Zutara Week 2012
Prompt: Heartstrings
Heartstrings: [hahrt-stringz] n. the deepest feelings, the strongest affections
They sat in a structured order; or, at least, their chambers did. Katara, Iroh, Zuko. The younger two had fought; and, while banter was a regular part of their day, this was different. This was accusations and tears and uncontrolled bending. Katara had drenched him. He'd burned the curtains. Now she sat in tears, face buried in her hands, while Zuko paced his chamber, a deep scowl twisting his features.
Iroh, however, was singing.
The younger two could hear his voice; it traveled through the cracks in the wall, through the space undernreath the door. It was a deep, strong, somewhat tragic bass. "Too many times, I have wondered... what all trying is for."
Zuko's scowl deepened. What was, indeed, the purpose of trying, when every action was met with dismissal, disapproval, judgment? What was the point of trying when everything he did wasn't enough?
You can't tell me what to do. Her fierce voice rang through his skull. I'm not yours.
His hands were trembling; he pressed them to his chest to still them. It didn't matter in the general context; ambassadors would dismiss, nobles would judge, citizens could disapprove. But Katara- he scowled again. Katara was another matter entirely.
Iroh's voice permeated the walls. "Too many times, I have drowned, because I know that you're falling short."
It wasn't that he fell short; Zuko was a king among men, and not for his royal status. He was uncommonly kind; the world was fortunate for his reign after the destruction his forefathers had wreaked. He was especially kind to her, and she knew it; he treated her like porcelain.
Maybe that's what she hated.
Stay there, he'd commanded her; as though she was his to order around, as though she didn't have a right to her own body. Agni, stay there!
A shuddering breath left her. I should have listened.
"Too many times I have wanted," Iroh sang. "To turn around and walk away. Because I know deep inside, you can't provide... what I need from you, anyway."
He'd never meant for it to happen; it just had. She'd acted impulsively and he'd gotten angry and she'd taken a step too far on a night pounding with rain.
Zuko's arm had reached out to steady her when she almost fell; he recalled that, clearly, his arm shooting out almost of its own accord. He recalled that shallow panic that had gripped him for one, terrifying split second; the panic that always came whenever there was a remote possibility of Katara in danger. He had grasped her forearm tightly and bore her weight- his eyes had met hers, wide and blue and angry and desperate and afraid- before pulling her up into a semblance of balance.
But, of course, she'd pulled away. And the next time she'd slipped, he hadn't moved quickly enough. And because of that, because of him, they'd both lost something they could never quite get back.
"I tell you that I want to go, but I want to stay."
His fault.
"I tell you that I want to go, but I want to stay."
Her fault.
"I tell you that I want to go, but I want to stay."
A simultaneous swell of guilt rose in two chests. My fault.
"But I know I'm gonna lose myself this way."
And some things, Zuko thought with a sick sort of acceptance, were irredeemable. Respect, honor; hastily uttered words. Love. Lives.
"But do you know..." Here, Iroh's words came slowly; each punctuated by a heartbeat. "It doesn't change... the way I feel about-you, at the end of the day... because I know... that all I want is what you've got."
But you're not all I want, Katara thought, sobbing into her arm uncontrollably. I wanted the baby, too.
"All I want is what you've got."
Even when she denounces me, even when she hates me, I love her. The thought crept up on Zuko- but really, it was fact, a deep set mentality embedded in his very bones.
I love him, Katara thought dully. I love him, and I need him more than I've ever needed anyone.
"But... is it enough?" Iroh's song intruded on their thoughts. "This... moment is all I've got."
Katara rose from the soft cushion she was sitting on, drifted to the window. She opened it, inhaled the clean night air; then lifted her face up to the sky and let the rain mingle with her tears.
Acceptance was as slippery as an eel-viper, Zuko thought, as tangible as air. For him, it had disappeared some time ago; it was some vague shadow on the horizon, something hidden in a box he sometimes opened up at night when sleep was impossible.
For Katara… well. Perhaps it had never existed.
"I pluck not harp strings, but heartstrings..." Iroh's voice rose into a crescendo at the final word; then fell into a dramatic hush. "And that's all I've got."