to stand stock still, their hands clasped behind their back and their feet shoulder-width apart.
He seems pleased with the respect given to him; Katara wonders if anyone has ever respected him like this before in his life. She also wonders how long he's held this post, and whether he inherited it because the former captain died or because he retired.
"It's time for showers," he declares.
Katara's heart sinks. She sends a panicked look over to Haru, who responds with steady eyes that seem to say: whatever you need to do.
"I need one volunteer for - "
"I'll do it, sir!" Katara shouts before he can even finish. The captain gives her a strange look, but then the pleased expression crosses his face again.
"I like your enthusiasm, soldier," he says. "Report to the West Tower for night watch. The rest of you, to the showers."
Although it was Zuko's idea to be present to meet the new recruits, he can't help but shake his grumpiness as he stalks back to his tent. Just as the men were starting to look like a coherent army, a few hundred skinny boys showed up to throw it all off. Most of these are kids from the outer provinces, which are typically poorer, but that doesn't make him feel any sympathy for them. The enemy doesn't care how old they are or how small they are. They'll cut them down indiscriminately.
On the bright side, he identified a few that looked like they had promise. He's decided to keep the captains the same for now, but soon enough they'll be at war and he'll have empty leadership positions to fill. The Emperor, though he's far away in the Imperial Palace, still chooses the Unit Commanders, but the current Unit Commander and Zuko have the authority to appoint captains and even some generals, at least until the Emperor approves or denies them.
One of the faces sticks out to him still, despite all the hundreds he'd seen. Something dark had risen up inside of him upon looking at the boy, something visceral and ugly. It reminded him of how he views his sister: a mixture of loathing and envy, of fondness and grief, all underlied by a wave of cold fear.
He has no idea where those feelings came from. The boy is a complete stranger. If he had met him before, Zuko would have recognized him: he's the softest boy Zuko has ever laid eyes on, all round cheeks and lean muscles with thin eyebrows and long, dark eyelashes. His voice hasn't even broke yet, despite his obvious attempts to make it deeper. Zuko wonders how old the boy is - perhaps as young as thirteen or fourteen, if he hasn't hit puberty yet, though his eyes seemed to carry a strange, ageless depth in them.
Once Zuko moved past the stages of disgust and that strange spike of fear, he was drawn to those eyes. They seemed to hold deep wisdom and bright intelligence in them. Zuko couldn't ignore that. Despite his best wishes, he put a star next to his name as someone to keep an eye on.
And yet, he still can't quite move past the unsettled feeling in his gut. There's something wrong about Hua Xing. Perhaps he's lying about his age, but that doesn't quite feel right. Zuko doesn't entirely trust his gut feelings - his father and sister have always impressed upon him that they're wrong - but he can't ignore the strength of this one.
He wonders if the boy might be a spy. He had darker skin than most of the other recruits, which could indicate that he came from the south beyond the grasslands. And that spark of intelligence that identified definitely lends credence to the theory. A voice deep inside Zuko warns him not to trust that boy.
The spy theory doesn't sit entirely right. Zuko doesn't know what else he could be hiding, but he's sure it will eventually come out. In the meantime, he'll keep an eye on Hua Xing - and time will tell whether his future consists of a promotion or an execution.
Katara's life in the camp begins to fall into a rhythm.
She stands watch from after dinner until midnight. She uses the cover of darkness and the snores of the men to change and get some rest; then, an hour before dawn, she sneaks through the camp to the stables, where she takes Black Wind on a ride to a part of the river about twenty minutes away from the camp - far enough that she's well out of sight. Black Wind grazes she bathes and changes. She rides back as the sun is creeping over the horizon, returns Black Wind to his stables, and joins her company in the mess tent.
After they eat, they assemble on the clearing of the training grounds. The Unit Commander, who was the older man who had looked over the troops the first day, leads the training; his Second in Command always stands with him on the raised dais they observe from.
Zuko, the younger man, has no clear rank that Katara can discern. The others seem to treat him with the respect they would afford a Captain or perhaps even a General, but he has no company under his command. He weaves around the training grounds, silently observing and occasionally giving out harsh critique. Though his words are razor sharp, no one can deny his experience; he occasionally challenges a recruit who is beginning to get too cocky and within a matter of seconds he always leaves them with deep bruises both on their body and on their ego.
Katara finds training with staffs the best. She knows they're only training with them until the officers trust them enough to let them swing swords at each other, but it harkens back to the early mornings she trained with her father in the middle of the rice paddies outside her village. Although she's clumsy at first, as her muscles struggle to remember the paths they once took, she quickly catches up and exceeds her peers.
She's always careful not to bring too much attention to herself, though; she lets her opponents get hits on her even though she could easily defeat them. She stays as average as possible in the sights of the officers. She spots Zuko's eyes on her more than once, though, and it gives her an uneasy feeling, like a spider crawling down her spine.
The other exercises don't come as easily to her - during their runs, she struggles to stay with the main part of the pack; often she lags far behind, enough for her officers to shake their heads. Whenever a task with brute strength presents itself, a sense of dread overcomes her because she knows that even the weakest of the other men are still her better or equal. In archery, her shot is just as bad as everyone else's'.
About a week after their arrival, Zuko shows them to a pole situated a few feet from the raised dais on the training field. He snatches a bow from a recruit and shoots an arrow straight to the top of the pole where it hangs quivering.
"Your goal is to retrieve the arrow," he says. He holds up two large metal disks with leather bands attached through a hole in the center. "One represents discipline. One represents strength. You need both to reach the arrow. Whoever brings it to me gets a full day's rest from training."
He tosses both the disks at the nearest recruit. The man looks smug as he reaches out, but when he grabs the leather straps he suddenly drops to the ground from the unexpected weight. Zuko crosses his arms and watches as he holds them close to his chest, using his back muscles to help lift them.
The recruits step up and try one by one, eager to earn a day off after an especially gruelling first week. None get more than halfway up the pole. Katara watches in amusement but doesn't make an attempt herself.
The weeks stretch into months in much the same way. Occasional snatches of news from the frontlines of the war reach them; disturbing reports of enemy troops capturing more garrisons and inching ever so slowly closer to their ultimate goal: the Imperial City. For Katara, the war itself seems like a distant threat. Her day to day survival is what she concentrates on.
The men around her slowly improve with the staffs. At archery, more of them begin to at least hit the target, if not in the right spot. Katara's endurance and speed during their runs improves until she's able to stay with the middle of the pack without undue distress. Her arm and shoulder muscles become tight and strong; when she flexes, she can see a raised bump along her bicep.
No one gets the arrow, though. Many continue to try, especially as the training regiment grows more intense. They all return to the tent with splinters and scrapes and bruises. Katara has no inclination to join their ranks, though she is among the minority who hasn't tried it at least once.
She becomes more comfortable acting as a male. As the time passes, her fear of being discovered is muted. She joins Haru and his friends around the tables in the mess tent, laughing loudly at their stories and telling ones of her own (being careful to always alter the details, of course). A sense of camaraderie rises up among them. For the first time in her life, Katara feels at peace with who she is. She only wishes she could feel this way without having to answer to a name that is not her own.
Time passes by more quickly as Zuko finds himself able to sleep better each night. The knowledge that he's making real progress with the men puts a sense of peace in him.
His sleep isn't completely free of nightmares. The horrors of his first command plague him, as well as the endless nightmares of his father's wrath and disappointment. He's not sure which are worse - usually they follow each other, one right after the other.
He gets up early each morning to work on his own skills, the habits of eight years of military school not disappearing so easily. He enjoys the feeling of the warm sun on his skin as he runs through the traditional movements. Out of all his teachers, his uncle, a retired general who had earned many accolades in his army career, was the only who had managed to teach him how to harness his chi.
"It's what makes the difference between a good warrior and a great warrior," the old general would always say.
Zuko struggled to open up the pathways as he'd been taught. Even now he finds it difficult. But if there's one thing Zuko has learned in life, it's patience and determination. He never stops trying to do something once his mind is set on it. Some days he's successful, and he feels truly at peace with himself for a few minutes; other days he ends his exercises weary and discouraged.
He's sure the men know when he's having a good day and when he's having a bad day. They've become attuned to his fluctuating moods. With all the time they spend together, it would be hard for them not to. He tries not to let his anger get out of hand, but he knows he still makes sharp comments more often than he'd like.
These days, watching his men almost always lightens his mood. Where he was once left frustrated and tense, he's now left with grudging satisfaction and respect. What he asks of his men, they do; or at the very least, they try. There are still a few lessons he hasn't managed to pound through their thick skulls, but they've made more progress than he would have imagined.
He's harder on the better recruits. Without him telling them explicitly, most of them know their potential. A few of them get too arrogant and he has to set them back, but they always come back stronger and better than before.
The pole and the arrow exercise was a spur-of-the-moment idea, based upon a similar lesson from his days in the military school. It does his work for him; Zuko no longer has to publicly challenge the cocky recruits. They either declare they'll get the arrow and then proceed to fail in front of their peers, or they're challenged by the other men to prove they're the best by getting the arrow. So far none have retrieved it.
The only recruit with potential that hasn't tried is Hua Xing. Zuko can't seem to get a read on him. He puts in a lot of effort with the more physical drills, as well as with archery, but when it comes to training with staffs, he seems to constantly be backing away and letting himself get hit. He has perfect stance, perfect control, and a perfect range of motions - yet he consistently places in the very middle of the group.
The only explanation is that he's holding back. He may not be a great runner or a strongman by any means, but he knows how to fight in the kind of well-practiced way that Zuko has only ever seen in fellow students of his military school. What he can't figure out is why.
Zuko has ruled out the idea that he's a spy. He's never sent a single letter home, nor received a letter. He isn't making a specific effort to blend in - he has a small group of friends, and that's all. He always volunteers for night watch and rides to the river to bathe instead of showering with the others.
Zuko recognizes the signs of a loner when he sees one. That was exactly what he was like in military school. Except his reasons for being alone were very different. It wasn't his choice to not be like the others. Hau Xing has that choice - unless he really is hiding something.
Now that Zuko doesn't have to spend so much time focusing on the others, he's determined to push Xing out of his comfort zone. Any man that hides obvious talent is either scared or humble. If Xing is scared, then Zuko has to find a way to assuage his fears. If he is humble, then Zuko needs to convince him that the Imperial Army needs men like him to lead them to victory.
One night in the mess hall, Katara is deep in a discussion with her friends when a man begins to cry loudly. Some of the other men taunt him or yell at him. Katara watches him sadly.
"He sold himself in place of another man's son so that his mother could buy medicine," Haru tells them softly. "He just received word that she's not doing well."
One of the tables, where a group of the richer men are playing games and gambling, suddenly erupts. One of the men pushes to his feet and curses loudly. His eyes flit across the room and land on the crying man.
"You!" he roars. "It's your crying that threw off my game! You made me lose!"
He storms over and grabs the man by the collar, pulling his fist back in preparation to land a blow. Katara races across the room and grabs his arm before he can.
"Leave him alone," she says. The man turns to look at her incredulously. He releases his victim and turns on her instead.
"And who are you?" he sneers. He shoves her away. Katara allows the insult to pass, but he's obviously looking for a fight because he advances on her again. "What, too afraid to fight me?"
"No."
He lunges and she grabs his wrist and flips him over her shoulder in much the same way she did to Haru when they first met. His back hits the edge of a table and he howls in pain. He staggers away, mumbling a string of curses.
Katara raises her voice so that everything who had witnessed her can hear her. "If we're going to fight, we should be fighting our enemies, not ourselves. Otherwise we are defeating our country for them."
Many of the men mumble in agreement and return to their conversations. Katara goes over to the man who had been crying. He furiously wipes at his cheeks with his sleeve.
"My father is sick," she says. "I know how you feel. What you did for your mother was honorable and brave."
He nods, still sniffling.
"We will see our families again," she promises him, passion flooding her. "We will survive this war and return to them. And they will wait for us."
He manages a weak smile. Katara pats his arm before rejoining her friends.
Zuko watches with a mix of interest and surprise from the back of the mess hall as Xing flips over a much larger recruit with seemingly no effort. He occasionally puts on plain clothes and lurks in the back of the tent to keep an eye on the men. He's learned more about them from eavesdropping during the meals than he's learned anywhere else.
He was just getting ready to leave when the altercation broke out. The specifics are lost on him, but he understands well enough that one of the cockier recruits from a wealthier family was making fun of another soldier and Xing gave him a fair dose of humility. His passionate speech afterward struck a chord within Zuko.
Despite the feeling in his gut that warns him not to trust Xing, he can't deny the evidence in front of his eyes. Xing has all the makings of a great leader. Apparently he just needs a push in the right direction.
That's where Zuko comes in. It's his job as the training director to utilize the assets of his men in the right places. One day he'll need Xing as a leader - and it's up to him to prepare the recruit for that day.
Since Xing won't try to retrieve the arrow by himself, Zuko is going to have to give him a little push.
It's been a while since he's publicly challenged any of the men. Perhaps it's time for a reminder. After the display in the mess hall, he's almost certain it's humility keeping him from showing off, but perhaps it's the opposite - Xing knows he isn't quite good enough to beat Zuko, so he's been holding back lest he gets an ego check in front of everyone.
Whatever the case, Zuko is determined to find out.
Everything changes when Katara makes a foolish mistake.
All the recruits have grown much better with the staffs; Katara doesn't have to be quite so calculated about hiding her skill. Still, she makes sure to make mistakes and allow herself to get hit a few times to keep up the charade. As long as she lays low, she's able to slip some of her eccentricities under the radar.
But one day on the field she's sparring with a particularly nasty recruit who comes from a wealthier family and finds joy in shaming others. He's been getting on her nerves for weeks now, and when they're partnered up to spar, her pride keeps her from letting him get a single hit in. As she easily deflects all his advances, she finds great pleasure in watching his smug smile falter.
She forgets herself and in the heat of the moment unleashes her skill in a way she never has before. She doesn't just want to evade him; she wants him to feel the same shame he bestows upon others.
She closes her mind off to her surroundings and focuses just on him. By the time she sends him sprawling into the dirt, all the recruits in the immediate area have stopped to watch in awe. They clap and cheer; Katara ducks her head and drops her staff. She turns to flee, only to run straight into Zuko.
He looks down at her with a scowl. She stumbles a few steps back and bows her head, mumbling an apology. His gaze doesn't lessen.
"Pick up your staff," he orders. She scrambles for it and holds it in shaking hands as she faces him in a large circle bordered by other recruits.
Zuko snatches a staff from another recruit. They circle each other for a moment, Zuko looking like a bird of prey on the hunt and Katara feeling like a field mouse in its shadow.
Then Zuko lunges. Katara blocks his attack. She could press a counter attack, but she hesitates. It gives him the time he needs to strike back. His staff connects with her thigh in a burst of pain
"Don't hesitate again," he orders.
Anger flares up in her again, as it always does when he's around. He's just as much of a bully as the recruit she'd fought. The only difference is that he doesn't hurt others out of joy, but out of frustration for their incompetence and arrogance. It doesn't make him any less of a cruel person.
She breathes deeply and focuses on her chi, like her father had taught her all those years ago. She connects with the flow of energy in her body. When she opens her eyes again, she feels power surge through her veins, as well as a cool confidence.
It isn't some special force that makes her stronger than everyone else. Anyone on this field could learn to let their chi flow through them as she does. All it does is close off the distractions of fear and panic and allow her to focus the energy that would be wasted on such matters into the task at hand. She is at one with her body and mind.
She attacks first this time. She swings quickly and efficiently. Zuko wards off all her attacks, though she notices his eyes widen. She gives him no mercy as she pours everything she has into the attack.
Their skirmish drags on for minutes. Katara is dripping with sweat and her grip on her staff slips. Zuko takes advantage of her momentary lapse to sweep his staff under her legs. She hits the ground on her back hard.
Katara doesn't even feel embarrassed as she lies in the dirt. In fact, she feels proud of herself for holding her own against him for so long. Though she doesn't know anything about Zuko, rumors spread through the camp that he attended a prestigious military academy in the Imperial City when he was younger; that she, a peasant girl from an unremarkable village, could fight toe to toe with a man of such high education, is satisfaction enough.
She's caught completely by surprise when Zuko stands over her and offers his hand. She stares at it for a long minute before taking it. He pulls her to her feet.
"I knew you had it in you," he says, quietly enough that only she can hear. "You've been holding back for months. Why?"
Katara doesn't know how to answer.
"You could advance to the rank of a captain with your skills. Are you afraid of having more responsibility?"
Katara shakes her head.
"Were you afraid of showing off and creating a barrier between you and other recruits?"
Although it isn't entirely true, it's the closest she can admit to. She nods once.
"You shouldn't hold back from revealing your true self because you're afraid of what other people will think." Zuko takes a step back. His eyes flicker over her shoulder to the pole with the arrow embedded at the top. "Prove that you're more than a good fighter and I'll see that you get a timely promotion. We need men of your skill to lead our armies if we want to win this war."
As he walks away, the other recruits crowd around her, cheering her on. Katara feels rooted in place, staring at Zuko's retreating back. Her entire perception of him has shifted, though she's still not sure how she feels about him.
That evening, Haru pulls her aside.
"Getting a promotion would be a good thing," he says.
Katara stares at him in shock. "You really think so? I thought lying low was the better option."
"If you become an officer, you'll get your own tent. You'll have more privacy and freedom. You won't have to sneak around as much." He sets his hands on her shoulders. "You're a good fighter, Katara, but you're also the most honorable and brave person I have ever met. Zuko was right - your country needs you. Don't throw away your talents."
The next morning and all the mornings after, Katara wakes up a half hour earlier to attempt to retrieve the arrow before her bath. The disks representing strength and discipline weigh heavy on her and she wonders how she'll ever get that arrow.
As she returns to camp, she notices Zuko standing just outside the camp on a flat space of land, his silver swords in his hands. The metal is thin and slightly curved up. He wieldes them expertly, his eyes closed as he fights off imaginary opponents. Katara watches in awe for a few minutes. She may have been his equal with the staffs, but she still has a lot to learn about swordplay.
After that, she adds yet another half hour onto her morning routine to pull out her father's sword and practice with it by the side of the river.
One morning, as she's swimming in the river and letting the dirt and grime of the previous day wash off her skin, she's startled to hear footsteps.
Zuko appears at the bank of the river. He shucks off his robe. Katara turns away before he undresses any further. She can feel the ripples of the water as he wades in. Her heart pounds in her chest.
Be calm, be calm, be calm, she repeats to herself. Don't act suspicious and he won't have any reason to think you're hiding something.
In the pre-sunrise darkness, the water is inky black, so Katara isn't too worried about him seeing her - or rather, specific parts of her. However, as a woman who has been raised a certain way, she still crosses her arms over her chest.
Luckily he doesn't seem to get too close to her. He stays a respectful distance away.
"You haven't retrieved the arrow yet," he says, his voice carrying over the gently flowing water. For once, there's no edge to it. "I haven't decided if it's because you don't know how or because you're still letting fear rule you. I also haven't decided which possibility I prefer."
Katara sinks down to her chin in the water, shame washing over her. She wishes that it were fear holding her back. She hates that she hasn't figured the answer out yet. She feels like she's disappointing him - and disappointing herself.
"I tell you this in confidence," Zuko says. "We have received news that a garrison near our camp was attacked by a small but powerful force just last week. The soldiers there were able to fend them off, but they retreated in our direction."
A shiver runs through Katara.
"We have spent too long here. The men are adequately trained; it is now time for them to join the war. We will be marching out to the frontlines within the month."
His voice is heavy. Katara knows it's not her place to ask, but she can't help herself.
"Have you been in battle before?"
Zuko drags his fingers across the surface of the water. "Once."
"What happened?"
When he raises his eyes to hers, they're tortured. "I lost all my men. Every one of them died."
Katara suddenly understands why he pushes the men so hard in training. She gets why he beats humility into the cocky ones. She sees why he doesn't let anyone get close to him.
"Good leaders are hard to find," Zuko says. "I was hoping you could be one."
With that, he heads back to shore. Katara turns around, her thoughts on him once again thrown to the wind as she tries to reckon her assumptions about him with this new information.
She stands in the water for a long time before she realizes how late it's getting. She glances around before running out of the water, dressing, and climbing onto the back of her horse.
The next morning, just before sunrise, Katara stands in front of the pole, determined to retrieve that arrow. She won't stop until she gets it.
The disks, which were once unbearably heavy, are now only a minor nuisance; she's carried much heavier things for her training. She stares at the disks, thinking about how Zuko called them strength and discipline. She thinks about his story and reads between the lines, filling in the gaps of what he didn't tell her.
She ties the leather straps to her wrists and then throws the disks around the base of the pole. The leather straps on the edge of the disks twist together. Strength and discipline together. Katara pulls them up and then braces her feet against the pole and begins to ascend.
It takes her longer than she expected. The sun rises and the men begin to groggily creep out of their tents. When they see her slowly creeping upwards, they begin to gather around.
She slips a few times, losing a few precious inches, but she doesn't give up. She presses on until her arms shake and her legs cramp. She continues to use the disks as a counter balance to her weight as she steadily climbs upward.
When the sun fully shows itself, she reaches the top. She sits on the top of the pole and tugs the arrow out. The men cheer as she holds it up high.
She sees a path open up between the men as the Unit Commander, her company's captain, and Zuko stride through. She tosses the arrow down to them. Her captain stoops to pick it up while Zuko nods once.
Katara lets herself sit on top of the pole for a while, enjoying the sun on her back and soaking up the cheers of her fellow soldiers.
Since she has the day to herself, Katara takes Black Wind for a longer ride than usual. They gallop along the bank of the river, enjoying the feel of the wind against their backs and blowing their hair. Katara feels alive in a way she hasn't for a long time.
She returns to her usual spot to bathe, taking the time to relax and float in the cool water. She closes her eyes and feels the sun upon her skin.
Black Wind suddenly neighs in fright. Katara's eyes pop open and she sits up abruptly to see smoke coming from the direction of camp. She hears the sound of metal striking metal and shrill screams begin ripping from the air, travelling over the open plain.
She leaps out of the river and dresses frantically, glad she had brought her armor with her. She jumps on Black Wind's back and spurs him into a gallop.
The camp is overrun. Supply wagons are burning, sending up the plumes of smoke she had seen even miles away. Fur-wearing Rourans stab with spears and shoot with arrows. The two armies are tangled up. Black Wind vaults over a burning wagon and lands in the clearing used just yesterday for training. Now it's covered in blood and bodies.
Katara hacks down with her sword, cutting down a group of Rouran soldiers. She sees Zuko standing over the body of a man with expensive armor, defending him from a group of soldiers. The Unit Commander. When he cuts them all down and catches her eye, he yells, "Kill their general!" and points with his sword before a fresh wave of Rourans surround him.
She digs her heels into Back Wind's sides and gallops across the battlefield, cutting down any in her path. She doesn't think about what she's doing; she just acts on instinct.
She hears cheers as she passes her fellow soldiers. Inspired by her arrival, they push back with more force than before. War horns sound out across the tattered camp as the fighting intensifies.
She leaps over the Rouran defenses and cuts through the general's guards. She twists and spins as she slices and stabs, each motion fluid and deadly. Once she steps over their bodies, it's just her against the general.
He slices at her but she ducks and kicks out at the side of his knee, causing his leg to crumple. She swings her sword at his neck, blood spraying up onto her face.
She stands there, frozen, as a cry goes up along the battlefield.
"The Rouran general is dead!"
The Rourans begin to flee back from where they came from, the Imperial Army hot on their heels in pursuit. Katara remains frozen in place, unable to wrap her mind around what she's just done.
A heavy hand settles on her shoulder. She looks up slowly to see Zuko standing next to her, staring at the nearly decapitated head of the general.
"You did what you had to do," he says. His eyes look nearly as glazed as hers. "In war, that is all we can ask for."
He turns and heads back to the troops. Katara isn't able to move for another few minutes. Finally, she begins helping the others with the gruesome task of either helping cart the wounded to the hospital tent or collecting their bamboo name tags from around their necks.
Around her, the voices seem quiet and her senses dull. She's not numb because she's shocked at the carnage; she's numb because she's shocked by how normal it is. Fires and blood and smoke and bodies - these aren't things she's ever encountered, yet they don't strike her as odd or disturbing. If anything, they feel familiar.
That night, Katara is summoned by a messenger. In the darkness, she makes her way with the light of the moon to the edge of the river closest to camp. A thin, short pier leads out just over the surface of the water. Zuko is sitting on the edge, a pile of bamboo name tags by his side.
She bows as she approaches. "You summoned me?"
He motions for her to sit. "Help me," he says. He reaches over to the pile of name tags, picks one up, and then bends over to scrub it in the water.
She watches him work for a moment before settling down and taking one of her own. It's covered in blood and sticky to the touch. She dips it in the water and uses her fingers to scratch off the dark substance.
"You could be a talented general," Zuko says. "You were smart enough to retrieve the arrow. You're a good fighter. And you didn't freeze in battle. You earned the respect of many men today."
Katara finishes cleaning her first name tag and takes another from the pile. There's a trapped sun inside her chest. He doesn't give out undeserved compliments. "Why are we doing this?" she asks.
"I don't want their families to see the blood." Zuko pauses with his hands still in the water. Then, shaking his head slightly, he resumes. "I don't want to make things worse for them than they already are."
Katara works silently for a moment. "I feel completely numb inside," she confesses. "I fought because I had to. But I don't... Every time I close my eyes I see that general's face in my mind."
"The first kill like that is always the hardest."
Zuko takes another name tag. Katara doesn't tell him that's the worst part - that killing the general and his guards didn't feel horrible; it felt familiar, as though the action of cutting down men and stabbing through armor and flesh and bone is something she has done before.
"My father thinks I'm weak because I refuse to fight unless I have to. I was given command of a company and they all died. Then he sent me here, where he thought I could do no harm." His lips twist up into a crooked smile. "I brought dishonor upon my family. Now I must work to earn it back."
Katara thinks of her disaster of a matchmaking. "I understand that."
"I used to hate my father. Now I understand that he was just teaching me a lesson. I will not make the same mistake again."
They work together in silence for an hour, until all the tags have been scrubbed clean. There's so many of them; Katara wonders if she knew any of them. Then she realizes she must have, even if she doesn't recognize their names.
When they're finished, they each collect an armful of them. Zuko leads to his tent, outside of which he has strung up a line between two thin poles. They hang the tags on the line to dry in the wind.
"One of our generals died in the attack today," Zuko says. "I want you to take his place."
Katara's eyes widen. Going from soldier to general would be to jump several ranks.
"Do you even have the authority to promote me?" she asks. "I thought the Unit Commander was in charge."
"The Unit Commander died as well. I am also being promoted," Zuko says. "We would lead the surviving men of this camp to the Great Plains, where the majority of the attacks are happening."
"I don't know what a general does exactly," Katara admits.
"I will help you. If you accept." Zuko stares at her. "It is one of the highest honors you can achieve."
Katara takes a deep breath. She remembers what Haru said. Then she nods.
"I would be honored to become general."
Zuko watches Xing make his way back to the main part of camp in the darkness. In the cool night breeze, the bamboo name tags swing lightly and bump together, sounding like the windchimes in his family's courtyard. He hasn't heard that sound in many years.
He wonders if he's making a mistake by promoting him. Just because he retrieved the arrow and killed the Rouran general doesn't mean he's going to be a good leader. He's young - as young as Zuko, at least - and inexperienced. Zuko doesn't even know how well he can read.
The instinct that he shouldn't trust him is beginning to fade. It still lingers in the back of his mind, but ever since he saw Xing ride into battle on that black charger, looking every bit like a fierce commander, Zuko can't shake the feeling that he's meant to be a leader. He didn't flinch in the face of violence and bloodshed; he did the opposite, riding to the middle of the fight and inspiring his fellow soldiers.
He looked natural and at ease, as though it was his hundredth battle and not his first. Zuko remembers how his teachers at the military school always complimented him for his quick reactions. They said he must have been a fierce warrior in a past life. That same thought flickered through Zuko's mind when he saw Xing enter the fray.
It isn't just Xing's fighting skills. It's his entire manner - he's calm, quiet, and composed, but he can also be loud, demanding, and a little unhinged when he needs to be. He thinks back to the incident in the mess hall, when he'd stood up for his fellow soldier. He also thinks of how easy it is to talk to him.
At his first command, Zuko had cleaned the nametags by himself. It was his self-inflicted punishment, a reminder of the men he failed to save. With Xing, the task isn't so burdensome. Instead, it reminds him of all the lives he's saved - and all the warriors he's successfully trailed. Sharing the task was intimate and personal, but also freeing.
He truly hopes that nagging voice in the back of his mind is pure nonsense, a stubborn paranoia from all the abuse he suffered at the hands of his sister and the other boys at the military school. It's hard for him to trust others, but he has to be able to trust his general.
More than that, he wants to trust Xing.
"Commander Feng died protecting his country," one of the generals announces to the remains of the army a few days later. "The Emperor commands Zuko to take his place. Hua Xing is also being promoted to general and Second in Command due to his bravery and courage in the attack."
Katara and Zuko both accept their new sets of armor with a bow. Though the soldiers below them cheer, neither of them smile; the weight of their new responsibility weighs heavily on their shoulders.
"Prince Mendu has gathered all the forces of the tribes in the Great Plains," one of their advisors tells them later in a closed meeting. "A great battle is imminent."
A messenger comes running into camp, gasping from his exertion. "A letter from the Emperor!" he cries out before immediately collapsing.
Two men drag him out while Zuko takes the scroll and opens it, reading it silently to himself first. Katara watches, anxious. When he sets it down, his face is pale.
"The Emperor orders us to attack the Rouran forces," he says. "We are to confront them before they can advance any further."
"When do we leave?" Katara asks.
He doesn't look at her. "We leave as soon as everyone is ready."
418 A.D.
For the next three years, Zuko and Katara lead their small army to war. It takes them a few months to reach the frontline of the war; and there they stay, fighting over and over again, winning many battles, losing some, and preventing the Rourans from penetrating deeper into the Empire.
Katara sees many of her friends lost. The men she trained with are cut down one by one. She watches from the back of Black Wind, her heart as heavy and her mind as blank as the first time she'd killed. She remembers Zuko's words: "You did what you had to do. In war, that is all we can ask for."
Haru is not among the killed, and for that she thanks her ancestors. She and Zuko are also not harmed - at least, never severely. In time she forgets that her identity is something she has to keep secret; it has become a habit to hide who she is, and therefore it is who she becomes.
By the end of the third year, the Emperor promotes her and Zuko again, giving them control of even more men. They are both commanders of their own armies now, though they work together to provide the buffer between the homeland and the grasslands, where their Rouran enemies come from.
"Danyu! Imperial Commanders Zuko and Xing defeated our Commander Banwuyi!"
"Zuko and Xing again," the Danyu says, leaning forward to examine a military map. Yue stands at his side; her brother Mendu, the defeated and shamed Prince, kneels with his head bowed on his other side.
"Our forces can no longer be split up," Mendu says. "Please, Father; we must attack with a united front. They will fall before us like wheat under a scythe."
Their father says nothing. When he returns to his own tent, Yue kneels by the side of his bed.
"I have been thinking, Father," she says, setting a hand on his shoulder. "Our people have a hard life, for no real reason."
He grunts. She continues, "I am a princess here, but I could be a queen. If I marry into the Emperor's family, we could have peace between our peoples. We could trade for what we need with pelts and horses instead of the blood of our men."
Her father laughs. He smiles at her warmly. "If you didn't have a brother, you would be the future Danyu, the master of the grasslands. You would lead our people."
Yue feels her heart sink. Mendu chooses that moment to walk in. He bows in front of his father and then stands to place his crown upon his head. Yue watches him with apprehension.
"You have been a good son to me all these years," her father says, pressing his hand to Mendu's cheek. "When I die, I hope you sing for me. Then I want you to bring our tribesmen home. We do not belong at war forever."
Yue watches their exchange with frustration. How can her father not see what an evil man her brother is? Does he not understand that her brother will lead their tribes to ruin? When her father dies, so will their people.
Mendu simply bows, a small smile on his face.
419 A.D.
In her fourth year in the army, Zuko and Katara lead a small scouting team through a pass in the mountains. A Rouran force awaits them just on the other side and since battle between them is inevitable, she and Zuko wish to wage it on their own terms.
It takes them and their team of ten soldiers three days to ride through the pass. The snow is deep and heavy. Katara wears a thick cloak and finds it not too unbearable, but Zuko shivers the entire time. Apparently the winters in the Imperial City are mild.
"This won't be a feasible route," Zuko says over a cold meal on the evening of their third day. "There's no way we're getting an entire army through this. It could take weeks, and it's much too small. If we got trapped up here, we'd be sitting targets."
"If we go around the mountain, it will also take us weeks." Katara rubs her hands together, wishing for a fire but knowing it's too dangerous this close to the enemy. "The mountain will be to our backs, which will be to our disadvantage; but we might be able to surprise them."
"We could settle down and build a strong defense where we're at now." Zuko brings his hands to his mouth and blows on them. "But our army is not used to hunkering down. We've been on the offensive for the past three years."
"But because of that they are probably expecting us to lead the charge," Katara points out. "They might have strong defenses of their own."
"We'll have to get closer to their camp and see exactly what they have," Zuko decides.
Katara nods in agreement and they fall silent. Around them, harsh winds blow, buffering at them from every side. Although the cold doesn't bother her, Katara still doesn't like being in the mountains. The footing is treacherous for both them and horses and there's always the chance of bad weather keeping them holed up for days or even weeks. She feels vulnerable up here. She can kill men, but she can't fight the elements.
The next day they reach the base of the mountain. They make a small camp behind the cover of some hills. The day after, they ride as close as they can to the Rouran camp. From the distance, they can see some siege weapons, high walls with archers on the parapets, groups of horsemen running alongside the outside of the walls, and high guard towers.
"Sieges aren't really our style," Katara says. "We're good at fighting on the open plains, not hammering against fortresses.
Zuko frowns. He keeps notes of everything that they can see. The other members of their scouting team are just as devoid of ideas as they are.
"We have four days to think about it on the trip back," Zuko finally says, taking his reins and spurring his horse back. They ride to their camp on the foothills of the mountain and eat yet another cold dinner. Katara can't wait until they can have a fire again.
The first day they make it a third of the way up the mountain before camping on a relatively dry space hidden beneath a shelf of rock. It's open to the elements on three sides, but a row of rocks bulging out from the front of the shelter keeps them hidden from sight and other boulders along the side help minimize the wind. Potentially they could even have a fire in here without being seen, but they decide not to take the risk, minimal as it may be.
They sit in a circle and throw around ideas for how to defeat the army waiting for them behind the fortress, but all the ideas would lead to high casualty rates. Katara and Zuko are distinguished for their relatively low casualty rates, for which they're the most successful commanders in the Imperial Army; they aren't about to change that now.
Katara goes to sleep that night worrying if they might be facing their biggest defeat in the weeks to come.
"We just have to get the gates open somehow," Zuko says to her as they hike up the mountain. They're in a bit of a steep part, so they're walking and leading their horses by their reins. "If we could get the gates open, we could have our horsemen ride through and take out most of the footsoldiers. A few of them could dismount and climb up on the parapets to take out the archers."
"Or we could have some archers on the backs of the horse riders to shoot from the inside," Katara says. "It's a good idea, but how would we get the gates open without having someone inside?"
"I don't know," Zuko admits. They trudge on in silence for a few minutes.
An arrow suddenly sprouts from the chest of one of their men. He pitches over and his horse rears and neighs loudly. A few more arrows follow.
"Get down!" Zuko yells. They all hit the ground as more arrows whiz through the air.
"It's an ambush!" Katara hisses as she lays against the snow. "They must have seen us scouting and sent a group ahead!"
"We need to get out of the open!" Zuko raises his voice so the remainder of their men can hear. "Find cover!"
They all scatter, arrows raining down upon them. Two more men are struck, though the injuries aren't fatal, and everyone manages to find a rock or ledge to hide on that protects them from the arrows. The horses aren't so lucky; they scatter, running full tilt from the fight.
Katara and Zuko pull out their bows and shoot back. Katara hears a scream as one of their arrows lands, but still more volleys rain down upon them. They press up against the side of the rock face.
Because of the nature of their trip, they hadn't burdened themselves with shields, and other than their bows and swords, most of their other tools and weapons were strapped on the horses.
"They have the high ground," Zuko says, peering out from around the rock. "If we rush them, they'll shoot us up. We only know their general location, so we can't flank them; we also don't know if they have anyone else hiding in the mountain."
"They can easily wait us out," Katara agrees. She looks around, trying to find something - anything - to help them. The snow blinds her and she has to close her eyes, blinking away black spots in her vision.
Wait - the snow! Katara ignores the pain and looks back at the snow. She sees a peak just above the area where the Rourans are hiding, stacked with tons of snow. If she can somehow get it to fall on them, it might cause a big enough distraction for them to charge.
She explains her plan to Zuko. He hesitates.
"It's a good idea, but how are you going to do it?"
"I have a small rocket with me."
He gives her a strange look. "You have a rocket?"
"Yeah, I always bring a small rocket with me in case I need it. It's in Black Wind's saddlebags." She suddenly pounds her fist against the rock and curses. "I don't know where he went."
She looks around, but all the horses have disappeared. Black Wind is a good horse, though, and loyal; and though she hates to call him when there's a good chance he'll get struck with arrows, she doesn't see any other choices.
She lifts her fingers to her lips and whistles loudly.
For a few minutes there's no answer. Katara is disappointed, though she can't blame the horse; she's put him through a lot of trauma in the past few years.
Then she hears a neigh and Black Wind canters up the steep mountain face, heading towards her.
Though a few arrows are shot his way, none of them hit him. He kneels down behind the boulder with Katara and Zuko. Katara strokes his nose while Zuko digs through the saddlebags.
"I'll give you all the sugarcubes you want once we get back to camp," she promises him.
Zuko fishes out the rocket. "I still can't believe you carry this with you," he says, shaking his head.
She shrugs. "You never know when you'll need one. Like now." She peers around the boulder. "Okay. I'm going to have to fire this from the open. I'll be an open target. Can you provide me some cover?"
Zuko hesitates. Then he nods. "Just be careful," he says. "I can't lose you. I don't know where I'll find another commander half as good as you are."
She flashes him a quick smile, though his compliment warms her up from the inside, touching a part of her that she's unsuccessfully tried to tamper down over the years. "I'm not ready to die yet," she promises. Then, taking a deep breath, she sprints out from behind her cover.
Zuko begins firing arrows as fast as he can back towards the area where the Rourans are hiding. The other members of their scouting team catch on and shoot from their respective hiding places. Still, a hail of poorly-aimed arrows fly in her general direction.
Katara kneels and positions the rocket, lining up the shot. She only has one chance, so she isn't going to rush it. She lines it up once, twice, thrice, and then sends a prayer to her ancestors before striking the flint she always keeps tucked in her pockets.
Sparks fly out but nothing happens. She tries again. More arrows rain down around her. One zips by her ear, nicking just the edge. She ignores the pain and continues striking the flint.
"Come on, come on," she whispers. A spark finally catches and fire begins crawling up the rope towards the rocket.
She jumps up and sprints away, back towards her hiding place. An arrow slams into her side and she tumbles to the ground, rolling head over heels through the snow. She hears someone cry out for her but between the pain and the panic of rolling down the mountain, she can't identify who it is.
She rolls over the arrow and it drives deeper into her side. A fresh burst of pain erupts and her vision blurs and turns mostly black. She finally rolls to a stop, slamming into a boulder that thankfully keeps her from rolling right off the edge of the mountain.
For a moment she lies there, trying to breathe through the agony. Then a faint rumbling sound echoes and causes her to sit upright. She looks up and sees the entire peak that she'd shot the rocket at shaking. The screams begin and men start slipping and sliding down the slope, Katara's men and Rourans alike.
"Avalanche!" someone shouts as the snow begins to fall.
Katara pushes herself to her feet, the adrenaline pumping through her body overriding her pain. She begins running uphill.
Black Wind slides to a stop next to her, whinnying wildly. She climbs onto his back and he begins cutting across the mountain, the force of the falling snow still pushing them down.
A few bodies tumble around them. Katara can't make sense of who is who. She looks around frantically for Zuko, but she can't see him. Most of the bodies she sees are Rourans. She hopes that her team is safe behind their boulders.
She's about to give up her search when she sees a flailing figure being carried by the waist-deep currents of snow. She recognizes the armor immediately; it's identical to the armor she wears.
"Zuko!"
She digs her heels into Black Wind's side and he leaps forward, his mouth frothing at the bit as he fights with all his strength against the snow. They have to slant downward to follow Zuko as he's carried farther from them.
Several times he disappears under the snow; finally he comes up, his arm raised, and Katara is able to lean down and grab ahold of it. Between her injury and trying to stay on Black Wind, she's not able to do much more than hold onto him, but he's strong and smart and manages to use her armhold to climb up onto her horse behind her.
Once he's safe, Katara knows there's no way she can save anyone else; Black Wind might not even be able to get the two of them to safety, let alone anyone else. Katara steers him perpendicular to the flow of the current of snow and he fights to get them out.
A ledge appears in front of them and underneath it is a relatively sequestered and protected space. Black Wind leaps for it and lands with a jolt in the very same shelter they'd spent last night in. Katara can hardly believe the avalanche carried them so far down, but she's relieved that they're safe.
Zuko slides off Black Wind, staggering a little. He's a little bruised and shaken, snow clinging to every inch of him, but on the whole he looks unharmed.
Katara slides off Black Wind and immediately pitches to the side. Zuko lunges forward and catches her. As he lowers her to the floor, Katara begins to panic.
"You're injured," he says, beginning to tug at her armor. She futilely tries to slap his hands away, already feeling weakened from blood loss and exertion. Whatever it takes.
"I'm fine," she says.
"You have an arrow sticking out of you. Let me help."
"Don't touch me! Leave me alone!"
Zuko's face darkens. "What's wrong?" he demands, not releasing her.
"I can take care of myse - " The edge of her arm brushes against the shaft of the arrow, sending a wave of pain through her body so brutal that everything goes black.
When Katara wakes up, her brain is so fuzzy that she doesn't doesn't recognize her surroundings. She's laying down on a hard and cold surface and above her she can hear howling winds. She pushes herself up on her forearms, feeling a spike of pain emanating from her side. She looks down and sees a circle of dried blood on her shirt. She lifts it slightly and sees a make-shift bandage wrapped around her side.
Her memories come back to her in a rush. She bolts upright, her heart racing as she remembers exactly what happened. She looks around the small space and sees the glowing coals of a fire a few feet away. Zuko sits on the other side of them, leaning against his pile of armor. Over his regular clothes he's wearing the sheaths for his twin swords.
Katara swallows past the lump in her throat. Zuko stares at the embers of the fire, his face strangely emotionless. His hands are both curled into fists in his lap.
Slowly he looks up, his golden eyes blazing like a bonfire. Katara remembers the temper he used to have when she first met him and fear makes her veins run ice cold.
"I can explain - "
"Four years." Zuko's fists clench tight enough that his knuckles turn white. "You lied to me for four years."
"I had to." Katara feels her own fists clench. Her defenses, which she hadn't put up around Zuko in years, suddenly come up. "I didn't have a choice."
"Everyone has a choice."
"My father had no sons. He was crippled and sick. If he had come, he would have certainly died. I had to take his place."
"You're a girl. War is no place for you."
"Then why is it the only place where I've earned honor? Why is it the only place I've felt true to myself?"
"How can you feel true to yourself when you've been lying to everyone around you?" Zuko jumps to his feet. "You're a fraud!"
"I was just as much of a fraud when I wore make-up and poured tea for the matchmaker as I am dressed as a man!" Katara shouts back, also climbing to her feet despite the wave of pain and dizziness that threatens to send her back into the throes of unconsciousness. "At least this way I'm serving my country and protecting my family!"
"Your lies and actions bring dishonor upon them! You spit upon the graves of your ancestors!"
Zuko draws one of his swords. Katara's eyes widen. She knows the rules that they keep posted in the clearing of their camp at all times: The penalty for theft is death. The penalty for lying is death. The penalty for disobeying orders is death. The penalty for bringing women into camp or having anything to do with women is death.
Katara has earned the death sentence not once but twice over.
Though every cell in her body screams that it's unfair, she always knew that her discovery would be her death. At least this way it's happening in private and not in front of everyone. Maybe her father won't hear of it - he'll hear of her death for sure, but maybe he won't know that she was executed. Maybe her dishonor will die with her.
Katara kneels in front of him and bows her head. Tears well up in her eyes and splash against the cold ground.
The same feeling that had once indicated that she'd seen battlefields and killed before whispers to her that this isn't the first time she's betrayed him. How it's possible, she's not sure; whether he has the same feelings, she's also not sure; but somehow she knows, as truly as she knows the sky is blue and the forests are green and blood is red, that she has lied and deceived him before.
"You don't owe me anything, Zuko," she says, "but I would beg you not to tell anyone about this. Tell them I died of my injuries. Don't tell them I died dishonorably."
Zuko says nothing. She holds her breath and waits for the pain.
A minute passes. Two minutes. The anticipation kills Katara; she just wishes it were over.
Zuko makes a sound of disgust and she hears the metallic sound of his sword sliding back into its sheath. He turns on his heel and sits back down on the opposite side of the fire.
Katara slowly rocks back on her heels. His face is drawn tight with anger.
"A life for a life," he spits out. "You saved my life, so I am repaying my debt to you."
Katara has many questions, but she simply nods. She doesn't want to push him any further.
The rest of the day is spent in a tense silence. They sleep that night and in the morning they pack up what little extra they have and tie it on Black Wind's saddlebags. Zuko lost his horse, so they hike on foot, Katara leading Black Wind by the reins.
They have no way of knowing whether any of the others survived, and vice versa, so the two of them set back out for the camp. It takes them five days on foot. The trip is brutal on Katara's injured body, but she refuses to betray her pain. Zuko doesn't say a word to her the entire time, and Katara returns the favor.
She still isn't sure if she's going to face any other consequences besides Zuko not speaking with her anymore, so a bit of dread fills her as they near the camp. Her steps become heavy and leaden.
When the watchmen see them, they let out a joyful cry. Men spill out of their tents and gather around them, keeping a respectful distance but smiling and cheering nonetheless. Zuko scowls as he walks through them; Katara keeps her gaze on the ground ahead of her.
She sleeps through the entire next day. She wakes up to a plate of food just outside her tent as well as a jug of wine and water. She eats and drinks her fill, dresses, and reports to the commander's tent.
Zuko barely glances up when she enters. He and the other advisors are gathered around the military map that sprawls across the entire table. She sees a couple of the men from their scouting team and feels a sense of relief flow through her. She didn't kill everyone with her spur-of-the-moment plan.
"You're just in time," he says emotionlessly as she takes her place next to him. "I've come up with a plan for how we're going to take the fortress."
He traces his finger along the base of the mountain. "We're going to march the army along here. The mountain pass isn't feasible. It will take us longer this way, but time doesn't matter."
"What if they strengthen their defenses?" a general asks.
"We'll have a man on the inside," Zuko says, tapping the fortress. "Their job is to open up the gate and sabotage the defenses as much as they can. They'll let us in."
Katara frowns, but she doesn't say anything. This is the plan they spoke about on the mountain, but they had both agreed that they didn't know how to sneak someone inside.
"And how will we get someone inside?" another general asks. "And who will go? It will be a mission of the utmost importance and danger."
"I understand. That is why there's only one person I trust to do this." Zuko turns to Katara. "Commander Xing will sneak in. He will do what has to be done."
Katara doesn't betray her surprise. The other generals and advisors gasp and begin muttering amongst themselves, but she simply nods.
"Whatever you command, sir." She presses her hands together in front of her chest and bows.
"We'll ready the army to march out the day after tomorrow. Commander Xing will leave the same day but take the mountain pass. He'll have to skirt around the fortress for miles to appear as if he's approaching from the opposite direction to make him less suspicious. He should arrive a day or two before us." Zuko glances around. "Any questions?"
Katara can see that they have questions in their minds but they don't dare voice them. They glance between the two of them, wondering what's going on between their two commanders who once acted as two parts of the same person.
Zuko dismisses everyone but her. She stays rooted in her spot until the last person leaves.
"You understand how you'll sneak into the city?" Zuko asks, not looking her in the eyes.
"I am to dress as a woman."
"Good." He sweeps up a few extra maps and rolls them up. "It will be a dangerous mission. There's a good chance they'll kill you or worse when you arrive at the fortress."
Katara swallows and nods.
"There's also a good chance they'll kill you when you try to open the gates. But if you don't get those gates open, then thousands of our soldiers will die and we might not even secure a victory." He finally looks at her. "Do you have any objections?"
Katara shakes her head.
"Good. You're dismissed."
You always knew she was hiding something. From the first time you met her.
Zuko sits in his tent, running his hands through his unbound hair. He's doing his best to keep himself pulled together in front of the others, especially her, but now that he's alone, he finds himself falling apart.
Anger is the prevalent emotion, washing through him in seemingly unending waves. Since she first woke up in that cave, his anger has taken control of his body. He's constantly tired, worn down by his tightly clenched muscles and his shaking hands.
He wants to hit something, to hurt someone, to ruin himself before anyone else has the chance. He almost took it all out on her in that cave. For a moment, he wanted to. And in a way, he did. Just with his words and not with his blade.
The anger he could live with. He's struggled with his quick and violent temper almost his entire life. It's his go-to emotion whenever anything doesn't go as planned. It's easier to react aggressively with anger than to reveal his true emotions.
It's the pain, simmering just underneath all that anger, that's his undoing now. That's what had hit him the hardest in the underhang on the mountain when he'd first discovered her secret. The white, hot sear of betrayal like a firebrand straight to his heart.
He trusted her with his life. He brought her up from the ranks of a common soldier to the commander of her own army. He shaped her destiny to that of a legend. In return, she lied to him.
A lie he could understand. He has a few secrets of his own. But they aren't secrets he's kept from her because he doesn't want her to know. They're secrets from the common soldiers and the other generals. The only reason he hasn't told her is because she hasn't asked. In all their years together, she hasn't even broached those topics.
The difference with her secret is that she was never going to tell him. She couldn't even lie about that when she was at her mercy. She didn't beg for forgiveness or understanding. She didn't tell him that she was sorry she betrayed him.
She only asked that he not publicize her dishonor.
Zuko remembers the first time he met her. He'd thought she was a scrawny, pre-pubescent boy who had snuck in. He also had an acute fear and distrust. His gut told him to watch out for her.
And he did. But as she proved herself to be a good warrior, he shoved that distrust deeper and deeper back into his mind until he'd all but forgotten about it. Even when he first realized the truth, it hadn't settled in. Not until she woke up and didn't deny it.
Now all he sees when he looks at her is betrayal. It hurts much more than it should. He has a phantom pain of a knife in his ribs, which is an oddly specific place but no less painful than a knife in his back or heart. He couldn't even sleep when he was travelling back with her to the camp - his dreams were full of vivid, almost life-like visions of her stabbing him, of her running away and leaving him to die, of her drowning him in the river.
He doesn't honestly think that she would kill him, but it doesn't matter. He can't trust her anymore. And he can't look at her without pain and anger together flaring up inside of him and threatening to consume him.
Hiding underneath the pain of betrayal is another kind of pain, a hollow ache that seems to scoop out his heart and leave an empty cavity behind. It's the ache of loss - of losing his best friend, his confidente, his brother-at-arms.
There's a deeper ache under that, one he doesn't want to acknowledge. Sometimes it slips past his walls and sends questions flickering across his mind:
I wonder what her real name is. Does she have someone waiting for her back home? Where will she go when the war is over?
Does she miss me the way I already miss her?
Even as soon as he realizes where his mind has gone, the anger and pain surges up to sweep all those away. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.
She doesn't matter.
Still, he can't quite seem to convince himself of that. He knows, deep down, that if his plan fails and he never sees her again, he'll regret it for the rest of his life. He also knows that had he never learned her secret, they would have decided on this plan anyway. It's the best of their limited options. Although this is a decision he's making in anger, it's still the right decision.
Had he reached it any other way, he would have asked if she was willing to be the inside man. He knows she would have agreed. She always does what's necessary, even if it's dangerous. Even if it puts her life at risk.
It's why she's a great warrior and a great commander. It's what sets her apart from the others. Were she a man, she probably wouldn't have this kind of resolve. Ironic that what makes her the best is also what makes her impossible.
He also knows he's making a dangerous gamble himself, though. She has proven that she can't be trusted, yet he's entrusting her with a confidential mission. She could decide to betray them all and take refuge with the Rourans. After the way Zuko has treated her, he wouldn't blame her.
He has to believe that the past four years have meant something. If she betrays them now, at least they'll know and they can attempt to pick up the pieces. If she proves herself loyal to their country and cause, then Zuko will try to work through his own pain and anger.
The Imperial Army needs a leader of her caliber. Zuko needs her as his partner. No one else could replace her. It won't be easy for him to overcome this betrayal, but it's not about him. It's never been about him, or her.
He takes a deep breath, splashes his face with water, and pulls his hair back up into a passable queue. Their armies will be short one commander already; he can't afford to wallow in anger and self pity anymore.
Katara wears plain clothes the day of her departure. She can't bring her armor or else she'll be identified immediately, but she also can't dress as a woman until she's far out of sight of the army. She packs female clothes, which Zuko had somehow procured for her yesterday, into Black Wind's saddlebags with some food and water. The only weapon she has is a knife strapped to her belt, which she can easily strap to her thigh under her dress when it's time for her to change.
She stops by Zuko's tent to let him know of her departure. She doesn't expect more than a nod from him in confirmation, but he seems to hesitate as he looks over her and her horse.
Katara can tell that he wants to say something but can't come up with the words. He's not very good with words, so this expression is by no means foreign.
As she watches him, she realizes that she's not angry with him like she was on the mountain. She knows that this mission is her punishment. She knows that Zuko knew she probably wouldn't return alive from it when he came up with the plan. She also knows that it's their best chance of capturing the fortress.
Knowing that she most likely won't ever see him again, she only feels a deep sadness that permeates even the deepest part of her heart. She burns the image of his face into her mind. She won't put words to her feelings towards him, but she knows that they're strong.
They've been through a lot together the past four years. Despite what he's doing to her now, Katara will always remember him as the man who she's spent hours with cleaning blood off their men's name tags before sending them home. She'll also always remember him as the man at whose side she rode into battle with countless times. The man who took a chance on a small, scrawny, peasant soldier
When the silence between them stretches out for a few minutes, Katara realizes that he's not going to say anything. It pains her deeply.
Maybe he has nothing to say, but she'll swallow her pride and be the one to say goodbye.
"In case we never see each other again, there's something I want you to know." She pauses, her heart racing. "My name is Katara."
Zuko stares at her. She can't take the weight of his gaze and turns around, pulling herself onto Black Wind.
Just before she takes off, she hears his soft response carried by the wind: "Goodbye, Katara."
Katara rides Black Wind at a frantic gallop towards the gate of the fortress, careful to make sure that her hair and dress are billowing behind her in full sight of the Rourans at the top of the parapet. She hears some yelling and she pulls Black Wind to a halt in front of the gate.
Two armed guards surround her, their spears pointed at her.
"What do you want?" one guard demands.
Katara makes sure to look panicked. She had torn at her hair and the wind blowing into her face had drawn out tears from her eyes to help with her deception.
"Please help me," she cries. "Don't turn me away! Don't let them get me again!"
The two guards exchange looks. "Who are you talking about?"
"The Imperial soldiers." Katara sobs and claws at her face. "They had me captured. I just managed to escape while they were preparing to attack."
One of the guards lowers his spear and grabs her shoulder, shaking her hard. "Have you gone mad?" he demands. "The Imperial Army is on the other side of the mountain. There's no one for them to attack."
Katara shakes her head. "No, they're over there." She points with her finger in the direction of the Great Plains - the opposite direction of where the army actually is. "Just the cavalry. But please, don't send me back. They'll kill me."
The guards inspect her horse. "You stole one of their horses?"
Katara wipes at her eyes with her sleeve and nods. The guards exchange another look before shouting an order. The gate lifts and the guards, still surrounding her, escort her inside.
The fortress is not much more than a few buildings built alongside the walls. The inside space is completely open, save for a few wagons, barrels, and racks of weapons and tools. A few dozen Rourans train against each other, though as her story spreads through the camp, they drop their training staffs and pick up their swords and shields.
The guards escort her up a set of wooden stairs and into a building with a long hallway in front of a row of doors. They rap urgently on one. A voice from inside demands their names and business, which they give. Then the door opens.
Katara is led into what is obviously a command room. Men with expensive armor and swords sit around a large table, on top of which is a huge map marked with troop locations. Katara does her best to memorize as much as she can in the minute it takes the guards to retell her story.
The man who Katara identifies as the commander stands at the head of the table and listens attentively. He dismisses the men and turns his shrewd eyes on her. Katara makes sure to bow her head and slouch her shoulders, strands of her dark hair falling in front of her face.
"You're a prostitute?" he asks bluntly.
Katara shakes her head and pushes out a sob. "No, I'm not. They took me from my village. I didn't have a choice."
A murmur passes through the men around the table as they shake their heads in distaste. The commander's eyes remain on her.
"Please, sir...don't make me go back. I w-would rather die."
"I'm sure we can come to an agreement," he says levely. "You were in their camp, yes?" Katara nods. "Then you can answer some questions and we'll let you stay here until we've repelled their attack."
She falls to her knees. "Thank you so much. You are far too kind."
"How can we be sure she isn't lying?" one man asks. "She could be a spy."
"She's telling the truth. One doesn't become commander without learning how to read people."
He waves his hand and one of the generals brings her a chair. She pushes the hair out of her face and takes a deep breath. Inside, she can't believe her ruse is actually working; then again, she's been lying about her identity for over four years. She must be an expert liar by now.
The commander begins his questioning. "How many men were in the camp?"
"There were a lot, sir. I never got exact numbers...maybe a thousand?"
A muted exclamation goes up among the generals. Katara takes note of their reaction without betraying her interest.
"A thousand? Are you sure? And they all had horses?"
She nods quickly. "And I heard a few names come up a lot...someone named Zuko and someone else named Xing?"
The officers immediately jump to their feet and begin all speaking at once, their voices growing louder as they attempt to overtalk one another and argue. Only the commander remains silent. Finally he holds up his hand and silence falls.
"Are you certain?" he asks.
Katara sniffs and nods.
He switches to a dialect she doesn't understand and begins issuing quick commands. The generals bow and race out of the room one at a time. Katara cowers in her chair, playing the part of the terrified victim.
Finally only the commander remains. He walks over to her.
"Your information has been most helpful," he says. "I promise you we'll bring about a swift end to the ones who hurt you. For now, I suggest you head down to the mess hall and grab something to eat. My generals are spreading the word that you are not to be touched, though I recommend you keep your head low and find a hiding place once the battle starts."
Katara does as he says - at least in regards to the mess hall. She sits alone in a corner and eats in a proper way she hasn't done in years. She's been playing the part of a man for so long that she's nearly forgotten all the things she was taught as a girl.
The soldiers are in too much of a rush to pay her any attention. She stands in the shadow of a building and watches the gate, trying to come up with a plan for how best to get it open and keep it open. If she has to hold the mechanism she will - but that isn't much of a plan because soldiers will be on her the moment she begins to open it and she can only fend them off so long, not to mention the archers on the top of the walls.
Her attention begins to drift. She thinks of Zuko and wonders where he is right now and what he might be doing. It's been two weeks since she rode out of camp; she hasn't been away from him for that long since she became his second in command. She'd camped at the base of the mountains by herself for a week, and under the vast expanse of sky and stars, she'd felt lonelier than ever.
She wonders if he'll ever forgive her. His anger hadn't surprised her, but she thought he would be able to overcome it. After all their history together, she didn't think he would just throw her to the wolves. After all the time they've spent together both on and off the battlefield, she thought their relationship was too strong for one insignificant lie to ruin it all.
Katara is fighting against thousands of years of tradition and culture, though. No matter her accomplishments on the battlefield, the moment her true identity is revealed, they're all forgotten. When Zuko looks at her now, he doesn't see her as his co-commander; all he sees is a woman.
She had always meant to tell him one day. Zuko has a quick and cruel temper, but he also has a huge heart. He treats all the men as individuals and not just empty faces; every death, whether his friend or a stranger, affects him just as deeply.
It's just too bad Katara isn't a man.
Her thoughts are interrupted by the alarm going off. All the soldiers had been positioned to the south, per her lies; now as the Imperial Cavalry thunders towards the north gates, all the men are in disarray. They shuffle around, orders getting lost in the chaos and havoc.
Katara uses this to her advantage. A group of men open the gates to let the guards in. Katara grabs a wagon near the gate, tears out the wheel stoppers, and begins pushing it with all her might. Once it's positioned directly under the open gate, she smashes the back set of wheels and then pushes up the front part of the wagon. It takes all her strength, but she manages.
The two guards run in and the men manning the gate begin to lower it. Eight feet from the ground, the bottom edge grinds to a halt on the edge of the upright wagon.
Katara slips away, heading towards the control mechanism. It's a wheel with lines of rope and a lever that sticks out to push the wheel in whichever desired direction.
The cavalry draws nearer. The archers on the top of the wall begin to fire down upon them; so do the Imperial archers riding behind the cavalry on the backs of their horses. Arrows fly both ways and a few unlucky men are hit. Katara weaves through them, grabbing an iron rake with a wooden handle.
Three men are on the platform with the gate control mechanism. Another group of men are down below, desperately trying to move the wagon without getting crushed by the gate. Katara rushes up the wooden stairs, cursing as she nearly trips on her cumbersome dress.
When she reaches the stop, she gores the first man with the tines of the rake. He screams in pain and collapses. Katara snares the second man as well before the third man draws his sword. She tries to wield the rake like a staff, but the iron end is too heavy. She drops that end to the ground and steps on the wood just above it, snapping it off. She raises her new staff just in time to block his sword.
She trades a couple blows with him before hitting him right in the throat with the jagged end. Blood spurts out and he stumbles away, clutching at his neck. She turns back to the steering mechanism, trying to figure out how to stop it.
The soldiers below have nearly moved the wagon out of the way of the gate. She has seconds. Katara spies the iron tines that she had broken off her rake and snatches them up, shoving them in between the gears of the gate mechanism.
The soldiers below tear the wagon down. The gate slips one inch and then the gears grind to a halt against the foreign object embedded in them. Katara kicks it in deeper and then begins running down the stairs. The Imperial Cavalry is almost here and she can't be seen as a woman by her men; even Zuko couldn't stop her from being executed then.
She races across the clearing, shoving past any soldiers in her way. They don't pay her much mind. Her skirts trip her up and she goes sprawling in the dirt. As she climbs back up to her feet, she sees the body of a soldier who had been hit by a stray arrow in the dirt. She grabs his sword from his stiff hands and uses the tip to cut a slit from her thigh to hem on both sides of her skirt; then, still holding the sword, she races up the steps, retracing her steps to the war room.
The door shuts just as she sprints down the hall. She hears the thud of a wooden beam slamming into place. A few soldiers run down the hall from the opposite direction. Katara dispatches them quickly. From the outside she can hear the sound of hoofbeats, neighing, and clashing swords; her time is running out.
She slides the thin blade of her sword through the wooden slat of the door and lifts, flicking the heavy beam up and off. Then she kicks open the door with her foot and steps inside. She leans her back against it and pushes it closed. Without turning her back on the men in the room, she crouches down, retrieves the beam from the floor, and slides it back in place.
All the men in the room stare at her. Most of the generals from earlier have returned, some of them bearing injuries from the initial fighting. The captains are gone, no doubt leading their men on the battlefield. Katara narrows her eyes at the ones remaining; cowards, the whole lot of them.
The commander stands at the hand of the table, across the room from her. His gray eyes scan over her as if he's searching for something.
"How did you do it?" he asks calmly. "No one has ever lied to me before."
Katara flashes him a quick smile. "I'm a very good liar."
"Who are you?" another general demands, his hand reaching for his sword. "Are you some kind of sorceress?"
She scowls at him. "Must a woman be magical to be powerful?" She draws herself up to her full height. "My name is Hua Katara, though you may better know me as Commander Hua Xing of the Imperial Army."
The room falls into silence. Even the commander, who had been so calm and assured of himself, gapes at her.
"Impossible," he says. "You're a woman."
"A woman can do anything if she's a good enough liar." Katara lifts her sword. "Now that you know my secret, you understand what has to happen."
The officers leap to their feet, swords drawn. Katara steps forward and intercepts the first one, stabbing straight through his armor. She twirls and blocks a blow from the second man, throwing back her opposite elbow and breaking the nose of the third man. She stabs the second man and then finishes off the third.
The rest of the men fall just as easily before her. Katara always goes to battle with her men; obviously these generals like to watch the battle from a distance. They're slow and clumsy, the ornate hilts on their swords weighing heavily on their weak wrists.
The commander doesn't even try to fight her. He kneels down and bows before her, admitting defeat. It makes bile rise in Katara's throat as she slices her sword across her neck; if it weren't for the rules of war, she wouldn't kill a man in cold blood.
She quickly strips her dress off, revealing the plain clothes she had hidden underneath, and ties up her hair into a bun. She tosses the dress into the fireplace to burn the evidence of her deception. Then she picks up the commander's severed head by his long hair and weaves her way around the dead bodies to the door.
Two Rouran soldiers are waiting outside the door; when she raises the commander's head, their faces turn white and they turn on their heels and run away.
Katara walks outside and stands on the balcony overlooking the inside of the fortress. An arrow whizzes dangerously close to her head so she lifts the commander's head as high as she can in the air before stepping up to the railing.
The open space of the fortress is covered in a swarm of bodies, most of them Imperial soldiers on horseback. Even though she has no idea where to look, her eyes immediately spot Zuko in the midst of the fray. He looks up and catches her eye; a rare smile stretches across his face. Katara feels herself smile in response.
His eyes flicker over to the severed head in her grip and he thrusts his sword up into the air, yelling over the din of the battle, "The Rouran commander is dead! Commander Xing killed him!"
A cheer goes through the Imperial soldiers and they begin to fight with renewed energy. Zuko and Katara hold each other's gaze for another minute before his horse turns and he slashes down at an approaching enemy.
Katara feels her heart racing in her chest, a warmth blossoming up from her stomach and squeezing her chest. She feels happy in a way she hasn't in a long time. She leaves the Rouran commander's head on the railing and runs down the stairs, where an Imperial soldier is leading Black Wind her way. She leaps on his back and joins the battle with a war cry.
Without her usual armor, she receives a few cuts but she's oblivious to the pain. She fights with a frenzy she hasn't before. The Rouran forces scatter and flee after seeing their dead commander, and it only takes a couple hours for the Imperial Army to route and kill them.
After the fighting ends, the survivors pick through the carnage, taking the name tags off their soldiers and carrying their bodies to a funeral pyre a group of soldiers are building. The enemy soldiers' bodies are dragged outside the fortress walls and left for the birds.
Katara's happiness fades as the number of name tags in her hands grows. She finds Haru kneeling over the bodies of one of their friends from back in their training days. She kneels next to him and sets her hand on his shoulder. He looks up, his green eyes shimmering.
"Do you remember what the elders in our village used to say?" he asks.
"They said those who passed on in this world live on in the stars."
Haru nods and looks back at his friend. He reaches out with a trembling hand and closes the man's eyes. "I will look for him tonight."
She squeezes his shoulder. "He will make a bright star."
Through the haze of dust kicked up by their horses' hooves, Zuko can see the fortress looming ahead. He can hear a distant alarm go up and arrows begin to fly out towards their group. His eyes are fixed on the gate, which is slowly closing.
Come on, Katara, he thinks.
He doesn't think she's betrayed them - the archers on the parapets seem disorganized, tiny figures running around and shouting in disarray. It's a relief, though it's quickly replaced with worry.
If the gate closes, it means one of two things: that she was captured and probably killed before she was able to break the mechanism, or she's in there right now, fighting for her life and to get to it.
Despite all the pain she's put him through, he desperately hopes it's the latter. It's no selfless thought - he's not thinking on behalf of their strategy and their men right now so much as he's thinking about her.
The few weeks they've spent apart have gone a long way to calming his anger and soothing the pain of his betrayal. Not seeing her around, living a lie, has made it hard for him to maintain the ache. Instead, it was replaced by an emptiness caused by her absence. No matter how hard he tries, he just can't connect with any of the other men the way he connected with her.
Simply put, he's missed her.
It's a bit masochistic, longing for the person who has caused you so much pain, but Zuko can't help himself. The last three weeks have been torture from all sides, both because of her actions and because of his own. He doesn't want her around, but he misses her desperately. Having her around only deepens his pain, but not having her around also exacerbates the ache.
She's got him all messed up and turned around. In the long run, he doesn't know what he wants from her; but he at least wants the choice. That's something he won't get if she dies.
He and his men are approaching the wall now. The archers on the back of the horses fire at the men at the top of the walls. A few fall; more fire arrows back into their ranks.
Above the thundering of pounding hooves, Zuko hears a loud grinding sound. The gate jerks to a stop, just high enough for a mounted man to ride through if he ducks his head. Zuko raises his sword and points to the gate.
They stream into the fortress. Arrows continue raining down upon them. The horses stampede over the meager, ill-prepared foot soldiers inside the fortress. Some of his men dismount and begin climbing to the top of the walls. The others continue slashing down the Rouran soldiers inside.
Zuko's neck tingles. He turns his head and his eye alight upon her. She's standing at the edge of the rail above them, a severed head held aloft in her hand. From the way the Rourans cower away, he knows exactly what it means.
For a moment, their eyes lock. Zuko can't help but smile as pride and relief alike bursts through him. She made it. She did it. And she looks absolutely beautiful standing there, wearing dirty, plain clothes, blood splattered across her face, neck and chest, her hair hastily pulled up and some strands plastered to her forehead and cheeks.
She smiles back, and for a moment the sounds of the battle fall away and there's no one but the two of them in the entire world. Zuko knows this moment won't last; he knows that all his warring and conflicting emotions will emerge again. But for this one moment, everything is alright. He knows they're going to be okay one day.
He lifts his sword in the air. "The Rouran commander is dead! Commander Xing killed him!" he calls out. He wishes he could honor her by using her real name. He knows he couldn't protect her if he did.
And then the moment ends and enemy soldiers press up against him and all thoughts of her are temporarily banished from his mind.
There is no river near the fortress, so Katara and Zuko fill up a barrel with water in a corner of the fortress where they have some privacy and set to work cleaning the name tags. They work in silence, but the tension that existed before is gone.
"We achieved a great victory today," Zuko says. "I don't regret sending you here ahead."
Katara presses her lips together and nods. She doesn't take her eyes off the tag she's cleaning.
Zuko sets his tag aside and reaches his hand out, taking hers gently. She looks up in surprise. In the faint moonlight, his golden eyes glow.
"I say that as commander. As your friend, I've never been happier to see anyone as I was to see you again."
A lump forms in Katara's throat. Her heart pounds inside her chest. She doesn't know what to say.
Zuko releases her hand and takes another bloodstained name tag from the pile.
"You shouldn't have lied to me," he says. "I have spent the last three weeks thinking about what else you've lied to me about."
"I haven't - "
Zuko holds up his hand. Katara falls silent.
"I understand why you lied. In a way, I'm glad you did, because I couldn't have come this far and achieved so much without you. You're a genius commander and a great warrior."
Katara senses a but coming.
"But you lost my trust. If you had come to me of your own accord and told me the truth, I cannot promise that it would be different; but at least I would have known you had honest intentions. For me to find out in the way that I did...it makes me evaluate our entire working relationship."
Katara swallows and dips her head. She can't be mad at him for feeling the way he does; she's just sad and disappointed.
"Had we been through any less together, and had you not saved my life, I would quietly dismiss you now and send you home, not in dishonor but also not with accolades. However, the responsibility of this job is not a burden I can bear alone; you could, perhaps, but not me. While you have lost my trust, there is not anyone else I trust any more, so I cannot simply replace you."
Katara sets her hands in her lap and waits as he finally comes to his decision.
"You will retain your rank. You will retain your command. I will not tell a soul what I learned on the mountain or since. You will receive no public punishments, nor any of any other kind."
He says it with an air of finality, though Katara knows there's a catch somewhere. Zuko isn't letting her off totally free.
"But won't I?" she asks quietly, bravely looking him in the eyes.
He drops his gaze to the water. "Our relationship has been compromised. I hope it will not affect our performance in battle, or in turn the morale of our men."
They continue cleaning the name tags in silence for a few minutes. Katara gathers up all the remaining courage she has.
"Do I have a chance?" she whispers. "Do I at least have a chance to earn your trust back?"
Zuko raises his eyes to hers, and they look endlessly sad. He lets out a bitter laugh, as if there's some irony to the question.
"You'll always have the chance to earn my trust back, Katara."
420 A.D.
Another year passes, bringing about Katara's fifth year in the army. Both on the battlefield and off, she works tirelessly to do everything she can to regain Zuko's confidence. He's stubborn and slow to acknowledge her efforts, and she spends many nights tossing and turning, anxiety that she'll never make things right keeping her awake.
It takes her several months, but eventually Zuko opens back up to her.
During this time, they're careful not to let their rocky relationship affect their jobs as commanders. They continue winning battles and protecting their country. In front of the men, they hold a front as united as ever.
Haru is the only person who knows the truth. Without Zuko to talk to, Katara turns back to her old friend. Although she initially tells him her problems, they don't talk about Zuko very often. They sit under the setting sun and talk about home. Katara feels an acute homesickness come over her during this time, the only cure for which is reliving her old memories with Haru for a few hours.
Katara is reluctant to admit it, but in a way Zuko became her new home when she joined the army. Since her promotion to second in command and now commander, she's spent nearly all her free time with him, either in strategy meetings or over meals, or after battles washing the name tags, or oftentimes simply talking. Being in command brought them together in a way nothing else ever could.
Without that connection, she's left feeling more lonely than ever. She wants nothing more than to write to her father, but she dares not send any mail with her real name on it, lest her deception be uncovered by an overly curious courier, and she refuses to sign a false name on a letter to her father. He would hate it more than anything else in the world.
Haru helps patch up some of the holes in her heart, but too many of them have been carved out for Zuko. In this time of separation, she realizes exactly how deep her feelings for him go - and it terrifies her.
By the time she finally earns Zuko's trust back and their relationship returns - mostly - to what it used to be, Katara's feelings have only grown. A drug is never as sweet as it is when one hasn't had it in months. She finds herself distracted by every little thing he does. She never used to give him a second thought once they were deep in battle, but now she finds herself wondering if he's safe with every blow she deals out. She has to fight the urge to look for him, even when enemies are surrounding her.
Katara knows her feelings for him are growing dangerously strong, but she ignores them. It's not hurting anyone, she tells herself. She's the only one at risk.
It's only when she's grown comfortable with that lie that the truth rears its ugly head.
The army is on the move when the messenger comes, riding his horse at full gallop towards Katara, where she leads the men.
"Commander Xing!" the messenger yells. "Commander Zuko was ambushed by a Rouran force while scouting ahead! He orders you to wait here and protect the supplies!"
Katara doesn't hear anything after "Zuko was ambushed." Fear immediately begins to creep through her chest, hollowing out her stomach, elevating her heart rate, and fixing a bitter taste in her mouth.
"Hue!" she barks, summoning one of her generals. "Stay here and guard the supplies."
He bows quickly. "Yes, sir!"
"All cavalry units, come with me!"
She spurs Black Wind into motion, galloping past the confused-looking messenger and storming the way Zuko and his patrol had gone an hour earlier.
As they pass the ridge and come into sight of the battlefield, the Rourans thunder away in the opposite direction. Katara can see that the patrol had held their own and not suffered too many casualties.
"Don't chase them!" Zuko shouts. As Katara rides up next to him, he turns and gives her a look that can only be described as disdained shock. "What are you doing here?"
"The messenger said you were ambushed. I…" she falters. "I was worried about you."
A frown grows on his face, displaced quickly by an alarmed look. He spurs his horse around, back the way they had just come. "Let's go!"
Katara sees the smoke long before they reach the supply wagons. A sinking feeling in her stomach grows into dread as they ride into full view of a massacre.
"Commander Xing!" a gasping soldier cries out. "We were ambushed as soon as you left!"
Katara looks around in stunned shock at the sheer amount of bodies lying on the ground. She hadn't left enough men to protect the wagons, and the Rourans had decimated the soldiers left behind. Only a fraction of them remain standing, stumbling around and flagging the dead from the fatally injured from the injured.
Shame like nothing else she's ever felt before rises in her throat. Tears sting at her eyes. Guilt claws its way through her chest, ripping her heart to shreds.
This is all her fault.
From behind her, Haru leaps off his horse. "Hue!" he cries, running over to the body slumped against the side of an overturned wagon. He's pierced with three arrows. "Hold on! You have a wife waiting for you back home!"
The man doesn't respond. He breathes heavily, each inhale taking more energy than the last. Haru continues speaking, his voice growing more choked with each word. Katara stands behind his shoulder, unable to form coherent words or thoughts.
"Commander," Hue finally gasps out. Katara falls to her knees in front of him. "I failed...to protect the supplies...I'm sorry."
With a bloody hand, he reaches out and presses his name tag into her chest. "Please take me back...to my family…"
Katara takes the name tag with shaking hands as Hue slumps to the side, his eyes closed. Next to her, Haru is crying and shaking the man, calling his name out over and over.
Hue had been one of their friends during training. He had been one of the first ones to congratulate Katara on her promotions. He had saved her life in battle before.
And she had failed to do the same in return.
Her trembling fingers close tightly around his name tag, the skin over her knuckles white with tension. She feels as though someone had thrust a spear through her stomach. The tears threatening behind her eyes fall.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, knowing it will never be enough. She can never atone for what she's done. Her selflessness caused one of her oldest and most loyal friends to die.
She can't hold herself together under that realization. She staggers to her feet and begins running, not knowing where she's going but knowing she has to go somewhere. She has to get away from here. She can't look at another body, knowing their blood is on her hands.
As she passes Zuko, he reaches out and grabs her arm, yanking her to a halt.
"Where are you going?" he demands.
She doesn't have an answer for him. Revenge? The Rourans are long gone. This was a hit and run operation. Running away? How can she admit her shame and cowardice to him?
"Your errant feelings on the battlefield caused the deaths of all these men," he says, his grip on her arm tightening. He spins her around. "Look at them!"
Katara does. She has to. She can never make this mistake again. Her heart couldn't take it. It's already shattered in a million pieces. All these men are her brothers, her family. They are her responsibility.
Zuko releases her and turns away. Katara can sense the walls she'd spent months lowering building right back up. She'd regained his trust just to lose it again. And this time she knows it will be all the harder to earn back - if she can even earn it back again.
But for once she isn't thinking about him. Her feelings for him is what put her in this position in the first place. Her feelings for him are what caused her to make such a terrible decision. Thinking about him is a betrayal to all the men who died today.
Her father once told her that there is no place for feelings on the battlefield. She thought she understood that before. She was wrong. Now is the moment when she truly realizes.
"Why did you come to me?" Zuko asks, his voice dangerously quiet. "I ordered you not to."
"I've lost too many brothers in battle," Katara says, putting a hand to her mouth and trying to stifle the sobs that escape. "I couldn't lose you, too."
"This is why women don't belong in war," Zuko snaps after a pause.
Katara ignores the comment, recognizing it as a result of his own grief and anger. Some of these men were his friends, too. Instead she says, "If our places were switched, wouldn't you have come for me?"
A long silence stretches between them. Staring at his back, Katara has no idea what he's thinking. Doubt and hope war within her. She regrets asking.
"No, I wouldn't," he finally says. Katara watches in shock as he walks away, leaving her standing alone in the aftermath of her greatest mistake.
That night, Katara washes the name tags by herself. She doesn't ask Zuko if he wants to help, and he doesn't offer. By herself, and having to stop every few seconds to wipe at her cheeks, it takes her until nearly dawn.
Overlooking the names of all the men killed because of her order and washing their blood off their name tags is a heavy task to do by herself. She thinks of how Zuko must have done this alone before. Maybe that's why he's so disciplined about his feelings.
Katara doesn't want to be disciplined. She wants to live in a world where she can freely love the people around her. She doesn't want to hold back such an important part of herself. She's already sacrificed so much; why must she sacrifice herself?
She wraps her arms around herself, wishing she were anywhere but here.
"Why did Father always make war sound like an exciting adventure?" Katara asks Black Wind as she brushes him. "I've fought in battle after battle, lost brother after brother, and the last thing I want to do is pick up my sword."
She hears footsteps behind her. She's spent enough time around Zuko to know they belong to him.
"The soldiers are waiting for their commander to lead them." he says, his voice devoid of emotion. It's the first time he's spoken to her since the massacre.
Katara tangles her fingers in Black Wind's mane. "I don't really want to fight anymore," she replies, a weariness washing over her. "I don't want to be a commander. I want to be a normal person."
Zuko's voice picks up an edge he hasn't used with her in months. "Who wants to fight?" he demands. "I never wanted to fight in the first place! But we don't have a choice. When you came in your father's place, you knew you would either die on the battlefield in honor or be executed and bring dishonor upon your family. My father sent me here to regain my honor for my failure. The moment we left home we knew how this would end."
Katara doesn't have the energy to reply. She can't argue with him because he's right; she can't agree because she doesn't have the spirit.
"I will allow you to sit out this one battle," he says, his voice filled with disgust. "But you must use this time to pull yourself together. When the men return, you must take command again."
He stalks away, his armor clinking together. Katara leans against Black Wind's side, loathing herself and loathing where her life has led and wishing for the first time that she had never left home at all.
Zuko's mind isn't on the battle.
He leads his men into the fray, his sword pointing forward and his heels digging into the side of his horse, but his thoughts are far away.
Even as he slashes through enemy combatants and directs his soldiers, he's thinking about Katara. He detests the thoughts because he knows how dangerous they are. Those same kind of thoughts are the ones that led Katara to make a critical mistake. He had scolded her for it; and now here he is, doing the same.
He can't help himself. She's interwoven into every aspect of his life. Even now he's expecting to turn and see her fighting at his back or leading a group of soldiers around the enemy's flank. He can feel the echo of her absence even in the midst of all the chaos.
He's tried to keep her at arm's length the past year, since he realized how he felt about her. She hasn't been making it easy, constantly trying to earn back his trust. It was a joke; even though the depths of her betrayal were deep, he still trusted her more than anyone. It took him a while to stop feeling pain in his chest every time he saw her, but he soon realized that it wasn't the pain of betrayal - it was the pain of longing, of distance between them.
Zuko can't stay mad at her. Not for long. She could do anything to him and he'd still forgive her eventually.
It's dangerous. He'd told himself that it was okay, that they were professionals and could handle it. Then she made a mistake that was beyond costly. It was easy to blame her for it, especially because Zuko knows that it could just as easily have been him.
I wouldn't, he'd told her. It was a lie. Of course he would have done the same, without a second thought. He'd do anything for her.
He stopped fighting for himself after his first disaster of a command. He stopped fighting for his father several years ago. He's not really sure when he stopped fighting for his country and his fellow soldiers. Sometime in the past year, he's started fighting for her and her alone.
That's not a luxury a commander such as himself can afford.
"Commander!" General Haru fights through the press of soldiers to him. "There's a group of men pinned down at the bottom of the bluff!"
Zuko pulls on the reins. His horse rears up, hooves kicking at the soldiers in front of him. Then he presses his heels into its sides and they leap across the battlefield. A group of men follow him as he follows Haru's directions.
A blazing wall of fire roars up in front of him - no doubt a trap the enemy had rigged beforehand. He raises his hands to protect his face and his horses bucks him off. He tumbles into the inferno. Only his training saves him, his body instinctively rolling out of the way of danger. One side of his face screams out in agony and his eye feels welded together.
He doesn't have time to dwell on the pain. A group of Rourans are jumping at him, identifying his armor immediately.
He swings his dual swords, keeping them at bay. He's not used to fighting half-blind, and he doesn't see the sword swinging at his side until it's too late. He manages to spin away before the soldier can drive it in deep, but the damage is already done.
Another blade stabs into the back of his leg and he falls to his knee. A Rouran approaches, seemingly moving in slow-motion as he lifts his sword, aiming the blade at Zuko's neck.
A war cry erupts and the front half of a horse barrels into the man. Zuko hears his own men flooding into the area, rallying to the defense of their commander.
Out of the corner of his good eye, he sees another soldier crawling towards him, sword held back, preparing to swing. Zuko manages to turn his head enough for the blade to glance off his helmet.
His head rings with the force of the impact and he falls to the side, his eyes staying open just long enough to see another Rouran standing over him.
Then he closes his eyes and succumbs to the darkness.
The camp is quiet with the bulk of the army gone. Katara wanders through the tents, spending some time with the wounded and thanking them for their service; she collects a few more name tags of men who died only this morning from their injuries and washes them. The bamboo tags clink together on the line as the wind gently buffers them. Katara wonders at the beauty of the music of death.
She sits on a ridge in the grass, watching in the distance as the banners return, waving high over a cloud of dust kicked up by the horses. Some of them have no riders, she notices; some have riders draped over their backs.
Numbness has taken over her. Although she has hardly done anything today, she still feels weary. The sadness in her seems to seep out all her energy, though where it displaces it, she's not sure.
A messenger runs up to her before the columns of men reach the camp.
"Commander!" He bows quickly. "You must come at once. It's Commander Zuko."
Katara outruns him down the ridge, not knowing exactly where to go but somehow sensing where he is, as if fate is determined to bring them together. He's lying motionless on a wagon, a healer kneeling next to him. She can tell it's him from his armor, but she can't identify his injuries exactly.
Haru steps in front of her path when she's still a few feet away. She sees the grim look on his face and then her gaze drifts down to his hand, where he's clutching a bloody name tag.
Haru's face is shell-shocked. His eyes are glazed over and he can't quite raise them enough to reach hers. He holds out his arm stiffly.
"Before Zuko died, he asked me to give you this," he says quietly. "He didn't want you to see the extent of his injuries - he didn't want you to remember him that way."
Katara's eyes drift past his shoulder to the wagon, where the healer is wrapping the body in a blanket. Her throat constricts. She takes the name tag slowly, not truly believing the evidence in front of her eyes.
It doesn't feel real. The same sense of fate that seemed to coalesce around them, that kept them together despite years of war and countless battles, burns as bright as ever. She wonders if it will ever fade or if she'll feel like a part of her is missing forever.
"He said to never give up."
Katara stands there for hours, soldiers rushing past her, carefully stepping around her as she stares at the name tag drenched with blood. It's sticky to the touch and when she slowly drags her thumb across the surface, the crimson substance transfers itself to her skin.
She washes his name tag at sunset. Although she scrubs furiously, the blood doesn't seem to come out. She cries out and punches the water in frustration, splashing herself until she's drenched and her sobs leach out all the remaining energy in her body. She keels over the edge of the water, wishing she could simply fall in and never resurface.
The dying sun bathes the world around her in red. Katara's whole world has been nothing but red since she went to war: red blood, red banners, red-vision. The whole world is on fire but nothing is burning. Katara wishes it would all just burn down, leaving nothing but ashes to blow away in the wind.
A few weeks after Zuko's death, Katara stumbles down from her tent on the edge of the water for the first time since washing his tag. The soldiers are all sitting around, drinking and gossiping. No one has their weapons at the ready, and fires with extra smoke are burning high into the night air. They're sitting ducks for an attack, but what do the men care when they're going to die anyway?
A few men frantically hide their wineskins behind their back and attempt to bow as she passes, but most of them pay her no heed. She never commanded the respect Zuko did, and since she's isolated herself, they especially don't care.
The few who do respect her - or at least respect the rank she holds and fear punishment - await her decree, but she simply swipes a jug of wine and begins walking back the way she came. As she takes a huge swig and walks, she hears the men behind her relaxing.
"See, I told you no one cares," one man says. "Keep drinking!"
A cheer goes up. Katara ignores them. They're right; she doesn't care. Once she cared too much, and it cost hundreds of men their lives. Then her regret and inaction led to the death of the one person she couldn't live without.
So of course she doesn't care. Let them drink and laze around; at the end of the day, everyone dies. So what when it comes sooner or later?
Katara almost wishes a group of Rourans would come and put an end to her suffering.
She climbs the ridge with her jug of wine and lays back, looking up at the stars. She searches for Zuko, but none of the stars shine bright enough to do him justice. Maybe he shined too brightly to be set among them. Maybe he became part of the sun.
Katara drinks and drinks and continues searching for him until sleep and nightmares steal her away.
Katara is woken one morning by a series of loud clanking sounds. She turns over on her side, groaning as her head spins, and comes face-to-face with a pile of wine jugs. The loud sound continues, so she pushes herself up on one arm and blinks the blurriness from her eyes.
Haru is outside her tent, frantically skimming through the name tags hanging from the line. Cold fear jolts through Katara and she leaps to her feet.
"No!" she cries as he locates Zuko's and grabs it. She leaps through the air, tackling him.
"Give it back!" she demands as they roll across the dusty ground.
"Not until you take responsibility!" he yells back. "Have you seen what's left of your army?"
She pins him to the ground and stretches her forearm across his neck. They remain there for a moment, breathing heavily from their fight. Katara sneers and leans back, snatching Zuko's name tag out of his hand.
Haru looks at her not with derision, but with sadness. "You are not the commander I once admired," he says quietly. "Now you are nothing."
She kneels in the dirt, unable to look him in the eye. He climbs to his feet and towers over her. Though his words are harsh, his tone is even.
"You could have saved Zuko, but instead you stayed behind and ignored your duty. Because you idle here with the army, our families and homes are now also at risk. How many more must die because of your selfishness?"
Katara doesn't respond.
"He overcame years of prejudice, spared your life, and kept your secret because he recognized your ability to lead the men. I am glad he is dead."
Katara looks up in shock. Haru stares down at her unflinchingly.
"It is better that he is dead than to see what you have become."
Just as with her last conversation with Zuko, Katara cannot argue with the truth of his words; and just as she had the last time, she stays while he walks away.
Hundreds of men sit idly on the training field, their shields at their feet and their swords laying across their laps. The echoes of one solitary skirmish, between Haru and one of their other friends, echoes in the silence.
Katara lifts her chin. She sets her hand on the hilt of her sword as she strides across the edge of the field. At first no one takes notice; they are too busy scratching characters into the dirt. It's only when Haru freezes do the men begin to take notice.
Katara slowly walks up the stairs to the raised dais. At her belt, two name tags clink together: hers, and Zuko's.
She catches Haru's eye, a ghost of a smile dancing across her lips. He doesn't hold back; his lips stretch out and his teeth gleam in the sunlight.
He turns and faces the rest of the men: "Get up! Fall into line!"
The men stand and form columns facing her. They all watch her with curious expressions.
Katara takes a deep breath and faces them. "I have made terrible mistakes," she says, raising her voice so that all may hear. "I was afraid, and I failed to protect my men. I learned the hard way that the more we try to hide, the more we actually lose. It is time for us all to now take a stand. We must protect each other. We must go fearlessly into battle, knowing that we have each other's backs. We must stop hiding and take the war to our enemies! If we stand together, they will fall before us. Will you stand with me?"
Haru raises his sword. "I will stand! We will stand!"
The rest of the soldiers raise their swords and begin chanting, "We will stand!"
Katara stands in front of them, soaking it all in. She does not feel proud like she once did. She does not feel mighty like she once did. Now she stands alone when before she did not.
She has nothing left to lose. She will take this army and march them straight to the Rourans and slaughter every last one of them. She will not accept defeat. She will not surrender.
She will slaughter every last soldier who stole one of the men she loves the most in the world and keeps her away from the other.
423 A.D.
For the next three years, Katara embraces her command and leads her battalion to countless victories. She strikes when the Rourans are not prepared; she manipulates their armies into indefensible positions; she kills many and takes few prisoners; she helps out nearby battalions who are trapped and collects others into her army whose commanders have been killed and have no other officers fit to lead.
Tidings of her deeds spread across the land. Every child in the Empire knows her name; or rather, they know the name of Commander Hua Xing. The Emperor himself writes her with instructions, questions, and suggestions.
Katara quickly becomes the best military commander in the history of the Empire.
Personally, she becomes fiercer than ever. She builds up the walls around her heart so high that no one can ever overcome them again. She makes no new friends and mourns only her old ones who fall in battle. Haru is the only person she ever talks to about personal matters; and even then she's careful to never speak of certain subjects.
She throws herself into her work wholeheartedly. Every hour she spends either on the battlefield or in a tent pouring over maps and intelligence scrawled on scraps of paper. When she desperately needs a break, she rides with Black Wind for an hour before returning. During battles, she fights at the front of her men, running towards the strongest enemies and into the thickest bands of Rourans.
Night is the only time when weakness threatens her; she cannot control her dreams, nor can she resist looking up at the night sky and searching for Zuko. She never finds him, but she won't stop looking until she does. Her fingers twitch in those brief moments when her eyes are skyward, fingering the engraved characters on his name tag which she always carries on her person.
This war is all she has left. This war is her only chance to avenge him. This war is the only way she can ensure that he did not die in vain.
When Katara first came, her only priority was saving her father; now the fate of her entire country rests on her.
"We are returning to the grasslands," Chief Shelun says, kneeling at Mendu's feet. "We have lost too many men to Commander Xing and the Imperial Army. We will have no one left to return if we stay any longer."
Mendu crosses his arms, a stern look across his face. Yue hides in the shadows, watching as always.
"I did not bring you together just to plunder and loot this time," her brother says. "We came to conquer the Empire and take their fertile farmlands for ourselves! Why should we live in poverty, barely scraping by, when they all live like kings!"
The man bows his head.
"We need everyone to be united," Mendu continues. "Or else we cannot achieve this goal. What do you say?"
There's a brief pause before Chief Shelun says, "Your father, the Danyu, has generously granted us our leave. We will be returning."
Mendu's lips press tightly together. Then a smile breaks out across his face. He waves to his servants. "Come! Bring the wine! Let us celebrate your departure!"
A servant brings out a tray with a steel wine jug and several tin goblets. Mendu pours a glass for Chief Shelun and hands it to him.
"You have worked very hard," he says. "You deserve this."
Shelun accepts it graciously. As he bows his head to drink, Mendu takes the steel wine jug and slams it over his head, once, twice, thrice. Blood and wine spray out everywhere as the man's head caves in and he falls to the ground.
Mendu glances around at the other men gathered. "Now, then," he says, holding the dented wine jug in his hands. "Who else wants to leave?"
Yue watches all of this unfold. She's been following her brother closely through this war, not trusting him enough to look away. Something has to be done about him before her father dies. Mendu cannot become the next Danyu. He has already done their people enough harm as prince; she cannot begin to calculate what he could achieve as Danyu.
The end of the Rourans is at hand - at her brother's hand.
Yue slips away to her father's tent while Mendu finishes with the men. When he finally joins them, he bows curtly and brashly announces what he'd done to his father. She steps back in the shadows where both men quickly forget about her presence.
"My son," Danyu says. The war has aged him many years in only a few. "You have spent your whole youth running around the grasslands, uniting the tribes. Now you have spent many years waging this war. I know that you are unhappy with our current position."
"Nonsense," Mendu says, sitting by their father and laying a soft fur blanket over his lap.
"We have spent far too much time, energy, and men on this invasion," Danyu continues. "It is time we return, while we still can. We must preserve the bloodlines of our people."
"We're strong enough that we can still win," Mendu argues gently.
"And we're weak enough that we can still lose." Danyu shakes his head. "It is time for us to retreat on our terms. We will slip away and the Empire will wake up to find us gone. We must not lose any more than we already have."
A strange look flickers across Mendu's face. He leans in close to her father and whispers something Yue can't make out. They both laugh, and then suddenly there's a squelching sound. Yue watches in horror as her father's eyes bulge and his jaw slackens.
Mendu's smile disappears. He holds his father upright. Danyu's eyes turn glassy and he leans against Mendu's side.
"I promise to do my best for our people," Mendu says quietly. "It is time for me to take my place. You trained me to become Danyu, and now it is time. I'll make a better life for us all."
Mendu reaches over and lays his father back on the bed. Yue covers her mouth with a hand as she sees the bloody knife sticking out of her father's heart.
Yue slips out the back of the tent silently while her brother takes the crown off her father's lifeless head. She's waiting outside with the generals when Mendu strides out the front of the tent, the crown in his hands.
She listens silently as he announces the death of the Danyu and declares himself the next. He lays out his plans to continue on with the war. Before him, all the generals and men bow and hail him.
Yue watches without a word, without expression. Tears slip down her cheeks, hidden by the sheer white veil she always wears. She is too late. She underestimated her brother. She underestimated the evil within him. If she were a fighter, she'd take a knife and stab him herself; but she is powerless before him.
She cannot stop him, but she must also not bow to him.
Katara sits in a tent full of other commanders, second in commands, and other high ranking officers. The discussion at hand is Rouran Prince Mendu's rise to Danyu and the army of two hundred thousand men he has gathered against them. The debate raging is how to best handle it.
Katara listens to all the ideas presented without arguing or commenting. She has no maps in front of her, but after spending the better part of ten years fighting in this area, she knows the lay of the land decently well in her mind. She considers their options, though none stick out as the perfect solution.
Two hundred thousand men. It's almost an unimaginable number.
"I say we wait here, shore up our defenses, and make them come to us," a commander is saying. "We cannot meet them on an open field or else they'll crush us."
Finally, when it seems that all the men are agreeing with him, Katara stands and presses her hands together, bowing shallowly.
"High Commander," she says. "We cannot retreat. Our morale is already low, and if we run away, his horsemen will easily slaughter us before we make it behind safe walls. We cannot accept that number of unnecessary losses. I beg you to not retreat; and I beg you to give me command of the frontlines."
The other men give her questioning looks. In a battle as hopeless as this one, no one wants that kind of responsibility on their hands. Katara doesn't care; she's proven her worth as a general and a battalion commander and she knows that while she can't guarantee a victory, none of the other men in this room could do a better job than her.
The high commander gives her a small smile. "How courageous of you, Commander Hua Xing. But tell me, what strategy do you have in mind?"
"Normally my men confront the main part of their army in the front while a second force hides, waiting to attack by surprise from a different side. This time we'll do the opposite. I'll lead my battalion as the front distraction while you, High Commander, use the rest of the army to attack from the sides after the fighting has begun. They won't be expecting you, and you can tear easily through their ranks."
She walks over to the map with the colored blocks of troops and begins moving the banners representing their armies around.
"We'll win a small victory to start, which will anger Mendu. My men will retreat into this small canyon here, and he will pursue us with his men, thinking they have trapped us. They will be reckless and arrogant. The rest of our armies will then come from behind, blocking the exit and attacking their backs. They will turn to fight the bigger threat, and my army will attack from the other end. Between our two forces, we will crush them."
The high commander smiles. "Good. You will take twenty thousand of your best men."
She bows to him again. "We will leave tonight. Please place our supplies at the bottom of the canyon for us."
"Of course."
Katara rides forth with her second in command to speak to Mendu before the battle begins. He does not meet them in no-man's-land; he awaits them in front of his army.
Although the sheer size of the forces in front of them strike terror into Katara's heart, she quickly takes that feeling and shoves it to a small, hidden corner of her mind with all her other useless emotions. She made a vow to never again let emotion get in the way of her leadership again, and she has gone to great pains to keep that promise.
Mendu is decked out in gold from head to toe. His impressive crown sticks out six inches from the top of his head and his armor is gilded with golden designs. His long, dark hair is worn down. His dark eyes are set in a permanent scowl.
They stop and regard each other silently. Katara is pleased to see respect in his gaze. There is also curiosity; he wonders at how a person of such small and unremarkable stature has achieved so much. Katara has long heard of generals being disappointed by her soft appearance, as the details of her great accomplishments led many to paint her in their minds as a large, fierce warrior.
She wishes he could see what she truly looked like; she wishes she could reveal her true identity to him and deliver the knowledge that his carefully laid plans have been thwarted by a woman of unremarkable origin.
"I am Commander Hua Xing of the Imperial Army," Katara says, her words short and clipped.
Mendu doesn't do her the honor of introducing himself. He simply stares at her, shifting on his horse as his eyes scan her from helmet to boot.
"So young and small," he finally says. "Does the legendary commander dare insult me by sending an imposter in his place? Is Commander Xing really so afraid that he cannot face me himself? For I cannot believe that you are who you say you are."
Katara's expression doesn't change. "This is Imperial territory. By the Emperor's decree, you must leave."
"But I like your territory." A sly smile creeps across his face. "It's a territory worth fighting for, wouldn't you say?"
He raises his fist and the army behind him roars in agreement. The sudden sound startles Black Wind, and the fierce stallion tosses his head and skitters a few feet back. Katara strokes his neck, whispering gently to him.
Mendu laughs. Katara sits up straight in her saddle, stretching out her spine as tall as she can make it.
"I would," she agrees, then pulls on Black Wind's reins. She and her second canter back across the dusty ground to their army.
The men raise their spears and cheer as she returns. She rides her horse in front of the army, glancing over her men. Twenty thousand men is fewer than she's used to leading, but these men are the ones who have been with her the longest and have proven their loyalty and bravery time and time again. She wouldn't trade these twenty thousand for a hundred thousand of Mendu's men.
As she rides back and forth across the front, she catches glimpses of men whose names pop into her head, as well as information about their hometown, their families, and their favorite foods. She knows that her plan is risky and that she'll be cleaning many of their name tags in the days to come.
They also know that. The knowledge is ingrained in their every word, their every movement, their every thought. But they trust her. Even though they know there's a good chance they might die, they trust her to protect their legacy. She will get the battle won, even if they have to die to secure the victory.
Unlike the Rourans, who are being manipulated by their Danyu and who are long past homesick and tired of war, her men are fighting with all the ferocity of men who fight to protect their home. They are fighting to keep their villages and farms safe from the Rourans. They are fighting to secure the best possible future for their families.
The steady drums begin beating. Across the field, a force of about forty thousand Rourans separate themselves from the main part of the army. Katara's generals order their archers forward and they take the middle position, kneeling and nocking their bows with arrows with bright red feathers.
The first volley sets a line in the dirt so that the archers don't have to guess at their range. Across the field, a cry of "Kill!" sounds out and a wave of cavalry start thundering towards them.
As soon as the line of horses begins to cross the line of arrows embedded into the dirt, the archers begin firing with abandon. Dozens of horsemen fall in the first volley, followed by dozens more with each subsequent volley.
Still, the horses charge their way.
The spearmen and swordsmen ready themselves next. They stack their rounded shields on top of each other six men tall, creating a wall of shields eight feet in height. The tips of spears stick out over the top and through the few crevices.
A few of the Rouran horsemen have bows, which they shoot at the wall of shields as they come into range. A few arrows slip through cracks and down men, but most bounce off or embed themselves into the shields.
As the Rouran cavalry with swords and spears approach, the Imperial soldiers, in one fluid motion, shift the wall of spears ever so slightly and jam even more spears through. The horsemen turn their horses suddenly; a few who are too slow are skewered.
Katara's soldiers begin marching forward slowly, their long and thick spears jabbing men off their horses and into the dirt. As they begin to cover more ground, they trample the survivors underfoot.
Katara raises up her own sword and jabs it forward. A few thousand of her own cavalry rush down from a sloping bluff, heading straight for the left flank. On the opposite side, a group of her swordsmen led by one of her generals attack the right flank. Archers on top of the bluff continue firing into the concentrated mass of the Rourans.
As with every battle, time both slows down and speeds up in the rush of action. She slashes and stabs and cuts down her opponents. She yells out orders and inspiring words to the tired soldiers she passes.
It's over quickly. Despite being outnumbered two to one, Katara's forces sustained minimal losses while taking out a significant portion of the Rouran cavalry. She calls back her men before they can hunt down the few thousand fleeing soldiers and orders them back in position.
Her only regret is that she's too far away to see Mendu choke as his generals deliver the news of his defeat.
Within hours, dust kicks up across the field as all the remaining Rouran troops begin marching their way. Katara is too numb to feel satisfaction that her plan is working. She simply turns to her generals and begins issuing orders.
"The cavalry and archers will stay to cover the main troops' retreat to the canyon," she says. "We must go with all haste."
Her generals bow and ride off to deliver the orders. Katara watches as the long black line of the remaining hundred and sixty thousand Rouran troops slowly inches their way. Her heart begins to race and she feels a lump in her throat.
It was her plan, but that doesn't mean she's not afraid.
While the main body of her troops climb up the bluff and then down the other side, heading towards the canyon, she stays with the remaining forces. She won't go until everyone who has a chance of surviving goes.
The Rourans grow larger. She tightens her grip on her sword.
Suddenly a volley of barbed black arrows comes up from a dip in the field to their left. A few dozen archers must have snuck around while Katara's forces were focused on the retreat and the main Rouran forces. Her mouth opens to shout out a warning but her cry is cut off as one arrow thuds into her shoulder and one thuds into her hip, the force of them knocking her off her horse. Around her, a half dozen of her soldiers also fall.
She slowly struggles to sit up as her remaining horsemen thunder ahead, careful to part around her as they ride to war.
She's barely climbed to her feet when the battle grinds to a halt. The Rourans turn their horses around and flee.
From a few feet away, Katara hears Haru's familiar voice shout, "Run! Sandstorm!"
Blistering winds pick up around them suddenly. Katara had known this could happen out here, but she couldn't imagine such terrible timing. Her forces turn and run tail for the canyon, but she's not ashamed of them.
Clouds of swirling sand grow across the field, towering as tall as a mountain. The vortex covers the sun, pitching them all into a hazy light as bright as dusk. Sand stings at her eyes as Katara tries to get her bearings. The sharp grains of sand rip into her wounds, multiplying her pain countless times.
An old sentiment returns to her - soldiers she can fight, but she has no control over the elements.
The blustering winds are strong enough to throw grown men and shields into the air. Katara ducks as a metal helmet streaks by her. She's not strong enough to stand again, so she lays flat, hoping she won't get tossed up like some other unfortunate men around her. Screams and hoofbeats and the clanking of metal on metal fill the air.
The sands thicken in the air, blotting out all light from the sun. Something smashes against Katara's head and everything goes black.
Katara wakes to a strange stillness. She can feel dust and sand coating her skin and scratching underneath her armor and wedged into every nook and cranny of her clothes. Her right shoulder blazes with pain and her mouth is completely dry, blasted clean of moisture by the sand. She lies in the dirt, wondering if she should bother getting up.
She hears a ragged shouting in the distance. It's frantic and panicked, full of fear and pain. It calls a few times before the spinning in her head clears and she recognizes it as her name - not Xing, but her real name.
"Katara!"
Curiosity more than anything inspires her to push herself up on her knuckles. She makes it to her knees before pausing and looking around the battlefield. She sees motionless bodies of men and horses alike covered in dirt; she sees shifting bodies beginning to wake; she sees a few dust-covered bodies stumbling around, searching for something or someone.
"Katara!" the voice screams again. Her blood freezes in her veins as she recognizes the voice. But it's not possible, is it?
The figure stumbles into view. The shouts digress into sobs. She sees him, but he doesn't see her. She pulls herself to her feet, approaching from behind him.
She wonders if she actually did die and if this is some fever dream of the afterlife as she watches Zuko stumble around, turning over bodies and checking their faces.
Suddenly, as if aware of her gaze, he falls silent. He slowly turns his body around, his eyes the last to face her. They track a path from her boots, up her legs, lingering for a moment on the arrows sticking out of her hip and shoulder, and then finally on her face.
Katara almost doesn't recognize him. There's a healed burn scar across one side of his face, as if someone had jabbed a torch at his eye. Even underneath the layer of dust the pink and silvery scar shimmers slightly. It goes all the way back to his ear. His shaggy hair has grown over his forehead and down to his eyebrows, obscuring how far upwards it goes, but she can see that it reaches down just past his cheekbones.
Still, a tiny slant of his golden eye peeks out from underneath, and when he fully turns his face, she can see that the other side is completely unharmed save a few recently acquired scratches and bruises.
She doesn't feel anything as she looks at him. She knows that logically she should feel surprise or sadness or happiness or hope or disgust or anger or something. But over the years she's gotten so good at locking up her emotions that she isn't sure she knows how to unlock them. Even if she could, she isn't sure she'd want to; seeing her troops decimated and battered like this - she can't even begin to estimate how many men she's lost just to the sandstorm - and seeing him alive together would probably send her over the brink.
Numbness, blessed numbness fills her as she stares evenly back at him.
She slowly reaches down to her belt, where his name tag hangs. She unties the leather chord and slowly hands it to him. He takes it without breaking his gaze.
A frantic cry interrupts their reunion.
"The Rourans are coming!" a soldier screams. A few of her generals stagger over in her direction, looking at her for orders.
"Retreat," she whispers. She takes a deep breath and repeats, with as much force as she can muster, "Retreat!"
"If we take the wounded back with us, we'll risk not making it," a general says.
Katara can't respond. Her head spins and she lists to the side. Zuko catches her and supports her weight while another soldier brings Black Wind over.
She feels herself being pulled onto the horse and she feels someone climb on behind her, reaching around her sides to take the reins. Around her comes the sound of shouting, but she can't make out what they're saying.
"Hold on," Zuko whispers in her ear as Black Wind surges underneath them, ferrying them away from the battlefield.
The ride up and back down the other side of the bluff is a blur; her mind clears up just enough to bark out a few orders when what she estimates to be about half of her remaining soldiers are positioned in the canyon.
"Seal off the entrance!" she calls out. "And check our supplies!"
Zuko escorts her to a hastily erected tent. She's just dismounted when a captain approaches, bowing quickly.
"Commander. The supplies disappeared during the sandstorm. All the medication and food is gone."
Katara glances over at Zuko. She sees the same fearful yet resigned look reflected in his eyes.
She doesn't have anything to tell the captain.
Inside the tent, Katara sits facing Zuko. She reaches out a shaking hand and touches the edge of the burn scar with her fingertips.
The weight of everything descends upon her in that moment. The knowledge that she is faced with the decision of either starving her soldiers to death or surrendering to Mendu; that she will die not courageously on the battlefield or old and withered in her hometown after a long and fulfilling life, but rather will slowly waste away or be executed as a prisoner of war; that for so long she believed Zuko was dead and it had broken her heart irreparably and now that he's back and very much alive in front of her they're both on the brink of certain death.
It hits her with a force even harder than the sandstorms and the arrows and she presses a fist against her mouth to try and stifle her sobs. The racking motion of her body flares up pain where the arrows are still embedded deep in her flesh. Tears trace stinging lines down her cheeks.
Zuko reaches out for her.
"The High Commander is supposed to send smoke signals when the main army attacks the Rourans from the other side," she tells him, her voice trembling. "If I - if I die before he sends the signal…"
"You won't - "
"If I die before he sends the signal," she repeats, speaking over him, "you must lead the soldiers in my place. Promise me, Zuko."
He nods. "I promise."
She takes a few deep breaths, steadying out the sobs and stopping the flow of tears. She doesn't have the strength for strong emotion right now.
"Three years," she whispers. "I looked for you in the stars for three years."
His golden eyes shine, sorrowful and determined. "I did what I had to."
All she can do is nod. She clenches her jaw as he grabs the first arrow and yanks it out. The second one comes out a second later, and the pain is so intense that she succumbs to the pressing darkness.
Zuko never planned to reveal himself to her again.
The day he almost died on the battlefield was the day he remembered. After being struck in the head, the memories of his past lives played through his mind. He saw himself and Katara in three different lifetimes. Once as enemies competing for fertile land for their tribes. Once as enemies bound together in a time of war, finding a strange sort of neutral ground in a tent on the beach. Once as allies, the leaders of their respective lands to the bitter end of a war.
And what a bitter end it was.
The memory of her betrayal was no easier to relive, and it dredged up fresh wounds from her betrayal in this life. He understands now why he had a bad gut feeling about her from the moment he met her - and why her betrayal had both been so painful and at the same time so easy to forgive.
He also understands a lot of other things, such as why fighting alongside Katara felt so natural and easy. This isn't the first life they've fought side-by-side. He also understands a lot about himself - like how he's always been a good warrior, even before he went through formal training.
Most of all, he understands why he feels so strongly about Katara. This isn't the first time he's loved her.
He was confused when he first woke up after the battle. Haru was leaning over him, taking off his armor and trying to stem the bleeding on his wounds. As soon as he reoriented himself, his first thought was of Katara and how excited he was to see her again.
His second thought was that he could never see her again. Remembering his past lives shifted his priorities in this life completely. Just because he remembered doesn't mean Katara does. He couldn't overturn her life like that.
So he reached out and grabbed the front of Haru's armor.
"Tell them I died," he said.
Haru's eyes widened. "What?"
"I can't go back to her. I'll just be a distraction."
"You're just...abandoning us?"
Zuko saw dark splotches at the edges of his vision. He tightened his grip on Haru. "She can lead us to victory. But not with me. I'll only hold her back."
Understanding flashed in Haru's eyes - and also a flicker of betrayal. "Sir…"
"This is my last order to you. As your commander." Zuko released him and pulled at his name tag. "Give it to her. Tell her to not give up. Do whatever you need to."
Haru swallowed, then nodded. "Yes, Commander."
Zuko had passed out again after that. When he woke up again, he was laid out in a tent at the edge of camp. Haru saw to his injuries and kept him a secret until he was healed enough to rejoin the ranks. With his new scar and unassuming armor, he had become just another soldier. He took on a new name and remained hidden, his memories of his past lives with Katara serving to soothe the ache of the distance between them.
It wasn't enough, but he made it work. He watched from a distance as she pushed on without him, finally finding herself and becoming the legend she was always meant to be. He had held her back in their last life; her loyalty to him and unwillingness to betray him until the end had kept her from achieving her full potential. He won't do that to her again. She deserves more.
He'd been close to her, within the first few rows of soldiers during the start of the last battle. He wanted to keep an eye on her. When she'd been shot down with arrows, it took all his restraint not to run to her.
In the aftermath of the sandstorm, though, he wasn't able to hold back. It was like the end of the world - bodies piled up everywhere he looked, dust blowing idly by on the wind, weapons scattered on the ground, their owners lost to the powers of the wind and earth.
He had to find her. If she was alive anywhere, he had to find her. He didn't care who heard him calling out her name - who is there left to hear? Everyone left alive is just trying to stay alive. No one is listening to a frantic soldier searching for another.
Then he saw her. Standing there, in the midst of the chaos and death and destruction, her dark hair blowing in the wind, her blue eyes shining out of a dust and blood-caked face. She stared at him, but she might as well have been looking straight through him.
He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms right there, to cradle her face in his hands and tell her all the things he's been feeling for the past three years. Instead, he waited for her to make the first move. He knew that she had every right and reason to reject him.
She acknowledged him without acknowledging him by giving back his name tag. He recognized the blank look in her eyes - he's seen it in his own eyes when he's looked in the mirror. She learned how to block out her emotions and now she doesn't know how to let them back in.
They'd been interrupted by the cries of war and a frantic retreat. Zuko didn't care if anyone recognized him and wondered how it was possible for him to be back. The time for caring about such trivial matters is over. His only focus was getting Katara to safety.
Now Zuko catches her as she falls forward, her forehead coming to a rest against his shoulder. He knows he needs to stem the bleeding from her wounds, but he can't resist holding her for a minute, his fingers tangling up in her hair. He never thought he'd be close to her again. He always planned to hide within the ranks for the duration of the war, after which he'd return to the Imperial City. It would be a shock for his family, no doubt, but more of a disappointing one than anything else, he's sure.
Now he doesn't know what the future holds. He hopes Katara can be a part of it. He can't imagine it would be worth living without her. He doesn't know exactly what happened in their last life after he tried to return the knife with the stone, but obviously she didn't take it. He can only guess that she refused it because she wanted to try again.
He was so angry at her last time he died. Now he feels nothing but gratitude that she gave them another chance.
He's not letting her go this time.
Over the next few days, Katara slips in and out of consciousness. The few times she is awake, she isn't aware of much more than Zuko's presence. He's always around; sometimes cradling her head in his lap and running his fingers gently through her hair, sometimes laying next to her on the ground, one of his arms slipped underneath her head, sometimes sitting next to her, listening to a soldier or general give a report.
Her secret has never been in such jeopardy as it is now, but she trusts Zuko. And even if someone suspects that she isn't who she's masqueraded as all these years, she doesn't really care; on the brink of death, threat of death from another source doesn't hold any power. So what if everyone in the army knows she's a woman? So what if they know she loves Zuko? They're all going to die anyway.
It's a dark place mentally, but also freeing in a way. Katara feels many of her old fears drift away in the wind. She knows Zuko feels the same way, else he wouldn't be so open and flagrant about how close they are.
Even if they somehow survive this and the truth comes out, Katara doesn't think she would receive any punishment worse than being sent home. After all her honorable achievements, and after all the loyalty she's inspired from her troops, and because of the high rank she's achieved and held for so many years, executing her would only turn the soldiers against the other commanders and the Emperor.
Katara wouldn't mind being sent home. She wouldn't mind waking up early to do exercises in the middle of the rice paddies under the shadow of the mountain with the sun coming up and painting the sky with magnificent colors. She wouldn't mind returning to her humble home on the edge of the village and drinking tea and trading stories with her father all day. She wouldn't mind putting aside her sword and never picking it up again.
As long as Zuko stays with her, she doesn't care what the future holds.
This is her last battle. Deep down in her soul, Katara can feel it. One way or another, after she's faced Mendu again, it will be the last time she rides to war.
She stirs, not quite awake but not sleeping. She's somewhere in between, where pain is forgotten and the world exists in another dimension. She tastes blood on her lips and ash in her mouth and she reaches out her hand towards Zuko. Without moving anything but his wrist, he takes it and intertwines their fingers.
Katara could stay here forever. If only life were so kind.
"Commander!"
Katara is woken by a shout from outside her tent. She slowly rolls to her side and pushes herself up. Her shoulder and hip are still sore, but the worst of her pain is behind her. Now her body is stiff more than anything. She grabs her sword belt and straps it on, not bothering with her armor as she runs out. Zuko is right on her heels.
A loud commotion echoes off the canyon walls. Katara hears the cracking of whips and the moans of men in pain. She pushes past the ranks of soldiers protecting their make-shift camp and skids to a halt in front of the first row of soldiers.
Not a hundred yards ahead of them kneels a group of about a hundred of her soldiers, their hands bound behind their backs with rope and their heads bowed. A few thousand Rouran soldiers surround them on three sides, a few roaming between them and whipping them or kicking them around.
Most of them are wounded. Katara can see bleeding wounds and broken arrow shifts sticking out of armor and limbs. Her heart wrenches in her chest.
Then her eyes alight on one soldier in particular and it's all she can do not to draw her sword and charge out in an attempt to kill every last Rouran.
Haru kneels at the front of the group, an arrow sticking out of his back. His face is bloody but she would recognize him from a mile away.
Zuko sucks in a sharp breath behind her. Katara forces herself to stay composed.
There is no place for feelings on the battlefield, she chants in her head, the mantra that has kept her safe these past three years. There is no place for feelings on the battlefield.
A few of the Rouran soldiers taunt the prisoners; sometimes, when the prisoners don't react, they pull out their swords and drive them deep through their bodies in places that won't instantly kill them. Katara can see looks of disgust, anger, and helplessness take over the faces of the men on her side.
"Please, Commander," one soldier says, his face contorted with pain. "They stayed behind to secure our retreat. Please save them!"
Katara wants nothing more than to ride to battle. But the Rourans are too many and her own men are too few and too weak from the lack of food and water and medicine. The only way they can defeat the Rouran forces is if they stick to their plan; and to do so, Katara needs the Rourans to be focused on the canyon for long enough that the main army under the High Commander can sneak around and surprise them from the other side.
If she sends her men into battle now, they'll die and Mendu will march his force deeper into the Empire. Their towns and villages will fall before him.
Even as she thinks it through, one of her soldiers breaks off from the line and races towards the prisoners. Before he takes five steps he's shot down by a Rouran archer.
"I cannot sacrifice you," she says, hating every word.
"Is there nothing we can do?" he cries.
A horrible thought occurs to Katara. Were the situation any different, she would have dismissed it out of hand; but they are in unprecedented times, and she will not allow her men to suffer any longer.
Besides, she knew if she could ask them, they would want her to do it.
She swallows past a lump in her throat. "Ready the archers," she says.
"Commander - "
"I said, ready the archers!"
Haru catches Katara's eyes. She feels tears well up. They don't fall because she doesn't have enough liquid in her body to sustain them, but the stinging behind her eyes is as painful as the sharp steel of a sword.
"I'm sorry," she mouths, knowing that it's not enough. It will never be enough. Of all the bad or hard decisions she's made, this is the one that will haunt her the most.
From the corner of her eyes, she can see a dozen archers lined up. They give her tortured looks.
"Don't kill a single Rouran," she orders. "We can give them no reason to attack us."
"Yes, Commander!"
The archers draw back their bows. Although Katara gives the command, they all stand motionless, their hands shaking and their eyes brimming with tears.
Haru's lips begin moving. Katara can't make out what he's saying. Then the other prisoners also begin moving their lips, and the sounds of a song come drifting over the land towards them.
It's an old song they used to sing over the campfire when the men got homesick. It's a song about love of family and loyalty to country and finding honor and purpose in protecting them. The soldiers around her begin singing it, too.
After the first chorus, her archers, their lips moving silently, loose their first volley. Then the second, and the third. Even after all the prisoners lay unmoving, her men continue to sing the song.
Katara can't take her eyes off Haru's body and the arrows that she might as well have shot into him herself.
By the next morning, Katara has accepted that the High Commander and his troops are not coming.
Even if the supplies had not disappeared, they would have run out yesterday. The High Commander knew this; he himself had oversaw the distribution of them. He knew, and yet he didn't come.
Katara stands on the highest spot she can easily climb in the canyon and looks over her troops. Many are simply lying in whatever shade they can. Yesterday had drained the last of the life and spirit out of them; they had died with their brothers.
Zuko comes and stands behind her. She doesn't turn to him as she says, "We've been abandoned."
"Yes."
"Most of them will not survive another day. The few who do will not survive the week."
"Yes."
Katara turns to face him now. "I will not die like this. I cannot accept that any more of my men, my brothers, will die like this. It is shameful that we must waste away because we had faith in a country that turned its back on us."
He nods, his jaw clenched tightly. He's different from the man she had known three years ago. She can't exactly put her finger on the difference, but she can see it in every part of him. He's more centered, more stable, as if he's found peace from all the problems that have plagued him his entire life.
It must be nice. If by a miracle they survive this, she'll have to ask him what his secret is.
"If we must die, it will be upon the field of battle with a sword in our hands and our feet on the ground. Will you fight with me, Zuko?"
A sad smile covers his face. "Always."
She gives him a sad smile of her own and then they start down the boulder. In their tent, Zuko helps her strap on her armor for the last time.
As he sets her helmet over her head, she reaches up and covers his hands with her.
"Our stars will be next to each other's," she whispers, "in the same constellation as our other brothers."
Katara stands at the top of the boulder again, this time alone. All the men who can stand are dressed in their armor, arrayed in crooked lines in front of her. They all look up at her with expressions of uniform sadness and despair with an undertone of respect.
Her eyes move through their ranks, searching out Haru. It takes her a moment to realize that she won't find him. Then her eyes drift upward, towards the sky.
Although she recognizes some of the soldiers, all the ones who were her friends before she became Commander are gone. They all fell to arrow or steel. They all died for her.
Now it is her time to join them.
"My brothers," she cries out, her voice carrying in the canyon. "I did not bring you here to throw away your lives. We came here as part of a strategy to distract the Rouran army while the High Commander and the other battalions killed them from behind. But the High Commander isn't coming. He betrayed us!"
The men don't have the energy to react. They simply continue staring up at her. They don't care whose shoulders the blame falls on; they only care about what comes next. What is going to happen to them?
"Our country betrayed us, but we will not betray our country. Today we will ride into battle. We will stain the ground with our blood. Stories of our heroic stand against the army of invaders will be told centuries after we are gone! Today we will stand up and tell the Rourans that we will never surrender! We will never compromise!"
She pauses to watch their faces slowly sharpen into grim determination. Their eyes, which had before lacked luster, now shine.
"I, Commander Hua Xing, will never turn my back on my country! I will fight to protect my home and today we will drive away the Rourans and kill their Danyu. Are you afraid to die?"
As one, the soldiers raise their weapons in the air. The response echoes across the canyon: "No!"
"Are you afraid to die?!"
"NO!"
Katara climbs down from the ridge and walks over to where a soldier is holding Black Wind. The dark horse is the last one left alive; all the others died in battle or were killed to sustain the soldiers. Even though he had been kept alive, he is gaunt and his hoofs drag slightly in the dirt. Katara strokes his cheek and rests her forehead against his.
"No one has been a more faithful companion than you," she whispers.
She pulls out her sword. Before it has cleared her sheath, the man holding his reins falls to his knees.
"No, Commander!" he cries. "Kill me instead!"
"And me!"
"Or me!"
A group of soldiers rush in front of the horse, offering themselves instead. Overwhelmed from her speech and lack of water and nutrition, she drops to her knees. The men gather around her, setting their hands on her armor and talking to her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Zuko walking away, towards the canyon's entrance, outside of which is sprawled the Rouran army. A sad, determined look has set itself deep in his face. It's the same look he had on his face when he told her that he did what he had to do.
The men part for him. He walks out past their line of shields and stands in the no-man's-land between the two armies. Katara pushes herself to her feet and stumbles after him, wondering - and fearing - what he could possibly be doing.
"Bring your Danyu here to talk," he announces to the Rourans. A man on a horse rides over in front of him, a sneering expression on his face.
Zuko digs into his pocket and pulls out a name tag not of bamboo, but of shining gold, inlaid with a turquoise blue gem at the bottom. The metal has some scratches and dust on it, but the craftsmanship is indisputable. Katara feels her jaw drop.
"I am former Commander Hi Zuko, only son of the Emperor and crown prince of the Empire."
The man on the horse rides up and snatches the name tag from his hands. He takes it back across the no-man's-land. A few minutes later, across the field of the prisoner's bodies, the Rouran army parts in the middle to reveal a small contingent of riders, including Mendu, storming their way.
Mendu examines the name tag and looks up at Zuko in wonder. The latter reaches down, pulls a knife from a hidden sheath on his leg, and presses it against his neck.
"Leave your best medics and supplies. Release the soldiers. I will come with you."
A small smile creeps across Mendu's face. "The heir of the Empire in return for a few thousand half-dead soldiers?" he laughs. "Deal!"
Katara thought her heart was already broken many times over, but somehow the pieces still break into smaller ones. Only years of built up inner defenses keep her from breaking through the line and running to him.
Only the knowledge that he's giving himself up for her keeps her from ordering her men to attack.
He looks back at her once before the Rourans surround him, his eyes saying all the words his mouth never could.
Zuko has spent the last three years hiding, but he was hiding long before that.
His secret, the one he never told anyone for fear that they would treat him differently, the one he would have told Katara if she ever asked. He had almost forgotten it himself. It was a part of him that he's been in denial of since he was a kid. He never wanted to be his father's heir - not after seeing who his father turned out as a person.
When his father sent him away, he didn't disinherit him - but he might as well have. He set Zuko up to fail at every turn. Zuko succeeding for so long as commander must have drove his father crazy. He was probably relieved when he heard the news that Zuko died in battle.
Since regaining the memories of his past life, it's hard for him to remember who he is in this one. He knew there was a slim chance of any of them making it out of this canyon alive, but the card hidden deep up his sleeve hadn't occurred to him until Katara mentioned the Emperor's betrayal in her speech.
He knew immediately what he had to do. He could save them all - not just Katara, but all the men he'd fought alongside for the past eight years.
Zuko isn't afraid of death or torture or whatever the Rourans may have in store for him. He's not afraid of his father's wrath at finding out about his deceptions or what he would consider a stupid mistake. All of those things seem insignificant in light of his three lifetimes. He's suffered more than anything Mendu or his father could do to him. He's been the mightiest warrior in the world, the leader of the most powerful empire. Now he's a commander and crown prince of his country.
The only fears Zuko has revolve around Katara. He's been the cause of so much pain for her over their past four lifetimes, including in this one. He doesn't want her to suffer any more. He knows he's risking not seeing her anymore - and not getting the chance to say goodbye. But this is the only way. He has to do it now, before she can talk him out of it.
He can feel her behind him as he follows the Rouran soldiers. He can't resist one more glance back. If he never sees her again, he hopes she understands that he did this for her.
It was all for her.
It only takes a few days for Katara to recover her full strength. The Rouran healer attending her expresses his surprise - though, after learning about her true identity, she can't understand how he can possibly still be surprised.
"My war is not over," she tells him simply. "I still have one battle to go."
She packs a few supplies in a burlap sack, including Zuko's bamboo name tag. He had left it behind in the tent the day he gave himself up to the Rourans; from her best estimates, he had made the decision not when she was about to kill Black Wind, but during her speech to the men. It occurs to her now that Zuko had been lying about his identity just as much as she had been.
In any other situation, she would be as livid as Zuko was when he found out her true identity; now, though, in light of his sacrifice, she is only disappointed that he did not trust her the way she had to trust him.
She ties the bag onto Black Wind. She leaves her sword and her armor in the tent, taking only a six-inch knife that she straps to her leg. She wears the plainest clothes she can.
As she leads Black Wind out of the canyon, past her men sprawled out on the ground, recovering, a few of them climb to their feet and begin to follow her. As one of her generals approaches her, the rest of them follow suit.
"Commander," he says, bowing slightly.
"When the men have recovered, take them home," she orders, not breaking her stride.
"But where are you going, Commander?"
She avoids his question. "You are not to follow me."
"Commander!" All her men begin to shout after her, a declaration of loyalty. "Commander!"
"That is an order!" she shouts back. Her time as commander is coming to an end; no longer does she wish to lead men to their deaths. No longer does she wish to hold their fates in their hands. No longer does she wish to set aside her personal hopes and dreams and feelings for them.
She has done everything her country has asked of her except die. Now that the remainder of her soldiers are safe and healing and are homeward bound, it is time for her to take her leave as their leader. She is confident that she has done all she can for them. Now it is time to do something for herself, and for the person she cares about.
She has lost so many friends in this war; Zuko was the one loss she could not bear, and yet she did. She is not about to lose him again just as she got him back.
All the men fall to their knees before her, their foreheads touching the dirt. "Commander!"
She feels her throat constrict. Her last words to them will not be an order; at the end of the day, they are brothers, and she will not be their master.
"Take care, my brothers," she says. "Return safely home."
Then she climbs on Black Wind and spurs him away, kicking up dust behind her as they gallop across the dusty plains.
Yue sits next to her brother as they stare at the chained prince. Mendu has done nothing but drink and taunt the man since he returned; he is lording over his victory in the way only a man as callous and cruel as he can.
Yue is silent. She watches the prince carefully. Other than a nasty burn scar across the left side of his face, he's very attractive. He's quiet and reserved as he stands, his hands held high above his head by chains that descend from the ceiling of their shelter. Although Mendu taunts him endlessly, he says nothing.
Yet Yue doesn't get the feeling that he's submissive; rather, she feels like he has long since learned to harness his temperament and knows when to be withdrawn and when to unleash his rage.
She heard the stories as she wandered through the shadows in the camp about how he gave up himself for his men. She knows he's one of the legendary commanders that always outwitted and defeated her father and her brother - he along with the other one, Commander Hua Xing. But she hasn't heard his name in years. It's almost as if he had disappeared for a time.
He must be an extraordinary man who cares about his soldiers enough to give his life for theirs. As a prince, he must love his country and his people with his whole heart. Yue can relate to that. All she thinks about is how she can stop this war and save her people.
She could do it, too. Yue is a princess, and her father taught her everything he knew. In many ways, he taught her more than Mendu; while Mendu trained with his swords, Yue spent even more time learning about politics and statesmanship.
An idea begins to form in Yue's head. She can save her people. She can end this war. All she needs is for her brother to die…
"How much gold do you think your father will give you for me?" Mendu asks, tearing at a drumstick of meat. "You are the crown prince, after all."
The prince laughs bitterly. "My father doesn't like me very much, so you may be disappointed."
"Really?" Mendu seems amused. "You are the legendary Commander Zuko! For years you won battle after battle. You won endless glory and honor for your nation! What more could your father want from you?"
"Perhaps you should ask my sister. My father always seemed to prefer her over me."
Mendu throws his head back and roars with laughter. He leans over and wraps his arm around Yue. She stiffens at the contact.
"You and I have more in common than you might think, then," he says. "My father also preferred my sister over me, but that didn't stop him from passing down his crown to me. I am sure that when the right pressure is applied, he will be amenable to any number of my demands."
Yue gives her brother a dirty look that he doesn't see. He slides away from her and returns to reclining on his couch.
"So we have similar family backgrounds," Mendu continues, "And we boast similar military accomplishments. It's said that your men would die by the thousands in your place, Prince Zuko. My men are also similarly loyal."
Zuko's lip lifts in a sneer. "No, we are not alike at all," he says. "My men are loyal because I have proven my own loyalty to them. I won their hearts by protecting their backs in battle. Your men are loyal because they fear you. You think you can conquer the world with a sword, but there will always be people who rise up against you. There will always be people hiding in the shadows, plotting your demise. They say they are loyal to your face but when you turn your back they will stab it."
Yue feels warmth grow in her chest at his words. A smile tugs at her lips, and only years of practice keeps it from spreading. This prince knows what he's talking about. She wishes her father were here to meet him; he would have loved him. He would have wanted to negotiate a peace rather than to continue waging war.
There is no way for Zuko to know that she is the very person plotting in the shadows, but she wishes she could show him. She wishes she could speak to him and figure out a way for them to defeat her brother together. Then they could -
Yue takes a goblet of wine and crosses the room. She smiles and lifts it gently to his lips. He thanks her and takes a sip.
Mendu appears from behind her, grabbing her wrist and twisting so that the goblet falls from her hands. He holds her there, a grimace twisting up his face.
"I know what you are thinking, dear sister. You have always wanted to be a queen. When I have conquered the Empire, you shall have all that you wish."
Her eyes narrow. Although she replies to Mendu, she keeps her eyes locked with Zuko. "I want to become queen so that our two peoples will become one. I want to build a better life for the Rouran tribes and make peace with the Empire. I do not want to become a queen for the gold or the power. Even if you were king of the whole world, I would not want to touch your blood money."
With that she storms out, pushing past Mendu.
It takes Katara a day to reach the Rouran camp and find her way around. That night, she sneaks into the Rouran princess's tent. The girl is sleeping soundly on a bed of firs, as beautiful and dainty as the kind of woman Katara was supposed to be before she threw that life away. She hesitates before pressing the blade of her knife to the girl's neck.
The princess opens her eyes, but there's no fear in them, only curiosity. Katara pushes back her fur-lined hood, which she had stolen off a Rouran clothes line, and reveals her face.
"I am Imperial Commander Hua Xing," she says.
The girl's eyes glitters. "I am Princess Yue. I have heard many tales of you and your achievements. And now you have come here to enlist my help in saving your prince?"
Katara leans back, taking the knife away from her. "I overheard what you said yesterday. I respect your dream of making peace for our countries. No one wants an end to this war, and to all future wars, more than I do."
Yue sits up. "And how can I help you? I am just a woman."
Katara stares at her. She can see the intelligence simmering beneath the woman's eyes. Yue isn't asking because she doesn't have an idea; she's testing the waters. Yue has lived her entire life under the control of dominant men who underestimated and belittled her.
Katara reaches up and pulls at her bun, letting her hair settle down around her shoulders. Yue smiles.
"'Just a woman' became the most honored military commander in all of the Empire's history," Katara says. "I believe you already have a plan."
Yue hesitates. "I watched my brother kill our father for the throne, and I did nothing," she says. "I am afraid…"
"I have been afraid for the past eight years," Katara says. "And yet I faced my fear and overcame it. Now it is time for you to do the same. The only way to resolve this war permanently is to address the cause of the problem."
Yue nods. "Even if my brother were killed, our people would return to plunder and loot the Great Plains. It is what we've done for centuries. In another generation or two, another great chieftain would rise up and return to finish the war my father started."
"So you don't want us to kill you brother?"
Yue shakes her head. "We must kill him. But that is not enough."
Katara gets a sinking feeling in her chest as Yue's implications begin to make themselves clear in her mind. Every fibre of her being wants to rebel, to claw out and scream that it isn't fair, that she's already given up so much and shouldn't have to give up any more.
But it's not about Katara. This war is about all the men who died to protect their country. This is about Hue and Haru. This is about all her brothers whose name tags she washed and sent home. This is about all the lives that were cut short.
Knowing what the future holds, Katara wishes she were one of them. Death would have been a more gentle fate. Death would have been kinder.
The decision to end the war is in Katara's hands now. She can't bring back her men who died. She can't undo the injustices that have been served. The only thing she can do is honor their memory by making sure their deaths weren't in vain.
Once again, she must put aside her feelings for the fate of her country, no matter how much it kills her inside.
There is no place for feelings on the battlefield.
"Whatever it takes," she promises the princess, each word tasting bitter in her mouth.
The next day, Mendu stands in the tent by Zuko.
"Your messengers have come," he says. "They agreed to all my terms." He smiles and slaps him on the back. "I told you your father would come through in the end."
Zuko doesn't respond.
Mendu raises his arms. "Let everyone know! We will celebrate for three days!"
His men cheer. Drums begin to beat. Wine flows in abundance. Mendu has a wide grin on his face.
Yue takes that moment to step through the entrance of the tent, flanked by two female servants with veils much like her own covering their lower faces. A perfect disguise for a certain commander. She smiles at Mendu and takes a seat on the couch. "I've rethought my position," she says. "You are right."
Mendu chuckles. "I knew you'd come around," he says, accepting the goblet of wine she pours out for him.
As soon as he settles in comfortably, Katara begins to inch behind the couch. Zuko's eyes are cast on the ground; he doesn't see the signal she tries to flash him with her eyes.
When she's in position behind Mendu, Yue nods subtly at the guards in the tent. They silently and swiftly move to close the flaps.
Katara moves quickly. She reaches down under her skirt and draws the knife. Then she stabs downward.
Mendu moves at the last second. The knife meant for the base of his neck veers into his shoulder. He groans in pain and jumps to his feet. Out of the corner of her eye, Katara sees Yue move to the opposite side of the room; the guards in the tent loyal to her fight against the ones loyal to Mendu. One guard attacks Zuko, but he jumps up, using his chains to hold up his body as he delivers a solid kick to the man's sternum that sends him reeling and gasping for breath.
Katara can't focus any more energy on him, though; her concentration is on her own battle. She dodges as Mendu pulls out his own secret knife and slashes at her. She leaps over the couch and tackles him to the ground. They wrestle for a moment, Katara's fingers grasping at his neck. She feels his arm stretching out and before she can react, he slams a metal paperweight into the side of her head.
Her head ringing, she tumbles off him and rolls into a crouch. She ignores the pain coursing through her body and keeps her eyes on him. He lunges for her and swipes with the metal paperweight again, but she blocks his arm and grabs his wrist, twisting it so his fingers have to release.
He uses the proximity to grab her. He throws her against the table, leaning over her. Katara clutches around for a weapon but she doesn't find one.
He's pressing up too close to her to aim his knife properly, which is the only reason she doesn't die when he stabs his knife into her gut. Had he been able to see his target, she has no doubt he would have been able to slip it right between her ribs.
Still, though the blow is not deathly, it causes her no end of pain. She coughs and chokes up blood, which stains the white veil across her mouth crimson.
Over Mendu's shoulder, she sees Zuko watching with wide eyes. He's still chained to the ceiling. Katara's heart aches as she sees him and renewed energy courses through her body. She reaches up, grabs the knife out of Mendu's shoulder, and kicks him away with her legs.
He stumbles a few feet back, roaring with pain as he grabs at his bleeding shoulder. Katara wastes no time in tackling him once more, this time aiming the knife into his chest as they fall. When she lands on top of him, the force of her fall drives the knife deep into his chest.
He lives just long enough to reach up a hand and rip her veil away. When he sees her face, despair clouds his features and then he slumps back, dead.
"Katara?"
She looks up to see Zuko watching her closely. One of the guards is standing to his side, unfastening the chains. When the lock clicks open, he immediately falls to his knees at her side, one hand going to her arm and the other to cup her face.
Katara leans away, unable to ignore the waves of despair and longing that wash over her. She knows how Mendu must have felt in his dying moments, only his pain came to a swift end while hers must continue for the rest of her life.
There is no place for feelings on the battlefield.
Zuko's eyes shimmer. "Katara? What's the matter?" He reaches for her again, and she staggers to her feet and away from him.
She moves her eyes to Yue, and he follows her gaze. The princess is watching them with calculating eyes. Katara knows that she's judging their relationship and wondering whether they will adhere to the deal Katara made with her last night.
Katara can't speak for Zuko, but she can speak for herself; she came to war to win honor for her family and for herself, and she stayed to defend her country and honor all her brothers who have fallen, and she won't tarnish all that she's worked for by going back on her word. Besides, everything she said to Yue last night was the truth.
Katara has had to sacrifice everything for her country; it makes sense, then, that she must also sacrifice Zuko.
Zuko's eyes turn back to hers and she could drown in the sorrow contained within them.
"Commander Hua Xing!"
Months later, in the Imperial City, Katara is announced to the Emperor. Most of the Imperial army - an army of strangers - is arranged in rows behind her; she descends the steep stairs to the throne where the Emperor sits and bows before him.
"The High Commander was a coward, and I have dealt with him," the Emperor continues. Katara desperately wants to look up and see if he resembles his son at all; at the same time, she feels only disgust for him, for she remembers how Zuko always spoke of his father.
"You have brought honor to your family, to yourself, and to our country," he continues. "You have defeated many armies, personally killed our enemy's leader, and orchestrated an arranged marriage between the Rouran princess and my son that will bring about peace for many generations to come. Your legend, Hua Xing, will be spoken of for thousands of years!"
She doesn't remove her eyes from the stones. "I am honored, your Majesty."
"After so many years at war, it is only fitting that we should welcome you back home with celebrations."
True to his word, the city is alive with festivities. There are parades and music, and flower petals thrown from every window and littering every street. People dance and laugh and sing and eat and drink. Katara walks through it all by herself, wondering at the frivolity and lavishness of it all. After years of sleeping in tents and bathing in cold rivers, it seems overwhelming and unnecessary. She cannot force a smile to adorn her lips nor bring forth a laugh from inside her.
She is empty. Empty of joy, empty of pain, empty of mirth, and empty of sorrow. There is nothing inside her anymore.
At night, when the fireworks burst across the sky, she drops to the ground and covers her head, at first mistaking them for explosions or fiery arrows. A few people give her strange looks before she realizes her mistake and climbs to her feet, feeling very foolish but also broken.
She was still a child when she went to war; now she is an adult, and she wonders if she will ever truly return.
For three days the festivities last. Katara finds it harder and harder to force herself out of her room and into the streets. Everyone wants to meet the honored Commander Xing. Everyone wants to bow before her and personally thank her.
It's not that Katara isn't grateful; it's just she's reminded every time of exactly what she had to sacrifice to earn their praise. She sees her dead brothers' faces flash through her mind; she sees herself as a butcher, killing countless men without hesitation; she sees Zuko and Yue walking away from the Rouran camp together.
By the time she's escorted back to her hometown, her fear of facing her father again has been eclipsed by her dread at having to be reminded even just one more time of how she gave away every piece of herself to bring peace to her country.
The Imperial City no longer feels like home.
When he was a child, he loved the city. He constantly snuck out of the palace, sometimes with Azula and sometimes alone, wandering along the streets and visiting the markets and forcing his way to the middle of the festivals. During his years at the military school, he looked out his window and longed to walk the streets again.
Now he feels as though he's seeing the streets for the first time. He sees transparent shadows of his younger self running along the wide streets and he feels like he's looking at a stranger. This is no longer his home.
His home isn't the oases of Mesopotamia or the mighty city-states of Greece or Rome or the Imperial City. His home isn't any place on the earth. His home is a person.
In all his lives, Katara is the only constant. She is his home.
Yue rides beside him, silently looking around at everything with wide eyes. The Rourans don't have mighty cities like this. He wonders if she likes it or if she misses the open grasslands. He hopes she likes it; he doesn't want them both to be miserable for the rest of their lives.
She's a nice girl. Zuko has no issue with her. He respects her strength and intelligence and he knows she'll make an amazing Empress. There are definitely worse women he could be stuck with for the rest of his life.
But she's not Katara. She'll never be Katara.
The pain of having to give her up again after just getting her is almost more than Zuko can handle. It's a constant blade in his chest, a dull ache that occasionally twists and sends him reeling. For the first time in four lifetimes, he had her in his arms only to have to give her up.
He suspects Yue knows. He hadn't exactly been subtle in Mendu's tent, and he knows he's been closed off and quiet since. Sometimes he can see her giving him sad looks from the corner of his eye. She doesn't want to destroy his chance at happiness, but she doesn't have a choice. She loves her people more than she cares about Zuko and Katara. That's not something he can blame her for or count against her.
Zuko feels bad for how he's been treating her. She deserves better. She deserves a chance. She'll never replace Katara, nor does he want her to, but he can at least try to befriend her and give her a warm welcome.
One day he will. One day he'll take her around the city and tell her about his childhood. He'll do all the things with her that he had dreamed of doing with Katara. He'll ask her about her past and try to ease her transition to her new life.
For now, he's in mourning. He'll let himself wallow in his grief for a while. He'll let himself experience this pain to its full extent.
Then he'll try to let go. He doesn't know if it's possible, but for his own sanity he'll try.
What was it that Katara used to say? There's no room for feelings on the battlefield. This is his new battlefield. Instead of fighting Rourans on the frontline, he'll be fighting himself and his desires and his grief every day.
Of the entire Imperial City, the palace is the most foreign. Zuko drags his feet up the steps, dreading seeing his family again. His sister had been married while he was gone and she's no longer in the city. He's not sure if he's relieved or saddened at that. He settles on neutral.
When he approaches his father, Yue at his side, he sinks into a deep bow. He hears footsteps as he father approaches him and sets a hand on his shoulder.
"Rise, my son," his father says. "You have made me proud. You have restored your honor and that of our country."
The Zuko who wandered these halls as a child and suffered in military school and on the battlefield would have been elated to hear those words. The Zuko who has lived four lifetimes is disgusted. He knows better than to be ensnared in his father's manipulations.
He swallows and thanks his father. Then he introduces Yue. His father fawns over her, complimenting her on her beauty. Yue appears a little irritated but she hides it well.
His mother sweeps him into a hug and then Yue, welcoming him home and her to the family.
Later, while Yue is being shown to her new room in the palace, Zuko walks to the courtyard. The fountain is still there, the ducks and turtles waiting for him. For some reason the sight of them brings tears to his eyes.
He hears soft footsteps. "You used to spend hours out here," his mother says.
He can't answer. He simply nods.
She moves in front of him, sees his expression. "Oh, Zuko," she says softly, reaching out for him. He isn't ashamed to fall into her arms, to hold onto her tightly.
"You've been away for so long," she says, rubbing circles on his back. "I'm glad you're home."
He shakes a head buried in her shoulder. "It isn't home. Not anymore."
"Is there anything I can do?"
His voice is a hoarse whisper. "No."
The villagers of Katara's hometown shower petals down upon her as she rides upon Black Wind, flanked by a group of officers and bannermen. When they reach the middle of the village, all but one man are on their knees, bowing to her.
That one man looks at her with shimmering eyes. He's aged a lot since she left, but so did she. His hair has streaks of white in it. His face has more lines. His back is slumped just a little further.
Katara slides off her horse, giving the reins to one of the men. She approaches her father slowly, his expression hard to read. For a long moment they stare at each other; then he grabs her arms and pulls her into a tight embrace.
Around them, the villagers cheer; Katara blocks them all out and focuses only on him.
"I did it all for you, Father," she whispers in his ear. "I saved our country for you. I changed the world for you."
He pulls back and smiles at her, and the tears spill over her cheeks.
"I begged the Emperor to release me from my service," she says. "He wanted to promote me to High Commander, but I wanted to return home. I wanted to be with you again."
He says nothing, just stares at her, pulling the answers to his questions straight out of her soul.
"I confessed my true identity to the Emperor. He told me that he forgave me and that he considered the Empire fortunate to have a woman like me."
Her father's grip on her arms tightens. "He spoke only the truth. What he didn't say was that a father is also lucky to have a daughter as brave as you."
She throws herself in his arms again, the world outside melting away.
Katara's heart may be shattered and splintered beyond repair, but the small corner carved out for her father remains as whole and strong as ever.
Later that day, Katara returns to her home for the first time. Although she knows the rooms by heart and her father hasn't changed much, it feels completely foreign to her. She runs her fingers across the loom she once wove their clothes with; she touches the teapot she once boiled water in and spent hours learning how to pour properly; she finds the comb she once wore in her hair.
Lastly she stops in front of the mirror and gazes at her reflection. She doesn't recognize who she sees. Her face has thinned out from months of low rations and lots of exercise, her cheekbones protruding outwards. Her eyes have sunken into her skull slightly, giving her a gaunt appearance. Her skin, once flawless, is covered in tiny scars from dozens of battles.
Her eyes, once shining, are dull and lusterless.
Yet again, she wonders if she can ever fully return from the war.
She reaches up with shaking, dirty, scarred, and calloused hands and lets down her hair. It's lost its shine, having not been properly washed in years. It's grown, reaching past her chest and halfway down her back.
She may not know whether she'll be able to return to this life, but she has to try.
That night, Katara dreams for the first time in years.
She dreams of a life in a small tribe in an oasis brought to a violent end.
She dreams of a life in the palace of a foreign country, growing up with two cousins who were princes. She rejected all her suitors and dedicated her life to the gods until the waves washed up an enemy army at her shores. She wasn't a fighter in this life, and she ended up fleeing from her burning city.
She dreams of a life where she is a mighty queen, exiled only to come back stronger than ever. She leads military campaigns and lives extravagantly. Her own family betrays her, but she's strong enough to carry on. In the end, she's brought down by the leaders of the mightiest empire in the world.
Peppered throughout these dreams is Zuko. He's always there, sometimes as an enemy but more often as an ally. They hurt each other as often as they save each other. They fight against each other as often as they fight with each other.
Their fates are intertwined. For what reason, Katara isn't sure; but reliving all these moments, the good and the bad, just makes her miss him more. They've come so far together but it never works out.
Maybe they're never meant to find happiness. Maybe that's the lesson all these failures should teach her. But she refuses to accept it. She refuses to accept that there isn't a life somewhere or somehow or sometime in which they get it right.
She wakes up with a pain in her chest worse than any of the injuries she sustained in eight years of war. She curls into a ball and tries to hold back the sobs that rip through her. No matter how tightly she holds herself, she can't keep from breaking into a thousand pieces.
Her door creaks open and her father enters. He pauses in the doorway for a moment before sitting on the edge of her bed and pulling her into his arms. She grips him tightly, thankful that at least she's not entirely alone.
She'll make it through this. She doesn't know how, but she knows she can. She didn't survive eight years of hell and three other lifetimes just to lose now.
A few weeks later, as she's returning from brushing and feeding Black Wind, she hears voices in her house. Her father's low chuckle carries through the air.
"It's nice to have a daughter," he says lightly. "Always understanding and obedient. And now she's a pretty commander!"
Katara turns the corner and freezes in the doorway. The two men - her father and the visitor - turn and face her.
Her heart nearly beats right out of her chest as the sunlight streaming through the window reveals the visitor to be none other than Zuko. He stands slowly and his gaze covers her from head to toe.
Dressed as a woman, with her hair combed straight and arranged down, other than the front part, which she has pulled back and pinned with her mother's comb, in a dress, and not covered with grime from a battle, she must look as foreign to him as he does to her in his expensive crimson robe lined with gold. After wearing identical armor in battle for years, Katara hadn't ever considered him in anything else. Even though her memories from their other lives are full of him in attire like this, it still looks strange.
She wonders if he thinks of her as more beautiful now. She wonders if he thinks she's more fitting dressed like this. He's seen her at her worst, when she had arrows sticking out of her and she was covered in snow sludge or dust. He's seen her covered in blood and gore.
His eyebrows twitch ever so slightly, and she knows that he doesn't think her more beautiful. If anything, he disapproves of her looking like this. It must remind him of their last two lives, where she always dressed in such a way - and where it ended badly for them. She has to fight the small smile that creeps up on her face.
As much as she wants to feel joy over his visit, she knows that only pain lies ahead. Nothing he can say or do will bring back the peace and happiness she felt when lying in his arms, delirious and dying at the bottom of a canyon with enemy troops waiting to slaughter them.
She knew the cost of what she was doing when she made that deal with Yue. As much as she yearns after him, she wishes he hadn't returned now. It will only make things that much harder. She was just starting to recover.
Still, since he came all this way, she can't deny indulging herself one last time.
They ride their horses outside of town for privacy. For a long way they ride without speaking, the silence stretching over them comfortably as it had when they had travelled between defense positions during the war.
Katara's heart never stops frantically beating. Every breath is short and sharp. She can't bear for him not to speak, but at the same time she doesn't want him to because she knows it will be a goodbye and she'd do anything to stretch out her last few minutes with him.
He finally pulls his horse to a stop by an old well. Katara follows his lead as he ties the reins to it and walks a few feet away.
Without a word, Zuko turns and faces her, reaching out with a hand and running it through her hair. She leans into his touch, watching him, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall.
"I want to give you something," he says, pulling out his golden name tag. He holds it out in his palm, the sunlight glinting off of it. Set in the bottom of the shining metal is a polished turquoise stone with a beautiful wave pattern etched on it. The last time she'd seen it was from a distance as he offered it to Mendu's men.
Katara swallows. She would recognize that blue gem in any life. The sight of it causes a subtle itch in her veins. She tears her eyes away from it, the desire to take it from him surging up powerfully within her. It's the kind of intense desire she's conditioned herself to reject, to avoid at all costs.
There is no place for feelings on the battlefield.
"I can't accept it," she says. She reaches out and closes his fingers over it, pushing it back towards him.
He looks at her with a serious gaze. "Are you sure?"
If she takes it, their curse will end. They'll die a final death and their story will be over, the original wrong righted. They'll never have to feel this agony again.
But Katara isn't ready to give up. She'll do this over and over again until they get it right. She'll accept this pain a thousand times if it means they get to experience happiness once.
"I'm sure," she repeats. "Besides, I've already taken what I want from you."
She reaches into a hidden pocket in her dress and pulls out an old, slightly blood stained bamboo name tag. A small smile stretches across his face as he recognizes it as his own. She'd kept it since he left it in her tent at the bottom of that canyon.
"Then you must give me something in return," he says. "I would like to have yours."
She reaches for her belt and unties it. Although she's no longer at war and she's wearing a dress, old habits die hard. She presses it into his palm. There's something freeing about giving up something of that importance to someone you trust wholeheartedly to take care of it.
"We both lied about our true identities," Katara says. "These name tags were the keepers of our greatest secrets."
They fall into silence for a moment, looking out over the rice fields again. Suddenly Zuko turns to face her.
"What if we ran away together?" he asks, his golden eyes intense. "It wouldn't matter where we went."
She looks down at a point on his chest. "You once told me that if you could give your life to end the war, you would do it."
He looks over her shoulder out into the distance, his jaw clenching tightly. "Giving up my life would be easy. I don't love my life."
Katara stares at him. She had suspected for a long time, even known deep down in her heart, but she had never thought he'd say the words out loud. Four lifetimes and this is the first time she's heard him admit it.
It's as unlikely as anything for them to find each other, but it still happened. Fate has a strange way of working itself out.
She wants nothing more than to tell him that she feels the same; she wants nothing more than for them to climb on their horses and ride until they've left the world behind them. She wants nothing more than to wake up in his arms again, but this time without the constant threat and stench of death hanging around them.
But Katara is used to not getting what she wants.
"Our brothers died for this peace," she whispers. "We cannot dishonor their sacrifice by throwing it away for ourselves." She pauses, then adds, "We're lucky. We know we have another chance. They don't."
His eyes gleam. He nods once. "I know. That doesn't make it any easier."
He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. She melts into him, knowing that it will be for the last time. He isn't hers, and he will never be - at least, not in this life. This is a stolen moment, one they shouldn't take but they can't resist.
"For eight years I woke up on the battlefield and my first thoughts were of you," she says softly. "Even when you were gone, you gave me the courage to carry on. For the rest of this life, and all my lives after, it shall be the same."
She holds onto him for as long as she can bear to, and then she pulls away. "I'll wait for you," she promises. "We'll find each other again."
He nods, jaw clenched and his eyes sparkling.
"I'll see you in the next life."
She turns away and walks to Black Wind, untying him and mounting. Then she spurs him forward into a gallop, leaving Zuko behind before her courage and resolve fails her.
That night, she dreams of Zuko. Every night for the rest of her life, she dreams of him. And even though she knows she won't find him, she looks for him in the stars alongside her other fallen brothers.
