Author's Note: It's been literally forever, but here is chapter 26! As per the feedback I've received, I'm going to make the chapters longer (this one is over 4,000 words!) This chapter has a bunch of backstory, so I hope it clears up some stuff. Also, I'm suspending reality a bit and giving Toph the ability to bend ice in this chapter. Just pretend it's earth and it makes sense. Other than that, enjoy! (Also, sorry if there are any formatting mistakes, this chapter uploaded funny)

Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar the Last Airbender or any of its characters blah blah blah

Katara pushed the hair back from her face. It hung in a messy braid that touched the small of her back, blending in with the dark brown color of her tunic. Zuko noticed that she didn't look as put-together as she usually did, with flowing robes and fancy hair and makeup, but rather like a normal person for once. Like a peasant. He wondered where she and Toph had gone that it was acceptable for her to dress like this. Even when Zuko went out in the Fire Nation he was always expected to look like a prince. There were certain times when he went out on his own, and it called for more inconspicuous apparel, but otherwise he was always in robes or armor.

"I'm sorry about what happened last night," Katara started. She studied her hands in her lap, not meeting his eyes. Was she embarrassed? Afraid? Zuko didn't want her to feel that way around him.

She should, that pesky voice in the back of his mind said. But he shook it off; now was not the time.

Katara continued. "Training got…out of hand. I was too weak to heal myself. But I could feel the full moon outside, and I knew I had to get out there. You were the only one I felt comfortable enough to go to. I'm sorry I put you in that position."

She hesitated for a prolonged moment, clasping her fingers tightly, before looking up. The candles around the room reflected in her eyes, which were brilliantly blue and watery with tears.

Zuko's hand twitched, just slightly, towards her, but he didn't move further. What do you think you're doing? he chastised himself, clenching his fingers into a fist. She didn't seem to notice, though, so he said, "Katara, don't apologize. I owed you for healing me. And for talking to your brother on my behalf."

Her eyes widened. Perhaps she didn't expect Sokka to listen to her. Zuko didn't think Sokka would listen to anyone, but obviously her words held some kind of weight with him.

"So he was good? I mean, he didn't hurt you?"

Zuko opened his mouth, but paused. His hesitation was enough. Her eyes turned steely and she squared her shoulders to face him. "What did he do?"

Zuko threw his hands up as if to calm her. "I'm fine, really—"

"Zuko," she said in a warning voice.

He sighed, giving in. "Fine." He lifted up his chin slightly and pulled down his shirt to expose the jagged stitches that held together the skin of his neck. Her eyes widened as she touched the stitches softly, running a fingertip across the uneven fold. Zuko hoped she couldn't see the blush undoubtedly coloring his cheeks. What is wrong with me today? He thought, trying to ignore the warm, swirling feeling in his stomach.

"Who helped you?"

"Jin," Zuko said automatically. Then he realized that she probably didn't know who Jin was, so he elaborated. "A servant. Like me."

Katara gazed at him from under her eyelashes, her lips turned downward. He thought she might be mad or something, but then she said, "She did a good job." Katara leaned back. "But I can heal that for you, if you want. It'll be a lot faster than waiting for it to heal on its own."

Zuko let his shirt snap back into place, considering her offer. He wanted to accept. The wound still hurt a little bit, and when anything rubbed against the stitches it itched like fire ants, but there was something almost dishonest about it. If Jin saw that the cut was miraculously healed, she might start to get suspicious. She might think there was something going on between him and Katara. Which was ridiculous, but Zuko didn't want to give her another reason to dislike the Princess. Besides, if people knew they had this weird relationship where they saved each other from time to time, it would make it that much harder to actually kill her in the end.

"No," Zuko said with a small smile. "It's fine."

Katara shrugged and he thought he saw something like disappointment cross over her face, but it was gone in a flash. "Is that all you came here for?"

Was that all he'd gone there for? He didn't exactly remember why he'd stopped by in the first place. He knew he wanted to make sure she was okay, but was that it?

"Yeah," he said anyway, standing up. "I guess that's all."

"Okay."

It occurred to him that he still didn't get a straight answer about her father, and he got the feeling that he never would. He paused at the door, one hand on the wooden frame.

"I'm sorry I called you weak."

She stared up at him, her face unreadable.

"Honestly, I don't know you or your father well enough to make such judgements. But I do know," he said, his voice firm, "that you shouldn't let him treat you like that."

He expected her to fight back, to defend her father as instinctively as she had that first night they'd been alone.

Instead, she held his gaze and said, "I know." It took him by surprise. It was the worst thing he had ever heard her say about the Emperor, and it was only two words. Zuko nodded once; nothing else needed to be said. She didn't make any move to see him out, so he closed the door behind him and stepped out into the empty hall. From the looks of it Sokka was still in his room. Technically, he should have checked to see if the Prince needed anything, but Zuko was still angry at him for yesterday's incident. Instead, he made his way up to the third floor, where people were starting to congregate for dinner. He spied Jin across the room as soon as he walked through the doors, sitting at a table with another guy and an older woman. She saw him and waved him over, but he just waved back.

He needed to find someone else.

"We need to talk," Zuko said as soon as he found her sitting by herself in the corner of the room, a plate with a single roll on it sitting untouched in front of her. Toph didn't move or even acknowledge his presence.

Zuko growled under his breath and sat down rathe forcerfully, straddling the bench to face her. "Toph, are you listening to me?"

She rolled her eyes and grabbed the roll. "Calm down Hotpants. Don't blow a fuse."

He grabbed her forearm, stopping her mid-bite. "That's exactly what we need to talk about. Why do you keep calling me that?"

She smirked, a half-smile that was definitely meant to taunt him. "You're from the Fire Nation, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah," Zuko said. It was kind of obvious. All the servants had been issued some variation of a blue uniform, depending on their station, so Zuko's old red clothing had been destroyed, probably burned. But his pale skin and black hair were unmistakably Fire Nation.

"Well, yeah," Toph mocked him, then waved a hand in front of her face. "You're not very observant, are you? It's not like I can see what you look like. I am blind."

Oh. So that's why she wouldn't meet his eye, and why she didn't look at who she was speaking to. Now that she'd said it, he noticed the glaze over her light green eyes, the way they stared at nothing as if she were in another world, even though her body language was alert.

"I'm sorry," Zuko said awkwardly. What else could he say?

"Whatever, Sparky."

"So is that the only reason you call me that? Sparky and Hotpants, because I'm from the Fire Nation?" Zuko hoped he wasn't being too obvious, but he had to know. He had to know that she didn't know. Because if she did, things could go very badly.

"That," she started, tearing her roll into pieces, "and because you're a firebender."

"Shhh!" Zuko clasped a hand over her mouth and checked around them to make sure no one had overheard. The dining hall was so crowded and loud, though, that someone would have to be standing right next to them to hear their conversation. Then something slimy and sharp touched his hand and he drew back, cradling it.

"You bit me!"

"Don't do that again, buddy," she threatened, and wiped the back of her hand over her mouth, as if he were the disgusting one. She didn't say anything more, and after a few moments it became evident that she thought the conversation was over. Zuko grimaced. It was far from over. He grabbed her arm and stood up, dragging the girl with him. She may be tough, but he was bigger and stronger, and now he was angry too. She threatened to scream as he pulled her from the dining room, and he dared her to. She yanked her arm from his grip indignantly, but followed him into the hall.

"This could be considered kidnapping, you know."

"How do you know what I am?" he asked, forcing her back against the wall and away from nosy ears of people entering the dining room.

"Maybe I didn't and guessed," she drawled. "But you just confirmed it."

He slammed a fist against the wall, sending a shock of pain through his wrist. He forgot it was made of ice. At least she couldn't see the pain on his face. "You knew. Don't lie to me!"

"Oh calm down, Fire Flakes. I'm not going to tell anyone."

Zuko relaxed a little bit and leaned away from her. He didn't believe or trust her. He would have to do something, nonetheless; it was just too much of a risk for someone to know he could firebend. He'd done a good job of hiding it so far, but if the guards realized he could bend he'd be thrown into prison, maybe even the Pit. They wouldn't let a firebender live in the palace with the royalty. And then everything he'd endured up to this point would have been for nothing.

"How can I trust you?" Zuko crossed his arms and stole a glance at two girls entering the dining room. They didn't seem to be listening; rather, they were talking about some sort of dance coming up. The ball. Zuko remembered Jin talking about it, the dance they were going to have after the Supreme War Summit. He had almost forgotten. But that didn't matter right now.

Toph blew out a breath, making the black hair in front of her eyes rise and fall right back into place. "You probably shouldn't. Trust me, I mean." She pursed her lips, thinking. "How about I make us even? Tell you a secret that could get me in as much trouble as your secret could get you?"

Zuko cocked an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

Toph smirked, but there was something uneasy, something vulnerable in it. And then she leaned forward and she said, in low voice, "What if I told you I'm an earthbender?"

"What?" Zuko exclaimed. Toph grinned up at him, her lips a tight, smug line. An earthbender? he thought, incredulous. No way. "I don't believe you."

Her smile fell. Then—so quickly he almost didn't see it—her foot moved, slid over the ground, and Zuko was somehow flat on his back.

"Ouch," he complained as he sat up, rubbing his spine. "Okay, so you weren't lying. Does Katara know about this?"

"Nope," she said, and extended a hand down to him. He took it and let the girl help him to his feet with unprecedented strength. Everything about this scenario was odd: This short girl in a dress and fancy hair thingies was an earthbender, and a good one at that. She'd been able to catch him by surprise and, more than that, beat him to the ground in a matter of seconds. Zuko felt his face flush. He was supposed to be a master firebender, incapable of defeat, especially by a little girl. But this little girl seemed to be more than she appeared.

"I won't tell your secret if you don't tell mine," Zuko bartered.

"Deal," she said, and shook his hand, which she was still holding. "But you might wanna tell Katara, and soon."

"Why?" Zuko asked. She was probably the last person in the place, apart from the Emperor, that he wanted to know his secret. Her being aware of his abilities worked against him in all possible ways. If she didn't turn him over to her father, it would at least put her on guard whenever he was around and seriously limit his opportunities to get rid of her.

"Because," Toph said, and started walking back to the dining hall. "She's smart. Sooner or later, she's going to figure out who I am, but at least she likes me." She paused at the doors. "I can't say the same for you."

I know. And Katara did know. She'd put up with far too much of her father's abuse over the years. She didn't know why it had taken her so long to realize that she didn't deserve any of it.

For a while, she thought it was making her stronger. When she was younger, and her father would pin her to the ground or freeze her to the wall for hours on end, she would have to figure a way out of the situation. It did make her smarter, craftier. But there were other ways of teaching such a lesson.

Once, after about a year of lessons, Master Pakku buried her under a mountain of snow with no escape. There wasn't any air or any light, and every time she tried to move, to bend the snow off of her, it only packed in more tightly. She thought she was going to die. She had begged him to let her out but he told her to figure it out. "Someone won't always be there to save you," he had called through the thick snow. "You must learn how to save yourself."

So she did. She bent a hole through the ice below her, swam through the seawater, and climbed back up through the ice a yard away. Althought she was wet and shivering, Katara felt satisfied. She had been frightened, sure, but Master Pakku had encouraged her and ultimately made her stronger.

He had gushed to her father about how resourceful she was in that proud yet reserved voice he always used, and said how much her bending had improved in that short time he'd been tutoring her. He didn't take all the credit, of course—that wasn't his style. He said Katara had natural talent. That Tui and La had truly blessed her.

Two months later, Pakku was gone. No goodbye, nothing. He was there one day and gone the next. Her father said he had business up North, and that Pakku thought Katara had outgrown him, so he had nothing more to teach her. She knew this was a lie, as he had intended to teach her a new attack in a few days and had repeatedly told her that her water whip was too flimsy and needed work. But Katara had taken her father's word without question.

After that, her father had overseen her training, but he had taken Pakku's lessons to the extreme. He would drop her in the middle of the ocean and sail away, or freeze her in a block of ice like some sort of criminal. He never helped or encouraged her, and she was left to fend entirely for herself.

Master Pakku had never written an explanation or excuse for leaving so abruptly, and she had never written to ask for one. Those who hurt her had a habit of never apologizing for it.

Which was why Zuko's apology shocked her so much that she could only croak out, "I know." She had wanted to ask him to stay a little bit longer, just to talk, but she let him go. It was probably for the best, anyway. Every time she looked at him her gaze dropped to the rudimentary stitches across his throat. She felt an uncomfortable shiver crawl down her back just thinking about them. The wound was red and puffy and probably infected, but she respected his decision not to have her heal it.

She just wished he had decided the other way.

There came a loud thump from down the hall, loud enough that she heard it through her room's heavy wooden door. For a split second she panicked, thinking it had something to do with Zuko. But he had left a while ago, and besides, why should she care?

Still, she went to look. No one was out there; the darkness stretched from end to end, curving around the corners. Then there was another thump, followed by a loud curse. Katara closed the door behind her and ran to Sokka's room.

"Sokka?" she called through the door. When there was no answer she turned the handle, expecting to feel some resistance from him on the other side. He hated having her in his room. He hated anyone in his room, actually. But it opened without trouble and she walked in to see Sokka sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by dirty clothes and the splintered remains of what used to be a dresser. His space sword was across the room on the floor. Beside it was a vase, cracked right down the center of the water emblem painted on it.

"Are you okay?" Katara asked, darting forward to stand in front of her brother. His face was resting in his hands and his shoulders were shaking, but he wasn't crying. He didn't seem to be hurt or anything. Just mad.

"Why can't I do this?" he shouted, looking up at her suddenly. His cheeks bloomed with red and a vein popped out on the center his forehead.

"Do what?" Katara asked, confused and wary of his anger.

"This!" he said, waving his arms around.

Katara was getting irritated. She had come here to help him and now she was getting yelled at. "I don't know what this is!" she imitated with her arms.

He huffed and strode over to the side of the room to get his sword. "I can't use this thing!" He shook it at her like it was a broken toy.

"What are you talking about?" Katara cried as he threw it against the wall, making the framed pictures hung there shake dangerously. "You're a great swordsman!"

"Then why can't I beat him?" Sokka fell on his bed, face-planting into the fur comforter that covered his bed.

"Who?" Katara asked, though she already knew the answer.

Sokka didn't look up, but buried his face further. "That fire brat Zuko."

"I heard you did beat him last night," she said, ignoring the fire brat slur, "although it wasn't much of a fair fight."

"Oh, would you stop defending him?" Sokka sat up, getting so close to her face she could feel the spit hit her face when he talked. "He is a peasant. From the Fire Nation. He is my servant. He's nothing! He just happens to be good with a sword." He fell back down to the bed and Katara watched him uncertainly.

When they were younger, she and her brother had been much closer. He threw tantrums like this all the time and she used to be able to handle him with some comforting words or a bowl of ice cream. But now there was this distance between them, and Katara was at a loss for words. She didn't know how to help. Especially since his mother died, Sokka had been irritable all the time, always ready to explode at the slightest spark of anger.

Which was why she didn't think Zuko was really the problem.

When Reya was alive and living in the palace, she made sure Hakoda spared time for his son. He could get so caught up in Empire business or training Katara or fighting with Kya that he would neglect Sokka, who was often just an innocent bystander in all of the chaos. Right after Reya died, Sokka had clung to Hakoda, like one would expect a child to do after the loss of one parent. And Hakoda had comforted him as best he could. Katara thought they might actually grow closer through their mutual loss. But after the grief wore off for Hakoda, he ignored Sokka more than ever. They saw each other at meals and sometimes in passing, but even Katara could tell that he didn't want anything to do with his son. She'd like to blame it on Sokka's resemblance to his mother—their dark brown skin, similar to her own but with more gold undertones, and his spiky hair—that maybe seeing him reminded her father of his loss, but he had never really loved Reya. Everyone knew it.

Kya had once told her the story of how Reya came to be the Emperor's Mistress: He had met her on a political trip to the Northern Tribes and brought her back to the Empire on a whim. He had been married to Kya for about a year at the time, and Katara was still a baby, but he decided to take Reya as his mistress. Some called it a whirlwind romance. Katara called it her father's selfishness. Either way, her mother stressed that it wasn't Reya's fault. She had become infatuated with the Emperor and being privy to the perks of being his Mistress. But she was young, and did not understand what it meant to be royalty.

Some people in the Empire thought Kya was jealous of her. At the time she was about five years older than the young Northern girl, and many believed that her beauty had hit its peak, that the Emperor was tired of her. Not many people knew, however, that the only thing keeping Reya in the castle was Kya. After Sokka was born—no, after Hakoda learned he was a non-bender—he had wanted to kick them out and send them back to the North. To be sent home by the Emperor would be shameful, and Reya would have likely lived the rest of her life an outcast. Sokka wouldn't have grown up a prince; he would have been a street urchin.

But Kya threatened to take Katara and go, to leave Hakoda without an heir if he made Reya and her son leave. She threatened to raise Katara as rightful blood-heir to the throne and to usurp him when she came of age. These were weak threats and might not have worked had her mother not held so much influence over Hakoda and the rest of the Empire. Some people just thought she was a jealous, dried-up housewife, but the majority of citizens respected her and would follow her were she to challenge the throne.

This is where their relationship had begun to sour.

Hakoda let Reya and Sokka stay and they lived a comfortable life. Plus, Katara got a little brother and a playmate. Of course, when Katara started her bending training with Pakku and Sokka was limited to weaponry, things had changed between them. They were still half-siblings, and loved each other as such, but there was an element of imbalance, of jealousy. A wedge that had only dug deeper between them as they grew older, and finally split their relationship apart when Reya died months ago.

Katara lay a tentative hand on Sokka's shoulder. When he didn't bat it off and order her to leave, she moved it in small circles, trying to comfort him. She had often seen Reya do this when Sokka got upset, and she hoped it would help, rather than anger him.

"You're a good swordsman," she insisted. "And one day, when you become the best in the world, this one loss won't seem like it was ever important." She heard Sokka sigh into the bed and he rolled over, making Katara draw her hand back. His face was calmer, more composed, and he pushed himself up to a sitting position. Katara saw him eye the mess he had made and the broken vase, and she took his hand.

"Can I help you clean this up?"