Wait. It is almost time. Be ready.

Chapter 3

The council meeting was going as well as could be expected. Katara had won six of the eight members to her cause. The final two, Watanabe and Obata, old, grizzled war veterans from the North Pole, were really only arguing for show. They were stubborn, but not that stubborn. They would see she spoke the truth. Even they were beginning to respect Katara as a leader.

That respect had been hard to come by. It had been a long road to her position as Premier of Ittialurvik. After the Great War ended, Katara had returned to the Southern Continent to help her people rebuild. She, Sokka and Hakoda had worked at gathering the people from their scattered tribes into a single, defensible unit. At the beginning, it had been just an unstructured a collection of people in lean-tos and huts. But over time, larger buildings were constructed, businesses opened, and the loose gathering was transformed into a relatively strong, bustling city.

But it didn't have a leader. Hakoda was the obvious choice, but he had been asked to serve as an ambassador on Aang's newly created Board of Nations. Hakoda, believing his place was to help maintain the peace that had been so hard won, had taken the position. Sokka, another possibility, had married Suki, and now served with the Kyoshi warriors who, rather than continue to train on Kyoshi Island, now practiced their skills as hired merceneries as they traveled the world. He had said it kept him on his toes, and really, Sokka was made to travel.

That left Katara. She hadn't initially had such lofty aspirations, but her father and brother had encouraged her to attempt it. Most of the citizens of the new city-state (excluding Watanabe and Obata, of course) seemed to respect her opinion, so she finally made the decision to campaign. Perhaps it was the fact that she was a master waterbender; perhaps it was her legacy of healing the sick and caring for the wounded, but she represented hope for her people. They thanked her for that symbolism by electing her Premier.

Katara was just about to convince Watanabe that Ittialurvik should at least increase her defenses when the double doors at the end of the room were flung open and an angry young man burst in. He strode along the table, eying each of the council members in turn, before finally fixing his grey eyes on her face.

"Why haven't you responded to my messages? The Fire Faction is about to declare war, and you are sitting on your pleated cushions, discussing matters of state, and ignoring the danger at your doorstep?"

Katara noticed that Watanabe and Obata were retreating in their seats, shooting her disapproving looks. She had been so close to convincing them!

Katara stood, all hope of a war declaration gone for today. She was simultaneously incensed and bewildered at the sight of a man she had not seen in years. She reigned in her annoyance at his disregard for propriety and bowed respectfully. "Avatar Aang, what a privilege it is–"

"Stop it, Katara. You may have learned to politick to win your election, but you don't have to waste time kissing up to me."

"Kissing up! How dare you!" The aid at her side tried to reach out a hand to calm her, but she shook it off. "Aang, I don't care WHO you are, but this is my city and MY council meeting. You will not insult me in front of my citizens!"

"Don't tell me your pride is too hurt to see the truth of my words?" Aang considered her, weighing her value as she sputtered at him.

"For your information, Avatar, this meeting was called to address those very concerns!" What happened to the happy-go-lucky kid she had said goodbye to? The teenager who teared up because she said she didn't love him? The man who regarded her coolly was muscled, tall, and his expression shifted to something she could only label as 'wry.' Wry! Cute little Aang, wry? Wonders never cease.

"I sent the message a week ago, Katara. It's a little late to be discussing defenses now."

"Proper decorum requires that every council member receive approval from his or her district to take time out of the workday to attend a high council meeting. A week is actually quite-"

"Can you hear yourself? I never thought you'd turn into the type of person to place rules above the safety of the people you love."

Katara's words caught in her throat, but she managed to force out a quiet "later, Aang" before nodding to her council and storming from the room. Her private study was connected by a short hallway to the council room, and she sank into a comfortable chair to gather herself. Aang appeared before her, his expression annoyed.

"You've changed."

Katara snorted. "I could say the same thing about you. Since when do you think it's okay to throw cultural etiquette to the wind? I thought the Avatar was supposed to be sensitive to such things."

"Not if the 'etiquettes' you speak of are-" Aang cut himself off and pinched the bridge of his nose as if warding off a headache. "May I sit?"

Perplexed, Katara motioned to another chair against the mahogany wall. "Please. But only if it doesn't take you too much time."

Aang sighed, acknowledging the jab. "Katara, I regret my words in there. Most of them. My purpose in coming was not to upset or insult you."

Katara gritted her teeth. If he was offering the olive branch, she would of course take it. "Well, that's not how my council saw it, surely. They must have thought you were treating me like a child over one knee, about to be spanked!" After getting her anger out of her system, of course.

Aang's cheeks reddened a bit at her statement. She didn't know if he was angry or embarrassed. "Katara, what has happened to you? You used to be so…happy. Happy to see me, happy to see the sky, to bend water, to wile away hours with friends."

"I have an important position, Aang."

"When is the last time you even talked to Toph?"

Katara didn't acknowledge the question because she had launched into a speech she had rehearsed to herself a thousand times to quiet her own discomfort. "I have to protect my city. And to do that, I have to work. I can't wa- take time to write letters. I can't, because something won't get done that needs to be done. I can't-"

"Your brother?"

"-just go off willy-nilly and pick some flowers and enjoy the rain. My citizens can do that because I am here, in my office, running their city. They elected me to help them, and help them I will."

When she finished, Aang just looked at her for a long moment, seeming to see right into her heart. She shifted uncomfortably, thinking he might press his point. But he seemed content to drop the issue for now, because he stood from his chair and moved toward her, offering his hand. "I see that. It must take a lot of time to run a city." Try maintaining world peace, his grin seemed to say, but Katara's anger had dissipated in the face of her own shortcomings. So she took his hand, thinking to shake it in truce, when he pulled her to her feet and into his arms.

"I missed you, Katara."

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Don't worry, Zuko. It's time to get rid of the old man.

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Zuko groaned. The shallow knife wounds in his ribs were healing more slowly than usual, it seemed. The only mercy was that the guards would wait until he healed to try again. Until then, he was safe.

Turning on his side, he coughed slightly, feeling the wounds tear open as he did so. He groaned again, hating the guards, hating the oligarchy, hating the woman who had put him here. But he couldn't think of her without pain that outweighed anything his body was experiencing, so he focused on the flame in his head, hoping that bending in his mind would distract him.

A single flame sputtered, then grew, warping slightly as he began to bend.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTThat's it. Feed the flame.

Startled, Zuko let the flame die completely. Had someone spoken to him? He listened, half expecting a response, when he got one from one of the two people he never wished to speak to again.

"I need my robes to be tied more evenly. Why does Ryouga insist on such sloppy work? Ryouga! Come fix my robe."

I'm not Ryouga, old man. Ryouga's been dead for five years.

"Are you deaf? Do you need me to speak in small words so you understand? FIX MY ROBE."

Zuko was surprised Ryouga hadn't made an assassination attempt after such treatment. But Ozai was adept at ruling by fear. Zuko was about to respond in a noncommittal fashion when one of the guards thumped on the wooden door.

"Quiet down. Or else."

Zuko sighed. If Ozai wouldn't shut up, they'd have more wounds than they could count.

"My ROBE, fool! Or are you afraid your grimy hands will dirty it?"

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFeed the flame, Zuko. It will help, I promise.

Zuko was getting angrier. Perhaps it would be best if he calmed down. He closed his eyes and concentrated. There was the flame again, glowing warm and bright. It flickered in the darkness of his imagination like an old friend.

"You imbecile! You have ONE JOB and this is all you do? Ignore your MASTER?"

Zuko took the irritation, now the flat-out anger, that Ozai was causing him, and forced it into the flame. The flame shifted from a warm red to a searing blue in a matter of seconds.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA bit more and all will be well.

More anger, more flames. Hotter. Warmer, The flames flickered. Grew. Hotter. His face was burning. His hands felt like they were on fire. And all the while his IDIOT father would not stop YELLING. The guards were now banging on the door as if they were trying to beat it down. All Zuko could feel was the heat, the annoyance, the RAGE AT THE MAN WHO KILLED HIS MOTHER-

and then he leapt

his hands closing on the neck

his eyes burning white

seeing nothing but murder