Author's Note: Here is the next chapter. It's kind of rough, but honestly I'm getting so confused because I've written so far past this that now I'm coming back to edit and post and I don't even remember what I've written haha! But anyway, enjoy! Thank you so much for your feedback, and please if you like this story, share with others :D (Also, please ignore the random row of 'nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'-this website won't let me enter spaces for time breaks)

Disclaimer: I don't own a:tla or its characters ugh whatever

Katara was in class the next day. Zuko didn't ask anything else about her mysterious absence or her father, and she didn't offer to talk about it. As the days passed, they went about their regular schedules as a Princess and a servant should, and hardly interacted.

Except for the sidelong glances they shared in the classroom, and the kind "hellos" they threw out as they passed each other in the stairwell. Once in a while Katara summoned him if she needed something from Sokka or if she wanted him to help Toph with a chore. He started seeing Katara more often as time went on, and he was disconcertingly fine with it.

Zuko and Toph accompanied Sokka and Katara to their meals, and while they ate with the Emperor and Empress, Zuko and Toph would go up to the servant's dining hall and eat with Jin. Toph didn't mention anything about Zuko's bending, thankfully, and Jin was eager to welcome Toph into their small band of friends. They always sat at the same table with a large man named Tuuk, a middle-aged woman called Karper, and Orchard, a girl about Toph's age. As it turned out, Zuko had been sleeping beside Tuuk for the past few weeks and had never known who he was. He was probably a bit younger than Zuko's father. He had short brown hair that he kept trimmed in a straight line above his eyebrows and was from a fishing region in the Northern Water Kingdom. Karper and Orchard (whose real name Zuko learned was Jai-Lin, but she preferred a name with earthlier tones) were from the Earth Kingdom. Coincidentally, they both lived in different cities near Gaoling, where Toph was from.

There weren't many servants from the Fire Nation, Zuko noticed. There was one older man who, one day when Zuko was in front of him in the dinner line, confided to Zuko that he was a deserter from the Fire Nation Capital City. He'd been drafted into the war when he was a young man and had fled the country to avoid it. He had traveled through the Fire Nation to the Earth Kingdom, and even to the Western Air temple before ending up in the Southern Water Kingdom, where he had voluntarily become a citizen of the Empire.

Zuko had been steaming throughout the story, naturally. All he could think about was how Azula had joined and fought in the war, and had given up her life for something this man had cowardly run from. Zuko forced a smile and ditched his tray in the line to get away from the man. Jin kindly split her food with him, but he hadn't been able to voice his frustrations when she asked without giving too much away with his emotions. So instead he kept it bottled in until the rage eventually died out later that evening.

Zuko had seen the man once or twice since then, but made it a point to avoid him. He was a traitor to his country. He was lucky they were in the Water Empire and under its jurisdiction or he'd have the guy thrown in prison to rot.

At lunch one afternoon, weeks later, Zuko was contemplating the situation absently in the back of his mind. It bothered him for a reason he couldn't quite understand.

A traitor to his country. And then, as if a bell had sounded, the words rung with recognition in his mind. It didn't take him long to realize where he had heard that before, and as soon as he did, he wished he could just forget. But the memory was already resurfacing, bringing all the emotions of that day to the forefront of his mind.

"I have to go," he said to the table as he stood up. Jin called after him but he was already out the door, heading down the hallway to the washroom. Luckily there was no one else in there, so he went straight to the sink and splashed his face with freezing water, trying to calm down. He saw the porcelain of the sink glow red as his hands uncontrollably heated it. He was too angry. He started pacing the room, hands clasped behind his back like handcuffs to keep him from lashing out.

It had been so long ago—why did it still affect him like this? The skin on the right side of his face began to throb, then burned with the memory, as if it had just happened yesterday.

"Get a hold of yourself," he hissed to no one, and closed his eyes, trying to control the fire that was threatening to incinerate him from the inside out. It was there, in the dark space behind his eyelids, that he saw the scene play out.

"You are a traitor to your country. What do you have to say for yourself?" The Fire Lord demanded, his voice spreading across the room like a wave of heat. Uncle Iroh bowed before him on his hands and knees, shackles draped from wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle. He looked up at his brother, the orange fire behind the altar reflected in his golden eyes which, usually bright with vitality, looked dead beneath the flickering glow of the flames.

"I make no excuse for my actions," he said softly, his voice a croak, hoarse from hours of crying. Zuko had sat outside his uncle's room, listening to his soft sobs turn into cries of pain that reverberated through his war-weathered body. Defend yourself, Zuko thought maddeningly. You just lost a son. Blame your grief!

But Iroh bowed his head, refusing any explanation that could exempt him from the punishment that was necessary for these kind of infractions: death.

Zuko had been paying attention in his studies.

"Very well, brother," Ozai spit. Zuko strained to hear the remorse in his father's voice as he said these next words, but heard none. "Then I have no choice but to sentence you to death."

The room packed with nobles and dignitaries went still save for the fire ever-crackling in the background. It sounded like static to Zuko's ears. His mother stiffened beside him, her back straight, but she kept her head down, respectfully. Even Azula looked distraught despite never liking Uncle. She often said that loving Lu Ten made him soft, gave him a weakness. "He is a fool," she said the day he received notice that Lu Ten had been captured by the enemy, the Water Empire. "He is going to do something regretful." And he had.

Zuko thought he might fight someone or go after Lu Ten himself, both dishonorable for a General of the Fire Nation Army. But instead, he had relinquished his post and refused the throne which Ozai had been temporarily holding in his absence. And then he committed possibly the worst crime he could: he said he was leaving the Fire Nation and giving up his citizenship.

Had he just gone with no pomp and circumstance, he might have been okay. If he kept his identity a secret and his whereabouts unknown, the Fire Lord might have simply forgotten about his estranged brother. But he had made his denunciation public, therefore sentencing himself.

Zuko looked at the mirror and, in the reflection of his eyes, saw the scythe of fire erupt from his Father's hand to cut Iroh down.

Katara had expected things to change with Sokka after his meltdown. But days passed and he was still the same goofy, idiotic, conniving brother she had grown up with. The only progress she saw in him was an increased determination to improve his weaponry. He woke in the morning, ate enough for three navy soldiers, and then trained until the next meal, and so on. He was still in charge of the refugee conversion, but he had handed over a majority of that responsibility to one of the lieutenants so he could focus on his training. And they both still had school, but he often arrived late and made up some excuse to leave early.

On one hand, Katara was glad he was finally taking something seriously, something that didn't involve torturing other people (except maybe Zuko, but he hadn't come to her for any healing sessions lately, so she assumed he was fine). On the other hand, she was concerned that he was using his training as a mechanism to avoid their father. Things had been strained between them for the past year, and now their relationship was even worse. Perhaps Sokka feared their father would think him weak if he learned a servant had bested him in a sparring match.

They hardly even spoke at the dinner table anymore. Sokka didn't try to make him laugh with new terrible jokes, and his father didn't inquire about the refugee conversion. In fact, Hakoda seemed rather distracted lately. He and Katara hadn't trained since the last time he'd hurt her. Not that she was complaining, but it was odd behavior for someone who was usually so adamant about her training.

Kya was the only one acting like her normal self, even though she was incredibly busy. The Supreme War Summit was coming up in a little over a week. Kya had taken it upon herself to oversee the comfort of their guests who would be staying in the palace. It was going to be more crowded than it had been in years, possibly since before Katara was born. This was a major step for the Water Empire in the race towards winning this war and finally, finally having peace in the world. Generals from all over the Empire would be gathering to meet with investors and inventors for the war effort, all with the common goal of coming up with a plan to end this war once and for all.

It would be a grand affair, one for the history books, but Katara had her doubts. She'd seen these kinds of gatherings—granted on a smaller scale, but still—and they had the tendency to get out-of-hand. One person particularly gifted with speech could single-handedly convince a whole group of seasoned military officials to do something drastic and dangerous if the mood was right, and especially if alcohol was involved. They would get into this group mindset and make rash decisions without thoroughly examining the possibilities and consequences.

Katara had convinced her father to let her sit in on the meeting in order to prevent such a thing from occurring, but what could her small voice could do against the thundering of a hundred generals?

At any rate, the palace was buzzing with anticipation. Servants, cooks and maids were busy with preparations, and Kya was overseeing them all. Hakoda was surely preoccupied with this as well, as he often retired to his room early in the evening and wouldn't resurface until late the following morning. And with Sokka so obsessed with his training, Katara didn't really know what to do with herself other than worry over other people.

Which is why when she saw Zuko later that day in the hallway, she pulled him aside.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him when they stopped around the corner, aptly hidden from wandering eyes.

He leaned against the wall. "Fine. Why do you ask?"

"Really?" she lifted an eyebrow. "You don't feel sick at all? Unusually hot or irritable?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, but his voice was all wrong. Katara knew she was right.

She pointed at his neck. "Your wound. It's infected."

Zuko looked down as if he could see it under his chin, then back up at her. There was something odd in the shy smile he gave her. Something almost relieved.

"Oh," he said. "I didn't realize."

"I know you said you didn't want me to heal it," she started, leaning forward, "but you should really get that looked at."

Zuko scratched the back of his head, ruffling his hair. It seemed messier than usual, like he'd slept badly the night before or had been grabbing at it. "You're probably right."

Katara reached forward to carefully touch the wound. The skin there was just beginning to show signs of infection and was red around the edges of the stitches. Jin had done a pretty good job, but Zuko evidently hadn't taken proper care of it.

"Come on," she said and, not realizing what she was doing until it was done, took his hand and started walking down the hall. When the brevity of what she had done hit her, she loosened her fingers, intending to let go, but his grip tightened.

It's just a reflex, she told herself. Still, she didn't absolutely hate the rush of electricity that ran up her forearm when he didn't let go.

She brought them to her parent's room. Hopefully Kya was the only one in there, but she couldn't be sure, so Katara dropped Zuko's hand before she rapped twice on the door.

"Coming!" she heard a muffled voice call from inside the room.

"I'd heal you myself," Katara told Zuko, "but I'm best at broken bones and external wounds. My mother is better with infection. It deals with the blood."

Zuko looked stricken. "She's not going to…bloodbend, is she?"

Katara frowned at him. "No, of course not. My mother can't bloodbend. But there is water in blood, and she can manipulate that without actually bending it."

Zuko looked calmer, but there was still an uneasiness to his stance, a worried crease between his eyebrows. Was he afraid of bloodbending?

Katara studied the ground so he couldn't read the emotions on her face. What would he think of her if he knew she could bloodbend? Would he be afraid of her? She hated the ability but it was a part of her. A part she constantly fought against, but a part nonetheless. And she would never use it against someone out of hate or malice. She never wanted to use it, period.

Kya opened the door then and froze when she saw the two of them, her expression composed but clearly awaiting an explanation.

"Mother, this is Zuko."

"I believe we've met," Kya replied, but still held out her hand. Zuko shook it once, respectfully. "You work for Sokka." Katara saw the exact moment her gaze fell on his wound and understanding flooded her features.

"Ah, I see." Then she smiled that soft smile that transformed her from regal Water Empress to comforting mother. She stepped out of the doorway and waved a hand.

"Please, come in."

Kya crossed her arms over her chest. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

Zuko stilled. Her demeanor had swiftly turned as icy as the room around them.

Up until then, everything had been going fine. More than fine, actually. The Empress was an amazing healer. Zuko had been hesitant at first; he believed Katara when she said her mother wouldn't bloodbend, but he was doubtful. When she placed her hands over his neck, he felt incredibly vulnerable, the panic rising to the top of his head. And then she started talking, asking about his work and how he liked living in the palace. Zuko said it was fine, that Sokka was a great guy, and he loved his job. He caught Katara's eye as he said this and she smiled, making him chuckle deep in his throat.

"Zuko…" the Empress warned, her hands still hovering over his skin. The water was cool against his neck and bursting with energy. He felt the hair on his arms stand on end, and he suddenly felt a warm calmness overtake him. So this is waterbending, he thought. It wasn't that bad. Of course, this was only healing. Surely this wasn't what they used in war. He'd heard stories from soldiers who had been bloodbent. They said if felt like you suddenly lost control of your entire body, and were forced to watch helplessly as it turned against you.

But Empress Kya's healing was over just as soon as it began, and afterwards, when he touched his throat, it was smooth as silk. She held up an ivory-backed mirror for him to examine the wound, and he was pleased to see nothing there. As he was admiring her work, she asked Katara to leave the room.

He saw Katara pause in the reflection of the mirror and glance at him. He didn't want her to leave, but she obeyed her mother, shooting Zuko one more look over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her.

Something I'd like to tell her? He thought now, looking at the Empress, who was staring levelly at him. Was she talking about Katara? Because it's not like he had done anything. They were just friends. That was all. Unless Katara had said something otherwise to her mother…No, of course not. That'd be crazy.

So she must have been talking about something else. The Empress of the Water Empire must be pretty powerful. She probably had eyes and ears everywhere. What if she had found out who he was…whose son he was?

"I-I don't think so," he stuttered, mentally kicking himself for sounding so unsure.

Her eyes shaded. "Zuko, don't lie to me."

He said nothing. He couldn't risk revealing anything further by trying to make up a lie on the spot, and he couldn't tell her the truth. It would ruin everything.

"Bending is a genetic trait," she said. "It's in our blood, and I can feel the fire in yours."

Zuko could hear his heartbeat thundering like a herd of ostrich horse hooves in his ears. Of course she figured it out. Katara had said she was a talented healer, able to manipulate blood. He should have known she would be able to tell.

So was that it then? Would she tell the Emperor and have him thrown in prison or sentenced to death? Was this the moment he had been waiting for to start his attack? If it was going to be him or her, he didn't intend to lose.

The Empress rolled her eyes and lifted her lips, and he saw Katara in her smile. It startled him; not only the resemblance, but that he recognized it. "Relax, Zuko. I won't tell anyone."

"Really?" he blurted, then flushed. He hadn't meant to sound so desperate, but he was surprised. She was the Empress of the Water Empire, for Spirit's sake! And she was going to keep a firebender's secret?

She nodded. "In fact, I have a favor to ask of you."

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Jin was unusually cold to him that night at dinner, and he was pretty sure it had something to do with his wound being miraculously healed. Her poor mood spoiled his as well, and he spent the meal glaring at his plate of stale kelp strips. It was the third time that week they'd eaten the same food. Orchard was complaining about it, holding up the dry vegetable and waving it around, telling everyone who would listen that it wasn't naturally grown or organic.

"They're saving all the good food for the banquet," Toph interuppted loudly, spitting kelp all over the table.

"How do you know?" Karper asked, her soft voice barely wafting over to the other side of the table.

Toph shrugged and ate another heaping forkful. "Katara told me."

"That's coming up soon, right?" Zuko asked.

"Little over a week."

"I heard some guards talking about it," Orchard said. "Nobles from all over the Empire will be here, in the palace. There's going to be a ball, too!"

Yeah, Zuko thought tersely, and a War Summit to plan world domination. But the ball will be lots of fun.

"Do you think we'll get to go?" Karper asked, her quiet voice excited.

"Dunno," Toph said. "I'll be there with Katara."

Zuko looked at her. "Guess that means I'll be there with Sokka." Unless Sokka decided to have another servant accompany him, though he doubted it. Even though the Prince had been a little distant lately, he still complained about his other servants to Zuko, how they were useless and old. Zuko didn't fool himself into thinking he was exempt to the Prince's disgust, but he knew he was preferable over the others.

"Oh great," Jin huffed under her breath. "All four of you. It'll be like a double date."

The other four people at their table fell into uncomfortable silence as Zuko stared, red-cheeked, at Jin. "What are you talking about?" he hissed at her, shocked that she would say something like that out loud. He had guessed she was upset about Katara, but to actually come out and say it in front of everyone was totally out of line.

Jin glared back at him, her hard gaze full of emotion Zuko could only understand too well: She was jealous. Of what, he couldn't say. It's not like he asked to be thrust into this world, into his situation. Besides, there was nothing going on between him and Katara. She was the Empire Princess, the future Empress. He was the Fire Nation Prince and soon-to-be Fire Lord. And he was going to kill her.

His chest constricted. It did that more and more lately. Every time he thought about his mission, something in him pulled back. But it was the right thing to do, and he knew it. It was honorable.

There seemed to be a very faint line forming between right and honorable that became more defined every day.

Katara was dreading Audiences before she even woke up the next morning. She had dreamt of a never-ending line of angry, yelling people wrapping around her like a serpent; one thousand hands clasped around her throat while their cries made her deaf.

Needless to say, she was in a bad mood when she went up to breakfast. Sokka pounced on this, asking her why she looked like drowned otter pup when she sat down in her chair. Katara didn't even waste energy to glare at him, let alone tell him off. His heart didn't seem to be in it either, because he dropped the insults when she didn't respond. Her father ignored both of them and left the table just as one of the cooks brought Katara a bowl of warm porridge.

He was a nice old man name Loq who had worked at the palace for many, many years. He knew an endless supply of stories from when Hakoda and his brother were growing up, and when Katara was younger and could still get away with it, she would sneak up to the kitchen late at night for a bowl of ice cream and a few of Loq's nostalgic tales. She hadn't done that in years, but Loq still gave her an extra scoop of porridge every morning. She smiled at him before he turned to head back to the kitchen.

As Katara was eating, and Sokka started rambling on about a new sword he wanted to buy, Kya came into the room dressed in her travelling robes.

"Are you going somewhere?" Katara asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I need some things for next week. But I won't be gone long."

"Pity," Sokka muttered, and Katara shot him a look. She knew her mother had heard but chose to ignore him. Loq brought out another bowl and Kya accepted it gratefully, then started discussing the banquet, for which they'd already begun preparing.

Katara was already late for Audiences, so she shoveled down the rest of her breakfast and hurried from the room. As she jogged to the Great Hall, she threw her hair into a bun and smoothed down her shirt. Even if she felt terrible, she needed to look presentable.

By the time she emerged through the curtains and sat down in the throne, there was already a line of people waiting for her. Her father was nowhere to be seen, however.

"Where is the Emperor?" she asked one of the advisors to her left, an old man named Korak, who was looking down his nose at a scroll.

"His Highness will not be joining us, today. I have been instructed to oversee the Audiences in his absence."

She knew what he really meant: 'I'm your babysitter.' Katara sighed and pulled a few strands of hair behind her ears. "Very well. We can begin."

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Almost done, Katara reminded herself, gazing impatiently at the few people left in the room. They looked just about as tired as she felt; they'd been waiting for hours to see her, so at the least she could give them her full attention.

One man wanted approval to build a large barn out towards the South of the island where he bred arctic cattle. He was one of the capital's most important farmers, a major source of meat for the citizens, so she gave him the go-ahead at once. The woman after him wanted to know why there was suddenly an increased military presence in the city. Katara explained, as calmly as she could, that there was an important meeting coming up soon, and the Emperor wanted to make sure their guests felt as comfortable as they could. Katara left out the part where the soldiers were apprehending everyone believed to be guilty of any sort of criminal activity and throwing them in the Pit. Her father wanted the capital to look and behave its best for the nobles, and nonsense was not to be tolerated.

Katara was just about to collapse from exhaustion when the guards brought forward the last man in line. Her eyelids fluttered, wanting to fall shut and stay that way for approximately 100 years, but she rendered any strength she had remaining and looked down at him. He was tall with a strong build and the kind of face that made you take him seriously before he even started speaking.

"Can I help you, sir?" Katara addressed him as she did all the others.

"Yes," he replied, and bowed on one knee, as was expected. "I have but one quick question, and then I will leave. I would hate to take up any more of your precious time. You have had a long day."

Katara smiled at him gratefully. Not many people acknowledged how hard this job was, especially when she was doing it all by herself. "You may approach."

One of the guards prodded his shoulder with his staff and the man took a step towards Katara.

When he looked up, she knew something was wrong. She saw the contempt in his eyes, the way his body was poised to move, and yet she did nothing. Perhaps her mind was too tired from the day's work, her body too sluggish, but she let him continue forward. And by the time he asked his question, it was too late.

"Who killed Mistress Reya?"

Everything happened in a blur, too fast and panicked for Katara to react.

The man moved, bending an ice dagger at Katara's heart, and then she was thrown to the side. She fell from her chair and hit the icy platform on her shoulder. Her head was swimming, but she opened her eyes in time to see the guards wrestle the man down to the ground before he had a chance to make another attack. Korak was crouched over her, his face full of concern.

"Princess, are you alright?"

Katara nodded, sending a hazy pain through her head, but sat up. The man was being dragged from the room, thrashing and screaming. He wouldn't live to see another day. For a split second Katara wanted to call them back. She wanted to know why she'd been attacked. Obviously it had something to do with Reya, but why attack her? She had no clue. And anyway, he hadn't succeeded, so did he truly deserve to die?

But she remembered her place. She was the future Empress, and this man had made an attempt on her life. The laws were clear and finite. He would die.

"I will send a message to your father," Korak said, gesturing to a servant.

"No!" Katara protested. "Don't let him know, please. I'm fine, see?" Trying to prove her point Katara stood up, only to sway and fall against the throne. "Please, I swear I am fine. You've done your duty, Korak. My father will hear of your loyalty, but he cannot know what happened today." He cannot know how I was unable to protect myself. She'd basically be signing her own death sentence.

Reluctantly, the old advisor nodded.

She took his hands. "Thank you."