"If we keep up this pace, we should be able to make it to the Serpent's Pass in time." Zuko and Katara sit huddled next to the fire, the map splayed out across their laps and a blanket slung over both of their shoulders. "We'll be a little late, but now that we're making good time we'll definitely get there before they leave," Zuko assures her, and his glowing eyes meet her own as she nods.

"Good." Sokka had given everyone a hard deadline of two months to get to the Serpent's Pass, and there's no way in hell Katara is going to let them get there late. Even if it would be nice to spend some extra time alone with Zuko.

A massive weight has lifted off of her chest since she confessed her feelings to him— she hadn't realized how much it had been hurting her to hold all of that in for so long. At the very least, she didn't need that pain along with all of the new pains she's feeling now. She still has nightmares frequently, the vision of Hama's dead, glowing eyes haunt her like a demented spectre, but she's slowly releasing her iron grip on the guilt that plagues her. It'll never truly go away, but having Zuko there by her side to comfort her and relate to her has been invaluable. He's so patient with her, always there with open arms and soft reassurances. What she appreciates most about him through all of this, though, is his honesty. He doesn't sugar coat the guilt to try to make her feel better, he doesn't tell her that it'll all be okay. She won't be the same person she was before Hama ever again, but that doesn't have to be the end of the world. She won't let it break her.

Aside from that, not much has changed since she and Zuko sorted things out between them. Sure, there's more cuddling, and the kisses are new, but their daily interactions stay pretty much the same. It says a lot about how close they had grown without even knowing the other's true feelings, and it sends a fluttering sensation from the tip of Katara's toes up to her chest. It's not wise for her to think of the future, of their future; if their encounter with Hama proved anything, it was that everything can change in less than an instant. She doesn't want to imagine that any of her friends or family won't survive the inevitable battle with the army of Ember, but death has laughed in her face twice now, and she can't hide from it any longer, no matter how much she wishes she could. The thought of leaving The Source at the end of this mission without Zuko is enough to bring tears to her eyes, and that's even with her pathetic attempts not to daydream about domestic bliss and growing old with him. But it's there nonetheless— a simple, happy life, just around the corner, but forever out of reach.

Despite that, she's determined to enjoy the time she has with Zuko while she still can, and there's plenty for her to take pleasure in. They've started sparring again, partly because it's a good way to keep them on their toes, partly to keep warm— and maybe a little bit because of how it makes her blood boil in the most sinful, delicious way. They've had time to catch up on kisses and… other things, but she knows that she'll never tire of the fire in his glowing eyes when she has him trapped on the ground and panting from a good fight. It feels like he enjoys the fact that she can best him in combat, and if that's the case, Katara is glad for it; it results in more than a few heated encounters, although they do their best to take their time. The more she thinks about it, though, the more she realizes that they may not have the time to wait. They'll get to The Serpent's Pass in a few weeks, and after that they won't be alone anymore. There's no way they could get away with messing around with six other people around them, especially not Toph, and she doesn't think she'd even want to try with Sokka in the next tent over. Not to mention the new persistent fear of death that follows her around as a dark shadow— fate has proven to her time and time again that the people she loves can be snatched away in an instant, and the more she realizes that she loves Zuko, the more afraid she is to lose him.

Her determination blooms anew as their current spar ends with her once again kneeling above Zuko, her weight on his wrists as she stares into the endless glow of his eyes. Heat radiates upward from his prone body, all hard lines and taught muscles beneath her, and it adds to the heat growing somewhere low inside of her. They're both gasping for breath, mist puffing from their mouths in the cold winter air, and it's only a matter of time before their lips crash together. She's feeling bold, and she knows that she wants this, wants him, even if it's only once before their quest comes to an end (or one of them meets their end). She moves to kiss the side of his jaw, and Zuko turns his head to the side to give her more space.

"Katara..." He gasps when she bites right below his ear, and a low groan shudders through him when she pushes her hips down into his. She can feel his arousal exactly where she wants to, the pressure a high that she's desperate to chase. She slides her hands up from his wrists to lace their fingers together before moving her attention back up to his lips, her kiss insistent and hungry. His mouth is hot and soft under hers, and she moans into it when he pushes up into her; she knows he's after the same pleasure as she is, and his desire feeds the heat in her veins like nothing else.

"Zuko—" She pulls back from him, enough to see his eyes half lidded and intense as he stares up at her. She does her best to keep her gaze from sticking to his lips, but it's harder than she cares to admit. "The tent."

He nods enthusiastically, and his throat bobs as he swallows around heavy breaths. She pulls him up after she rises, but she can't keep her hands off of him for very long, and soon their lips are fused together again as they stumble towards the tent. Somehow they manage to get inside and lower themselves down; she pulls off her heavy outer tunic as Zuko does up the tent, and after he takes off his own tunic Katara reaches and pulls the hem of his shirt up and over his head. They come back together in a mess of lips and tongues and teeth, and she feels Zuko shudder against her hands as she trails them up his chest and down over his shoulders. His skin is hot to the touch despite the wintery air, the hair at the nape of his neck slick with sweat. She releases him to tug her shirt over her head, and pulls the tie from her hair, shaking it around a bit to untwist the loose braid she had it in. Zuko's hands are immediately carding through it, taking it in his grasp and guiding her head back to expose her neck so that he can graze his lips and teeth against her skin. She crawls onto his lap, desperate to feel more of him, to taste his skin and revel in the bliss they bring each other. They both groan when their skin touches, the heat emanating from Zuko's chest a wild contrast to the cold air outside the tent. Calloused hands slide down her sides to grab onto her hips, and they break the kiss to moan in tandem when Katara shifts against the stiffness in Zuko's lap.

"I want you." She holds his face in her hands and watches his bright eyes dart between hers. If he's looking for hesitation, he won't find it— this is what she wants, and god does she want.

He runs his hand over her hair in the most loving way, in a way that she's sure nobody has ever touched her before. "I want you too."

"So take me," she whispers against his lips, and feels his silent shiver in the moment before he kisses her.

There's a surprising softness to the kiss, one that matches the gentle way that Zuko lays her out beneath him on the bed roll. His lips latch onto her throat, and she feels his hands trail over her sides and move down to hook into the waistband of her leggings.

"Are you sure?" She knows that if she told Zuko to stop, he would. He looks at her with so much emotion in his eyes; she debates telling him how much she loves him as she nods her assurance, but her focus is broken as the cold air hits the bare skin of her thighs as her leggings are pulled off and tossed to the side.

She had expected it to be more frantic; she knows that they've both been wanting this, wanting each other, for so long, and she had thought that all of that energy would burst out of her like their campfire springing to life with a flick of Zuko's wrist, hot and bright and fast. Instead, it ebbs out of the palms of her hands and the pads of her fingers, spills out from between her lips on the tail end of his name, leaks through her skin to collect between their bodies as they move. It's a rush all the same, but it's more like a swift river rather than a tidal wave, smooth and gentle rather than purely powerful. Zuko is surprisingly soft in the way he runs his hands down her skin, sparks trailing after his fingers and lips giving rise to gooseflesh and labored breaths. A desperate part of her wants to tell him exactly how she feels; if she squints she can almost see love in his shining honeyed eyes, can almost taste it on his tongue, sweet and secret and just for her, and she wonders if he can see it too. Does it hang off the ends of her lashes as they flutter in ecstasy? Is it spelled out like braille in the myriad scars she's collected? Is it glossy on her lips when he takes them in his, when he kisses her like it's all he's ever meant to do? He runs his thumb along her cheek as she shudders and cries out, and she knows that she wants him by her side for the rest of her days, no matter how few there may be.

After they've pulled their clothes back on and have gotten comfortable in each other's arms, Katara's mind meanders back to where it's been stuck for the last few weeks, a fresh wave of anxiety dulling the warm glow she had been hiding in. The future has begun to terrify her with all its vast unknowns and endless possibilities, and now more than ever she's dreading reaching their destination. The worst is yet to come— this she knows— and the knowledge has stripped her bare and exposed all her most sensitive nerves to the harsh cold of reality.

"Zuko?" She doesn't move her head from where it rests on his chest, and he tilts down to lay a soft kiss onto her hair.

"What is it?" She feels his voice rumble under her ear.

"What if…" She trails off as she pulls herself impossibly closer into his side. "What happens if... when all of this is over, some of us don't make it?" She raises her head to look up into his eyes, luminous gold casting a warm glow in the darkness of their tent.

"We'll make it," he assures her as he runs his hand down her hair.

"But you don't know that!" She feels tension growing between her brows. This is what all her fear comes down to. "There's no way for us to know if we'll make it. We can hope and train and practice, but there's no guarantee that we're all going to come out—" She swallows the last word, unwilling to voice her new greatest fear.

"Katara..." His soft voice cuts her right to the core, and hot tears gather in the corners of her eyes. "Come here."

He pulls her back down onto his chest, but doesn't say anything else. What can he even say? She's right, and they both know it. It's a painful truth that she wishes she could simply ignore, but the facts of life can't just be pushed aside. She's seen death; she's seen it in the dullness of her mother's eyes, in the dark blood that spilled from Hama's head onto the cold, hard floor in her basement. It's almost like she can sense it around every corner, like it's following just a few steps behind her at every moment, and eventually it will come to take away the people she loves no matter how much she wants to save them. Zuko strokes her hair as her tears gather in the dip of his collarbone; the unknown lurks just out of reach beyond their tent as she cries.

Xx

Katara loves the snow. Ever since she was a little girl, she had loved throwing snowballs and making snow angels with Sokka, had loved coming back into their home with rosy cheeks and wet mittens just to curl up in a blanket by the hearth with her family. Now, she curls into a different kind of heat as they walk along towards The Source. Zuko's arm is slung around her shoulders, hers around his waist, and she's ever grateful for the warmth he provides. Things like this, simply walking along fused at the hip, birth an even deeper warmth within her, a light that shines in her soul and chases away the shadows. Those three words sit heavy on her tongue, itching in the back of her throat and creeping up to push behind her teeth, but even now she can't manage to tell him how much she loves him. It's stupid, she knows, but that doesn't diminish the fear. Not a fear born of rejection— she's smart enough to know that the look in Zuko's eyes is something more than just simple affection. But if she says it out loud, it becomes real. If she says those words, she can't take them back, and it'll make it all the more difficult if things go sideways at The Source. Maybe if she keeps it inside it'll soften the blow that she anticipates with shaking hands and shuddering breaths. She's probably crazy, it's probably nothing, but she can't shake the feeling that something is going to go wrong when they face off against Ozai's army.

Zuko stops short, and his arm slides down her back as he looks to a point at their right. Katara knows by now that this is a cue to prepare for a fight, and she's infinitely glad for the abundance of water falling around them as tiny, frozen crystals.

"What is it?" His back is a rigid line, and she positions herself slightly behind his shoulder. "Are we being followed?"

"Yeah." His eyes narrow, but as the noises grow louder and a shape begins to form, they grow impossibly wide, and his stance relaxes minutely even as his breathing picks up to an alarming pace.

"Zuko?" He's having the opposite reaction of what's normal for an incoming attack. Usually he's composed, taking even, measured breaths with muscles taught and at the ready. But his hands slowly start to lower, and as a figure moves out into the open, she can see why.

"Hello, brother." A woman around her age stands with perfect posture at the edge of the trees, hands held behind her back like a soldier. Even if she hadn't announced herself as family, the resemblance to Zuko is uncanny, and their relation is immediately evident. "It's been a while."

"Azula..." he breathes her name, and her painted lips quirk up on one side.

Before Katara can fully comprehend what's happening, Zuko is running to his sister, and in a moment his arms are around her so tight that his shoulders are shaking. She sees Azula's arms wind around his waist and clamp onto him just as tight, and her head comes to rest on his shoulder, her pristine bun out of place next to Zuko's shaggy hair. Katara turns her face down to the ground; this reunion is far too intimate for her to look upon, and she wants the privacy to take a moment and dash away the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

"Alright, Zuzu. That's enough of that." Azula's voice is prim and proper, and the nickname sounds funny coming out of her mouth. Zuko pulls back from her, but keeps his hands on her shoulders.

"How are you? Where have you been? Are you hurt?" Zuko shifts Azula's body as if he's inspecting her, but as much as Azula tries, her smile still peeks out of the corner of her mouth. "How'd you find us? Is father—"

"Brother." She places her hands upon his shoulders and stills his frantic movements. "I'm fine. We can talk about all of that while we walk." Her amber eyes slide over to catch Katara's. "But why don't you introduce me to your friend?" With the inflection Azula puts on the word and her raised brow, Katara knows that she's aware that they aren't just friends.

"Right." Zuko remembers himself and spins around to introduce Katara to his sister. His smile is as bright as she's ever seen it, and her heart swells. "This is Katara. Katara, this is my sister Azula." He says the word sister like it's his most prized possession.

"Hi." She waves awkwardly, unsure of how to act in a situation like this. Azula seems to analyze her for a moment before turning to Zuko with a smirk.

"I'm surprised, Zuzu. I never thought you'd have it in you to get a girl this put together." Katara isn't sure if it's a compliment or an insult, but Zuko's smile grows as he looks at his sister. He reaches out to ruffle her hair, only for his hand to be swifty swatted away. "Let's go— we need to get to The Source as fast as possible." Azula falls into step with them on Zuko's other side as they continue on.

"Did father send you?" Zuko slots his fingers in between Katara's at the mention of his father.

"Yes," Azula answers simply. "He sent me out with the army to find you. He had hoped I'd catch you before you got there and bring you home, but he wasn't expecting me to turn on him." Her voice lowers as she speaks of Ozai. "He's gone mad. Well, even more mad than he was before."

"Azula," Zuko's voice breaks as he lets go of Katara's hand to turn towards his sister. "I'm so sorry I left you there. I never wanted—"

"Brother..." Her eyes dart nervously to Katara.

"She knows." He answers her unspoken question, and Azula sighs.

"It's okay, Zuko. You didn't have a choice. I know you wouldn't have—" She takes a deep breath before continuing. "I know you wouldn't have left if you had a choice." Zuko leans over and kisses the top of Azula's head, and she elbows him in the ribs. "The point is that fathers army is close, and we don't have any time to spare."

"What do you plan on doing about him?" Katara asks, and Azula and Zuko turn to look at her as she peeks her head around Zuko's shoulder.

"Well, if we're lucky, I'll be able to kill him at The Source." Katara flinches at Azula's casual admittance of her impending attempt at patricide. "That way I can take over as Ember's queen and we won't have to worry about father's madness any more."

Katara looks up at Zuko, waiting for him to say something, anything, to Azula about their father, but his features are set in stone. Azula starts up a different conversation with Zuko, but Katara's ears are full of cotton. She knows Ozai is a bad person— that much is obvious— but the manner in which Azula spoke of killing him chills Katara to the bone. Hama's dead eyes glow fresh in Katara's mind, the visage of dark blood pooling around the old woman's lifeless body returning to her like a lost dog coming home, enthusiastic and vivid. Maybe Ozai deserves it. She thinks about all Zuko has told her about his father, about all he hasn't told her but is easy to guess about whenever he flinches or dissociates or awakens sweating and shaking from another nightmare. What does someone have to do to justify their death? Where do they draw the line? She thinks about the men who killed her mother, and what she knows the people of her village did to them. Does she feel bad for those men? Would it be worth it to keep them alive, even locked in a cell for the rest of their days? What kind of a life is that?

Zuko grabs her hand, and she's shaken out of her head at the warm contact. He's looking at her like he knows what she's thinking, and at this point he probably does. She gives him a small smile, and he slides his arm around her shoulders in response. Some things are better left unanalyzed, and Ozai's fate is one of them.

Xx

The snow has stopped, but that doesn't stop Katara from swirling it around her in sparkling ribbons. It's good practice for her to keep the snow frozen even as she swirls it around the fire, and frankly, she's having fun. The harsh reality of death hangs over her like a storm cloud, and simple things like this are a gentle and short reprieve from the darkness. Azula sits a little further from the fire, reading from a worn out book and sipping steaming tea from her mug, but Katara catches her looking at the dancing snow more than a few times. Zuko goes off into the forest to hunt, leaving Katara and Azula alone at the fireside.

"So..." Azula closes her book and adjusts herself on the cold ground. "You and my brother are… a thing?" She doesn't say it in a mean way, but the quirk of her brow indicates an awkward attempt at teasing.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." Katara shrugs, but doesn't stifle the smile that slides onto her cold cheeks.

"Hm." Azula's eyes trail over Katara, clearly assessing her. "And he's told you about our family?"

"Yes." She glances over at Azula, whose face is placid even if her eyes are downcast. "He loves you a lot."

Azula's face turns rose red. "Yes, well. We were all each other had back then."

"I have an older brother too. He's Zuko's age— you'll meet him at the Serpent's Pass." She thinks that maybe if she can relate to Azula, their conversation will be a little less awkward.

"That's nice." Or maybe not.

Silence sweeps over the two women, and Katara settles the snow she had been manipulating back onto the ground.

"You and Zuko—" Azula starts, stops, and then continues. "He cares for you very much. It's written all over his face."

"I care about him too." Her smile is reflexive, and Azula seems to take note of it. "Very much."

"Hm." Another beat of silence imposes itself upon them before Azula speaks again. "I'm… glad he has you. You seem… very supportive." Katara gets the feeling that Azula hasn't had much of a social life; her words are unpracticed, but she doesn't think that it makes them any less sincere.

"I do my best." Katara shrugs. "I'm glad to have him too."

Azula's face is open, and Katara is beginning to realize that she's always taking things in, always observant and picking up on tiny cues. She probably sees the love Katara has for Zuko written into every line on her face and every crease in her heavy tunic; she wears it proudly, like a badge of honor, and she doesn't care who sees it. Based on Azula's face she's satisfied with Katara's affection, and Zuko returns to the camp with a fresh kill just as his sister is opening her book back up and taking a sip of her tea.

"What did I miss?"

"Oh, nothing." Azula's tone is light, but she doesn't make eye contact with her brother. "We were just talking about how annoying older brothers are." She eyes Katara over her book and keeps a solid poker face despite her brother's scrutiny.

"Oh, but I bet you didn't talk about how annoying little sisters are," he responds. Katara laughs, and a tilt in Azula's lip belies her affection even as she rolls her eyes. "That's fine, I'll just talk shit about you with Sokka when we meet up with the group."

"Traitor," she mumbles, and smirks when Zuko shoots her a challenging look.

"You're lucky my hands are full."

"Or what? I'd kick your ass with all this snow around."

"I like her, Zuzu," Azula quips while still looking at her book. Katara sticks her tongue out at Zuko, and his resulting laugh has her breaking into hearty laughter.

The conversation dies down after that, but Katara thinks that Azula's comment had been a very high compliment. She's interested to see how well she integrates into the bigger group, and has a strong feeling that Azula and Toph will get along swimmingly.