Author's Note: I really don't have any excuse for why this is like 2 weeks late lmao. Except that it was my birthday on friday and I actually had to write this chapter. I wrote most of this story in the summer when I had more time, but I skipped this chap...I'm nearing the point when I'll have to start writing more, but hopefully I'll be able to keep up. Anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own avatar. I wish. Man, do I wish.

He needed to firebend.

Zuko paced the floor of the servants' quarters, his hands clenched at his sides, skin flushed and burning with the fire that raged underneath it.

He had come so close to losing it after Katara told him about the Emperor's plan. He hoped he hadn't given anything away. His response was probably pretty normal for someone who just learned their home was about to be invaded and destroyed. Right?

Zuko let out a hot huff of air. Thankfully there was no one around this time of day, so the room was empty. Technically, he acknowledged, he should have been with Sokka. It was the weekend, so there weren't classes, but the prince probably wanted to spar or sharpen their swords or something. But Zuko couldn't face him right now, knowing what the prince and his father were planning.

He desperately wanted to bend, to release this pent-up frustration boiling inside of him, but he couldn't risk it. Already he had leaned against a dresser and charred the wood black.

Zuko brought his hand up to his face. While he was writing the letter, he hadn't been able to stop his fingers from shaking. The words were readable, but just barely. He'd been so angry he hadn't slept at all that night, and whenever he closed his eyes, he saw his mother. She would be standing over a sink, or folding clothes on the bed, or sitting with Roku, so innocent and unknowing. And then he would see a person in blue clothing creep up behind her, and she would turn, shock and fear on her face, and—

He opened his eyes every time.

If his letter didn't get to her in time…he couldn't even begin to think about the consequences.

He wanted to stampede down the stairs to the Emperor's room, grab him by the throat, and—and what?

There were plenty of generals and even more soldiers prepared and eager to attack the Fire Nation. He'd been naiive to think killing just one person would stop everything. Even if neither Katara nor Sokka took the throne, someone else would. If not in the Southern Empire, someone from the Northern Tribe. There was no easy solution. Is there any solution at all?

His hands started shaking again.

He groaned aloud and pinched the bridge of his nose. His uncle had taught him calming techniques to release his chi and quell his anger if he was ever in a position like this. But he had already burned through all the candles in the room, melted them down to the golden plates they sat upon. Puddles of cool wax spotted the ice floor.

It wasn't just his mother Zuko was worried for. And his father could take care of himself, he knew. But Roku…he was just a kid. Zuko didn't even know if he could bend yet. Since Azula and himself were benders, everyone assumed Roku would be as well. Genetics and all that stuff Zuko didn't really care about. But when Zuko left the Fire Nation, Roku hadn't even begun to show signs of bending abilities.

Of course, neither had Zuko at that age. Azula, being the firebending prodigy she was, had produced her first flame before she could even walk. But it had taken Zuko longer and, like most things, he learned from Azula. From watching her run around the courtyard shooting licks of fire at pigeonsquirrels and roasting lychee nuts.

Zuko remembered the first time he firebent. He was eight years old, sitting out by the turtle-duck pond after a grueling lesson with his father. Even though he couldn't bend, he still met with his father every day to practice the basic stances so that, when he did bend, he'd at least have good technique, even if he was weak. Which he would undoubtedly be, since he would be years behind all the other benders.

That's what his father said, anyway.

Zuko curled up in a tight ball underneath the cherry blossom tree, his chin resting on his knees, tears streaming down his face.

"Zuko?"

He hadn't heard anyone come outside. Ashamed, he wiped the tears away with the sleeve of his shirt, though he knew there would still be traitorous red marks.

Ursa emerged from behind the tree and Zuko let out a sigh. She was the only one Zuko would ever be okay crying in front of. If it had been Azula or Iroh or—even worse—his father, he would have run away on the spot. As it was, Ursa crouched next to Zuko, tucking her long robes underneath her body, and leaned against his shoulder.

"Zuko, what's wrong?"

He merely shrugged. He was comfortable talking to her about stuff like this, but he didn't feel like it at the moment.

Ursa wasn't about to let it slide.

"Zuko, if you don't tell me I'll have to go to your father and ask. You don't want that, do you?"

He shook his head, leftover tears blurring his vision, threatning to build up again.

"So what is it?"

Zuko plucked a blade of grass and twirled it between two fingers. "I can't firebend."

He felt his mother squeeze his shoulder. "I know that, love. But you will, one day."

"No I won't!" he shouted, too loudly and sudden. Ursa leaned back. "Father says I'm weak, that I'll never become a master like him, because I don't want it enough."

"You know he doesn't really mean that. He's only frustrated, just like you."

"But I try so hard." Cue the tears. He tried to wipe them away again, but they kept coming from some faucet he just couldn't seem to turn off.

He did try hard. Every day he went to lessons and sparred with his father at an embarrassing disadvantage. But he did it anyway, and without complaint. Still, no fire.

Get angry! his father would yell at him from across the room. Let your rage fuel your fire! Zuko was no stranger to anger, but everytime he got mad, it only seemed to block him up further. He'd shake with rage but feel cool as ice. He'd punch and kick the air with impressive technique, but just wake up the next morning with sore muscles and nothing to show for it.

Ursa pulled him to her chest. "I know you do, love. I'm sorry this is so hard for you."

"I'm so angry all the time." He didn't want to be. His anger just made his heart feel heavier. "Father tells me to channel that into fire, but all it does is make me tired."

His mother was quiet for a minute. Zuko watched the mama turtle-duck swim the perimeter of the pond, her babies paddling behind her, trying to keep up. Baby turtle-ducks didn't have to learn to swim, they just knew. It was programmed into their bodies, just like firebending was programmed into benders. Why, then, was it so difficult for him?

He didn't like considering the alternative; that he would never be able to bend. That simply wasn't acceptable. Although he knew his father would still love him, it would be a great dishonor for the Fire Lord to have a non-bender for a son. It would prove his genetic pool was weak, crippled. Zuko would not consider the alternative.

"Zuko…" his mother started, interrupting his depressing train of thought. "Fire isn't simply anger."

He scrunched his nose. "What do you mean?"

Ursa plaintively looked out over the pond. "When I was younger, living in Hira'a, my parents used to take me to festivals. We ate fireflakes and painted our own masks and met people from all walks of life. Do you know what my favorite part of the festival was?"

Zuko shook his head.

"Benders from all over the Fire Nation and even the Earth Kingdom performed for the crowds, some of which swelled to the very edge of town. I remember watching the firebenders perform dances inspired by the ancient dragons. You learned about them in class, right?"

Zuko nodded. That was his favorite lesson. His uncle had even visited them to talk about Ran and Shaw, dragons he had chased to the ends of the earth, but never caught.

Ursa smiled gently. "Those firebenders were not fueled by their anger, Zuko. They were fueled by passion. Excitement. By love and beauty and joy. By the colorful history of the Fire Nation and the dragons from which we derive our own bending. With all of that, there was no room for anger or hatred. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"That I don't have to be angry to firebend?"

Ursa poked his nose, and Zuko laughed. "Exactly. Find whatever brings you joy, Zuko, and let that give you power."

Sitting there, Zuko thought deeply. Off the top of his head, he couldn't pinpoint anything that made him happy, that made him feel something other than anger.

"If you could bend, Mom, what would you think of?"

Ursa looked down at Zuko, a strange expression on her face. As her eyes searched his, though, her expression softened, and she bent to place a soft kiss on his forehead. "Well, love, I would think about you. And your sister," she added with a wink, making Zuko chuckle. Azula was still inside with their father; her lessons were right after his. Sometimes Zuko sat outside the training room and just listened to the roar of fire passing between the two of them, picturing himself joining in, able to hold his own. Sometimes he was so jealous of Azula and how easily firebending—and everything—came to her. And although she teased Zuko about it, she never made him feel bad about his shortcoming. Neither did his mother. Or Uncle, for that matter.

"I guess…" Zuko began, staring at the grass. "I guess I would think about you. And Azula, and Uncle." He paused. "Maybe even Father, too."

Ursa smiled and told him that was beautiful. A few minutes later she left him in the courtyard and Zuko thought about their conversation. He was still skeptical that it would work, but he knew he had to try. So he took his place parallel to the pond and lowered himself into the first stance, feet firmly planted, arms locked. His eyes slid shut.

In his mind he saw himself shift into the second stance, building up his chi as he moved into the third stance. And then, where he would usually conjure up anger at his inability to bend, jealousy over Azula's skill, all the frustration he'd felt over the last eight years, he instead pictured his mother. She smiled at him, and then Azula appeared, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow and grinning widely. In his mind Uncle Iroh spoke to him, and although he couldn't hear what he was saying, Zuko was certain it was something about tea. Finally, his father appeared at Zuko moved into his final stance, and rather than anger, Zuko channeled his desire to please his father, to make him proud, to be someone his father could be proud of.

A burst of heat warmed his face.

Zuko's eyes snapped open just in time to see a tail of glowing, orange fire dissipate into the air. His mouth dropped.

"I did it?" he whispered to himself, gazing at his hands. There were no burn marks or anything, just an unfamiliar warmth tingling under the surface of his palms. "I did it!" he shouted, pumping a fist in the air. He moved through his stances once more, just to make sure he hadn't made it all up. This time, with his eyes wide open, he saw the ball of fire erupt from his fist, more brilliant and powerful than he could have ever imagined. He couldn't wait to show everyone.

In the servants' quarters, Zuko had stopped pacing. He leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor, bare back grazing the wooden wall as his shirt bunched up. His hands were no longer shaking. He sat them on his knees, palms up, and watched as heat rose invisibly, distorting his view of the other side of the room.

"Fire isn't simply anger," he said quietly, feeling the warmth of heat brush his face like gentle fingers. He was still mad, of course, and he would remain so until his family and country were safe. But being impulsive and radical wouldn't help anything.

First, he needed to find out if his letter got out.

Katara would be busy all day, he knew. Empress Kya was in charge of the feast that would be held later that night, and he had a feeling Katara would be helping her remain sane. Jin and Orchard had mentioned they were working the feast. Zuko decided to tag along and help so he could pull Katara aside and make sure everything went alright. Besides, he thought with a smirk, it would be rude not to watch the rest of her performance.

After a cup of ginger plum tea and a brief conversation to catch up, Katara left the tea shop. By then it was late afternoon, and the marketplace crowds had thinned to a smattering of people. Katara adjusted her hood and started down the street. She wasn't quite as concerned with being recognized as she had been earlier, but she couldn't afford to be stopped for a length of time. She had to get back to the palace to help her mother prepare for the feast and to go over her routine once more. As she walked, Katara went over it in her head, seeing in her mind's eye the steps and movements she would be performing in a few short hours. After she and Zuko parted the night before she had gone back to the training room and rehearsed again. She was determined to perform perfectly; she didn't need to give the nobles another excuse to belittle her.

At the end of the street Katara turned left, intending to cut down an alleyway that would lead her back to the outer wall. In the shadows cast by the tall buildings around her the temperature dropped significantly, and she pulled her cloak tighter to her body. Underneath her cloak she was only wearing her training gear: a thin tunic and pair of leggings. Her hair was pulled into a braid that ran down to the small of her back, and she didn't have on any royal regalia. Another precaution should she be caught to protect her identity.

But it seems I didn't need to worry about that, she thought, turning into another alley. No one had recognized her so far, and seeing as the letter was out of her possession, there was no danger of it being discovered. Lilit had seemed hesitant to do what Katara asked of her, but eventually agreed, which was really all she could ask for. Lilit didn't break her promises, and Katara had total faith in her. She only hoped the hawk who would deliver the message would arrive at its destination safely. Air travel was the fastest way of communication, but also the most unreliable. Any number of things could happen: a storm over the water, capture by an enemy ship, illness or injury.

But there wasn't anything she could do about it now.

Only as Katara neared the end of the alley did she notice a figure leaning against the stone wall. It seemed to materialize out of nowhere. At one moment it was just a shadow in the dark, the next it became a pair of men, eyes sharp as they stared straight ahead, but unmistakably tracked her movements. Katara slowed; she couldn't keep going. They were definitely waiting for her.

As she stood there the two men moved, blocking the exit to the street. Taking a shaky breath, Katara ducked her head and turned around.

Two more men were waiting at the other end of the alley.

She'd been followed.

Shit.

Katara looked at her surroundings with a sinking heart: she was trapped. The buildings on either side of her were made of solid stone, as was the ground. Over years of development the town had been transformed from entirely ice architecture to a mix of ice and stone to make it easier on the carts and animals that traded in the marketplace. Consequently, Katara was screwed.

She briefly considered dropping her hood. If these were simply common thugs, revealing her identity might dissuade them from attacking her. Her waterbending skill was known throughout the South, and if they had any sense, they would realize that even though it was four to one, they were outnumbered.

But if these weren't common thugs, revealing her identity could be disasterous. And since she couldn't know what their intentions were—to rob or kill or capture—she decided against it. Besides, she had purposely worn civilian clothing to conceal her title. They might not even believe her if she did tell the truth. And if they did somehow managed to capture her, they could use her for ransom…or worse.

Katara's heart sped up painfully when she realized that, as she'd been considering her options, the men had gained ground. They were only a few feet away, corralling her like an ostrich-horse.

Farther down the street there was a pile of snow, and Katara quickly called it to her, wrapping it around her body protectively. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. Unfortunately, either the men were expecting her to be a bender, or it simply didn't phase them, because they kept advancing. One man to her left shook his hand and Katara saw a blade portrude from his sleeve. It would be more difficult to ward them off when they were armed, especially if they were adept with weapons. She could only hope the rest of them were non-benders, too.

"Don't come any closer!" Katara tried to shout, only to hear her voice crack with nerves. She ground her teeth, cursing herself. She hadn't wanted them to know how afraid she was. She hadn't really known how afraid she was until now. All four kept coming, purring dangerous words into the air around her, faces contorted into sneers of victory.

Fight, Katara commanded herself, and she lashed out with the stream of water at the closest man. It hit him in the side of the face and he stumbled out of formation. The other three barely registered his absence. Katara continued the stream around the circle, but one man dodged her attack and another surprised her by redirecting the water back at her.

A waterbender, she realized as dodged the water's path. She came back up with a row of ice daggers and threw them at two of her attackers: the waterbender simply threw them to the side and the other man—who had somehow procured a metal rod from somewhere—shattered the ice with a spin.

Katara heard a faint whistle behind her ear and ducked just as a dagger whizzed past her head. The other man had recovered and all four were encroaching on her, expressions malicious.

Without warning, the waterbender attacked as did the man with the daggers, and Katara dropped to the ground and rolled, barely standing up in time to block the blow from the metal staff. She lashed out with her leg, trying to trip him, but he flipped backwards, allowing the waterbender to attack once more. Katara broke the stream messily, splashing water all over herself, and turned around just before one of them came down on her. She flipped him over her back and sent him tumbling towards the wall.

She wasn't fast enough to see the man with the staff coming at her again, and he connected with her stomach. She stumbled backwards and tripped over the man she had just downed. The force of the fall was enough to send her tumbling to the wall, and before she could catch her breath, the layer of water on her clothes was suddenly freezing, pinning her against the stone. Katara groaned out loud as her limbs locked in place, hands splayed against the wall, utterly useless. The waterbender came closer, and she could see his features more clearly. He hadn't worn a mask and she took note of the scar running down his eye all the way to the corner of his mouth.

"Not so brave now, are you Princess?" he sneered, bending down to hover in front of her face.

They know who I am, Katara realized with panic. The sun was beginning to set as the others recovered and joined their friend, and Katara longed to call out for help. But she knew how that would end: either in a gag or a swift blow to the head to knock her out, and neither would help her situation.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, sounding braver than she felt, if not a little winded. She struggled against the ice futilely, feeling for any weakness at all.

"We were hired by someone who wants you very badly," the man mused, pinching her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look up at him. "We're just holding up our end of the deal."

"Who?"

He smirked. "If I told you that I'd be breaking our confidentiality agreement, and that wouldn't be good for us, now would it boys?" The other men nodded in agreement. The one with the daggers looked downright murderous.

She glared at them. "Holding the Princess against her will isn't too good for you either, you know."

The waterbender released her face with a derisive laugh and backed away. This was her chance. Katara breathed down her chest, melting the ice, which would give her just enough room to slip out and free her arm and—

"Nice try, Princess. You think it's gonna be that easy?" the waterbender said, one hand held towards her, freezing the ice again, extending it to her chin, rendering her motionless. Katara gulped with difficulty, completely stuck to the wall. The man turned his back again to confer with his pals, but Katara could barely hear them through the thunder of blood rushing in her ears.

Blood. That's it.

She only had one other option, and she was desperate. She silently cursed herself for being so weak that she had to resort to this.

Katara reached out, listened for the sound of the waterbender's blood throbbing in his veins, pulsing, heavy water.

You can do this, Katara. You have to.

She locked on to him. She could feel it.

Just do it!

It would only take a single jerk of her head, and she'd be free. Taking out the others would be easy enough, even though she was exhausted.

NOW!

She couldn't do it.

Her eyes slid shut in defeat, holding back hot tears.

Every muscle in her body tensed with the knowledge that she couldn't do it, couldn't bloodbend him. She was weak, and powerless, and pitiful, and was going to be captured, and probably die, and—

"Alright, I think it's time to break up this little get-together. What do you say, gentlemen?"

Katara's eyes snapped open. She recognized that voice.

Toph.

The first thing she saw—the only thing she could see, her head stuck in the way it was—were the four men looking at the end of the alley, confusion on their shadowed faces.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I should be asking you the same question," Toph replied, and Katara struggled against the ice encasing her neck to see the girl standing to the side of the group with her hands on her hips.

The man with the staff twirled it and turned to face her. "Get out of here little girl. You don't want us to hurt you."

To Katara's shock, Toph just laughed. "I'd like to see you try, Pole Boy."

His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Toph, what are you doing?" Katara croaked out.

Toph didn't look at her, but said, "Quiet, Sweetums. I'm trying to help you out here."

She's going to get herself killed.

"Last warning, kid," the waterbender growled, already slipping into an offensive position.

In response, Toph drew her hands into fists, cracking the knuckles. "Bring it."

XXXXXX

Five minutes later, Katara held open her bedroom door for Toph who walked in, plopped down on her bed, and kicked off her shoes (which were mysteriously missing the soles—although, perhaps it wasn't so mysterious, considering). Katara closed the door and turned around, arms crossed.

"Okay. Explain."

Toph yawned, unconcerned. "Explain what?"

"Explain how you, a blind girl, just took out four grown men, one of them a waterbender and at least two of the others skilled with weaponry, using earthbending. Earthbending! A blind girl!" It sounded impossible even to Katara, who had seen every second of it. The fight had been over before it even began. They all went at her at once, but she dodged their attacks like a master and hadn't even broken a sweat. Once the waterbender had been taken out with a boulder to the gut, the ice holding Katara prisoner had melted, and Katara was fully ready to join in the fight. But Toph had already incapacitated two of the others and captured another in what looked like a cage of rock that wrapped around his entire body. Soon enough, the other three joined him.

Dumbfounded, Katara had found herself speechless until they reached the privacy of her room. Toph had tried to force their employer out of them, but they weren't talking (the waterbender was still unconscious) and Katara hadn't let her torture them. So after telling an officer in the marketplace where to find the four thugs, Toph let Katara drag her back to the palace.

Toph, still sprawled out on her bed, merely shrugged. "I think it's pretty self-explanatory."

"Um, no. It's not, Toph. How do you know how to earthbend?"

"Badgermoles."

"Ok fine, don't tell me the truth."

"I'm not lying."

"Badgermoles, Toph? Really?"

Toph finally sat up just to glare at her. "Yes, really."

"You're blind, Toph."

"I see with my feet."

"Spirits!" Katara cried, throwing her arms up. She obviously wasn't going to get any real answers out of the girl.

"Believe what you want, Sugar Queen. But I'm telling the truth."

Katara watched her poised on the bed, seemingly at ease, and decided to let it slide. "Let's pretend you are telling the truth. Why didn't you tell me before?"

Again, a shrug. "Didn't want any trouble, I guess."

"With the guards."

"Or with you."

Katara was taken aback. "You think I would get you in trouble for this?" She'd been naiive enough to believe they were friends by this point, but apparently the feeling was not mutual.

"Your father can't know what I'm capable of, Katara. You understand that, right?" Katara was fully prepared to argue when reality set in. If her father found out, it would not be good. The fact that she was able to hide her bending for all of this time would make him livid. She'd be thrown out of the palace or into the pit or worse. And even though Katara was upset with her, she didn't want that.

"Alright, I understand. Is there anyone else who knows about you?"

She hesitated.

"No."

"You're lying."

"No I'm not."

"Toph," Katara said, her voice a warning.

The girl sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine. But you aren't going to be happy about it…."