Katara ate some of what the servant had brought her. She had to be careful not to eat too much, or too quickly. If she'd been asleep as long as the servant had claimed, her body would revolt at too much food. Luckily it was easy to be careful. Katara should have felt famished, but she wasn't hungry at all. Her insides felt blessedly hollow and light, pure as river-washed stone. The hunger would come later. Right now she was still half caught in the web of her deep dreams, still lost in the memory of the man trapped in the ice.
Alone in her quarters, servant dismissed, Katara took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind. It was time to return to the world. And returning to the world had to start with the simplest things first. Getting dressed, for one.
At home, among the Southern Water Tribe, Katara had always dressed to reflect her status, in a long, belted fur-lined tunic over a pale shift dress. Womanly clothing, the kind you couldn't run about in easily but gave you an undeniable air of authority. But here there was no one to judge her. Just Sokka, a handful of servants, and a gaggle of warriors that looked barely old enough to have gone ice dodging. So Katara ignored the small trunk tucked in the corner of her quarters, and pulled on her serviceable tunic and leggings, binding a plain sash around her waist. She braided her hair. Dragged on a pair of gloves to keep out the chill. Slipped on her boots.
There. She felt almost normal.
Trudging out onto the deck, she blinked hard, momentarily blinded by the bright winter sunlight. The air was clear and cool, and the sea was calm. It was a peaceful scene, crew ambling about, thin clouds uncurling overhead. Sokka was at the other end of the deck, joking with one of the crew.
He turned as Katara approached, eyes lighting up and his face creasing into a big, joyful grin.
"Katara!" Sokka shouted, waving. "We were starting to worry you'd never wake up."
"You shouldn't have sent someone in to disturb me," said Katara, trying to inject some annoyance in to her voice as she stopped in front of him. "You don't have the right to interfere with waterbending business."
"Had to," Sokka said. "I was worried you'd starve. You're too skinny already."
Katara gave him a narrow glare.
"Do you want to hear about my dreams or just irritate me some more?" she asked, crossing her arms.
"That's a difficult decision," Sokka said. "You may need to give me a minute to think about it."
"Sokka…"
"Kidding, kidding!" Sokka turned to the warrior he'd been talking to earlier. "Tulok, buddy, you're going to have to give me and Katara a minute alone."
"Sorry," Katara added. As soon as the word left her mouth she felt foolish. What kind of waterbending master apologised?
The warrior who'd been laughing at Sokka's jokes just seconds before gave Katara a tight, guarded nod of acknowledgement.
"Master Katara," he said. "Sokka. I'll leave you two alone to talk."
"Right, thanks," Sokka said warmly, placing one hand briefly on Tulok's shoulder. "We'll talk later."
Katara saw some of the stiffness leave the warrior at that. Typical. Sokka had a way with people. When they'd been younger, Sokka had charmed people accidentally – he'd had a clumsy way of making other people adore him. But now that they were older, he'd made a careful, measured art out of winning people's hearts.
Katara may have been the waterbender, the Master, but Sokka was the one everyone loved. And he was a Chief's son, on top of that. He had the makings of a great leader.
If Katara's mission didn't destroy him first, of course.
Feeling a familiar wave of despair wash over, Katara took a tight hold on her emotions and leaned closer to Sokka, lowering her voice so the warrior wouldn't hear a word as he walked away.
"I think I dreamt of one of them."
Sokka's expression went hard; his eyes feral-bright. Yes. That was the face of a future Water Tribe leader.
"The Fire Lord or the prince?" asked Sokka urgently.
Katara shook her head. She'd seen countless drawings of Fire Lord Iroh and Lu Ten, and the man in her dream hadn't looked quite like either of them. He'd been too thin – almost gaunt, where Lu Ten and Iroh were both always depicted as stocky and strong.
"Neither," she said.
"Ah." Sokka visibly deflated. "So, if you didn't dream of a Fire Nation royal – "
"No," cut in Katara. "I did dream of a royal. But this one was… younger." She hesitated. Thought of the sharp, delicate bones of that face; the sneering mouth and the yellow-gold eyes. (Blood always speaks true.) "I think he was one of Ozai's."
Sokka was silent for a long moment.
"Second or third in line," he said finally. "That might be good enough. And who knows. Maybe he'll lead us straight to the Fire Lord."
"Maybe," echoed Katara. She stared off into the distance, at the soft edges where the sea met the sky and burned a beautiful white. "I don't know, Sokka. But I think I'm meant to find him. I think I dreamed about him for a reason." She exhaled. Almost a sigh. "Maybe that's enough."
Sokka nodded. For all that he mocked her, he knew better than to truly question her gift. He was Southern Water Tribe after all: from the tribe that had produced the first of the waterbending witches, those women who'd learned to bend their enemies' blood and turn them into helpless puppets. He knew how to respect things he didn't fully understand.
"So where do we find him?" he asked.
"I don't know yet," admitted Katara. "The dream ended too early." That man. The raw hatred in his face… Katara shook her head to clear the image away. "I'll need to dream again if I want to find him."
"We'll go wherever you say," Sokka said quietly. "Whenever you say it."
"Tonight," Katara said. "I'll look for him again tonight."
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It was Master Yugoda who'd first warned Katara about the dangers of dreaming.
"True dreams are a gift granted to us by the moon spirit," she'd said. "When we waterbenders choose to do so, we can dream very deep dreams. With the blessing of the moon, we can wander the dark corners of the human heart. We can learn great secrets. It is a powerful gift." A pause. "But you must be careful with it, Katara. Very careful. If you dream too long and too deep, if your spirit loses its connection with your flesh, you will become lost."
"If that happens, will I die?" Katara had asked.
"There are many things worse than dying," Yugoda had said. Which had been no answer at all, but warning enough.
Katara sat in her quarters, her braid unbound. It was dark – she'd only lit one small candle, which flickered on the edge of burning out entirely. The ship was silent. Katara could feel the ebb and swell of the waves beneath them, carrying them onwards and onwards. It felt like a heartbeat.
Tui and La, she thought. You gave me this gift. Am I fool, to try and use it to save myself?
Two years. It had been two years since she'd last stumbled away from home, shamed and scarred and banished. She was sick of travelling endlessly, never getting any closer to her goal. It seemed as if the Fire Lord and his son had vanished in a puff of smoke. No matter how long she dreamed, no matter how long she and Sokka searched, there was no sign of them at all.
To find the Fire Lord and his son, to murder them outright or bring them home to face justice: It was a fool's errand. A hopeless task.
Katara had come close to giving up in the last few months. The number of times she'd tried to work up the courage to tell Sokka it was over, to beg him to go back home and leave her to her shame…
But no. Not now. Now she had hope.
She would find her Fire Nation royal, this son of Ozai. She would bind him to her will, and she'd use him to lead her to the Fire Lord and his son. It was the only way. The only road home.
She lay down and closed her eyes. Inhaled, exhaled. Reached outside herself to the waves that moved beneath her and the moon that hung above her in a starry sky. Reached out, and out.
In the dark of her room, by a guttering candle, Katara began to weave a dream.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you so much for the lovely comments! I am so glad that you're enjoying this fic, and appreciate the support. I am sorry for the lack of Zuko in this chapter, but the next one should more than make up for it.