Katara was ecstatic to leave the grungy atmosphere of Caldera City's towering prison. Sokka often regaled her with stories of his stunning escape from the Boiling Rock and this prison was not that; there was an obvious absence of boiling water and Mai's sycophantic uncle, but also the prisoners were humanely cared for. During their time the tower she spotted Fire Nation healers aiding the sick and simple but respectable meal portions regularly handed out.
"The worst criminals are at the topmost floor, surrounded by three walls each a meter thick," explained Zuko on their way out.
She eyed the cavernous mossy ceilings, looking like a gaping maw waiting to swallow them whole, and the high strung candelabras casting ominous shadows over his face.
"What's the punishment for desertion?" she asked.
A guard stepped out of the exit and bowed as they passed. The shrubbery and afternoon air greeted them warmly.
"They didn't seem to want to abandon their positions altogether. I'll demote them to an outpost if Toph confirms it was under duress, so no need for a trial."
General Shen had stood quietly fuming as Zuko pressed the two firebenders for any information, who insisted they had been ordered to abandon post or their families would be harmed; and no amount of teeth gritting on Zuko's part or General Shen's shouting finagled anything else from them. At one point, the latter proposed fire torture again, a resort that Zuko flat-out refused.
They would have to wait for Toph's arrival to confirm. It seemed someone in the background was pulling the strings. The red herring in Hira'a, two metalbenders that didn't seem to be professional mercenaries but driven by something else, and cowed firebenders. No word on the mole who'd aided infiltration into the palace either; the firebenders insisted they only departed the palace as instructed via a threatening letter.
Katara scratched the back of her ear. "Some would say that's too merciful."
"Do you?"
She remembered the fear on his face when she nearly killed Yon Rha. It was the look of someone realizing the breadth of another's power.
She shook her head. "Not at all but your fervent supporters, and Toph and Sokka, would object."
"If I try to please everyone no one will be happy." He rubbed his brow as they waited for palanquin bearers to ready the palanquin. Their little ice slide out of the palace and mad dash past the Eastern wall garnered respectful terror when they had arrived at the prison. Someone, probably Sulan or Milo, must have sent for a ride home.
"It's a four minute walk. Or two minute run," she protested.
"The palace used to make me take a palanquin to Mai's home. It's useless fighting them."
He paused as an attendant opened the door. Crown narrowly missing the gold trim, he held his arm out for her to grasp in a ladylike manner. She fumbled somewhat and hoisted herself onto the step after stubbing a toe.
At his smothered laughter, she grimaced. "I am perfectly capable of moving on my own."
"A lady shouldn't have to."
"In the presence of a nice gentleman?" She made a sound that was part giggle as he released her onto the seat across from him and kept the curtains parted so natural light and air reached them.
Their knees touched and the palanquin began to move. His countenance instantly loosened, a hard learned mask of discipline and Fire Lord wieildiness having been his companion for the better part of an hour. He sprawled his limber frame across the seat. Fallen hairs found a home on his forehead again. For someone like him, mere minutes of quiet were a respite.
Katara recalled his deferent posture yet determination at the outset of his joining Team Avatar. She was partially at fault: threats to end one's destiny typically didn't soften into a healthy team dynamic overnight. Suki used to rebuke her whenever Zuko would offer to cook and she refused, or volunteer to scavenge for food and she pushed Sokka to do it instead. It had been righteous rage at the time. She couldn't understand why the others had forgiven him so quickly: Suki, who's village burned at his hand, Sokka who was once in favor of abandoning him in a blizzard, and obviously Aang.
Now that she pondered it, she was the one he hadn't directly injured. No, her anger had been so pure because he had betrayed her. She had thought, for a flicker of a moment in those deep underground caves in Ba Sing Se, that perhaps he was a kindred spirit: lost, growing up without a mother, a child traumatized and forced to grow up in war.
She had treated him roughly in the Western Air Temple because she was scared to see that vulnerable aspect of him again and what it would bring out in her.
Him finding her trustworthy enough to unwind around made her equally comfortable. It was like being soothed by a healing balm.
"What are you thinking about?" Katara dared to venture.
The brief haze that had settled over Zuko's eyes vanished though his face remained at an angle towards the shrinking tower in the distance. In return, they were almost at the palace's West gate. Few civilians trekked this path. She was lucky her ice slip-n-slide over the gate sent only three guards into an apoplectic fit.
Never mind, you don't have to tell me, she was about to amend, but she was so very curious. That unsettled expression… "Was it being in the prison?"
"No one likes visiting prisons. Except Water Tribe siblings going on rescue missions." He smirked.
She slapped his thigh. "Hey! We didn't like it. If it were you seeing people wrongfully imprisoned, you would've done the same."
He rubbed the place she'd made contact. She hadn't hit him hard yet his hand slowed.
"No, I wouldn't have." He sighed through his nose. "I didn't."
She caught the brief hitch in his words and assumed Ozai and Azula, suddenly tense with the knowledge that she had traipsed twelve floors below the people who puppeteered one of history's bloodiest eras.
Then, he added, "My father kept Uncle in that tower after Ba Sing Se. I returned a hero and restored prince. He returned in shackles."
When Team Avatar had caught up with Iroh and the White Lotus, the man had looked worse for wear but in staunchly good form. At the time they knew Iroh was punished in the Fire Nation for his helping them in the catacombs, though imprisonment surprised her.
Only Ozai would do such a terrible thing.
Zuko placed a hand on the jutting door knob and dragged his nails across it as though it was a receptacle for his memory. "I used to visit him secretly only to yell at him. And then he told me Avatar Roku was my great grandfather, and I…" his shame was too easy to read, "I'd never felt more ashamed in my life. He was behind the bars but I felt like I was the one caged."
"He forgave you."
"I know," he rasped.
"You were a child."
"I was sixteen."
"You were a sixteen year old who made the choices anyone would have." She closed her eyes and swallowed. To forgive was one step, to understand him was another. "Even…even Ba Sing Se. So you should forgive yourself too."
The sun's rays caught in his eyes. She wondered when he had last seen General Iroh.
Her next breath carried his scent to her nose. Again, incense of some woody, smoky note. A masculine overture, yet a surprising rosemary…the one herb Water Tribes actually cooked with. Her mother loved rosemary and she did too.
A corner of his mouth hitched in a smile, one of those reserved for his friends and non-homicidal family members. His lower lip tucked under his upper, and its shade of pink reminded her of seafoam under a setting sun.
She also wondered how anyone could possibly think Zuko ugly. She mentally sent a curse Lady Hina's way, and for good measure towards everyone who had ever scorned his scar.
Someone jostled the door, them already having come to a stop. When Katara turned to see Milo pulling the door open, she instantly iced it shut and waved him away.
Unruffled, Milo took to chatting politely with a palanquin beater.
Zuko's slender fingers fiddled around the knob.
"Don't you dare," she warned. "Say it."
"Say what?"
"That you forgive yourself and you're going to write General Iroh about what's going on. I won't let you leave without a promise."
An eyebrow lifted. "I could melt it." He could. He didn't.
"And I'll ice it right back." To drive home the point, the ice crept closer to his short nails.
"I won the last time we fought as enemies."
"That was because of your sister's help. I would've wiped the floor with your apron otherwise, Lee."
"Is that a challenge, Master Katara?"
"Hm. I might teach you a thing or two, but not unless you promise." Her fingers twitched at the same time the last of alcoholic tea fully trapped his hand.
His voice lowered. "Then we'll be here a while."
It was hard to look away; it was even harder to say something, anything, like all the quips were dissolved out of her as fast as his expert twisting wrenched himself free of sudden icicle knobs.
Strangely, he made no move to disembark, a series of inscrutable expressions—all suddenly foreign to Katara, for the life of her she could not name a single one right now—until it settled into a familiar look of disgust.
At me? She inwardly flinched. Had she been too brazen in her threats?
No, she observed. It was d isgust at himself. But why?
Milo popped his face between the open curtains. "Fire Lord Zuko, I see you are free of Master Katara's handiwork. Master Piandao is waiting in the courtyard."
Katara knew from Ty Lee and Sulan's boring but dependable scroll that it was training time. She exited first, only remembering after the fact that Fire Nation etiquette dictated that male company escort her out as he had in, and she assumed this was the reason for Milo's curious, mildly scandalized expression.
"Lady Katara!" Ika scurry past the gates sent her braids clapping. "Oh, dear. You haven't changed from the mourning robes yet. They are only meant for wear until sunset; then, a deep maroon—" everything here was deep maroon, "—for the evening."
Zuko, shrugging out of his outerwear to hand it to Milo, jutted out his chin. "She'll be sparring me today."
Katara gave him a sidelong glance. "Will I?"
His eyes met hers, shoulder paused halfway in a black training robe.
"Yes. You need to fulfill your end of the bargain." He smiled.
Katara made quick work of changing. Fire Nation clothes, for all their overbearing regalia, professed less straps and buttons than Water Tribe outfits. Resigned to simply needing to sleep earlier since late mornings would escape her for the time being, a good fight was exactly the adrenaline-pumping activity she needed. The tête-à-tête with Lady Hina had not been enough.
"How was the visit to the prison?" asked Ika. She helped Katara step out of her gown.
"Dark and musty."
In her brief interactions with the attendant, Katara found Ika less stuffy than some of the other workers and attributed it to the girl's young age. Yet, there remained something calm and an intuitive nature about her; the girl knew what Sarashi wraps were and steadfastly held onto one end as Katara re-wove them around her chest.
"Do you usually attend to the Water Tribe? I haven't seen you around before."
It would have been nice to have Ika's help. During her first official stay in the palace as an ambassador, it was clear that spurning the help of the palace attendants was akin to implying the Fire Nation's incompetence. Zuko had made it clear that they accept the help gracefully or insult his workers, so Katara had begrudgingly resigned herself to being fussed over occasionally, though she never had the attention of one attendant all to herself. Ordinarily one attendant worked with three to four guests at a time.
Hands stilling, Ika's eyes fixated on the undone wraps. "No—I'm…usually assigned more internal work. I used to attend to Princess Azula"—the girl shuddered and Katara with her— "until she fired me before her almost coronation for accidentally leaving a cherry unpitted."
Making an aghast face, Katara slipped into her bending uniform courtesy of her trusty bags. Ika had presumably unpacked for her and even half-tied her belt the way it traditionally was.
"Was that before or after she went a little, um, bonkers?"
Ika's momentary lapse of apprehension dissolved into a small laugh. "You're very refreshing, Lady Katara."
"I have been told I am a tall glass of water."
"Haha—oh, I just got it."
"See! My brother thinks I have no sense of humor." Satisfied with her appearance and a whole deal more comfortable, Katara exited the bathroom and stepped into the terracotta rays of the rapidly descending son through the window. I shouldn't be late, she thought. And, with a smirk, she added, I rise with the moon. "Come on."
"Wait," Ika leafed through her skirts and pulled out a folded piece of parchment she recognized as dried arctic hippo skin. Her stomach dropped, fingers roughly snapping the Northern Water Tribe twining to let the letter unfold.
Katara,
Tui and La be with you. I hope the Fire Nation is treating you well. I am disappointed that I had to learn from Sokka that you won't be joining us until the end of the month. He mentioned that you're angry at me, but his letter was covered in grease so I couldn't make out the rest.
I love your Mom, my sweet moon. I will carry my love for her for the rest of my life in my heart. I always imagined her seeing you and Sokka grow up to become the adults you are now. She would be so proud.
I would have mentioned it to you both earlier but it happened so quickly. Do you remember the twins Maliq and Malina from the Northern Water Tribe? They were visiting the South the last time you visited.
You and Sokka are growing and have your own lives…soon you won't need anymore. Malina is a good woman whose company gives me peace. She's kind and caring, and can't wait to meet you.
Please write back. Be upset at me, but don't leave your Gran-Gran worried.
Always,
Your father
Katara began to bunch the letter into a ball. Then, she poured over her father's familiar crooked loops and short letter h's that looked like n's and somewhere inside a deep ache rocked her.
"Lady Katara?"
"Let's go. I can't be away too long." Ball quietly placed next to the hugging dragons miniature, Katara stepped through the doorway to leave the room and Hakoda's letter thoroughly behind her.
"Wait, one more thing," Ika called again.
"We're running late." Not that she particularly cared but what if another metalbender turned the fountain into a piston? Or worse, some woman with red nails tried to paw him again—
"Well, you can't fire me."
"Now you're just being cheeky! Should I order a bowl of cherries?" At her teasing she heard Ika huff as they passed the mahogany doors of Zuko's room and descended a flight of spiral stairs. "Quickly. What is it?"
"I—we, that is some of the others and I—we understand the Fire Lord is quite nice, you know, to everyone, his guests, even me, and I'm—I came here differently—anyway—he seems to favor you."
"What do you mean differently?" She frowned. "And favored? We're his friends, and Aang's his best friend though Zuko would never admit it."
Ika's voice took on an airy edge. "A different kind of favor."
Katara's brisk pace slowed in inverse proportion to the speed of redness coloring her cheeks.
"What," and she said this the way Aang said sea prunes, "are you talking about?"
A squeak. "The Fire Lord doesn't let anyone touch his face."
Her foot paused midair and Ika pummeled into her. The pair stumbled into a side hall in a tangle of limbs until the small girl managed to dodge out of Katara's twitching hands.
That couldn't be right. "No one?"
A swishing sound portended Ika's wide-eyed farcical look of innocence. Her braids came to still before they were sent flying again with a vigorous nod. "Not Milo, or the royal tailor, Lady Mai, or even General Iroh. But earlier, you…"
Ah. That explained the furtive looks and general confusion among the palace workers.
"I was just healing him. Water bending healing requires physical contact."
"He's never let any of the palace healers or Healer Joru get close to his scar. Not since the Agni Kai."
The growing blush halted its steady colonization of Katara's face as she froze. "His scar…that happened in an Agni Kai?"
Ika tilted her head, brows furrowing. Realization seemed to dawn and the girl took one step back, then another, and a hand flew over her mouth.
"Ignore what I said!" Ika ordered in a muffled voiced. "Let's go! You're late."
"But—"
Her father's letter had been a wet blanket on the growing excitement to spar and now she was dueling grogginess. Katara sat below a sakura tree, appreciating the summer weather for what it was despite its unbearable heat and her sleeves growing damp with sweat. Still, fighting in anything other than her bending uniform would be a dishonor—look, she was funny, okay?—to her people. Pale pink blossoms fluttered in a gentle breeze and fell upon her head twice or thrice, making for a nice distraction as Zuko assiduously sliced another opponent into yielding.
It wasn't her first time watching him train with his dual Dao swords. During their time at the Western Air Temple, she often woke to diligent grunts and huffs at sword training. Sokka had been his choice of swordfighting partner and though there was a marked skill level difference between a Fire Prince who'd trained from boyhood and her brother, wielder of a space sword, to even a novice like her, their fights were enchanting to watch.
This however was levels beyond that. He had clearly improved in his aim. Like chopsticks, his swords functioned as extended hands. Katara almost thought his opponents—a variety of soldiers—to be faking incompetence to kowtow to their Fire Lord when one veered dangerously towards Zuko's neck. Zuko not only dodged but blocked the soldier's sword with one Dao sword, and used the other to pin him to the ground. All within a second.
Piandao, who was watching from the sidelines among an assortment of other defeated soldiers and curious palace workers, nodded in approval. He made some criticisms about Zuko's form, none of which Katara understood—how in the spirit world could a man be any faster than that—and surprisingly turned to offer the soldiers some advice too.
"This is why I have requested General Shen to implement a sword training regimen. Firebender or no, you must train in the art of a warrior. You all are dismissed."
The soldiers crumpled to the ground and groaned. One hung his head in his hands and dramatically called out to the spirits.
There was not a hint of arrogance on Zuko, who merely set his swords down to take a sip of water and untie his belt, clearly sweaty and overheating.
The sky turned a deep orange and pink over a deep navy blue.
"Katara," he greeted. His robe hung open to reveal his bare chest.
She had forgotten about that part of fighting.
That weird feeling, like she was watching a mirage with the power to reorganize the very fibers of her being, was happening again. That it happened during his trainings twice confirmed that it was simply hormones.
She blinked and the vision faded. There stood Zuko, Fire Lord and dependable friend. The nonsense was all a buildup of Lady Hina getting her to think about Zuko's looks, alcoholic tea, Ika for planting the idea, and the not unwelcome state of semi-shirtlessness.
She stared him squarely in his golden eyes. "You sure it won't be embarrassing when I beat you in front of everyone?"
"I wouldn't worry so much about me," he teased.
Piandao cleared his throat. "Master Katara, allow me to finish with him today. Then he's all yours."
All mine. People said a great many funny things today.
Per the narrative tropes of recognizing one was attracted to a beautiful man, was said man testing her limits further. That is, the Fire Lord decided that now was the fight that he go topless altogether.
La help me. La help her indeed, and Tui too, and maybe the spirits of other nations, because a few days ago—had it only been a few days ago? It felt like weeks—she had only seen his front, and not his back.
His back.
The lower expanse of Zuko's back was covered in red ink. Thin lines caressed the dip of his spine, intersecting and coiling to form the body of a dragon. Even without the pauldrons the curved tops of his shoulders crested at each end, as though a tense rope hung between his shoulder blades and coiled as he rolled them backwards and sunk into a low bow to signal the beginning of a spar.
She slid back until she hit the trunk of the tree. A slew of pink petals fell over her. At that moment she found Ika's curious face watching her and returned a casual wave.
Zuko's swords sliced with every movment, pushing and pulling. While Piandao's mastery of the weapon shone in his creative swings, Zuko had the benefit of speed, one that Piandao undermined by keeping him planted in one area. The swordsman swung his arms so quickly that Zuko needed to harness all his focus in defense. The defeated soldiers began to jeer at the prospect of revenge but alas the Fire Lord soon won, his dual swords crossing in front of Piandao and knocking the man's sword out of his hands in the process. It clattered on the ground and Zuko growled in a final demand to yield.
Katara tugged her collar up.
Piandao smiled. It was the face of a proud man. "You did well. You implemented my advice faster than any other student."
Zuko retracted his swords. "Two halves of the same whole."
"Indeed. I await the day more people seek honor in wielding such an art."
They bowed to each again, Zuko's undone hair fully curtaining his eyes. She tried to imagine his hair longer like his father or the other Fire Nation noblemen. The image of an Ozai fruitlessly trying to shampoo his long locks made her giggle, and the noise must have caught Zuko's attention as he was suddenly towering over her, smirking. The starburst scar on his upper abdomen rippled.
"Are you done martyring my cherry blossom trees?"
She looked down at the pile of pink flowers that had coalesced in her lap over the better part of an hour. "It's practice for when I utterly destroy you."
He laughed. His body was slick with sweat and something that smelled of rosemary and candlesmoke.
"What was that Piandao said about sword fighting?" asked Katara.
Zuko turned to observe his master. She followed his line of sight to see Piandao resuming his eager beratement of the fallen soldiers, though he heartily clapped some of the more downtrodden ones in encouragement.
"Swordsmanship wasn't considered a nobleman's technique. Usually only nonbenders take to it, since they can't firebend." Zuko sat down next to her after she scooted to make space. The blossoms fell into the gap their barely-touching knees made.
"Sokka asked him to be his master for that reason. Or part of it. He—didn't think he was contributing to the team like we all were." She recalled the times they narrowly escaped eternal doom due to Sokka's wit alone.
"He told me when we were on Ember Island."
"He did?"
"He asked how I was so good with swords, since he'd never met a firebender who was good at fighting without fire before." Zuko unfurled his fingers as if to hold a phantom sword. She waited for him to continue; her curiosity should have been palpable to him but let him speak at his pace. "Azula was the prodigy. I could barely hold a flame by the time I turned seven."
Katara couldn't hold back a gasp. She hadn't been able to make more than irregular shaped spheres before she was ten years old, but she attributed it to having no master and no waterbender to even observe.
He grimaced. "It's true. The Avatar's firebending master was a late bloomer. I used to get flustered and insist on showing off my skills in front of my grandfather even if it burned my hands or I stumbled. My father hated it how much it embarrassed him."
"That's awful."
"It was, until my mother took me to Piandao in secret. By then he'd already deserted the military and defeated a hundred firebenders at once, but many people would still have thought a Fire Prince being trained to sword fight meant he was subpar." He flexed his fingers and curled them in, pushing his knuckles into the ground. "My mother wanted me to have something for myself. I wanted a weapon even my father didn't have."
Katara watched the soldiers fumble with a new hold Piandao taught them. The sky was fully dark now. Lights around the courtyard lit up with help of some of the firebending palace workers. They pulsed like butter-fireflies.
She drew in a long breath. "It's not the same, but Sokka called me a freak for the longest time. Some of the kids thought so too because they'd never seen a waterbender before. They thought it was all fairytales."
"That must have been lonely. Like you were not understood."
She too pressed her knuckles into the ground. "My mother never treated us differently but she was the only one who called my waterbending special. After she passed, my dad supported me when he could but soon left for the war, so there was no one around to help me understand. You saw me with the pirates," at this he coughed, "I could barely bend water into a sphere. I didn't realize how beautiful waterbending was supposed to be until we reached the Northern Water Tribe."
"And now you're the most beautiful waterbender I know."
Her neck almost snapped in her fervor to look at him. Meanwhile, he blanched in alarm, as if belatedly realizing how that sounded.
"As in—your waterbending is beautiful. And kind of scary. I didn't mean you—" at her intensifying look he amended, "I mean you are," he looked away and more quietly finished, "beautiful."
He noticed her enough to find her beautiful.
In her instantaneous mental replay of his words, too many seconds passed that by the time she realized she should say something, it would be awkward.
She lowered her eyes.
"I think the same about your bending." And you.
The sun hung lower. Zuko seemed at a loss as to how to follow up on that, which was odd because he always had biting ripostes prepared for the most inane requests his councilors made, and she desperately wanted to return to the easy conversation they had before she was forced to seriously contend with the thudding heart in her chest.
"But yeah, feudal system or no, people find ways to make bending abilities about class. Or gender."
Zuko nodded sagely. "I'd noticed there weren't any women waterbenders fighting. I guess the Fire Nation thought it'd be a loss for half our population to miss out on an opportunity to be cruel."
She laughed. "It's why Ambassador Hoko refuses to fight me even though we have the same Master. Did you know Sokka used to be like that until Suki put him in a skirt? He was such an annoying overbearing man-child."
"Was?"
"I'm tattling. Aren't you his best friend?"
"These days it's Aang because he unironically thinks I am the smartest person he knows."
"No!" She feigned horror. "The betrayal. Sokka will be crushed."
"Yeah, like you."
She tossed a fistful of petals in his face and didn't wait for his coughing to subside before speaking. "Just you remember, I trapped you in a block of ice as an amateur."
"I hope you cherish the memory because it won't happen again." He stood and held out a hand.
She spotted two lines of the dragon coming to a point along his right side. She so desperately wanted to continue talking: when did he get his first sword? Did he always fight with Dao swords? When in the last three years did he get that tattoo?
She took his hand. It was warm and clammy and by all accounts should have been gross.
Rosemary. And something rounder too, like fresh linens and the scent after raining ceased.
She hadn't battled him in years. Excitement thrummed in her veins, her muscles slow to tense in the familiar throb of a proper fight. He escorted her to the center of the courtyard. Piandao halted his training exercise to watch the spectacle as an assortment of guests joined the steadily growing crowd scattered around the grounds. Some peered over the parapets from higher floors.
While Zuko stretched, she mulled over her training. Unlike fire, the nature of her element demanded she find leverage in the environment. She felt, rather than saw, behind a group of soldiers a barrel of aged mead, and the rows of sakura trees behind her.
There. The waves of slow sloshing water in the pipes under a grate to her left.
When she moved to bow, an arm entered her vision. Zuko waited for her to clasp it; it was a Water Tribe greeting that caught the murmurs of passersby.
"I won't go easy," he warned, releasing her arm.
"I won't go easy just because you're the Fire Lord."
"You won't need too."
She raised a cool eyebrow. "Because it won't be much of a fight?"
He attacked first.
Without the bombastic angry roars he used to fight with when he sported a ponytail—sorry, wolf tail—his attacks were difficult to predict. Yet there remained uncontrollable ticks that caught her notice. A swift slice of the air here, a flourish there. He was dallying for time. He also favored his right side which kept his left unprotected at times. Firebending emphasized defense as much as airbenders did offense.
Her fingers rose before her arms such that they imitated a fishing line stringing up a catch. The backs of her hands touched and a geyser of water shot through the grate, sweeping up into a crescendo as the growing crowd twittered in awe. The water morphed into twenty, thirty ice daggers. She aimed for his left side. He twisted his torso and sent one swath of flames to melt her daggers, and rewarded her attack with a volley of fireballs that she easily dodged in a careful dance.
She gathered the water before his heat could evaporate it all and spun as the droplets merged to create swirling, swishing balls. He was not the only one with spherical choices of attack. Firebenders made fireballs by curling their fingers inwards while punching. In using her entire body, she compensated for the external locus of control with the added benefit of using the spin to recover and replant her footing.
Having sent what she liked to call water bombs at him, there was little he could do but succumb and fall to his knees. The water bombs pummeled him in a gleeful insistence that kept him drenched.
She relaxed her stance. The courtyard fell silent.
He beamed. "You stole my move."
Inexplicably shy, she clasped her hands behind her back. She should be smug. Or witty. Or something. Him looking—happy?—was not a reaction she anticipated.
"Your uncle's the one who taught us to learn from the other elements," she opted to remind him. He was happy, and it made it very hard not to look at him and mentally measure the bridge of his nose or the dip of his Cupid's bow.
It was the mirage again, and this time it didn't fade after a series of blinks.
He looked downward. "He taught me that first, actually."
He jumped.
Katara belatedly realized he hadn't yet admitted defeat or yielded. He swung his legs into a half cartwheel and a wall of fire grew over her as it approached, in imitation of a giant tidal wave. It was all she could do to use the last of her water to keep it from barbecuing her.
She lost.
The spectators cheered, not without some good-natured ribbing at Katara and a few congratulations for almost winning. Pianda insisted on profuse praise.
She shook her head. "I got distracted."
"By?" asked Piandao. Behind him Milo attempted to swaddle Zuko in three towels. His tattoo seemed to glow.
"It's—been a long day." She seemed to be saying this often. "Did you know he gets up at sunset to meditate? And woke me up too? The nerve…"
She skipped dinner.
Zuko asked her twice if she was sure before she threatened to freeze his hands, both of them, in Bosco's spit, and undeterred he insisted she eat something to honor the kitchen's dedication to cooking her edible meals. Still, after a quick bite, she remained standing outside the dining hall and then the throne room, chatting up the nearly healed Ty Lum, finding it unnecessary to be at Zuko's physical side at all times. The nerve of him. The audacity of him.
"Don't be a sore loser, Katara." Ty Lum smiled.
"It's not about the fight."
"So I heard. Did the Fire Lord really use your own technique on you? But with his feet?"
"Then it's not my technique, is it? We can't waterbend with feet."
"Why ever not?"
"Because for water to not become so fluid it runs away from us we need part of our body to be rooted. And fire is—oh Ty Lum, that's not the point!"
"What's the point? Lover's quarrel?"
Not just Katara's face but her entire upper body reddened. Ty Lum rolled her eyes.
"I'm joking. Ty Lee told me there's a super secret plot you're helping the Fire Lord with but won't say what. You're so high-strung."
"I am not, it's just been a very long day. I've been up since sunrise—and my father sent this letter. Gah! Why am I telling you this?"
"Oo, daddy issues."
"Ty Lum."
"Sorry." The warrior didn't sound sorry.
"Where's Ty Lee? Shouldn't she be back?" Hira'a was a few hours away by boat. At some point in her packed day there had been some mention of, oh yes, that Zuko's family was safe, and the Warriors he sent out would be returning.
Ty Lum made a face. "She should, but if she's gone for another night I won't be complaining."
Katara willed time to move faster. But every time she peered into the throne room and spotted Zuko sitting criss-crossed upon the dias, in firm command in front of a low wall of not menacing but bright and powerful flames, the damned mirage wouldn't leave. Why hadn't she realized he was stupidly attractive until now? Had he suddenly had a growth spurt? Was it the tattoo?
And now that she knew the story behind his firebending, she had another sky's worth of grudges to pick with Ozai, the eternal child-terrorizer and trauma giver.
"Did you need to talk to my sister about something?"
One only talked to Ty Lee about things they were fine with the entire palace knowing, her admirable discretion for national security aside. And one certainly did not confess to Ty Lee that they found her childhood friend, who also happened to be the most powerful man second to the Avatar, about sudden unsavory thoughts regarding his back.
"No. It's just…" she leaned against the wall. Inside the throne room, loud voices and a raspy one debated the season's lack of agricultural yield. "Do you have a boyfriend?"
This is where Ty Lum and Ty Lee set themselves apart. Where Ty Lee would have squealed and clapped her hands together, Ty Lum grunted and swayed on her feet.
"It's in the works. It's hard to have a long distance relationship," was all the warrior said.
Now I have to know. Katara nudged her shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"You first, moping queen."
La forbid Ty Lum and Toph ever meet and commiserate over nicknames. "Everyone knows I'm single."
Ty Lum cast her a strange look. "Do they?"
"According to Suki my relationship ending made at least international newspapers and caused at least two national crises." The Southern Water Tribe for obvious reasons, and the Northern Water Tribe because Chief Arnook sent a horde of women to seek Aang's favor after what they saw was the South using Katara to curry his favor. Which was hilarious, because all one needed to do for Aang's 'favor' was to be nice. And not be misogynist nor force feed him sea prunes.
Ty Lum hummed. "So you're on the market? It's a good time to be. Plenty of lookers right here in the palace."
Katara shot her an impatient glare.
After her breakup with Aang, she had found herself too ensconced in work and little patience for flatterers trying to get physical with her that she nipped potential relationships, even with Haru whom everyone seemed to like decently enough. She was free to explore her youth finally after a war that had robbed her of it.
Part of youth was also to explore young love. But she'd had that, didn't she? With Aang: quiet kisses after retiring early from parties, journeying to the Air Temples to help him restore them, finding scraps for his nation's history. But he needed to continue his own path, and her hers.
But maybe…maybe there was an underlying point Ty Lum was getting at. Perhaps it'd been too long, or she'd simply been glued to Zuko's side so much that it convinced her body to see him in a different light. Obviously she knew he was handsome. She heard about it, saw multiple plays and witnessed multiple odes to their Fire Lord's physique. She just…didn't anticipate experiencing it first-hand, nor so strongly.
All of this was an unnecessary internal uproar, she knew. Something for her mind to focus on before she returned to her room and had to figure out what to write in response to her father's letter.
Milo strolled into the corridor. See, another young man, and without his unfortunate sideburns Katara could imagine him to be rather dashing too.
She nodded assuredly to herself as Zuko's attendant joined them. Minutes later, a succession of yawning nobles exited. Zuko was the last and the doors closed behind him.
"Ty Lum, Katara. Thank you for staying late." Zuko rubbed his face. Two hours after dinner was late by Fire Nation standards.
Ty Lum, a consummate professional, sunk into a stiff bow. His eyes lingered on her almost pale burns and he offered a prim thanks for her efforts in fighting the assassin.
"Of course, my Lord. Any aid I can provide in finding out who those people were will be an honor."
"I am grateful to the Ty family." He dismissed her, and Katara, who was fine to stand in silence, was absent a talkative partner and now had the full attention of Zuko on her.
Looking at him was as tempting and as painful as staring into the sun.
They said nothing. When Zuko broke the silence—
"Are you feeling alright?"
—her tongue engaged in more oral gymnastics. She recovered enough grounding to eek out, "Yes."
"Did you eat properly?"
"I'm fine."
Zuko, like Aang, seemed to either not notice or purposefully ignore the signs a woman made about wanting silence. "Did something happen?"
"Spirits, Zuko, I don't need to be taken care of. You have plenty of other things to worry about."
"Milo," Zuko said, and his attendant took a few steps back and turned around. After a few moments where she scratched her ear and he cast about for something to stare at other than her face, he settled into an easy professional tone. "Did you see Aang recently? He was supposed to join for dinner. King Kuei made a few comments...I'm worried Lady Fa's making him hesitate on forcing disbandment."
Katara straightened, startled. "What? Earlier he was defending you!"
Zuko nodded. "I'm not sure. The Earth Kingdom economy has also been struggling this year, and he's worried about"he put his hands in air quotes-" 'wasting resources' to fight the rebel groups wanting to keep the colonies."
"That makes no sense. He willingly wants Fire Nation troops to remain on his land?"
"Civilians," he corrected. "Jeong Jeong confirmed the last of our troops came home weeks ago."
"I don't...want to assume, but could King Kuei's change of mind be related to the assassins? I know he means well but he had a history of being very suggestible."
Horrified, Zuko crossed his arms. "Maybe, but he was too adamant yesterday about punishing them. He himself insisted we keep them here to be punished instead of deporting them to the Earth Kingdom."
"I don't like this. It's too many strange coincidences at once. We need to figure out who exactly these assassins are."
Zuko tensed. "No fire torture."
She looked at him doubting if he even knew her. "Doesn't the Fire Nation have other interrogation tactics?"
"None that my father wouldn't celebrate, even if I managed to question them myself. General Shen is already on edge after my request to meet the firebenders."
Katara thought long and hard. She had half the mind to fly Appa to wherever these metalbenders were being kept. It wasn't a half-bad idea. Also, there was another lead in the shape of a snarky Earth Kingdom ambassador...
"No, we're not detaining Lady Fa."
"I didn't say we should," she said innocently.
"You didn't have to."
"That's the sort of thing Toph would advocate for. Really Zuko, it's like you don't know me."
He leaned in conspiratorially though there was not a soul in sight except Milo, pretending to be focused on a garish painting of Zuko's grandfather. "I'm beginning to think I just am."
Her tongue folded over itself.
Blessedly, Milo spared her from formulating a response. "Fire Lord Zuko, you must rest. Sulan has left tomorrow's schedule in your room and the addition of expecting Lady Toph in the evening has rescheduled afternoon tea with Councilor Bengwa to a morning breakfast meeting."
Katara facepalmed and amused, Zuko insisted she sleep in. No further attempts had been made on his life, so surely it was fine that she wouldn't be around for a few hours, like today's earlier snooping session.
But. Metal hardening over his face, suffocating him. it was a sight she never wanted to see again.
"It's fine," she forced a small smile. Maybe today's exhaustion would let her sleep earlier.
It wasn't the moon that kept Katara awake tonight, though it was on its way to becoming a full one in a few days. It was the letter. Katara huffed into her pillow before finally allowing herself to settle at the Fire Lady's desk, a small one that seemed more for show, and found an old but usable quill in one of the drawers. On the backside of her father's letter she wrote listlessly.
Dad,
I'm sorry I didn't write. I planned to, but it's been a hectic few days. Please don't worry. I'm healthy and unharmed, and the chef agreed to let me teach him how to make proper Water Tribe cuisine. You'll enjoy it the next time you're in the Fire Nation.
About Malina.
She stopped.
What about Malina? She stood abruptly, moving to starting pacing, when she noticed a shadowy figure dashing about in the world outside. They wove around the greenhouses, waited for guards on their rounds to pass, and expertly passed through the various wings of the palace beyond as though they knew the layout back to front.
Katara had long hypothesized that waterbenders had better vision at night because of how attuned they were to the moon, and it was hard not to lend credence to that theory when she immediately pressed her face into the window, ready to summon the bathwater to create an ice wall around him, and noticed the blue mask.
Not just any mask. The Blue Spirit.
She sucked in a sharp breath.
Zuko, what are you up to?