Author's note: This is where the story really begins. Katara and Zuko are now 18

And thank you to my wonderful beta Katie (spookykangaroo) for editing this for me!

Two years later

It was always dark in the morning, as if a void had opened up sometime in the night and sucked all of the light into it. There weren't many windows in the maze of halls that constituted the palace, so the darkness bounced off the walls of ice and stone. There was a constant moaning, a low sort of thrumming, in the halls at this time of day that Katara associated with the darkness. In the hustle and bustle of the daytime, when the palace was always swarming with advisors and representatives and warriors, you couldn't hear much of anything besides the jumbled buzz of one thousand things happening at once. She often suffered from headaches resulting from the sheer mass of things occurring in one place at one time. But in this stillness of the early morning when the torches had yet to be lit and the only distinguishable noise was the deep bass humming of the dark, she found peace.

Katara went up the stairs to her right that led to the third level of the palace where the cooks and servants lived. The royal family and important political and military figures lived on the first level which was underground, so if there were an attack, they'd be safe and could escape through the complex web of tunnels that ran underneath the capital city. The second level was above ground and housed meeting and training rooms. The third level consisted of a few living chambers for the palace workers. Katara avoided these rooms as to not wake anyone and arouse suspicion as to why she was up at this hour and, more importantly, with the riff-raff and the peasants lucky enough to be working within the castle. Instead, she kept to the side of the floor where the kitchen and laundry rooms were. Soon, however, she came to what seemed to be the end of the hall. She looked behind her before quietly bending a hole in the ceiling and lifting herself through with a gentle stream of water.

And then she could finally breathe.

No one ever went on the roof of the palace. Two slanted sheets of solid ice met at the top and created a slope spotted here and there with outcroppings of vents, one of which Katara now sat beside. She had found the spot years earlier and had visited often once she realized that it hid her from curious eyes while allowing her to see the sunrise. As soon as she was settled down she saw the first blossom of sunrays rising from the Eastern horizon. They seemed to reach out like fingers, pulling on the fabric of the night to hoist the sun higher in the sky. The bright clementine colors met the deep violet of night and a soft pink seemed to bleed from the clash. The sunrays kept pulling the sky and the darkness of night fell below the horizon until the sky became a baby blue, like the color of the shallow water that ebbed on the shores in the West.

She knew she had lingered too long already, but she gave herself five more seconds to enjoy the peace before she threw herself back into the tumult. Five, the softness of the baby blue sky; four, the faint whistling of a new day's breeze; three, the steady lapping of the ocean against the ice; two, the smell of sea salt brushing her skin and curling her hair; one, the solid, living energy of the water around the land, of the ice underneath her hands.

Then she moved the ice around her and let her body drop through the ceiling to the floor of the third level. Pausing only to close the hole above her, she hurried back down three flights of stairs to her chambers and threw on her royal regalia—a navy blue gown over a pair of black trousers—before anyone could walk in and see her still in her nightgown. She was just putting up her hair into the required up-do when one of her father's advisors walked in—unannounced—to inform her that her father was waiting in the Great Hall. She nodded and dismissed the man before letting out a deep, relieved sigh. She did the rest of her hair haphazardly, figuring no one would really care since they would be paying attention to her father all day, and grabbed her water skin before hurrying from the room, almost running into her brother in the hallway.

"Sokka!" she exclaimed, putting a hand over her rapidly beating heart. He had surprised her with his sudden appearance.

"Hey, sis," he said, leaning casually against the opposite wall. "Have a nice outing this morning?"

Katara glared at him. She had a feeling someone had been watching her as she snuck out of her room earlier, even though she'd made sure no one was outside when she left. Figures it was him. Her brother had an uncanny ability to make himself invisible when it was convenient for him. He'd discovered many of her secrets that way, like when he caught her lounging in her father's throne when he'd been away on business, or last year when he followed her to the third floor where she had been spending time with a certain servant boy who had mysteriously disappeared only days after her brother had found them together.

But she simply ignored her younger brother. He wouldn't do anything or tell anyone of her secret—sitting on the roof of the palace was a bit improper, sure, but nothing she could be punished for. At least she hoped. Besides, if he turned her into their father, she could always claim he went up there with her. He couldn't disprove it. Getting her in trouble was the only way he could get on his father's good side, and they both knew it. Their father wouldn't want to punish his daughter, his prodigy, and the heir to his throne.

"What?" he laughed as she rolled her eyes at him and kept walking. "I'm just having some fun with you, come on," he elbowed her in the arm as he caught up to her.

She stayed silent, though and soon he quieted too as they went up the stairs and down the hall that housed the Great Hall; a large, cold room with one long table at which sat at least 50 chairs. Meetings held in that room were important and private, open only to the most influential members of the Water Empire, Katara and Sokka included. This morning a war meeting was scheduled during which they were supposed to discuss an arriving shipment of fire and Earth Kingdom refugees who were captured outside of Omashu, and what they were going to do with them all.

"There are far more than we can manage here," General Attika said when they broached the subject an hour later. Katara turned to look at her father, who was looking at the General to his right with his chin resting on the heel of his hand. He said nothing, but Katara could tell he was contemplating. Say what you want about her father, but he was never one to make an impulsive decision. Even in casual conversation he was always aware of the tone, which way he wanted the conversation to go, and how he could manipulate it so that he achieved the result he wanted. This meeting was no different. They had pushed the topic of the refugees off until the very end of the meeting, and now, as Katara looked around, she could see that everyone, save for her father, was visibly exhausted. Her father could probably say or do anything he liked and everyone would agree just to be finished with it.

Beside her, Sokka was playing with his knife, carving some silly design in the ice table. He had been joking throughout the entire meeting, but now it seemed that even he was finished. Katara sat up straighter. Even though she was tired as well, as the heir to the Water Empire throne, she had to put on an appearance. Even if she wasn't as alert as her father she could certainly act like it.

"And what do you, General, suggest we do with them all?" the Emperor finally said, reversing the conversation to the General, who looked surprised. He hadn't expected to be asked his opinion.

"Well, I-I think we should send them back, sir. Your Highness. They won't do us any good here—only put a strain on our food and other resources."

Her father cocked his head. "Did you not say that these refugees were the ones who resisted arrest? The ones who refused to be sent to the jails of Omashu?"

"I did, Emperor Hakoda."

"Then why would we ever release them, when they could easily decide to rise up against the Water Empire?" Her father's voice had taken on a subtle edge, but it was there. Everyone around the table seemed to notice the shift and sat up in their seats, straightened their backs.

"They are rebels," he continued, "traitors to the Water Empire, and must be put to death."