They've been on the road for a little over a month before they actually have to fight anyone. When Zuko had been on the road on his own, he had gotten into far too many fights in order to save his life, and he's glad that they've avoided any violent human interaction up until this point. He attributes their luck to the location of Katara's little village, the remoteness and tendency for the citizens to stay where they're comfortable making for quiet roads in and out of the area. But, all good things must come to an end, usually sooner rather than later in Zuko's experience, and their luck runs out about a day's journey away from the mountain village of Yangchen.
He's doing his best to act normal around Katara; his outburst the other day had left him feeling extremely embarrassed, the uncommon display of weakness something he tries his best to avoid at all times (another lesson violently drilled into his head at a young age). Thankfully, Katara hasn't been treating him any differently aside from a few more lingering looks, his shame no doubt making her judge him more than she probably already had before his childish display of uncontrolled emotion. The feeling of her embrace is seared into his skin, the ghost of her fingers brushing through his hair a howling spectre that haunts him every night. The bedroll he sleeps on feels empty and big, the space between them somehow too vast even in their tiny tent, a crack in the earth that he's too afraid to jump across yawning between them. It's so stupid; he's known Katara for just under two months and he's already yearning for her every waking moment (and frequently in his sleep), folding into himself at night and pretending like he doesn't miss her comforting touch. Fucking pathetic.
The sun is bright where it shines on their path, warm golden light splashing through the treetops in luminous rays. The two Othered are talking about what supplies they'll pick up in town when Zuko sees them; three shabbily dressed men ambling up the path towards them, talking animatedly with slightly slurred words. The three men are far enough down the path for him to warn Katara, but too close for them to duck into the forest unnoticed.
"Katara—"
"I see them." The trepidation in her voice is hidden under a layer of steely determination. "Do you want to fight?"
"What other choice do we have?" An unbidden daydream forms in his mind, one that starts with him pulling Katara off to the side of the road to kiss her senseless in the guise of getting out of the eyes of the strange men without being too suspicious. He cuts the daydream off sharply before it can get any father, pushing the thoughts of the two of them getting lost in each other far from his mind. "Just keep your head down and follow my lead."
His heartbeat quickens as he raises his hand to lay gently on the small of her back, his touch lighter than the sun's soft rays beaming down on them. He tilts his head down just enough to hide his eyes from the men growing steadily closer, turning towards Katara to whisper in her ear. The scent of her lavender soap clings to her hair, and the struggle to stay present rages inside of him as his concentration wavers.
"Hopefully if we keep our eyes hidden they'll walk right by," he whispers, and Katara shivers under his touch. "We'll be fine. If it comes to it, we can take them."
"So we're playing the cuddly couple game, huh?" Blood rushes to his face, Katara's hand snaking up to wrap around his waist.
"I—" Her girlish giggle interrupts him, the coded affirmation of the plan pulling a nervous breath from him that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "So… how about that weather?" Her laughter never fails to draw a smile on his face, and he almost forgets about the men approaching them.
The three men pass right by them, the pungent smell of alcohol trailing the group as they continue on. A heavy sigh escapes Zuko as Katara relaxes against his side.
"Hey!" Their relief is short lived; both of their spines stiffen at the tipsy stranger's words.
He mutters, "ignore him." Katara's grip tightens around his waist.
"What's a pretty girl like you doing with an ugly fuck like that?" Zuko takes a deep breath, used to the mockery that comes along with his scar. "Hey, I'm talking to you!" A dark bottle smashes at his heels, little shards of glass bouncing harmlessly off of his long pants as both he and Katara jump at the unexpected attack. Damn it.
He spits his retort over his shoulder, "fuck off."
"Why don't you let the lady speak for herself?" One of the other men speaks up, his voice nasally and pitched higher than the first.
"Fuck off," Katara snaps, and the shink of blades leaving their sheaths travel back to reach their ears.
"Bitch." The second man hisses the curse at Katara.
Creases form on Zuko's forehead as he makes to turn around and pull out his swords, but before he can even move, Katara has whipped her water towards the man, freezing it up his body from his ankles to his chin.
"Call me a bitch again." Her eyes are steel, harsh blue unsoftened by the tell-tale glow of Othered. The three men's eyes widen at the sight before them; seeing one Othered out on the road would have been strange enough, but two travelling together is simply unheard of.
"Freaks!" Split flies from the incapacitated man's mouth, and the other two charge at Zuko and Katara.
Katara stays distanced, swinging her water around in a deadly ribbon as she twirls and whips it at one of the men. Zuko meets the other halfway, his dual swords clashing with the man's at eye level. The scent of alcohol rides on the man's breath, his yellow teeth bared in a warped smile as he pulls his own sword back to attack again. A loud cry proceeds the man's attack, a straight charge with his sword raised high, and Zuko almost rolls his eyes at the predictable technique, easily parrying with a swift arc of his left sword that clears the way for his counter with the right. Surprisingly agile for someone inebriated, the man jumps back to avoid Zuko's attack, stumbling just a little upon landing. The man charges again, and instead of attacking directly, Zuko waits for the man to get close enough before dropping to the ground and windmilling his legs around to knock the man flat onto his face on the ground. Grabbing the lapels of the man's shirt, Zuko hoists him up off the ground to deliver a swift hit to the man's temple with the butt of his sword that knocks him unconscious.
A shriek pulls Zuko's attention behind him, where the one other man lays sprawled on the ground a few yards away from Katara. She must have knocked the wind out of him; he's gulping for air like a beached fish for water as the frozen man looks at his companion with fear in his eyes. Katara sends her water back into the skin at her hip and takes Zuko's hand when he runs up to her so they can make their escape. His lungs burn as they run, his hand clenched tight around Katara's and legs aching with exertion as they rocket down the worn road.
The sun is brushing the horizon when they finally come to a stop, chests heaving with the effort of catching their breath. They had run for a while, only stopping when Katara had tripped and dragged them both to the ground, dirt caking on the knees of both of their trousers. Zuko finally steadies his breathing after what feels like forever, heavy exhaustion creeping up his body, the weight so tangible that he doesn't even want to get up.
Katara turns to him from where they sit perched at the base of a tree. "I think we did pretty good." He looks over at her, panting and sweating and glistening in the golden hour sunlight, a wry smile on her face and triumph in those glowing blue eyes. Am I sure she's not an angel? I'm so going to hell.
"Yeah." The corner of his mouth pulls up in a tired grin. "I'd say so."
Her laugh is a study in disbelief, a single huff that speaks volumes of the day they've had. She slumps against his shoulder, and if Zuko thought exhaustion would stop the butterflies from rallying in his stomach at her touch, he was dead wrong.
The clear, azure sky deepens into a soft indigo, swirls of stars dancing above their heads as they settle down. Too tired to erect the tent after their meager meal, the two lay out their bedrolls under the stars, the spring air comfortable as it hangs around them.
"So, we'll get to Yangchen tomorrow?" Katara is rolled on her side, her head pillowed on her arm and eyes bright in the darkness.
"Yeah," he yawns. "If we get up early we'll get there by midday."
"What, you mean earlier than you already get up?" Her smirk ignites the sparklers lining his nerves, the smell of her floral soap making his legs feel weak even as he simply lies next to her.
"Well, I can always skip my morning meditation, but you can't blame me if I fly off the handle trying to haggle over the cost of rice." Her eyes crinkle with her laughter, the sound a siren song calling him to her lips.
"No, you wouldn't do that. You would take a deep breath, find a secluded area, and kick a wall so hard you'd break your toe."
"You sure have a lot of faith in me." Katara's eyes soften at his words, a rosy heat sliding swiftly on to his cheeks at the undisguised affection he finds there.
"I do." Her voice is softer than the gentle breeze that ruffles her hair, and he's never wanted to kiss her more than he does in this moment. As it is, he's realizing more and more that he wants to kiss her literally all the time, and it takes everything in him to keep the feral urge at bay, stomping it down and trying to bury it in the back of his mind.
Her words float around in his head for the rest of the night, a lazy cycle of self doubt and tentative hope swirling through his thoughts. He's never felt like he's worth much of anything- his father had squashed any sense of self worth out of him like a sour grape at a very young age- but Katara makes him feel like maybe he isn't so bad. Maybe he isn't a massive failure and a disgrace to his family simply because of how he was born, maybe he can still do some good in this world despite his fucked up past. Katara seems to believe in him, as crazy as that is, so maybe there's something in him that he can believe in too. Sleep washes over him, his dreams glowing with soft blue light and smelling faintly of lavender.
Xx
The village of Yangchen is stunning in its strangeness. The whole town is situated on the peak of a low mountain; it's not very high up, but the top of the tall spire that marks the very tip reaches up into the sky just high enough to touch the misty clouds. Roads wind down the mountain in swirls and switchbacks, homes built straight into the mountainside. The village itself is dotted with more of those tall spires, but none nearly as impressive as the one at the very top. The trek up had been difficult and taken all morning, with every forward step meaning the air got thinner and thinner, but the unique architecture of the town is just visible around midday. The sun beats down on the gorgeous structures and their white walls, the brightness almost overwhelming. Katara's eyes are blown wide and steeped with wonder, the small smile on her face more than enough to make the journey up to the town worth it.
Most of the people are dressed in shades of orange, yellow, or bown, their robes draping and loose, free to flutter in the wind. All of the local men, young and old, have smooth, shaved heads, some even sporting grey-blue arrow tattoos stretching up from beneath the back of their robes down to a point situated on their foreheads. The women are clad in the same colors and styles, their hairlines shaved to start much farther back on their heads than what is normal, probably to show off their own share of the strange tattoos. It's clear that Zuko and Katara are outsiders, with Katara's dark skin and Zuko's dark hair not the only distinguishing factors. There are a few other nonlocals milling about, but the market is flooded with the colors that seem to represent the people of Yangchen.
It's a shame that they can't spend too much time inside the actual town marvelling at its beauty. The threat of their eyes being seen is a hefty weight after weeks of travelling alone, but they can't forget why they're really here. The constant breeze makes it difficult for Zuko to keep the hood of his robe over his eyes, and poor Katara has a death grip on her wide brimmed hat to keep it from flying off and sailing away on the breeze. They've barely made it into the market square and Zuko knows that people have already seen his glowing eyes, but the local's reaction is more startling than his worry of being attacked. Most of them had barely reacted at all; no open show of hostility or fear has followed them into the market, no whispers carrying on the persistent zephyr that winds through the stalls.
"Is it just me," Katara murmurs, "or do these people not care about who we are?" Zuko's been wondering the same thing, and as a particularly strong breeze blows his hood off of his face, they get their answer.
"Excuse me." Both of them jump at the quiet voice at their backs, turning around to see a smiling old man adorned with a necklace of chunky wooden beads. "May I ask you to come with me?" He's definitely seen their eyes, there's no doubt about it, and Katara and Zuko shoot each other worried sideways glances. "No harm will come to you here, that I can promise." Zuko shrugs his shoulders at Katara, and they follow the friendly man up the winding roads leading to the tallest spire.
He leads them into the monolith, where other locals sporting more of the arrow tattoos are milling about. All of them pause to lay their eyes on Zuko and Katara, but other than a handful of raised brows, their welcome is comfortable, if not warm. They follow after the old man up the winding stairs, finally entering a round room where four other old men sit. They all possess a similar necklace to the old man who's led them here, who leaves them in the middle of the room to go sit with the others on a plush orange cushion. Zuko's heart is beating so fast he thinks it might fly out of his chest, his pulse fluttering like a hummingbird's wings with anticipation.
"What are your names?" The old man who has led them into the strange room speaks first, his soft voice surprisingly loud in the small space.
"Katara." He commends her for the courage in her voice and tries to mimic it.
"Zuko."
"Katara and Zuko." The man spreads his arms wide with a soft smile. "Welcome to Yangchen. I'm sure you've noticed that we've treated you quite differently than most people would." They both nod, Zuko's tongue held in a vice in his mouth. "Here in Yangchen we do not punish those who are born Othered. It is by no choice of your own that The Source has blessed you with your gifts." Zuko's single brow raises so far up his head that it may as well absorb into his hairline.
"Wait, you know about The Source?" Katara's voice is a pitch higher than normal, her confusion evident in her voice.
"I think you'll find in your travels that more people know about The Source than you think." There's a glint in the old man's eye, something almost familiar in his gaze. "I am Monk Gyasto. We—" he gestures to the four old men sitting around him— "act as the rulers of Yangchen. Our society is one of peace and acceptance, and we'd like to help you on your journey any way we can. Starting with..." he looks past the two of them and raises a wrinkled hand, beckoning for someone to come forward.
Zuko and Katara turn around and come face to face with a young man. He's bald like the rest of the men in the town, has the signature bluish arrow tattoo on his head, and his eyes are big and slate grey, and glowing distinctly. The air rushes out of Zuko's lungs, a strange sort of numbness born of his disbelief washing over his body. Holy shit.
"Wow!" The younger man's voice holds a certain amount of child-like wonder, a massive smile taking up residence on his face. "You guys are Othered too! I've never met anyone like me before, this is so cool!" He rushes forward and pulls the two of them into a hug, his long arms easily wrapping them both in his embrace.
"Aang." The monk's voice is soft but stern, and the young man— Aang— lets them go with a sheepish look.
"Sorry, I just got a little excited." He shrugs and looks Zuko in the eye, the glowing grey shining like polished metal. "I'm Aang!" He sticks his hand out towards Zuko with a wide smile.
"Zuko." He still feels a little numb as he takes Aang's hand, the younger man's grip firm and soft at the same time.
"I'm Katara." She shakes Aang's hand with a smile.
"What are your gifts? Wait, I'll show you mine first!" He makes a swinging motion with his hands and jumps into the air, twisting and coming to rest on… nothing?
"You can control air." Katara's voice holds no small amount of incredulity, and Zuko focuses on the space below Aang to see an almost invisible swirling beneath him.
"Damn." He can't help but be amazed as Aang bounds high up into the air, landing with unnatural grace in front of the two of them.
"Cool, right?" Zuko envies Aang's unbriging; it's clear that the monks of Yangchen had fostered and encouraged Aang's gift, where Zuko and Katara's were smothered and stifled. "What can you guys do?" Katara pulls a ribbon of water out of the skin at her hip, twirling it around herself with some simple movements of her hands. "Wow, that's incredible! What about you, Zuko?" He brings his hand up and opens his fist, a plume of bright fire sitting comfortably in his palm. "Woah! That's awesome! This is so great!" Aang is bouncing on his feet, his joy contagious as it draws a smile onto Zuko's face.
"Aang." Monk Gyatso speaks from his place on the floor, and the three of them turn back to look at him. "You will be travelling with Zuko and Katara from here on out. Your destiny awaits, little one." Aang definitely isn't little; he's only about an inch shorter than Zuko, and looks to be at least a few years younger. He and Gyatso must have a more familial bond, the old man's smile holding all of the affection Zuko is used to seeing in his uncle's gaze.
"Really? That's so exciting! I can't wait to get going!" He turns back to Zuko and Katara. "But maybe we should wait until tomorrow. You guys look pretty tired." Aang speaks his exhaustion into existence, the happenings of the last month and a half weighing on him so suddenly that he almost crumbles underneath it. "I'll show you guys to somewhere you can rest, and I'll get any stuff we'll need from the market." They follow Aang out of the grand building and back out into the town. "Monk Gyatso told me about The Source years ago, and that there would come a day where I'd have to help save it. That's why you guys are here, right?" They both nod silently. "Cool. Where are we headed to next?"
"Omashu." Zuko's jaw stretches open with a yawn. "But we don't know how to get over the mountains."
"Oh, that's easy!" Aang waves his hand over his shoulder at him. "There's a tunnel about a two weeks walk from here that goes right through them."
"Oh, okay." Katara shrugs at Zuko, who yawns again. "Thanks for your help Aang. Zuko and I could definitely use a night in some real beds."
"Yeah, no problem!" They enter a small building and walk down a few halls before coming to a room furnished with two simple beds. "I hope this is okay, we don't have much in terms of guest rooms outside of the local inn."
"This looks perfect, Aang." Katara is all pleasantries, but Zuko skips the small talk and flops face first down onto one of the beds.
"There's a washroom down the hall if you want to bathe, and we can have someone wash your clothes too,"
"Yes please." Zuko is already peeling off his grimy shoes as he speaks. "Which way is the washroom?" Aang points down the hallway to the left.
"Just leave your clothes outside and I'll have someone grab them. Oh, and I'll make sure to leave something clean for you to wear. That's important." Zuko waves over his shoulder at Aang and Katara and pads down to the washroom, thanking his lucky stars that he has access to a proper bath.
He peels off his grungy clothes and piles them in a heap where Aang had instructed him to before drawing a bath and sinking into the washtub, his aching muscles relishing in the soothing hot water. There are bottles of what looks like scented bath oils lined up on a shelf in arm's reach, and on a whim he grabs the one labelled with the character for apples on it and adds some to the steaming water. There's also a handful of different scented soaps, and he's glad to see that one is labelled as cinnamon. His mother had bathed him and Azula with cinnamon scented soap ever since he was little, and the smell has always been a comfort for him.
He soaks in the wash tub until his fingers and toes wrinkle like prunes, finding a modest set of rust colored clothes outside of the room. He's just pulling on his shirt as he walks back into the room designated for him and Katara, realizing after he's pulled it over his head that Katara is already there.
"Washroom's free." She's rifling around in her bag, but it doesn't actually seem like she's looking for anything.
"Oh, good. I'm gonna—" she gestures over her shoulder with her thumb, and Zuko nods. "Did you— you smell like apple pie."
"Oh, yeah." He turns to go through his own bag, now, to hide his blush. "They have scented bath oils and stuff."
"It's nice." By the time he turns around to look at her, Katara is already gone without a trace.
He drifts off while she's gone, barely waking up when she comes back into the room some unknown amount of time later. She lays down on the other bed with a heavy sigh; the scent of plums and bergamot waft over to him, and her hair looks even softer than usual, gentle curls haloing out around her head on the pillow. He rolls over onto his stomach and peeks out at her on the other bed. Her eyes are closed, chest rising and falling evenly as she drifts off, and Zuko closes his eyes, biting back all of the different words for beautiful that threaten to spill from his lips.
Xx
Dawn the next morning is crisp and breezy, the mountainous village of Yangchen bathing in the warm orange light from the sunrise as it creeps over the peaks to the east. The three Othered stand rested and ready at the edge of town with a plan to travel south towards the tunnel through the mountain range. Aang gives Monk Gyatso one last embrace before they head out, and the air grows heavy and familiar the longer they walk as they descend back to sea level.
"Wow, the air is so different down here!" Aang declares while spinning a bright green marble around in the air above his hand.
"Oh, you've never left Yangchen, have you?" Katara adjusts her pack on her shoulders as they walk, poking her head around Zuko to talk to Aang.
"Nope!" Zuko knows Aang isn't that much younger than him, but it doesn't change the fact that it feels like he is.
"The air pressure increases as you get closer to sea level," he explains to Aang, who looks at him steadily with those luminous grey eyes. "So it'll feel heavier down here."
"That's pretty cool. I'll have to practice more to get the hang of it."
"I'm assuming since you're a monk that you've never tried to hone your element for combat, right?" Aang looks at him with a stricken face.
"No, we're pacifists. We don't even eat meat."
Zuko decies to stay quiet for now, exchanging a look with Katara to pass along the message. He doesn't want to get into a fight their first day together.
"So, about that tunnel..." Katara picks the conversation back up, thankfully changing the subject. "Where exactly is it?"
"Well," Aang pulls out and unfurls his map. "It's supposed to be right around here."
"Supposed to be?" Zuko's eyebrow raises as he looks at Aang. "What do you mean 'supposed to be'?"
"I mean, I don't actually know anyone who's gone through it, but I hear travelers talking about it a lot."
"So there's a chance it's not there?" Katara's voice is tinged with doubt.
"No! I mean," Aang rubs the back of his neck, "maybe. I'm sure it's real though, otherwise why would so many people talk about it?"
"Wait, you don't even know if it's real?!" We should have put an age requirement on this trip.
"It's totally real! You'll see!" Aang flashes Zuko another brilliant smile, and he lets out a groan as they continue down the worn dirt road towards their questionable route through the mountains.