A/N: I am so sorry this took so long! I have excuses for it being delayed, but none good enough for 4 months of delay.

Run down : I ran out of my anxiety/depression medication and it was a month before I saw (and got lectured for not making an appointment sooner) by my doctor. So I was really nauseous and groggy from withdrawal for a couple of weeks, and then after that I was just, surprise surprise, anxious and depressed (pro-tip, don't go off medication without a doctor's supervision/approval). And then by the time I was back on my medicine and feeling better it was the middle of the holidays, and then we moved, and then I started back at school and jumped into writing a play set in Imperial Rome, based on an historical anecdote mentioned by a single ancient historian (writing about ancient Rome is hard – I would be surprised you could see historical information oozing out of my ears while I sleep, I've read so many books about it over the last couple months)

To be honest though most of it was just laziness and the difficulty of working back up the motivation for the project once I had lost that initial momentum, and for that I have no excuse. Also general self-consciousness about it because the tone for this chapter is so far from my comfort zone of light, snippy comedy and witty banter (my play is pretty far out of the comfort zone, too, so I guess I'm all about diving into the deep end recently). Rereading and editing what I wrote months ago, it's actually a lot better than I remembered, which of course just makes me more nervous about it, so there you go.

But this fic is definitely not abandoned and it will be finished! I know how disappointing it is when a fic you're reading is abandoned, so I won't do that, especially since this isn't a long one.

Anyway, I hope it was sort of worth the wait!

Part IV : Curses and Letters

o

Dear Sokka,

At the time I'm writing this it has been three weeks since I last saw you and Aang and will be another three weeks before I am even able to send this letter. Let me start right off by saying that I'm fine, all things considered. I've experienced so many strange things since being on this ship. I still don't know why I'm here – I mean, I know why I'm here, but I don't know why I'm wanted here. I don't know why a demon from the spirit world would rather have some waterbending girl rather than the Avatar. I don't know why he would want anyone at all, unless just for company.

What I'm trying to say is, I don't think there's any reason for you to worry about my safety for now – I've been treated, to my surprise, with nothing but kindness. I eat well, I've been given warmer clothes as the weather's gotten colder, I'm even allowed to practice my waterbending whenever I want. The only thing really missing is you guys, and of course freedom.

I'm counting on you to keep Aang on track and to make sure he doesn't get too distracted from his training. I don't think there's much more I could have really taught him, but he needs to concentrate and practice more… Maybe whoever you find to teach Aang earthbending will also be able to teach him some discipline, haha.

But seriously, please don't worry, I think I'm going to be fine. The Spirit is very different from what I imagined…

Tizah, the Earth Kingdom spirit designated patron craftsmen and outcasts and drowning victims, among other things, never actually took any revenge on the boy for stealing the blue and white mask that had been left in tribute on the steps of his altar, an altar that had once, years ago, been a home.

The story went that a heartbroken young cobbler whose wife had disappeared over a year before gave refuge one night to an old beggar woman lashed with ugly burn scars weaved like clumsy spider webs up and down her arms. Though he had little, living in one of the poorer districts, he offered what food he could and gave her his bed for the night while he slept in the corner on a pile of rage. When he awoke the old crone was gone, leaving no sign of her existence but a single flower– a wisteria lily, his long missing wife's favorite flower. That very day a neighbor who worked as a butcher confessed in a sudden fit of guilt to having drowned the man's wife to keep her silent after she threatened to reveal that he was cheating his customers. The scarred woman had been Tizah in one of his many disguises, and to reward the man for his generosity and hospitality the spirit had seen to it that his wife's murderer was brought to justice.

This was nearly a hundred years ago. Since then the story had spread and morphed into legend and the tiny one room house into an altar. Supplicants left miniatures and personal belongings in hopes that Tizah would look after their passed loved ones in the spirit world; they left sweets and spirits in hopes that Tizah would see to it that they would at last find somewhere to call home; they left samples of their craft in hopes that Tizah would bring them good fortune and wealthy patrons.

The city Yaojing Shen was known across the Earth Kingdom for such mystical encounters and the followers of many cults made it a point to travel though on their pilgrimages. Nestled between water and forest, the city's economy was based as much on this religious tourism as on what little shipping trade came through the narrow inlet. The fish went untouched for they were solely for Daku Tam, the water demon, and the woods were never encroached upon for they were the home of the Nameless Vagrant. Several dozen spirits and deities and demons had staked out territory throughout the city, and the air was always heavy with incense and faith.

And the aroma of some of the choicest tea blends in the southern Earth Kingdom, at least according to whatever little bird the boy's uncle had been speaking to. Really, the old man could be so infuriatingly dotty.

The boy had as little patience for the art of tea brewing as he had faith. While his uncle dallied about sampling teas, the boy trudged through the streets on his own, the hood of his cloak hiding his scar as well as the sneer he didn't bother holding back as backwater peasants haggled with merchants over meats and sweets, flowers and perfumes, eager to procure an offering at a reasonable price so they could throw it away on fickle spirits that would spit on them as soon as bless. The Fire Nation had an official state religion, and the sages diligently followed centuries of tradition in offering prayers to Agni and the lesser gods, but no educated citizen took it to heart anymore – it was theater and spectacle, nothing more, and the boy, educated by the finest tutors in the world, was no exception. He once listened eagerly to foreign servants as they whispered of the exotic spirits from their native lands, but that was a life time ago. Back then he was a baby who knew nothing of world and its cruelty.

The boy came upon the house of Tizah when he turned down a quiet side street, seeking to escape the bustle of the market and the stench of the crowd. There was a time that the altar saw scores of supplicants a day and its steps overflowed with gifts and bribes, but those days were long past. The arrival of new gods and the creation of others had overshadowed the spirit decades ago. Now the stonework crumbled and the plaster rotted in neglect, and only the passing vagabond or the displaced orphan or, more rarely, a craftsman down on her luck would come to leave an offering and a prayer for better days.

Leaving behind the noise, the boy trailed down the side street, dragging his feet and kicking aside pebbles and dust as he approached the forsaken altar at the end of the way. After the bright colors of the market the dingy alley seemed a wash of grey, making the flash of ultramarine resting against the steps impossible to miss.

I'm sending this with a catowl that the Spirit gave me – they're very rare and very special, touched by the spirits, so be nice to her! And feed her some meat before you send her off again. I know it's asking a lot of you, parting with your beloved food, but that way she'll be sure to bring your letter back to me. She's very loyal to people who feed her, kind of like you.

I miss you so much – you, Aang, Appa, Momo – all of you!

Love,

Katara

His uncle could have warned him of the consequences that came from dishonoring the spirits in such a way, but the boy never listened to him back then. The old man was always speaking in riddles and proverbs, and what does a thirteen year old boy care for esoteric words about loss and strength and hidden beauty when all he knows has just been ripped away?

So when he saw that mask, two sticks of nearly depleted incense glowing in each eye socket and he felt the bile in his stomach churn at its taunting white grin, and then read the inscription above the stoop, "Dedicated to Tizah, protector of outcast," and felt his resentment boil, he didn't think twice. He snatched up the mask, knocking the incense aside carelessly, and returned its glare. The longer he looked the more it seemed to mock him, and soon the wooden edges were biting into his fingers where he gripped it with enough force to snap in half a shoddier piece.

His boys good cheek burned and his pulse quickened – in hindsight he couldn't explain why he was so affected, but when he heard a faint cackle in the back of his mind followed by soft footsteps turning down the alley he shoved the mask under his arm and ran between the old house and the abandoned shop next to it and into the woods without a glance behind.

He ran deep into the forest, away from the water, the realm of Tizah, and where the ship his father had "gifted" him was docked. He ran until his leg muscles burned as hot as his cheeks and until the sweat from his brow mixed with his angry tears. A little more of his rage seeped from his bones with every smack of his shoes against the leaf strewn ground, and at last he came to a stop. The trees crowded around him, their branches dripping shadows in the evening sun, and he slumped against an impossibly thick pine and panted for breath for several minutes, the mask momentarily forgotten, dangly loosely in his hand at his side.

But when he did finally look at it again the anger came back in an instant. With a flick of his wrist he chucked the mask at a rotting log before letting his legs slide out from under him, pushing dead pine needles with his feet, and hitting the ground with a heavy thud. His head lulled forward, eyes closed, and he let out a slow breath through his teeth, trying in vain to control his emotions.

When the boy again looked up he saw the mask leaning upright against the log as if it had been carefully placed by a reverent worshipper, white grin glowing in the low light of dusk.

Dear Sokka,

I am so happy to hear that you've found Aang an Earthbending teacher! She must be very powerful to be as skilled as you say so young. She's really blind? Three months ago I would have found that very hard to believe, but now... well, I supposed anything really is possible. But I am sure that she can't possibly be any more stubborn or annoying than you are, so play nice!

There's something strange going on here, Sokka, but I can't figure out what. Iroh won't say a word and the Spirit… whenever I start to ask about what this place is and why he's here he goes silent and sullen. I don't believe I'm in any danger, but I'm still afraid to press the subject…

"What are you looking at?" the boy snarled at the mask. He tore off his hood and pointed to the angry scar that dominated the left side of his face. "Are you looking at this?"

The mask continued its silent, grinning laugh.

"You stupid piece of shit, you don't know anything. My father did this to me!" The boy stood up and stalked forward. "He burned off half my face and banished me, and now I'm alone! Unwanted, unloved!" He dropped to his knees in front of the mask and took it once again in his hands. "You think it's funny, don't you? You think it's funny that I look like this now, that everywhere I go people look at me with pity and disgust. That I'll never be allowed to go home. That I'll never be loved." The boy choked on these words as tears welled up and began to fall onto the blue and white mask he clutched before him. "I used to be a prince, and now I'm no one..."

"Such self-pity," came a sly voice. The boy straightened and whipped around but saw no one. He scrambled to his feet, taking one hand from the mask and readying his fire.

"Who's there!" he cried, trying to make his voice deeper. He was answered with a slinky, simpering laugh coming from just behind his good ear.

"No one," teased the voice. "No one, just like you." The boy could almost feel little puffs of breath tickling his ear, making the hairs on the back of neck stand up.

"What do you want?" he said. His voice shook despite his best efforts.

That laugh again. It sent chills down his spine as a breeze blew through his hair

"Why, I want to help you, dear child."

As she spoke the voice moved in front of him and the mask rose from his hand as if of its own volition and floated at eye level before him.

"You're a spirit," the boy breathed, backing up he tripped over the rotting the log.

"I'm the goddess of this forest and the protector of the gracious," she hissed. The mask floated forwards, looming over him where he was sprawled on ground. "And the only things I hate more than thieves hiding among my trees are self-pitying, selfish little brats. You should have known better than to come here." It was truly dark by now and the thick canopy blocked out the stars and moon; the only light to be seen came from the mask, glowing now solely with magic.

"I however know everything about you, Prince Zuko. You, with your doting uncle, think you are unloved and alone? You, with your wealth and your freedom, think you are the most wretched of creatures? I have no patience for such unearned self-pity and you will be punished for your thanklessness."

I worry about you two, to be honest. I can take care of myself, but I'm not always sure about you guys. I guess I am as much of a mom as you always accused me of being, and now I'm at a loss without anyone to nag. Promise to take care of Aang, and take care of yourself, too.

Love,

Katara

Nearly seven years.

That' how long it had been before she came, since he had seen a human, since he had been human. There's the crew, transformed to beasts – birds and rabbit squirrels and koi fish, sustained by the same magic trapping him here – but they can't speak and most of them have gone too wild by now to even attempt to engage in human-like behavior. All accept Lieutenant Jee, though even he has lately taken to spending nearly all his time burying and digging up nuts. Unlike the water tribe girl the Spirit could see his uncle, but only as a shadow, a shade, a reflection, half in and half out of the spirit world as the old man was. This girl was flesh and blood, warm and soft.

And she was a girl.

Uncle Iroh understood the spirit world in ways few men did, saved from the fate of the rest of the crew by his prior familiarity with it, and the Spirit had to come to respect his wisdom as the years passed and his temper cooled.

"This is your chance, Prince Zuko," the old man said, "If you can gain the trust and love of this girl the curse may be broken."

"But Uncle," the Spirit had protested. "Look at me. Who could possible love me?"

"I love you, my nephew."

"Uncle…"

"You do not give yourself enough credit," Iroh insisted. "You are a wonderful young man with a good heart - just be yourself and trust that she will see through to the true you."

"But what if the true me is no more deserving of love than my outer form?"

"Do not think like that, nephew! You know it is not true."

Dear Aang,

Sokka's sick? Please don't try to hide what's going on from me. If he isn't writing me himself it must be serious, don't lie. I need to know the truth…

The thing is she's beautiful, in a way that makes him feel maybe not quite beautiful but at the very least not ugly, and maybe there's a little glimmer of something behind the fangs and scars that she, so beautiful through and through, can sense, can see, can draw out like a magnet draws a magnet.

In short, there was more at stake now than just a curse.

Though it was well into winter the weather remained mild enough to be pleasant outside. The flora on the ship, for its part, continued to flourish as if it were the peak of summer, unaffected by the cold or the fewer hours of sunlight, though Katara could see out beyond the circle of enchantment that the deciduous trees were bare of leaves. It was still chilly at night even aboard the ship, but not chilly enough to interrupt her nightly meal with the Spirit.

The deck was lit with lanterns that seemed to float against the darkness and the waxing three-quarters moon was just making its way over the tree tops. It was a beautiful night, as most nights were aboard the ship.

Katara ate in silence, stirring her rice absently with her chopsticks.

"Is something wrong?" the Spirit asked at last, her having not spoken a word all evening.

The girl started, torn from her thoughts. "What? No, nothing.." she shook her head.

"It's just that you seem … pensive." He scowled to himself over his word choice – it sounded so overly formal and awkward.

Katara giggled behind her hand at his discomfit before remembering what she had been thinking about and sobering.

"It's…" she took in a breath but then let it out and slumped her shoulders. "It's nothing. Nothing you should worry about." She smiled faintly and looked back down at where he hand rested next to her plate before returning to her food.

The Spirit frowned and watched as she raised a bite of rice to her lips and chewed.

"Even so," he began, "I would like it if you shared it with me." He paused before rushing to amend, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I would just like it if you did, because I…"

She was looking at him now with her clear blue eyes, waiting for him to continue. The Spirit looked down and coughed sheepishly. "Because I'd like to know."

Katara bit her lip and thought for a long moment, watching the way the lamp light flickered off her companions white horns and fangs as he hunched over his plate. Finally she came to a decision, and she reached inside her outer robe and producing a rumpled scroll of paper.

"Kala brought me a letter this morning," she said as she handed the scroll to the Spirit. He accepted it and unrolled it as carefully as he could, glancing at her in question. When she nodded he looked back to the letter and began to read.

"Dear Katara," it read in a neat but child-like scrawl, although the kanji's were at times jerky where the writer had pressed too hard into the paper.

"Sokka's still sick. It's picken pox. I had it when I was little, and Toph caught it when Sokka did and she got better in a couple weeks, but the doctor said that since Sokka's older, and because it's usually worse in men, that he could…" Something here was crossed out and the Spirit could barely make out the next few words. "He might not get better. His fever broke for a while, but now he's getting worse again. Katara, I know you could heal him, I've seen you break fevers when the kids got sick back in the Water Tribe. There has to be some way. If I came back and offered to switch places with you again, do you think he would let you go?"

As he read those words the letter began to smolder. The Spirit stared, shocked for a moment and not realizing that he had done it, before quickly smothered the flame. When he was done he looked back at the water bender, who was once again staring listlessly at her food. The spirit rolled what was left of the letter back up and placed it on the table between them before also returning to his meal.

Neither spoke again for the rest of the evening.

o

The next morning Katara was pulled from sleep by a knock at her door.

"Just a moment," she called, rubbing at her eyes and getting out of the bed. She quickly pulled on her robe and went to open the door. Before her floated Iroh's candle and a bundle the size or a medium pumpkin-melon.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I am sorry for waking you so early, Miss Katara," came Iroh's voice, hesitating as if not sure how to best phrase what he needed to say, "But my nephew has… requested that you leave the ship immediately and return to your brother."

Katara couldn't tell which emotion came first, hurt over being told to leave or elation and relief that she was free, so quickly did one chase the other, forming a twisted knot where her heart should have been.

"Did he, did he say why?"

"He did not. He only said for me to give you this for the journey." The bundle floated to Katara and she took it in her arms and looked inside to find supplies and food, along with money. The girl gaped at the amount.

"He also said for you to go quickly." With this the candle floated aside.

Katara blinked dumbly before shouldering the pack, quickly gathering her few possession, and moving through the doorway. Half way down the hall she stopped and turned around.

"Should I come back? Once I've seen to my brother's health, am I expected to return?" She heard a heavy sigh before Iroh answered.

"No, you are not expected to. You're free now."

Katara nodded jerkily and continued back down the hall. She was nearly at the exit when she stopped again.

"May I come back?" she asked softly. When there was no response she turned around, preparing to repeat the question, but Iroh's candle had disappeared.

She then left without another backwards glance.

o

A/N:

Yaojing – a Chinese term for demon, the kanji translates literally to seductive

Shen – a Chinese term for spirit

(According to Wikipedia, at least!)

The other names I just sorta made up.

I'm not going to pretend to have even the beginnings of a working understanding of either Chinese or Japanese culture and history – blame it on western bias in the education system, I guess. The general religious/spiritual atmosphere is loosely based on what would have been experienced in some parts of the Roman Empire, based on what I've read on the subject at least. Sort of a market for spirituality with different cults devoted to exotic gods from around the empire coming in and out of vogue. I don't think it's too much a stretch, given how large a place the Earth Kingdom is, for there to be that much cultural diversity, even if it isn't an empire constantly coming into contact with, conquering, and assimilating new cultures.

Wow there's a lot of culture mixing in this. It's a Western European fairytale set in universe heavily based on east Asian culture, that then has some of religious environment of Roman antiquity thrown in for kicks because I happened to have just read a book about it at the time most of the chapter was written.

I hope you enjoyed it, and I'm sorry again that it took so long. There are only one or two more chapters left (I had it originally planned as one, but on review it might work better as two. I'll have to see once I actually start writing it) and unless something weird happens it shouldn't take as long this time now that I've gotten it back off the ground. Of course I originally intended the entire story to be finished by the end of November and we all know how that turned out, and I have a lot more going on now than I did then :/ (school, a job, a play to write). I'm going to shoot for having the next chapter by April since if I set myself a deadline I'm way more likely to actually get I done.

I also wanted to clarify again that this is not an adaptation of the Disney version of the story. As a lover of princesses with pretty dresses and libraries and singing about dreams, of course I love that movie, and I think it is hypothetically possible to write good quality fanfic based on something like that, but that's not what this is. The closest thing we'll be getting to a singing teapot is a singing teaphile (aka Uncle Iroh, although he won't be singing in this story, as much as we all love music night). I don't think most of my readers are expecting it to be, but I want to make sure no one ends up put out in the end because a group of villagers led by a narcissist didn't storm the ship with torches and pitchforks, somehow managing to stay in key all the while (as much fun as that always is and as long as it's been since I've been part of an angry mob).

Quick thanks to likexaxdove for reading a rough draft of this back in December to make sure that everything actually made sense from a reader's perspective.

Thank you for reading (and reviewing if you feel like it)!