CHAPTER 6

"The phoenix known as hope, can wing her way through the dusty desert skies, and still defying fortune's spite; revive from its own ashes and rise once more."

-Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

STREET

EDESSA

THREE DAYS LATER

At first glance, there was nothing suspicious about the young man who lounged casually against the stone wall of a low-slung building. He was dressed in what seemed the uniform of every male in the desert cities of Arabia: long pants matched with a white tunic. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, and his brown eyes watched every movement of the crowded street around him; the hawking villagers, the two men laughing next to the spice vendor, children playing senet around the hustle and bustle of the street. Every once in a while he would glance up at the sky and check the position of the sun, or he would cast a side-ways glance to the door that lay to the right of him, as if expecting someone to come out.

It was only upon closer inspection that one noticed the abnormalities of this man. Every few minutes he would take his hand and rub it slowly over hairless head, or he would shift uncomfortably and kick up small amounts of dirt in the process. He was slightly taller than the villagers, and every movement he made would press his tunic to his body and clearly outline the hard lines of his body. Such musculature would normally only belong to a soldier in the prince's army, but no soldier worth his salt would ever leave the palace dressed in anything less than militant uniform. He had to be a carpenter or maybe even a builder.

Suddenly, but only to very astute observers, his great body visibly tensed. His eyes were focused on a man further down the street, who easily navigated the crowded street. The man was also slightly out of place, as he was taller and stronger than the villagers who milled about him. He also carried himself with a sort of dignity that was misplaced in a commoner. The man leaning against the wall chuckled softly to himself as he watched the other disappear into the door that was next to him. "I'll be damned," he muttered to himself.

Once the man was gone, the other went back to his casual surveillance of the crowd. After the space of several minutes, he too got up, and vanished into the doorway.

The building inside was decrepit and vacant; sunlight streamed in through gaping holes in the rafters, and pigeons softly cooed above. Dust particles danced and churned in the shafts of light, and rats could be heard scampering beneath the cracked tiled floor. The man carefully crept up a set of stone steps that lay to the left of the door, and stepped out into the shade of an overgrown rooftop garden. In the far corner, standing beneath the shade of a trellis covered in dying vines, stood the stranger from the streets.

He bowed ever so slightly. "Glad to see you could come, Aang."

Aang inclined his head towards the man concealed in the gardens. "It took a little ingenuity to find a way out of the palace in street clothes, but I managed. Now can you tell me what's with the cloak and dagger routine?"

Farid crossed his arms over his chest. "You're a smart man. You probably already know."

Aang gave a short bark of laughter. "You're right," he said, reaching into his tunic and pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper. Carefully, he unfolded it, and to Farid's dismay, read it out load. "I have heard of your distaste for the current benefactor of the city's strategies. Manage to leave unnoticed and wait ignored by others outside the children playing senet, and you will find something you like." Aang smiled, but it was a smile completely devoid of warmth or true amusement. "Cryptic and vague. You must want me to act as a spy for Zhao."

Farid's mouth hung open slightly before he managed to cover up his bewilderment. He had known the officer was good, but not that good. "Who told you that I work for the desert sheik?"

This time Aang's smile was real. "You did. Just now."

Farid muttered a curse under his breath and rubbed his neck as if it pained him. "Guess I should be more careful," he said.

"Don't take it personally. I was merely acting on a hunch as soon as I saw you ghosting across the market. I knew you were trying to bring down Zuko because Ala-abin wanted it. The only other man in Arabia that I can think of who would willing side against the poor betrayed prince would be Zhao himself."

"I've heard you talk about Zuko's revenge. You'll do anything to stop him."

Aang shifted his weight and shrugged. "I grew up in a different world than he did. But that doesn't mean that just because someone snatches out your eye that you should snatch out yours."

"You don't believe in taking the hand of a thief after he steals from you?"

Aang frowned. "No. And neither should you."

It was Farid's turn to laugh as he walked over and clapped Aang on the shoulder. "You're a strange one, my friend."

"It is said that living well is the greatest revenge. I don't want the world to think that what Zuko is doing is just simply because it was done to him."

"So you'll help me?"

Aang sighed. "You want me to betray the man that gave me everything I have in this life?"

Farid's eyes narrowed. "I want you to betray the man that you yourself have denounced as wrong to my face."

"Know that I do what I am about to for my own reasons, including the ones I have directly stated. And know that I'll be praying for forgiveness every single night. But I'll do it. Tell me what must be done."

Farid's answering smile was baleful. "Nothing, for now. I have to return to Riyadh and wait with Ala-abin's army before anyone important notices I'm gone. I want you to attend Zuko's battle meetings with his council, and I want you to record everything. I also want you to turn your eyes and ears to the palace, and look for anyone else who could be of use to us. It should be several weeks before Ala-abin's reinforcements are sent, and after that it should be several more before any plans are initiated. I'll be back here in a week. Same place. Same time. Meet me with information."

Aang nodded curtly. "I'll do what I can."

"You'll do what you can for the greatest man whoever walked the sands of Arabia," Farid answered in a low and biting tone. "Never forget who you work for."

Aang's eyelids flinched, almost as if in pain. "I won't," he swore.

"Good. Once I leave this building I want you to wait several minutes before leaving. Slip back into the palace as silent as you left it."

"That goes without saying," Aang muttered.

"We'll meet again in a week." Farid extended his hand, and Aang took it. Farid placed his other hand over Aang's, and said, "Welcome to the army, brother."

HAREM

EDESSA PALACE

BEFORE DAWN

Almost as if on some sort of divine signal, Katara's body jolted her awake. Her breathing labored, she pushed the sweat off her brow. "It was a just a dream," she whispered to herself. "It was just a dream….just a dream…just a dream…" she said it over and over, until it became a strange, sadistic prayer. Sitting up on the small bed that had been given to her, she drew her knees up to her chin and rocked herself back and forth, trying not only to calm down but to quell the images that flashed wildly through her mind.

The nightmares had gotten worse. Not only did they come in the middle of the night, but they came now just before the sun crept over the horizon.

And those dreams were the worst.

In those dreams, it wasn't the rebels who killed her family and friends, but her. She slashed and hacked and listened to the screams of the people she loved most in this world, and listened to them beg for mercy from not the hand of an assailant, but from her. Blood would pour over her hands and stain her skin and hair and clothing, and she would welcome it.

In the dream, it wasn't a stranger who was the monster, but her. She was the murderer. Her family died by her hand.

It always took longer for her to find some sort of fragile serenity after those dreams.

After what felt like days, she no longer gasped for air, and her body no longer shuddered with fear. Taking several deep breaths, she swung her legs over the edge of her bed and stood up. Almost without realizing it, she, as if her body knew where it was going before her mind did, she slipped through her door and into the atrium of the harem. Her bare feet padded against the marble floor and towards the harem courtyard. It was only after she stepped onto the cool stone of the courtyard paths that her body began to relax.

In a routine that had become engraved into her soul since her time at the palace, she closed her eyes, and lifted her face towards the stars. Their welcoming light washed over her skin, and bathed her with their incandescent brilliance. When she was little, before bed, her mother would take her outside to watch the stars dance across the sky.

"Before you or I were born, Katara, there were stars. And when you and I die, they will still be there, shining above us. Never forget that. Never forget that they are a gift, poured from the heavens to us for us to enjoy forever."

At the sudden memory, Katara felt a pang deep within her heart. "Mother," she whispered softly, so softly her own ears doubted that she had even said it.

But her mother was dead.

Dead like her father and brother.

Dead like her friends.

Dead like her village.

"I've been waiting for you," someone breathed in her ear.

Startled, she turned and faced the only thing that kept her in Edessa. "Zuko," she said, caught unaware by his sudden appearance. "What are you doing here?"

Strong arms encircled her, and held her lightly captive as his breath ruffled her hair, and his mouth trailed over her temple. "For the past three days I've been scheming about how to get you alone since I got you back to the palace," he murmured. His hands found the mahogany hair that cascaded down her waist, and he tangled his fingers in it. "Every minute of the day, wherever I turn, I see councilmen, asking me my opinions about the new battle plans they draw up every day. And at night," his lips brushed over the rim of her ear and she shivered with sudden desire, "At night I lay awake and think about how badly I want you."

Katara felt her breathing hitch, the struggle as every breath she took shuddered with the effort it took for her to force it into her lungs. A blush crept across her face. No one had ever talked to her like this before, and until now, she never thought that she had wanted to hear that.

Needed to hear that.

Zuko was as wild as the sand that was thrown around the desert by dusty storms. Except for rare moments, she never knew what he was thinking or what he wanted from her. When they had returned to the palace after her minor stint with freedom, he had immediately been pulled aside by councilmen demanding his attention. It wasn't until later that Katara found out, from Ty Lee no less, that that was because Ala-abin had agreed to send men to support Zuko's campaign.

She didn't know whether to be happy for the man who had held her hand so tenderly as they walked back to the palace, or angry for the one who humiliated her in front of Prince Jet. It was like he was two different men. But gentle or fierce, she couldn't deny that she craved his presence, hungered for his touch, and desired the feel of his heart keeping time with hers.

And here he was, his arms wrapped around her, her body surging with newly found need.

His deep voice rasped in her ear.

"Finally I realized that if I wanted you alone, I had to find you when you walked the gardens after your nightmares. And I found you, and you looked so resplendent there in the night, exactly as radiant and elegant as I see you in my dreams." The arms that held her tightened, and she was pressed against him, body to body and breath to breath. She closed her eyes, and felt the desert wind dance and play across her face.

The combined sensations of heat and cold and strength and the soft rustle of the tunic Zuko wore were almost too much. As if her body had a mind of its own, she arched her body into his and with hands that trembled, whether in desire or excitement or a strange combination of the two, she gripped his shoulders.

Zuko's eyes closed briefly as he felt her hands tangled in his tunic. Gently, he tugged on her hair until her face looked up into his. "Do you dream about me, Katara? Do you want me the way I want you?"

Her eyes opened, but only enough that she could see the man who intoxicated her so. What she saw only made her blood thicken and her heart heavy as it surged within her chest. Zuko's tawny eyes smoldered and seethed and shimmered in the moonlight. Like a fire that had blazed itself down to the merest glowing embers, they shone and burned as the searched her cobalt eyes.

"What are you thinking?" he whispered, his voice low.

Like a delicate jasmine blossom blowing in the wind, she swayed. When she answered, her voice was husky and not her own. "That I'll die if you don't kiss me."

His breath came in with a hiss, and the hand that was wrapped in her hair tightened to the point of pain. Slowly, like a man enthralled, he bent and fitted his mouth over hers with exquisite care, leaving no sensitive surfaces untouched. For a few moments he moved his head slowly, parting her lips by fractions, feeling the subtle changes in her body tension as she accepted what he was doing to her, what he made her feel. Then, he could wait no longer to taste her, and his head twisted hungrily.

Katara's mouth opened in surprise in response to Zuko's kiss, leaving her vulnerable to the velvet penetration of his tongue. She could neither speak nor move, so tightly was she held in his arms. She had no physical defenses against the slow, hot glide of his mouth against hers. Nor did she have any mental defenses, because she had never been kissed with a tenth as much heat.

It was… consuming.

Mesmerizing.

For that small moment in time, she forgot about her nightmares and the blood that stained and covered her past. Nothing else mattered except for his body against hers, his heartbeat pulsing against hers.

A moan pierced the silence, and neither knew who it came from. With each racing second, they tasted each other more deeply until they were locked in a searching kiss that turned Katara's bones to honey.

Abruptly, he tore his mouth away from hers, and they both surfaced gasping for air. He rested his forehead against hers, and together they fought for footing in the world once more.

Finally, when the world no longer spun, he stepped back enough for them to look at each other. Blue met gold, and for a while, they were simply content to stand there.

After their shared inferno, this moment of peace they now had was sacred.

Strange and precious, neither wanted to break it.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity, Zuko said, "I want to show you something. Will you follow me?" he held out his hand in front of him.

Helplessly, still reeling from the enormous assault that had just plagued her senses, she nodded and placed her hand in his.

He smiled, a small, secret smile, and it was then that Katara realized that she had never seen him truly, genuinely smile.

She cherished it.

"C'mon," he said, tugging on her hand and pulling her out of the harem and into the palace.

"Where are we going?" she asked, finding her voice at last.

"You'll see," he said, his voice light. If Katara had known him better, she would have thought that he was teasing her. And he seemed… happy. She hadn't thought that he was capable of the emotion until now. And even stranger, the thought that she was the source of it didn't make her feel uncomfortable, but warmed her.

Twisting through the empty palace with her hand in Zuko's, she felt right.

It felt right to be with him like this.

He led her to the Eastern gate of the palace, which was on the other side of the harem. The guards who were stationed there clattered to attention, and bowed respectably as they passed. But instead of leaving, he turned suddenly and pulled her up one of the cramped staircases to the battlements above.

Together, they walked out into the still, early morning air. "Leave us," he said, waving away the two guards who were pacing the small section of the battlements that they were on. They nodded, and quickly fled.

Once he and Katara were alone, he let go of her hand, and Katara wanted to cry out in protest. Her own hand felt suddenly strange and foreign without his to encase it. He pressed his hand into the small of her back, and pushed her towards the wall that faced outwards, to open desert.

Confused, she looked up at him, and he bent down and breathed a kiss into the nape of her neck as if to reassure her. They both shuddered at the contact. "Shh," he said, and the hand that was resting in the small curve of her back rubbed slowly back and forth. "Watch the horizon, and see what I see every morning."

A small frown of confusion crossed her brow, but, she followed his orders and looked out towards the vast expanse of the desert.

In the ink black of the pre-dawn morning, a small sliver of the lightest cerulean blue appeared on the horizon. It rested there for the space of several minutes, and it was then that Katara realized the bottom half of sky had shifted, and changed from black to the beautiful, eerie blue. The blue reminded her of the cool waters of the Mediterranean as it crashed up against the rocky beach that lay just beyond the reach of her sea home. Like the small smile Zuko had offered her earlier, Katara avariciously drank in the sight, and filed it away to some smaller part of her mind, where it could be pulled out when her thoughts turned dark again and stank of blood once more.

Then, as if called to appear by the torrent of azure, a small sliver of golden light appeared on the horizon. The light glowed as if lit by some celestial force, and burned across the sky. Like the dusky blue that had appeared before, this light grew as well, changing the blue of the sky from ultramarine to something lighter, something paler and beautiful. As the golden light crept across the horizon, like fire, it shifted and changed from golden to ocher to vermillion, and then to the lightest of pinks.

Emerging from the coral horizon, like a clandestine orb, was the tiniest pin point of white light. So small was it that for a moment, Katara doubted its existence. But then, it too grew and grew, before bursting over the horizon like a bird that had been suddenly set free. And like a bird, it rose and rose in the sky, slowly and carefully, growing and changing the colors of the sky from gold to pink to cerulean once again.

It was one of the singularly most beautiful things Katara had ever seen.

When the sun had finally risen and began decanting its golden light across the desert plain, sand dunes casting shadows that shimmered and smoldered in the new heat of the day, the man who had stood so stilly behind her, amber eyes riveted to the horizon, began to talk.

"From the day that my mother gave birth to me until the day her life was ripped away from her by Zhao, she would take me up to the battlements to watch the sunrise. To her, watching the sun be born again in the dawn sky was more beautiful than any desert flower or oasis. She would wake me up, and lead me through the palace and up the stairs, and should would hold me. It's one of my earliest childhood memories. And after she was murdered, every damn day that I spent in that accursed desert scheming and plotting, I would always wake up in the early dawn hours. I would sit on a sand dune and just stare, and promise myself that no matter what it would take, no matter what the cost, I would find Zhao and kill him the way he had killed my mother."

Without realizing it, by giving Katara this small piece of information about his past, he had given her a piece of his soul. And it broke her heart to imagine what he had described, a younger Zuko, angry and alone, watching what his mother had held so dear and knowing that she would never come back. His routine had turned into a litany, a litany that he had created to never forget his mother and the promises that he had made to himself and his dead family.

It was then that she realized his desire to blaze a bloody path of revenge wasn't just because he wanted to get even. It wasn't some childish game to him. To him, it was the only way that he could sleep at night, that he could rectify the world. At that moment in time, Katara would have done anything for the weeping boy that he had been, even if it meant taking on the desert sheik herself.

She turned in his arms, and looked up at him. In her eyes, she offered him not sympathy, as so many had before, but empathy.

It was one of the greatest gifts he had ever received.

Katara laid her head on his chest, and wrapped her own arms around him. Surprised, his own tightened in response. Then he gave a shuddering breath and said, "I feel like I've always known you."

"I feel the same," she whispered into his tunic.

"That's the first time I've ever told anybody about why I watch the sunrise."

Her lashed swept down, then flittered back up as she tilted her head to look at him. She waited several moments before letting a smile crawl across her face. "Thank you," she said, her voice thick not with gratitude, but recognition as to what he had just offered her.

"I've been waiting a long time for you," he said, his eyes burning into hers.

"How long?" she murmured.

"Forever. I've been waiting for you for forever and I never realized it until this moment."

That last word was breathed against her lips as he leaned down and brushed his slightly against hers. Closing her eyes, she sighed, giving him the chance to deepen the kiss.

Something strange, magical even in its inability to be defined had just passed between them. As their lips moved softly against each others, they both knew that something had changed. Something wasn't the same. And this change would last them the rest of their lives.

"My prince," a strange voice said. "Pardon me, my prince?" The voice called them out of the fog they both dwelled in, and as reality drifted softly back to Zuko, his arms tightened painfully around Katara.

"If we ignore him, he'll leave, right?" he whispered against her lips.

"Honorable prince, I'm desperately sorry to interrupt, but these new battle plans need your approval."

"He's not there. Tell me he isn't there, Katara."

She laughed softly before pulling away. "You're princely duties await you," she said as she stepped out of his embrace.

Visibly aggravated, he raked a hand through his hair.

"My prince?"

"I'll be in the meeting room in a minute!" He barked, turning to shoot a glare that spewed annoyance at the older councilman who stood at the top of the stairs to the battlements. "Wait for me there, all right?"

"As you wish," the councilman said, bowing as he backed down the stairway.

Zuko turned back to look at Katara. Her blue eyes glinted in the sunlight, and its golden rays made her mahogany hair sparkle and glimmer like the finest marble. God help me, he thought to himself. He took her hand, and breathed a kiss into her palm. "Tonight. Tonight I'll take my dinner in my chamber, and you'll join me there. And we will be alone, I'll make sure of it. Say yes, Katara. Tell me that you'll be there. Tell me that that's where you want to be."

The thought of spending more time with him made her body quicken all over again. In the space of several hours, he had managed to take all of the sadness and loneliness that had built up inside her these past three days and throw it to the wind. Like water in the arid desert, it had evaporated. But…

"Zuko, what am I going to do for the next two months? I can't sit in the harem all day. I'm not even a member of it anymore. Mai told me last night that if I didn't work I couldn't sleep there anymore," she said, a small frown creasing her brow.

"You listen to me," Zuko said, grabbing her chin and tilting it so she looked up at him. "Mai has no control over you. You obey nobody's orders but your own. As of now, you're a guest in my palace. And if she ever speaks to you like that again, you will come and find me. For the next two months, you go where you please and do what you want. All right?"

She nodded. "All right."

"Does that mean that I'll see you tonight?"

His question was so hopeful, his tone almost worried that she would say no. Without thinking of any of the repercussions , she nodded her head. And then, "I'll be there."

The relief that she saw wash across his face was like another small gift. It warmed her to know that her own desires had such a profound effect on him.

He dropped a quick kiss onto his brow. "Tonight."

"Tonight," she agreed.

And then he was gone.

SULTAN'S CHAMBERS

EDESSA PALACE

"With the help of Ala-abin's men, will take to desert. Six companies of men will sit here," a councilman said, pointing at a map that was sprawled across Zuko's enormous desk, "and another six will be stationed here and here."

From his position at the back of the room, Aang watched the betrayed prince steep his fingers underneath his chin. Even though his eyes were looking at the maps, they seemed focus on someplace else. It was as if his body was present, but his mind wasn't. And every once in a while, when he was talking or responding to some question that either an officer or councilman had posed, he would trail off, and his eyes would get distant again. He would return several seconds later, dazed and only slightly confused.

If Aang didn't know any better, he would have thought that the bloodthirsty prince was in love.

Love, Aang scoffed. That man isn't capable of love. There is no way that's why he's acting so strange.

But Aang prided himself on his intuition. It was rarely, if ever, wrong.

Maybe it was gas.

"Are you planning the attack to happen at dawn, or after the sun…" and then it happened again. The prince couldn't finish his last thought before he looked to the side.

Befuddlement and astonishment written clearly across his face, Aang leaned forward in his seat, craning his head to try to see around the men crowded in the room and get a better look at Zuko's face. Is that… is he blushing right now?

And then, as if nothing had happened, Zuko snapped back to attention and finished his sentence.

That was… weird, Aang thought. He must have imagined the flush that crept across the prince's face. After all, in the three odd years or so that he had known Zuko, he had made it a point to never, ever express any emotion unless it was closely related to anger.

Still slightly stunned, Aang sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. What if… what if by some celestial mess up, he is in love?

I couldn't have asked for a better weakness if it hit me across the face.

So, for my sake, let's assume the bastard is in love. Who'd be the unfortunate girl?

Aang thought back to all of the women in the palace. He mentally erased anyone who looked over the age of thirty, and then erased all of the cooks, servants, maids… which left the harem women. In his stint in Edessa, he'd had the luck to be entertained by all the members of Zuko's young and beautiful harem. There weren't many, but they all had personalities.

Is it Yue? He thought, thinking of the tall, darkly tanned girl with the soft voice and even softer eyes. No, too quiet. She'd come apart if Zuko ever raised his voice at her, which would be bound to happen once or twice.

Jin? No, that's not right. Everyone knows she has a thing for Prince Jet. She's been the only one that's entertained him since he arrived at the palace. And after he left… you would have thought someone died.

Aang dismissed Ty Lee even before she had crossed his mind. Beautiful though she may be, she was a little too eccentric for the moody prince. Zuko was fond of her, no doubt about that, but the way he acted toward her suggested the fondness of a brother, and not that of a lover.

Mai? She is his Kadin after all. But, then again, out of all the girls who were at the harem, Mai had been there the longest. After Zuko had reclaimed his throne from the rebel sultan, she had calmly walked up to him, dripping in chains, and denounced any attachments she had for the old man. And thus she became the first member of his harem. But Mai had been there for years, and Zuko had never acted like this before. This behavior was certainly a recent development.

Which meant only one thing.

Katara. She's the one whose tying him in knots. But when he had seen her several days ago, she hadn't seemed like she was in love with him. Far from it, in fact. When Iroh came and summoned her to Zuko's chambers, she looked as if the only thing she wanted to do was run away and hope that Zuko never found her again.

There's no way that she could return his feelings. After all, she was sold into slavery and brought here against her will. There was certainly no love lost between her and the prince.

At least, he thought.

If that was the case, she would prove invaluable to him. If she still possesses a tenth of the animosity she felt towards him a couple of days ago, then no doubt she would be willing to help me stop his revenge.

She could do what I can't. She could get under his skin, and get him to divulge everything to her. Not just what he reveals to us in war council, but what he thinks and feels. What lies beneath the rough exterior.

The notion was beyond tempting. A woman who held a man's rapt attention was a dangerous thing.

It couldn't be more perfect.

Aang made a mental note to seek Katara out as soon as this meeting was over. Of course, until he was certain of her feelings, he wouldn't be able to tell her much.

But it was worth a shot.

As these thoughts crossed his mind, in some far corner of his soul, Aang was disgusted with himself. By betraying Zuko to stop trying to avenge Zhao, he was in essence right a wrong with another wrong. Something that he always vowed to himself he would never do.

But when faced with his honor over the integrity of his people, of Arabia, he knew that he had made the right decision. Zhao was a monster, evil to his core and unable to be trusted, but he had never seen a sliver of good from Zuko. When they had stormed the palace a few years ago, he been merciless. Every guard, every councilman, every member of the old sultan's entourage and been brutally murdered.

Aang couldn't let that happen again. He couldn't let more people die just so a selfish little boy could sleep at night.

Zuko has to be stopped.

No matter what it takes.

Mina34: blehhh... so tired...

AnnaAza: first one as always to review! You are amazing!

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gretlcascade: what did I do to earn such a FANTASTIC reviewer? I love hearing you're suggestions. They're always spot on a help me tweak the characters just so. "So shines a good deed in a weary world" belongs to Shakespeare, not to me, but is one of my absolute favorite quotes ever. Gene Wilder references it in Willy Wonka and the chocolate factory too! How was this chapter? The fangirl in me demanded copious amounts of fluff... whoopsies...

Hamelia Le Claire: that's so nice! I am honored that I was your first introduction into Zutara! and no worries, this story will definitely be finished.

Nadikara: thanks SO much for your suggestions! I'm glad you like my little ficcy!

Shrilaraune: quite insightful, and great points... I honestly have no idea where this story would be without your reviews and food for thought! Were the scenes better in this chapter? And I secretly LOVE Iroh. If I could just write about him, I could die a happy author.

Everyone else:

THANK YOU for your AWESOME reviews! The feedback that I get from this story is amazing, and I love getting it! I'm an enormous review whore at heart. But, I have some slightly bad news... I'm leaving Saturday to go study abroad in South Korea for a month, so I honestly have no idea how often I'll be able to update... it might be as frequent as once a week, and I might not be able to update until I get back. Sorry dudes! Don't worry though, this story is constantly writing itself in my head, and will definitely be continued! AND i'll bring back Korean e-goodies for all of my happy little readers!

But only if you review.

Just kidding!

But seriously.

Happy Wednesday!