"You had a way so familiar,
But I could not recognize
Cause you had blood on your face;
I had blood in my eyes."
--The Origin of Love by Rufus Wainwright
Title: The Origin of Love
Author: RedNovember
I. Hello
"Master Waterbender Katara is here, your Majesty," announced the servant, leading her through the glass-paned doors, out into the garden. Katara stopped behind and slightly to the right of him, silent and beginning to feel the heat of the Fire Nation through her thin blue robe. Such familiar warmth.
There was no answer from the figure sitting in the straight-backed chair, facing out towards the landscape. Katara could just see the top of his head; unmoving, unnoticing.
"… your Majesty?" the servant tried again, giving Katara a quick, nervous look from the corner of his eye.
Silence. A small bird trilled from somewhere within the blooming flowers in the garden.
The servant took a deep breath, a pained look on his face: "Your Majesty—"
Katara put a hand on his arm. "It's all right," she said. "You can go now."
He scuttled from the garden, relieved to be leaving, and closed the doors behind him.
Katara curled and uncurled her fingers inside the long sleeves of her robes. Sweat was beginning to gather on her palms. Oh, the heat.
She took a few steps closer, until she was right behind the silk-encased back of the chair. She could see the bright embroidery on the upholstery—a fantastic dragon and phoenix swirled and looped over the sides and across the armrests. A pale hand, strong and defined, rested on the phoenix's golden head.
"You have a beautiful garden here, Zuko," she said quietly, hands folded in front of her. She kept her eyes on the back of his head, on the jet-black strands of hair pulled sharply back from his forehead and into a topknot. He didn't move—he didn't turn to look at her, didn't turn to see her.
"Zuko," she tried again. "Zuko, I'm here."
I'm here. I'm finally here—which was what she'd wanted to say in the first place, but couldn't—I'm here. I know I'm late. A year late. Forever late. But I'm here.
The hand on the armrest curled, drawing in and forming a tight fist—covering the jewel-bright eye of the phoenix.
Blinding it.
II. Older and Wiser
"He won't talk to me," she said tightly.
Ursa turned, rolling up the scroll she had been reading. She slipped it into a hidden pocket, and met Katara's eyes.
"He's hurt, Katara," said Zuko's mother, patting the seat next to her on the rim of the fountain. Katara sat. She always found it strange that the Fire Palace would have something as out of place as a water fountain in the royal gardens—but then again, Ursa wasn't one to follow decorum. Something that applied to her son as well.
"It's hard for him," Ursa said. "You leaving him, Katara—you leaving him was the second time in his life that a woman he loved more than anything else in the world left him behind."
"I had a reason!"
"And I didn't?"
This made Katara feel like a petulant child. They were silent for a moment, before Ursa spoke again. "I do believe that your coming back will help him. It will take time; a long time, perhaps time that you don't have, if you need to go back to the Avatar—"
"You still think that? Does everyone still think that Aang means more to me than Zuko?"
"You gave everyone reason to think it, when you made your choice before the battle."
When I chose the Avatar and left Prince Charming behind.
III. Delicate
This time, she dragged a chair outside, brushing off the frenzied servant who tried to help her. She set it down, carefully, next to the quiet man who sat unmoving in his seat.
They sat there together. An hour, two hours—half the day, before Katara started talking.
You have a beautiful garden, Zuko. Everything smells wonderful, and the colors; oh the colors. Did you plant it? Did you help make it? Did you do it alone? Or was it here already, before you were born?
Sokka says hi, and to remind you to keep up your boomerang practice, the drills he taught you before, before—and Aang sends his greetings. He hopes you're feeling alright, and if you need help, he has a few friends in the Northern Tribes who are amazing healers, can just about bring a man back from the dead (Katara didn't mention her own healing abilities; didn't touch him, didn't try to).
In the middle of all this drivel, Zuko stood up, slowly, carefully, from his chair and walked towards a trellis, entwined with green vines and blossoming white flowers. Katara watched from behind him as he carefully cupped one in his hands, bending forward to breathe deeply from its petals, a quiet expression on his face.
He turned, beckoning her over with one hand, a small wave of the fingers, and she joined him, sliding one finger over the petals and down to his palm, across the lines that fortunetellers used to predict love, life and happiness—
He dropped the flower and moved away.
IV. This Land is My Land
One year ago, the Fire Nation Palace.
"Ozai's in the Earth Kingdom," Aang shouted, fists clenched at his sides. His monk's robes whipped around him in a flurry of wind. "I'm certain of it!"
"I know my father, Aang!" Zuko shot back, voice hard with intensity, "I know my father, and whoever your informant is, he's lying! Fire Lord Ozai would never pull a stunt like that; his tactics and strategies are different. I learned everything from him, and everything I know about him tells me your information is wrong."
"He knows that!" yelled Aang. "So he's doing something so drastically different this time that he knows you'd never believe it."
"I'm not leaving," Zuko said, stepping back, a mask descending over his face. "I'm not leaving, and you're not taking my men with you to fight some imaginary enemy halfway around the world."
Aang smiled, a smile that didn't fit his child's face. "They're not your men anymore, Zuko. You don't have an army. When we captured this palace from your father and drove him out, everything was taken in the name of the Avatar. You don't have anything, no matter how often you sit in your father's throne, no matter how many people call you Prince Zuko, no matter how you might wish you could be the next Fire Lord. You have nothing."
A silence descended upon the room. Zuko's face was unreadable.
Katara closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, only she and Aang were left in the room.
V. Fools in Love
"He's wrong," Zuko's voice was almost a hiss in the darkness. "He's wrong, and he's too much of an arrogant asshole to admit it."
Katara silently continued to drag the brush through her hair. She stared into the mirror, where she could see the reflection of the bed behind her. Zuko was on his side underneath the covers, staring out the window at the palace grounds.
"I know my father," he continued, every word punctuated with a sort of hatred—hatred for himself?—"And I know my father would never do what Aang said he is doing. Ozai's not in the Earth Kingdom. He's somewhere else, getting ready for something bigger, and when it all comes crashing down, the Avatar will be galloping like a fool through the Earth Kingdom's shit-filled deserts, wondering where the Fire Lord is. And nobody will be here to stop my father."
Katara set down her brush—the sound of ivory on wood clicked too loudly in the velvet darkness of the room. She looked up into the mirror, and saw Zuko's eyes staring at her from the bed. Before she could avert her eyes, she caught the expression on his face. He was looking at her but at the same time, he wasn't—he was only looking at what she represented, at what she could give him, at everything that seemed to be Katara but wasn't.
"Come here."
On any other night, she might have quipped back with some smart-ass or even flirtatious comment: "Come and get me, then," or "Don't tell me what to do, Princess Zuko."
But tonight, she merely slipped silently across the floor and under the covers. His arms drew her close, and he buried his face in her neck. He said, "I don't have nothing. I don't have nothing, do I, Katara?"
"No, you don't, Zuko," she whispered, eyes searching through the darkness above the bed.
He sighed into her skin.
So she told him what he wanted to hear: "You have me, Zuko."
VI. Fill This Empty Space
"Ready, Katara?" Aang asked as he crouched down next to her at the stern of the metal-hulled Fire Navy ship, the boilers and engines below decks rumbling and coming to life and breaking the silence of the early dawn.
Katara pulled her cloak in closer to herself. "Of course I am."
"I'm glad you decided to come. Did Zuko understand?" The last part was a bit awkward as it left Aang's mouth.
Katara gave a short nod, eyes not meeting his.
"Oh—okay," Aang said, standing up and moving to a different subject, "We're having a meeting in about an hour with Captain Ji and the other commanders. If you find Sokka, tell him to come too."
She nodded again.
"Katara." Aang's childlike voice penetrated her thoughts. "Katara, I am very glad you decided to come. I know it must have been hard. Thank you."
When the ship pulled out of harbor, she didn't allow herself to look back.
VII. To The Moon and Back
He's hurt, Katara. He hurt when you decided to leave with Aang for the final battle. He hurt when you left in the night, when you left without a kiss, without a hug, without a goodbye. He hurt when he read your note, read your broken promise and read your lies.
He hurt when he faced his own father, realizing that the Avatar truly had been called away by false information. The Fire Lord wasn't waiting with his army in the Earth Kingdom; he was here, in the palace, and the only one left with him was Zuko.
He hurt when he fought the Fire Lord and Azula; when he, somehow, defeated both and left his father and sister dead on the floor of the throne room. He hurt when he walked across the gore-stained marble, took the crown from above his father's dead, staring eyes, and set the bloody thing on his own head. He hurt when he took the Queen's flame from Azula's bloody, singed hair, when he took it and hid it away, away, away, for a woman who had already left him.
He hurt when he learned of his uncle's death, brought by a stranger, a courier, when it should have been brought by you.
He hurt when the Avatar came for his coronation, made his peace, and you didn't. He hurt when Sokka came for a visit one winter, and you didn't.
He hurt when his father, in the last moments of his life, blasted away the untouched side of his face—destroying his eyes, his vision. He hurt when he realized, afterwards, that he'd never be able to see you again, but he held on to the thought that maybe he would touch you, once more, a thousand times more, when you finally came back.
You're late.
VIII. Open Your Eyes
This was the way it happened.
She spent days on end with him, in that garden. She described the colors and the birds she saw. Sometimes Ursa joined them, sometimes not. The Fire Lord's mother had important matters to attend to, business of state, things she took care of while the Lord Zuko recuperated and rested in the garden.
Slowly, they began to connect again. She spoke of old memories, of Iroh, of Aang, of Sokka. She spoke of new things, of the new ice palace construction in the Southern Water tribes, helped by their sister tribe from the North. The idea of a royal family was still uncertain, but since Prince Aningan, the last of the Southern royal family, had been killed in the Fire Nation attack so many years ago, the tribes had decided to elect a new leader. Word was, Sokka was in the running and the most popular candidate so far.
"It's gotten to his head, the idea of becoming King Sokka," Katara said, a small smile on her face as she watched Zuko where he lay on the grass, his face turned upwards towards an overreaching vine of orange blossoms above him. "He sent for me—he wants me to go back, to help him govern, if he wins the election."
Nothing changed in the garden—the flowers went on waving in the breeze, the birds went on chirping—but a stillness, a deadly stillness overcame them (his facial expression never changed, but there was a tightening, quick and painful).
Then she said: "But don't worry, I'm not going. Sokka can manage well enough on his own; and Suki will visit, she'll help him. He doesn't need me."
You need me.
The tension in the air slowly eased, and she was happy that there had been a reaction, tiny as it was, and uncomfortable as it was, because it meant she was reaching him. That there was finally a connection again.
Perhaps, he was just beginning to forgive her.
IX. The Origin of Love
Katara stared at the beautiful, inlaid wood of the closed door. Her hand rested on the cold metal knob, and she shook as she pressed down, heard the click, and pushed, allowing a dim shaft of light to shine through to the other side.
She opened it far enough to slip inside, then closed it again behind her. A bit of pale moonlight illuminated the room, and her eyes were drawn to the shape under the covers, on the side of the bed closest to the windows.
Somehow, she made it across the room. Somehow, she lifted herself onto the bed and under the covers. Somehow, she managed to get close enough to see his eyes were open, the empty gold irises turned towards the window. But he couldn't see the full moon outside, nor could he see her crumbling expression. But she didn't doubt that he was awake, and knew she was there.
She laid her head down on the pillow next to his. One hand slowly made contact with his bare shoulder—she slid down his arm, until she reached the warmth of his half-closed palm. He didn't move.
Katara slid closer, until her nose was just below his ear, her lips pressed against his neck. "I'm so sorry."
Her whisper echoed in the space between them, and they lay there together, for seconds, for hours, forever—
—until she felt his fingers close over her hands; until she felt him sigh and un-tense; until she felt her own, final, release.
End.
Notes: This was written almost a year ago and posted on my Livejournal. I was looking through all my old writing on and on lj, and I realized I'd never posted this here. Here are my original notes from my lj post, dated November 2006:
A long long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, Rashaka came up with a challenge with various song lyrics in the Zutara community, and I began a short reply. I can't find the original entry where she posed the challenge because it was from such a long time ago, so I'm not positive if I fulfilled all requirements. But yesterday, about 6 months from the day of her challenge, I finished it. First thing I've truly written in almost a year that wasn't a) for school or b) in my journal.
1) Many thanks to kawaiilyn and melodiee for their super-quick-amazing beta skillz.
2) I think all the segment titles from the third one on are names of songs, or from songs. If anyone wants, i'll upload a zip of those
3) When I think of them, the characters are about 3-5 years older than canon, but that doesn't make sense because Aang really only has this summer to defeat the Fire Nation. Whatever.
4) And it's a total 'omg zuko joined teh aang gaang yeaaaah!!!11!' cliche but. Whatever.