CHAPTER EIGHT
"You're sure you see no one on the horizon?" The Fire Lord's voice rasped uncomfortably across the captain's back. A small, thick man, Captain Chan craned to meet his lord's gaze. He shook his head.
"No, m'lord," he replied for the fourth time. "No boats or, ahem, sky-bisons are headed our way."
Zuko's growl of frustration chilled the captain despite the thick down parka shielding him from the arctic winds. "And we need to set sail now?" he challenged.
"Y—yes, my lord," Captain Chan stammered. "The sea is already rougher than we predicted."
The Fire Lord's face grew still. He said nothing, waiting.
"Your Lordship promised General Iroh to return before the council meets this month to discuss the efforts to rebuild the Air Nomads' temples. It will take us at least two weeks to sail home, and that's with a good breeze at our backs."
Zuko's face remained impassive. He barely blinked at the mention of the council's conference. His uncharacteristic calm worried Chan. The Fire Lord was not one for concealing his reactions; his emotions were easy to read, and that transparency was what set him apart from his father.
But Chan couldn't read his leader's emotions tonight. First he had urged the captain to set sail with haste at the mention of the blizzard, and now he wanted to linger, letting the snow trap them in the Southern Water Tribe harbor? This indecision was so unlike the Fire Lord, but the captain blamed it on the cold. Snow had that effect on fire benders, or so his first mate swore.
Chan tried to reason with him. "My crew and I, we don't know how much longer this wind will hold up, or what storms it will blow in. We must be on our way before sunrise."
"We originally planned to sail out tomorrow evening," Zuko countered, hands curling into fists. "After the wedding."
"Thank the gods you agreed to leave the festivities early, or we might have been snowed in at port for weeks."
Zuko smiled at that, a grim affair that twisted his face until his scarred eye was only a slit. Chan shuddered. This new Fire Lord was much kinder than his father, whom Chan had served under, but his scarred visage still gave Chan the shakes.
Katara buried her face in Appa's fur. That way, she didn't have to feel the tears trickling down her face, itching her skin and burning her lungs with the weight of a suppressed scream. Aang's face shattered in her mind again and again, and no matter how hard she gritted her teeth, the image wouldn't go away. She had cast him aside, like a tiger seal robe that had grown too small for her. And on the eve of their wedding, too. It broke Katara, but she knew that if she stayed, there would be no repairing herself.
The full moon as her guide, she had crept to the stables and saddled up Appa, losing herself in the familiar motions. Buckle, tug, tighten. Into the saddle, she dropped a pack. Her favorite parka, the whalebone flute from Sokka, her mother's worn wooden comb that she had passed down to Katara on her eighth birthday. The wedding dress she had left behind, neatly folded and laid atop her bed of furs. She knew Gran Gran labored over each stitch, but she couldn't bring herself to look at it after tugging it over her head.
Tucked beneath her tunic, hanging around her neck, rested the crystal vial Zuko had given her only a few hours ago. Katara idly wondered if the water could heal a broken heart. Perhaps Aang needed the water more than— She shook her head. Such foolish thoughts. She couldn't hurt him one minute and protect him the next. The roles of protector and individual chafed against each other.
Someday, he would thank her. Arms wrapped around another person, he would agree that Katara had made the right choice, the merciful choice. Forcing herself to love him would only make both of them unhappy. But today, Aang wept. And Katara felt each tear like an ice chip to the chest.
She knew she should feel free. She should race towards the departing Fire Nation ship only a few knots off the coast. She should leap into Zuko's arms and claim the kiss they almost shared during their dance. But here she was, hiding in a sky-bison's pelt, paralyzed at the thought of letting go.
As if he heard her thoughts, Appa snuffled reassuringly. Katara rubbed his flank half-heartedly. "It's okay, Appa," she said. "It'll be okay." She grabbed his reins and guided him out of the stable until they stood on the frozen tundra beneath the clouds. The wind whipped fog across the horizon, grey wisps muting the moon and drowning out the stars. She paused, relishing the lashing breeze across her face, hunting for a glimpse of the heavens behind the incoming clouds heavy with snow.
Katara remembered her mother pointing out the stars, naming each one and telling her of spirits trapped in the sky. "This one is Anana the Fallen. Long ago, Anana was cast out of the spirit world for arguing with another spirit, the great Iqniq. The other spirits couldn't allow her to continue to cause chaos among their ranks. When she left the spirit world, all of the other spirits rejoiced because peace had been restored… except for one. Anana was forced to leave behind Suluk, her love. They had been inseparable, Katara."
"Mama, what's insep— inseparable?"
Her mother's laugh had glowed brighter than the constellations they lay under. "It means they had never spent a day apart. They were always together until Anana had to leave. Suluk was so sad that he cried for days."
"You can't cry for a whole day!"
"Okay, maybe he cried for hours. But he was heartbroken that he couldn't see his love anymore. Every night, Anana wandered through space, looking yet never finding him. She shone brighter and brighter, hoping that the light would lead Suluk to her. But he couldn't find her in the spirit world.
"Suluk loved the spirit world, but he loved Anana more. So he left it of his own free will, so that he could join her in the human world. When he reached our world, he searched both poles for Anana, but he couldn't find her. In frustration, he threw his head back and screamed to the heavens, calling her name."
"And she said, 'I'm right here, silly.' Right?"
"Well… Suluk couldn't hear her calling back to him because she floated too high above him. But when he saw how brightly she shined, he knew that was his dear Anana. He promised he would join her. So he climbed to the top of the highest mountain and he leapt into the air as high as he could."
"Did he make it?"
"Suluk jumped so high that he left a dent in the mountain! He soared up until he reached the other stars and he saw his beloved Anana face to face.
"'You came for me?' she cried, unable to believe her eyes.
"'I came,' Suluk told her, 'because you are mine and I am yours. No distance can keep us apart, for I will follow your light until I reach you again.' Suluk was right. Each time Anana drifts away from him as the evenings wear on, he follows her path. You can see them today, shining side by side, together in the sky."
Katara blinked, but she could've sworn that the two stars twinkled a little brighter at the mention of their love. "Would you leave our tribe to find Dad if he was kicked out?"
"I would scoop you and Sokka up, and we would find him together."
"In the sky?!"
"Anywhere he went."
When Sokka informed her that the stars were actually flaming balls of hot gas created by dragons flying through the night, she stopped calling them by her mother's names. But clear, dark nights reminded her of sharing a walrus bear skin with her mother, lying back to look at the sky.
Katara couldn't see the stars tonight. She was all alone. With a deep breath, she hauled herself aboard the saddle and grasped the reins with both hands. Her palms too wet from the rain to get a good grip, she wiped them on her parka before adjusting her hold. The ivory ring on her finger stood out starkly despite the darkness. Its faint white gleam struck Katara as a star, guiding her heart to a ship out at sea.
He knew he was acting childish. That didn't stop him from stomping below deck and marching to his cabin, each step a petulant reminder of his imminent departure. So this was it. The end of Zuko's miserable journey to the South Pole. Thank Agni that the gods had seen it fit to end his visit early. The incoming storm provided a valid enough excuse to leave that even Chief Hakoda would understand why the Fire Nation delegation missed the wedding ceremony. At least they had already paid their respects and offered their gifts to the bride and groom during the feast. No one would miss their presence.
Zuko flung open the door to his stateroom. He slammed it behind himself, and slumped into the wooden chair at his desk. A ache niggled at the back of his head, but he clenched his jaw and ignored it. His job as Fire Lord was not yet done for the day. He scrawled a missive to the Water Tribe chief, thanking him for his generosity and informing him of his plans to sail before the storm blew in. He rang, and a cabin boy knocked at his door to collect the letter.
His duty to the Water Tribe fulfilled, Zuko tugged at his fur-lined boots, harrumphing when they stuck to his feet and pulled at his thick socks. Off came the boots, the socks, the formal dress robes. He tugged a loose pair of black pants. In one swift motion, he unpinned his phoenix tail, placing the gold crown on the shelf above his bed. He burrowed under the covers, sighing as his feet left the cold cabin floor.
His hair was loose, his dress robes lying on the floor, and he was wrapped in a scarlet comforter to ward off the South Pole chill. Still, Zuko felt tense and cold.
She hadn't come. He had waited after their dance, first on the fringes of the great hall and then outside in the snow. He had been painfully aware of her movements all night. Surely she had noticed Captain Chan approaching him, nearly the same width as his height when bundled up in his Water Tribe overcoat. Looking conspicuously out of place, he relayed the news to Zuko: the fierce southern winds were blowing in a storm. The harbor was still smooth enough to sail out of tonight, but the storm was expected to break in the next few days. Their good fortune could not hold for long, and if they did not sail that evening, they should prepare to stay for at least a week. Chan expected his master to agree to the plan— another week in the company of his dear friends would be a welcome respite from the palace drudgery. But the Fire Lord ordered that his crew prepare to set sail that night, mumbling something about a meeting with General Iroh that he couldn't miss. They would not stay another day if it meant they must stay another week.
Perhaps it was better this way. The idea of staying another week, of sitting through the ceremony, of facing inquisitive prods from Toph and utterly oblivious jokes from Sokka about Aang's marital duties… He couldn't face that. Better that he return home early and miss the moment where he lost Katara forever.
He had planned to pull her aside, to let her know of his sudden change of plans and to bid her farewell. But when he made to intercept her on her way to the punchbowl, he found his feet frozen in place. He fixated on the sapphires speckling her hair, the way they refracted the light and glowed like her eyes. He examined the embroidery on the hem of her dress as it swept towards him, the snowflakes glimmering like the real stuff outside. He looked away once she caught his gaze. He let her walk by, and out of his life.
Surely she had noticed him slipping away, but she did not come after him to say goodbye. She must have known there was no way he could stay. But what a damned idiot he was, letting Katara walk away from him!
The patter of rain on the porthole interrupted his self-deprecation. So the storm was breaking. The swaying of the ship on the choppy seas only intensified his headache. Captain Chan best sail this ship out of these waters as fast as he could manage.
Closing his eyes against the pain, Zuko tried to banish the image of Katara from his mind by mentally reviewing the layout of his palace. His office, his receiving room, the courtyard where he asked Katara to marry him— Zuko snarled in frustration. Why did everything lead back to her? He slowed his breathing, focused on the rhythm of his heartbeat which matched the rocking of the boat. And then there was nothing.
She stumbled out of the saddle, dropping her feet to the deck with a thud. "Thank you, Appa," she whispered, patting the sky-bison's soggy muzzle. "Take care of him for me, will you?" With a "yip yip" from the girl, Appa rose into the sky and flew away until she couldn't tell whether he was cloud or beast.
Her eyes still trained on the sky, Katara did not notice a handful of Fire Nation sailors approach her, nor the deckhand who ran below deck, nor the Fire Lord who emerged from the hull on the deckhand's heels.
The sailors stood back a few paces, watching their lord advance towards the motionless water bender on their ship. They averted their eyes as he stretched out a hand to the woman, and then both arms. When they embraced, the sailors made themselves scarce. One returned to the wheel, another to braiding rope at the bow, and the deckhand into the hull. Curious though they were, they didn't want to get caught ogling such an intimate moment. The thought of their Fire Lord embracing a rain-soaked woman in his pajamas— the image made Captain Chan choke back a chuckle as he trundled back to the helm.
"Katara." The sound ripped from a raw throat. A hand clutching her shoulder. Another holding her waist.
The dampness of her parka soaked through Zuko's hastily-tied tunic. He didn't flinch as the water seeped through his shirt. It didn't sting his skin the way the South Pole air had. It cooled the raging fire inside him, calmed his heart that galloped like a mongoose lizard inside his chest.
"You came." Barely a whisper.
Katara only nodded. Dizziness spotted her vision and threatened to collapse her if she didn't rest soon. She shut her eyes, letting the rain drum against her temples and Zuko's heat burn away her guilt.
A shake of her shoulders, but she couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. Another shake. She blearily looked at the fire bender peering at her face.
"We need to get you below deck," he said, concern coloring his voice. Katara nodded again.
Wordlessly, she followed Zuko into the belly of the ship, until he stopped in front of a small cabin door. "It's not much," he said gruffly. "Just a bunk and a bucket. You can sleep here." His companion stared blankly at the doorknob. "I'll be down the hall if you need me. Second door to the right."
He made to open the door for her, but Katara tugged at his sleeve. She couldn't bring herself to let go. "I… Can I stay with you?"
Zuko's eyes widened, his scar crinkling in surprise. "You're tired, you don't know what you're saying…"
"I don't want to be alone," she said. So soft, so forlorn. He understood what she meant. He hadn't wanted to face his thoughts alone after they separated at the close of the song.
So Zuko led her to his quarters, kicking aside the dirty robes strewn on the ground and fluffing the pillows before letting her crawl onto the bed. As they wriggled into the small bunk, Katara nuzzled her way under his arm until she rested on his chest. Her breathing evened; the scowl on her face relaxed until her brows lay smooth against her forehead.
I'll never fall asleep, Zuko thought. He needed to stay awake to drink in every moment, but sleep overtook him before he could drag up a blanket to cover them both.
Thank you for your lovely reviews! (Shout-out to the anonymous request for some Appa in the story! Thanks for the suggestion; hope you like his cameo.)
There will be another update soon— I can promise you that! I tossed out the original ending and spent days agonizing over the right way to wrap up this ficlet. Finally, I wrote the ending I've been looking for, which will be coming right up.