A/N: I'm going to be out of the country- and likely without internet access- until the sixteenth. I definitely plan on writing more Zutara drabbles, but I may not get to post them right away.
"Tell me about your mother."
Katara asks it with sleep permeating her voice- the day is warm, and watching turtleducks paddle has a soporific effect- but Zuko feels a sudden chill. He hasn't talked to anyone about his mother since she vanished that terrible night- at least, not in a conversation more substantial than 'where is she?' Her memory is sacred to him. Kind laughter, soft touches, compassion- all of these things have been long absent from the royal family. He misses them. He misses her.
"She liked to sing," he murmurs. Katara raises her head off of his lap and turns to face him, disbelieving. Clearly, this wasn't the answer she expected. "War songs, I mean- most women don't know any, but she did. 'The Ballad of Eiji Tsuiyo' was her favorite."
"Every year we went to see The Ember Island Players so that she could make fun of them during intermission. She taught me to play the Tsungi horn when I was six. I think she was the only person who ever loved Azula." Oddly enough, releasing this knowledge does not make him feel worse. It's cathartic, in a way. His mother is gone, perhaps, but that does not mean that she never existed.
"She reminds me a little of you," Zuko admits. "She always tried to help other people, even if they were too far gone."
Katara grasps his hand, squeezes it tightly. They say nothing, for a time.