Author's Note: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY! Yes, there is some fluff in this chapter. 'Tis the season and all. But this is also kind of a pivotal chapter, plot-wise. I hope you like it! Please comment and tell me what you think-I love hearing from you guys. Also, I'm always on the lookout for cover art and stuff, so if you can draw, feel free!
Disclaimer: I don't own avatar yada yada yada blah
That night, after walking Katara back to her chambers, Zuko met Toph in the same room she'd ambushed him in the other night. She was waiting, her back to the door, flicking toe fuzz at a vase in the corner.
"You know," Zuko started upon closing the door, "you should never turn your back on a door. You never know who could enter."
"Ah, except I do."
Zuko sat down. "What do you mean?" There was no way she could differentiate between people unless she heard their voices.
"I see with my feet, Hotpants. How else could I be so incredibly good at earthbending?"
Zuko's eyebrows furrowed. "You see. With your feet."
Toph sighed and rolled her eyes. "What, are you deaf? Yes, I see with my feet. 20/20 foot vision. In fact, I can tell you exactly what you look like right now."
She settled both feet on the ground and leaned forward, her eyes narrowed as if she was looking at him. Zuko stayed still, observing.
"You're tall. I'd say about 5'9. You got a lean build and shaggy hair. One leg is slightly longer than the other."
"What?" Zuko exclaimed, looking at his legs, which were perfectly even. At least to his knowledge. But she was spot on with everything else. Except she didn't mention his scar, which to most people would be his defining feature. Either she couldn't see details like that or she was considerate enough not to point it out (which he doubted). Whatever the reason, he was grateful she left it out. It improved his opinion of her that much more.
Toph relaxed in her chair, looking pleased with herself. Zuko chuckled and shook his head. "That's pretty amazing."
"What can I say? I'm pretty amazing."
Zuko rolled his eyes. Pretty humble, too.
But he hadn't come here to make small talk. Their previous conversation had gotten interrupted by the night guards coming to swap with the other ones whom, Zuko had learned, Toph stuffed in a utility closet. How she managed to incapacitate two fully grown waterbenders was beyond him, and he couldn't help but be impressed. But they'd had to hurry back to the servant's bedchambers before they got a chance to really talk, which was why they were meeting again tonight.
"So, you need me to help you protect the royal family." Zuko said, starting where they'd left off. If anything, Zuko was humoring her. Whatever she wanted him to do was the exact opposite of what he'd been sent there to do. Maybe he would consider helping her protect Katara, but the rest of them? Although Kya had never done anything to make him question her intentions…and even Sokka had his redeeming moments….
No. He had his mission. He couldn't let himself get distracted, especially not by Toph and whatever she wanted him to do.
"That's right." She took a deep breath. "You see, I'm a member of the Order of the White Lotus, an ancient, secret society made of masters from the four nations. Our purpose is to help the Avatar maintain peace and balance in the world."
Zuko frowned. "But the Avatar is gone. No one has seen him in over 100 years."
"I know that." She rolled her eyes again. "That's why we have now taken up the task of ending this war."
So they were on the same side, then. This realization made Zuko look at her in a different light. If she was telling him the truth, she was a lot more powerful than he had given her credit for. He had never heard of the white lotus before, but she had said they were secret. A secret society of masters, from all four nations, working together? It sounded too good to be true. But he didn't see any dishonesty in her expression, and he was pretty good at telling when people were lying to him—he had grown up with Azula, after all.
Still, he was skeptical. "If you're trying to end this war," Zuko said, "then why are you trying to protect the royal family? Why not kill them?"
Toph's eyebrow twitched, and he hoped he hadn't revealed too much. But she kept talking, oblivious to his intentions. "We aim for peace, Zuko." She lowered her voice. "We want to stage a coup. Overthrow the government from the inside. And right now, I'm the only one that's made it inside. But if you come on board, I know we can do it."
It made sense. Zuko had never really considered a non-violent end. Terminating the royal line was the fastest way end this war, but it was also the bloodiest. And his father had destined him to have that blood on his hands.
A shiver ran down Zuko's spine. Had he ever really thought about how this would turn out? He had pictured the Emperor's death so many times it was like second nature. He saw it every time he closed his eyes.
But what about after? What about when he stood over Katara's slain father, Hakoda's blood still warm on his skin, his last breath hovering above in the air—how would he handle that?
"Why do you need my help? If you're a master, why don't you just overthrow the Empire by yourself?"
"Believe me, if I could I would. But this is where it gets complicated," Toph said, and Zuko snorted. Like it wasn't complicated before. Toph ignored this, however. "I can't stage the coup and protect the royal family at the same time. They're in danger, Zuko."
This got his attention. "Danger? What danger?"
Was she talking about him? She can't be. If she suspected me I'd be dead by now, he reasoned. But he had thought he was the only threat inside the palace. There were hundreds of guards lining the halls, and all the servants were loyal to the Empire. The traitorous firenation immigrant had proven that to Zuko.
Toph leaned even closer until they were only a breath apart. "There are people in the capital who want them dead. Especially the Emperor. And the future Empress."
Katara. They wanted Katara dead. Why would anyone want that? They obviously don't know her. If only people knew the real her, not the person her father made her out to be, they would understand that she was good, deep down.
"Who?" Zuko asked, rage bleeding through his indifference. "Who wants to hurt her?"
Toph shook her head, and he saw sincere frustration in her face. "We don't know. Yet. I have people on the outside trying to find out. All we know is that they're out there."
So here he was, at yet another crossroad.
On one hand, this was the exact opposite of what his father had sent Zuko here to do. Instead of killing the royal family, he'd be protecting their lives. He'd be betraying his father, his sister's memory, and his entire country.
On the other hand, this could save them all, and without any more bloodshed. There had been far too much already—he had suffered from it firsthand. And perhaps a quiet coup could be less violent and therefore more acceptable to the citizens of the Water Empire. Instead of hating the country that killed their rulers and took over their lives, they could work together to find peace, and rebuild. The consequences of the war could be remedied in half the time, and without any more lost lives.
Toph was watching him, her eyes glazed but body alert, feet on the ground. He wondered if she could feel his rapid heartbeat, sense the indecision and confusion gnawing away at it. There was so much to consider.
But really, in the end, there was only one thing, wasn't there?
Whatever you believe your purpose is here, I implore you to look inside of yourself, to find the truth. She will need you to.
Zuko closed his eyes, picturing the words he was about to say. They looked all wrong in his head, blurred by the words "betrayal" and "traitor." But when he said them out loud, they felt absolutely right.
"What do you need me to do?"
Katara awoke to the innate sensation of the moon falling to the rising sun, the same feeling of draining power she got every morning. It only took a few minutes for her body to adjust to the daytime, but it was always slightly uncomfortable. Even when she was asleep the essence of the moon affected her, strengthened her. But when it disappeared over the horizon she lost that touch of extra power, and it took her a few moments to revert. She was especially sore from training the night before.
She and her father hadn't sparred, but they had rehearsed her performance for the feast, and her joints and muscles were tight and sore. She still wasn't confident in the routine, so she had decided to go practice in the courtyard when Toph walked in.
"I have a message from your father. He says to wear your regalia. The nobles are arriving."
"A day early?" Katara exclaimed, yanking her tunic back over her head. It was utterly rude for them to be arriving ahead of schedule, and Katara could only imagine how flustered her mother must be feeling. Toph just shrugged, already dressed in her nicest uniform. But her hair was a disaster, and once Katara had on a more formal set of robes, she pulled the girl's hair into an elegant updo. Toph tried to protest, saying something about how she didn't want to look all "girly-girly," but Katara sat her down anyway.
"I can't have my lady's maid looking like a rag-a-muffn, now can I?"
Toph didn't respond, but Katara noticed the pale ghost of a smile on her lips.
Sure enough, when she walked into the dining hall there were two unfamiliar people sitting on the other side of the table, between her mother and father. She curtsied gracefully before sitting down.
"Welcome to the Southern Empire," Katara addressed the strangers.
One was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, with graying facial hair and a wolf's tail. He donned a warrior's uniform complete with black-plated armor and a sword hanging by his side. His dark brown hair was beaded and his eyes, shadow blue like the deepest part of the ocean, looked like they held volumes of secrets.
"Princess Katara, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, finally," the man spoke in a deep, colorful voice. "My name is Chief Kanook, and this is my wife, Rebekah."
"The pleasure is all mine," Katara said, nodding to him and Rebekah, who simply nodded back. She waited, expecting the small woman to say something, but she merely looked on silently, sitting still as a flag on a windless evening. She, too, was decorated with colorful beads and wore a dress similar to Katara's, but with heavier fabrics designed for travel on the cold seas.
Throughout breakfast Chief Kanook and her father talked politely about the weather and current events in the Chief's tribe up in the Northeast, but Rebekah stayed silent. She ate her winterberry porridge in small bites, barely opening her mouth, and kept her eyes downcast.
It made Katara uncomfortable.
She knew women were held to stricter standards in the North, but this was ridiculous. She acted more like a pet than this man's wife. Sometimes, when her gaze fell on Katara, the woman looked like she was screaming inside, her expression only barely composed. Katara couldn't imagine being so confined within oneself. Even Kya tried once or twice to bring her into conversation, but she only said what was necessary and then let Kanook take over. He hardly ever acknowledged his wife, especially when he was talking about her.
"Yes, Rebekah has given me three children. Two boys and a girl. They're strong boys, confident, a bit wild," he laughed with Katara's father, the two of them sharing some secret male camaraderie. Sokka was practically drooling over them across the table.
"But they will be strong leaders," he continued. "Competent chieftains." Katara could've sworn she saw Kanook's eyes flicker to her, and it took everything she had not to meet them with a glare. So the rumors were true. The Northerners thought she was incapable of leading her nation.
"My son is a skilled hunter and swordsman," Hakoda said, his chest puffing with pride. "He often joins me in the waroom."
"Ah, will you be joining us tomorrow, Sokka?" Kanook asked conversationally.
Sokka grinned. "I wouldn't miss it." Then he looked at Katara, perhaps to gloat, but it caught the Chief's attention.
"And you, Princess? I imagine you have far more important things to do than sit in a boring old war meeting," he said, smiling condescendingly, and Katara felt her stomach twist. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother stiffen, hands balled into fists on her lap.
Katara lifted her chin. "As a matter of fact, I will be in attendance. As future Empress of the Water Empire I find it important to be involved with such proceedings." Katara didn't miss the flash of irritation cross the man's face. She held back a smug grin. Even though she could feel the anger and embarassement rolling off of her father in palpable waves, she couldn't help but be pleased with herself. She would pay dearly later, but for now she relished in the Chief's humbled silence.
Zuko intercepted her as she was leaving the dining hall, hurrying from the room to avoid her father's wrath. He pulled her behind a pillar at the end of the hall, hiding them from view, and pressed close to her, so close she could feel the heat from his body intermix with her own. It was at once unexpected and thrilling.
"Can I meet you tonight?" he asked, seeming agitated, even though he looked happy.
"Um, sure?" she said, though it came out as a question. She was still flustered from their proximity. He gave her a half-grin and squeezed her hands, which he held between his.
"Good."
And then he was gone. Katara waited for five seconds before emerging from behind the pillar, and by the time she looked down the hall, he had already passed through the doors.
The palace was crawling with nobles. It seemed like in the past few hours since he'd seen Katara, they had multiplied like insects, invading every empty space in the palace, even the third floor. He had seen them turning up their noses at the state of the dining hall and the servant's quarters, as if his home was an exotic attraction to observe, like tourists at a traveling circus.
Zuko hated them.
He had thought the Southerners were bad, but the Notherrners were even worse. They were rich, entitled, elitist snobs, and he wanted them out of the palace and out of his life. But they were guests, and according to the Emperor, were to be treated as such. So Zuko had to reign in his emotions and bite his tongue when four people—four people at four separate times—asked him to bring them some cactus juice, which he had to politely refuse, seeing as that wasn't his job. He couldn't keep track of the number of nobles who got "lost" and demanded directions to to the guest quarters which, he told them with as much amiability as possible, were on the first floor.
The only thing that made him feel slightly better were the hiliarious impressions his friends did of the nobles behind their backs.
Well that, and the fact that he was going to see Katara that evening.
She'd seemed concerned when he cornered her earlier which, in her defense, was only natural. He knew he was acting strangely. His conversation with Toph had shaken him. It felt odd knowing that he was responsible for the protection of the royal family while she organized the coup, which he still had no idea how she was going to do.
"The less you know, the better," she told him the night before. He had argued, of course—how could it be better for him not to know the very plan he was helping to execute? —but she was not one for neogiation. Or common courtesy, for that matter. She had threatened to give him a rock swirly if he didn't drop it, and he, not knowing what a "rock swirly" entailed and not wanting to find out, had acquiesced.
But ever since learning Katara was in danger, he didn't want to let her out of his sight. He knew this was unreasonable—her brother's servant hanging around all the time would be more than suspicious—but she wasn't safe. He was still debating that evening, only half an hour before he was going to meet her, whether or not he should tell her what was going on. Toph hadn't explicitly said not to tell Katara. She had made it clear that her involvement in the White Lotus and her plan for the coup were to remain secret, but other than that the rules of their situation were blurry. He didn't want to worry Katara, either. If it turned out that Toph's claims of danger within the capital were unjustified, he would feel bad about making Katara worry in the first place. He decided it was probably best to keep it to himself.
So when he met Katara in the stairwell that evening, after he had dinner with Orchard and Jin, and after he trained with Sokka, he kept his mouth shut. She brought him to her room, the only place they could really be alone, and they laid on her bed. Katara was upset about a conversation she'd had at breakfast with one of the Chiefs from the North.
"I mean, the gall! The arrogance! Who is he to say whether or not I can be a good ruler? He had never even met me before today!" She threw her arms on the bed, making it jostle, and Zuko had to hold back a laugh. This definitely was not the time. She'd probably bend him to the wall if he upset her now. But when she was like this—lying beside him, venting about her problems with that little wrinkle between her eyebrows—Zuko felt light. He felt like laughing. Just the fact that he was somehow in this exact scene was unbelievable, and yet it was everything he wanted.
She must have seen the little smile on his face, though, because she frowned and hit him with a pillow.
"It's not funny!"
"Ow!" He complained, his laughter overtaking him. "Yeah, this guy had better watch out or you'll batter him with a feather pillow."
She hit him again, a fake frown on her face, and he grabbed the pillow and threw it back at her, sending her into a fit of giggles and snorts, which made him laugh harder in turn.
After a few minutes they calmed down, and the room turned quiet again, quiet enough to hear the crackling of the candles Katara had lit before he showed up. Under any other circumstances, he might think it was romantic. But when he looked over at her and saw her staring up at the ceiling, her serious expression slowly returning, he sighed. She didn't think of him that way. They were friends, and that's all they'd ever be. That's all they could be, for so many reasons.
But he'd rather have that than nothing at all.
Besides, she didn't see him as anything other than a friend, her brother's servant, a sometimes-confidant. And just because he was willing to forsake his entire mission to protect her didn't mean he loved her or anything. He cared for her, sure. She was his best friend here. The time they'd spent trying to ignore each other had been the toughest he'd been through, so far, other than being separated from Roz.
It didn't hurt quite as much anymore to think of the boy. How long had it been—weeks? Months? There hadn't been an execution (that he knew of, at least), so he was pretty sure that Roz was still alive. But he was in the Pit, and Zuko couldn't imagine how terrible it was, how lonely Roz must feel.
Zuko crossed his forearms under his head. He hadn't felt comfortable broaching this particular subject, especially with their fragile friendship only recently being restored, but things had been going well. And since she didn't seem to be under her father's control anymore, maybe she would be more openminded than she used to be.
"Katara, can I ask you something?"
She murmured yes.
"What are you going to do about the prisoners in the Pit?"
She looked at him, and he could tell that she hadn't expected him to know about the ice prison. Did she remember that she'd been the first person to speak of it, when she sent an innocent man—and hundreds more—there to rot? The thought made his mouth taste sour. Zuko had also done his own research, asking the servants and staff about the isolated prison on the outskirts of the Southern Empire, a place none of them had ever seen, but had heard of. From what he'd learned it was a terrible place. No one ever returned from it. No one got out.
"It's not really any of my business," she said softly.
Zuko sat up. "Of course it's your business. You're the Princess. You're going to be the Empress. You can do something about it."
He expected her to get angry, to shout at him or something, but she remained quiet and still, like a statue. He might have thought she didn't care about the prisoners, didn't care that they were wasting away their lives in a cage of ice. The tears welling up in her eyes were her only give-away.
"Katara, I'm not trying to upset you."
"Why don't you hate me?" she asked suddenly. Zuko pulled back, surpised. It was perhaps the last thing he expected her to say.
"Why would I hate you?" He didn't hate her. He hated her father. He was the one who had killed so many people, who had thrown them into prison. He had forced her hand.
Her lips quivered. "You could have been one of them. If I were you, I would hate me."
Zuko let out a breath and flopped back down to the bed. He felt it shift as Katara moved closer, their shoulders touching, her hair tickling his exposed arm. Without thinking he took a lock of it and twirled it around his finger like a piece of thread, stopping just before it pulled taut enough to hurt her.
"I could have been one of them, but I wasn't. You saved me."
Katara chuckled once. "No, actually, I didn't. Sokka stopped them from taking you to the Pit."
Zuko thought back to that day, the last time he had seen Roz's face, waking up in the prison below the palace days later. "True," he acknowledged, "but you stopped them from killing me. You stood up to your father for me."
Katara shrugged, rubbing against his shirt. "I guess so."
"See? You have the power to make change, Katara. You are strong enough."
She looked over at him, her eyes wide and watery, and Zuko realized they were only inches apart. Her breaths interlaced with his, and his eyes traveled down her forehead to her nose to her lips, parted slightly, breathing unevenly. When he looked back up she was still staring at him, her eyes communicating something he couldn't understand.
"Thank you, Zuko," she breathed out.
Afraid of what he might do next, he turned his face to the ceiling, trying to cool the heat that had risen to his cheeks. Everything seemed dimmer now, as if the candles had gone out, even though they still burned against the darkness. "You're welcome."
You're welcome. You're welcome. You're welcome.
Those two words, so simple, so congenial, had been running trenches into Katara's mind all morning. What had she expected? It's not like he would have done anything. Even though the moment, the mood, absolutely everything was perfect…
No. He didn't think of her like that. And she couldn't think of him like that. It was childish, not to mention dangerous. She could only imagine what her father or Sokka would do if they found out she actually had feelings for a servant, much less one from the Fire Nation. Katara shook her head as if she could physically force the idea out of it.
She had too much on her plate today to be thinking about Zuko and his confusing mixed signals, anyway. Today was the long-awaited Supreme War Summit.
The nobles had been filtering into the war room for the past fifteen minutes, and it was gradually filling up as they took their places around the rectangular ice table. Hakoda, Sokka, and Katara were seated at the end of it. Katara was to her father's right, sandwiched between him and his high war advisor, a fat, ugly man named Norvid whom she could not believe had been in a war, nonetheless survived it. He was currently asking the man beside him why compasses couldn't point South.
Finally, it seemed that everyone had arrived, and the guards closed the tall wooden doors, locking them in the room and everyone else out of it.
All in all, there were about 100 nobles; all men, all above the age of 20 sitting before Katara, staring at her with judgmental silence.
Okay, so they weren't all staring just at her, but in her general direction, and more than a few were definitely glaring at her. She'd heard plenty of disgruntled rumblings among the Chieftains of both the North and the South about her eventual assumption of the throne. Even though the Southerners were usually more accepting of her title (though they still didn't like it), it seemed as if the Northerners prescence stirred up grudges she had thought were resolved.
She pretended not to notice. If she confronted any of them about it, she would only get condescension or bitterness. And she couldn't count on her father's defense. He agreed with the nobles, that she wasn't fit to rule, but couldn't go back on his decision now. It would look weak on his part.
The only solution was to prove herself once she became Empress. Until then, she would have to ignore their snide remarks and disgusted glances. The worst people were the ones who simply refused to make eye contact with her, to even acknowledge that she existed. These were also the people who treated their wives like dirt, so Katara didn't have a high opinion of them in the first place.
The women were all with Kya, who was giving a demonstration of the Southern style of healing. As far as Katara knew, there wasn't a significant difference between the Southern and Northern styles, but it's not like there was much else for the women to do. Katara hated how restricted they were, but it was a different kind of life, and she had to accept that. No, she amended, I cannot accept that. But I must tolerate it, at the very least.
At that moment, Hakoda raised a hand and the scattered conversations that had been occurring stopped at once.
He waited before speaking, his eyes dancing over the crowd. And then he smiled. "Welcome, brethren from the North and South." His voice rang out with pride, capturing the attention of the room like a spell.
"We have all gathered here together because it is time to end this war." His words were met with a series of hoots and exclamations that echoed around the chamber. He held up a hand again and the men grew silent, watching him with rapt attention.
"The Water Empire is the strongest nation in the world. We have the most cunning generals, the most powerful benders, and the purest hearts. This world has fallen to corruption, and thus to ruin."
A few grunts broke out and the closest nobles nodded solemnly. Katara noticed Sokka's head bobbing along with them.
"We must cleanse the other nations of these impurities. The only way to do this is through conquer. We have already defeated the Air nomads and the Earth Kingdom. But the Fire Nation continues to resist." There was a pregnant pause brimming with energy. Katara could feel the anticipation tugging on the top of her head; the hairs on her arm stood on edge. The Emperor's voice shook with passion as he said, "On this day, I ask you, my brothers, to stand with me. I issue a call to action!"
This time, the noise continued without interuuption for a full minute. Some nobles pumped their fists and others even stood up to slap each other on the back. Katara just watched, trying to keep her expression blank.
But she was terrified.
She knew this was going to happen. Put 100 battle-worn chieftains together in one room, give them an inspiring speech, and it was like a runaway train. Once an idea took hold, it took complete control, and no one could stop it. She glanced at her father, who was looking out over the crowd, apparently pleased with the chaos he had ignited. She feared what he might say next, not only because she knew it would be violent, but also because she knew the nobles would blindly go along with it.
"Brothers!" her father yelled over the clamor. "Follow me, and I will lead you and our people to an era of prosperity and power! No longer will we be threatened by those who are foolish enough to challenge us. We will take their resistance and stuff it down their throats. And the Water Empire will rise and conquer once and for all!"
Katara watched in horror as the room exploded. The nobles looked as if they were ready to go to war right at that moment, jumping around and pushing each other, screaming war cries and jutting their swords and spears in the air. Her father remained sitting, though the look on his face was a frightening mix of elation and superiority. Sokka was leaning forward, gripping the edge of the table as if it was the only thing keeping him from joining the festivities.
And, even though she hated to admit it, part of Katara wanted to join as well. Part of her wanted to feel the thrill of impending victory, to know without doubt that she was on the side of right, that she would lead her country to a better future. Perhaps at one point in time, she would have. She would have thrust her fist into the air and let out a wailing battle cry, and maybe her father would have been proud of her. Maybe she would have seen that this was what she had to do—what the world had to do—to survive.
But all she could see was death. Violence, sadness, loss. And she saw Zuko's face. He was proof that the Fire Nation was not evil, that the Empire's prejudices were not elemental, but learned. A war was not the answer to their problems. In fact, it would only create more.
Because if the Fire Nation fell, it would fall in blood.
And ashes.