A/N: A big thank you to all you wonderful readers! And an even bigger thanks to all who took time to review! Without you, I probably would've lost the drive to continue by now. You all rock :)
In response to reviewers from Chapter 13:
AnnaAza: I feel sorry for Aang. He's had a hard time of it, and now that Ozai has captured his dear friend, he feels like it's his fault, probably. I don't think he'd kill Ozai if given a chance, but I bet he, deep down, feels that he should have.
Ozai is slowly planting the seeds. A random act of kindness which really gives poor Katara a "WHAT?" moment. Why would a tyrant like Ozai give her back her treasured possession and get into her personal space?...Yeah.
= = = I'm surprised to hear you say you feel sorry for him – I wasn't expecting anyone to say that :) But it's good to hear a different point of view. Thanks so much for the review!
Jane Keyboard: Dang It. I was thinking, since you replaced chapter 13 that my review would have disappeared, but it didn't, so now you have the same review on chapters 12 and 13 and I don't get to leave a new one on thirteen wahhhhh But you will not go without a review!
Another great Ozai chapter. You did an excellent job conveying Katara's warmer feelings toward Ozai. It really creeped me out reading it, to tell you the truth, because I could relate to times when I'd start developing unwanted feelings for someone at school or work, although my mind was being VERY rational in telling me that this person does not deserve my admiration, they're jerks or disgusting or whatever, but I still would get that physical-fluttering sensation... Just another step toward creepy Katara/Ozai-ness, you're doing a great job pacing that 'pairing.'
and WOW-go Toph! I'm very excited at the seeds planted for this 'new' Aang problem. Toph mentioned numerous times (in her narrative) that something was off with Aang's reactions. You write a really good Toph as well! I loved the "cream puff"... perfect nickname, pairs nicely with "twinkle toes" :) ("Baldy" is awesome too:)
Seriously though, Zuko needs to step it up. He's losing his sexy Zuko-ness. He hasn't accomplished anything since Katara's been gone! Uh, your damsel needs rescuing! No clues? No leads? No rumors? Come on, Z!
= = = Oh that's stupid about the Chapter 13 review :-\ I thought it would've disappeared too, especially because I fully deleted that chapter before ever uploading the real Chapter 13. Sorry about that. I'll still be sure to include your review in the response section of my next chapter.
But thank you SO much for you consistent reviews, and that they're so very thorough. It makes me super happy and I love reading them. I also like that you don't hold back in the constructive criticism department if there's something I could be doing better. Thanks!
Yes, I think most people can relate to that "no, this can't be happening" feeling of developing unwanted feelings/attraction to someone who least deserves it. Such a weird phenomenon. I'm glad you approve of the pacing for this "pairing"; I don't want to rush anything, but I also don't want it dragging.
Also glad you liked my portrayal of Toph too. I figured who better to put Aang in his place than our wonderful, brutally honest friend. I love writing her actually; her use of nicknames is so fun.
And finally, yes... Zuko. I 100% agree that he needs to step it up. I admit I could have done better with this portion of the story, and I'm definitely working on ways to kick it into gear. Don't worry though; I have a feeling he's thinking the same thing and won't let us down ;-)
Katara dropped her portion of the supplies to the ground heavily and leaned back to stretch her weary muscles. She had been trying to keep pace with Ozai who had taken the lead and was blazing ahead, seeming to have relinquished at least a fraction of his former misgivings of her. Still, he was careful to keep an eye on her, checking her from his peripheral vision often enough to discourage any kind of rebellion.
They had abandoned the path on which they had started for a much more rustic course, running parallel to a small river. Every now and then she could smell the rotting leaves, almost taste the metallic tinge of wet rock. Katara's ankles were beginning to ache from turning awkwardly over hidden tree roots and stumbling into concealed potholes. Her balance had been occasionally compromised by the weight of her share of luggage, and more than once she had tripped forward and nearly collided full-force into Ozai, thankfully steadying herself at the last second. That was an awkward moment she could certainly do without.
There was a new edginess in Ozai's mannerisms; it was apparent to her that he had become unpleasantly aware of some impinging development and was in a race to outsmart time. They had not even sustained a full night's rest before Ozai had woken her to start out again. The worry was evident in the tension that hardened his lips, the way his brows scrunched together when he thought she was not looking. Perhaps she could use this as leverage, gain an edge over him. Perhaps if she could somehow stall his efforts, his plan would be thwarted or at least weakened.
The brilliance of the sun burned the shadows out. Collapsing under a canopy of gold, Katara closed her eyes and let her arms fall out to either side of her, sighing at the refreshing touch of grassy earth against her tired skin. She probably looked ridiculous to the cold and distant tyrant standing next to her, but what did it matter what he thought of her? She needed this moment. Breathing deeply the scent of autumn leaves and fresh tree sap, she willed as much of the burdensome thoughts away as she could, if just for a moment. Her eyes wandered over the colorful lattice of leaves overhead as she brought a hand up to her neck to fondle the comfort and reassurance embodied thereon.
The grass stirred beside her as Ozai wordlessly sunk to the ground as well, sitting a bit closer to her than she would have liked and leaning his weight back on one arm. Though he did not show it, she was certain he must have felt just as tired as she was. From the corner of her eye she could sense him staring at her. Without moving her head, she briefly shifted her eyes in his direction in a subtle attempt to convey an air of self-assurance. She would not be intimidated by his efforts to make her uncomfortable; he would not take this moment away from her.
The two of them sat in tired silence long enough for the late afternoon sun to weave its way farther below the honeyed treetops. Katara was more than grateful for the break and was in no hurry to spoil it with wasted conversation. But the peace was regrettably short-lived, obliterated by Ozai's obtrusive voice.
"What is it about that silly pendant that enthralls you so?" His tone was cool and laced with an understated mockery that sparked her hair to stand on end.
"It's not a silly pendant!" she shot back, clutching her hand around the carved ivory and sitting up sharply to face him. She looked away then, grimacing both at his stinging words and her own abrasive reaction. This was exactly the kind of trivial nonsense she had been hoping to avoid. After a moment, she elaborated, forcing her voice to stay calm. "It was my mother's. It's all I have left of her."
"I see," was his only reply, his voice devoid of emotion. But he continued to look at her with that piercing amber gaze she was growing so accustomed to. She shifted her eyes away, felt her stomach tightening. Not knowing what else to do, she continued.
"The necklace makes me feel like a part of her is still alive, still with me somehow. When I thought I'd lost it, I was devastated. It's the only thing that keeps her from completely slipping away from me forever."
The words made her pause. How unnervingly close she had been to that reality. If it had not been for Ozai picking it up… No, even then she may never have seen it again. It was his decision to give it back to her that deserved her thanks. But why had he done it? He did not have to, and it was the last thing she had expected from him. As her thoughts wandered, she was met with more questions. Other than the blatant reality of being a hostage, she had to admit that so far she had remained relatively unharmed in his possession. At times, he had even been surprisingly… mild with her. If such a word could be attributed to him. What if he really was not the monster the world had painted him as?
Katara squeezed her eyes closed at the thought as though to shut it out. Sure, Katara, she chastised herself, maybe he's just a murderer because murder was his only choice. Still… what if some part of him really did not want to hurt her?
She ran her fingers along the cool ivory resting on her collar bone once again.
"By the way," she added after a moment, pausing until his eyes drifted back to hers. "Thank you… for returning it to me."
He did not respond right away. A gophersquirrel rustled a patch of dry leaves near the edge of the clearing, emerging with a mouthful of acorns threatening to burst from its chubby cheeks, pausing briefly to inspect them before scurrying up the trunk of a nearby tree.
"Don't you find it rather exhausting?" Ozai said at length, choosing to disregard her newfound gratitude. "Expending unnecessary energy longing for the past, mourning for something that cannot be changed? It's much easier to detach yourself from those you love to avoid such inevitable pain."
"How could it be easier?" The very idea of such an existence was heartrending to her. "Life without love would be far more painful. Even in mourning, there's still joy in the memories you have." Her eyes darted across his face, searching for something behind that solemn guise.
"Hmph," he scoffed. But his features were not hardened as he would have her think. Sure, the displeasure was painted across his creased forehead, as though he was trying to make sense of her perspective. But his downward eyes were melancholy, almost defeated, fraught with a lifetime of sorrow and strife.
For just a moment, she caught a faint glimpse behind the stone curtain, his callous façade dwindling with the afternoon sun. Behind that merciless tyrant was a sad, lonely man who took a father's rejection to heart and sacrificed everything just to prove that he was worth someone's trouble. But in the process, he had forsaken those who could have truly loved him, who could have filled that void, if he had only let them. And in the end, what began as a desperate display of self-worth became an obsession with power and control that ultimately destroyed himself and the people closest to him. If he could have seen past his father's disapproval and let others in who were yearning, crying out, for him to accept their love with no strings attached – would things have been different? Would Zuko – would the world – have turned out differently?
.:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:.
Ozai gazed at the waterbender sprawled out on the ground, an expression so perplexingly peaceful, yet sad, upon her face that for a moment she appeared almost otherworldly. The way her arms rested so carefree out at her sides smoothed his brow for a moment. There was something endearing about her at times, about her lack of pretension, he would admit that much.
"Life without love would be far more painful…"
Ozai's jaw tightened at the words. Endearing up to a point, he corrected himself. What did that girl know about life and love? She was pitifully naïve. Of course she would believe such things, having no inkling of what it was like when a life without love is your only choice. When sacrifices have to be made for the greater good.
Ursa's face flickered in his memory, her tender eyes searing his heart, and just as quickly vanished like a vapor in the wind. She had loved him. Right down to the moment of their final gaze. Why, he could never know. True, he had loved her back in the beginning, when things were simpler. But it had been a fool's love, and he had always been a pragmatic man, his ideology and motivations always first in order. He supposed she had just hoped she could change him one day. She was wrong.
The face of his past love faded away, replaced by the sad sapphire eyes that were now locked on his own, glimmering with needless compassion. He tightened his fists, his fingernails biting into his palms. Why was she looking at him that way?
"Don't waste your pretty sympathy," he said, turning his eyes away. Somehow, the words came out far less caustic than he had intended. "I have no need of it."
"What makes you think I'm wasting it?" she responded, her eyebrows drawn up like an innocent gazelle rabbit. "I honestly pit you. I think you've lost more than you've let yourself believe. And I think you know it, too. You said before that you married for love. If that's true, then there was a part of you, however deeply buried, that believed it was worth a chance – and knows just how much you lost. There was something in that moment when you fell in love that told you that she – that love – was worth the risk."
"You… are out of line, peasant," he growled, pushing himself off the ground in one heated motion and taking several fervent steps away from her, his back toward the brazen girl. His posture was rigid, his eyes narrowed, as he struggled to contain the fire that was rapidly growing inside him. If he had to listen to one more word of this impudent outburst…
"And it tells me something else." She mirrored his movement as she rose to her feet, continuing in blatant disregard. "Your wife – Ursa was her name, wasn't it?"
His eyes snapped open at the mention of that bittersweet name, spinning around and cutting her through with the daggers in his glare. "How dare you speak her name to me?!"
"It tells me she saw something in you too – if just for a fleeting moment – that drew her to you, that she deemed good and worthy of her affections. She was willing to make herself open and vulnerable to you because she trusted you with her heart. Isn't there a part of you that yearns to have that back?"
He ground his teeth together, his nostrils flaring. He never should have told her any of that. "I'm warning you, girl," he snarled, taking great care to utter every word as slowly and with as much foreboding as possible. "Another word and –"
"Your failure to object says everything I already know."
That was it. She had already crossed the line but now she was dancing around it, taunting him. He had extended more chances for her to back down than he should have, which was more than he could say for most of the unfortunate souls who crossed him.
Ozai's hand shot out and grasped her by the shoulder of her dress, wheeling her around and pinning her forcefully against a nearby tree so that her feet were scarcely touching the ground. A gasp of alarm escaped the girl as her back made contact with a dull thud. He placed a strong grasp on both of her shoulders, making it impossible for her to struggle free.
"You forget your place, peasant!" he hissed in a gravelly voice, leaning his weight against her. "Or have you so quickly forgotten who I am? I would be happy to refresh your memory, although I rather doubt you'd find the experience a pleasant one. If that's not what you want, I strongly advise you to remember –" he paused and leaned in closer. "Without delay," he growled with exaggerated clarity, his clawed hands wringing her shoulders with the words, "or the next of these insolent rants will be your last."
The audacity of that water wench to speak such an intimate name to him, to think she could dissect his deepest and most private demons… A part of him was screaming to put her in her place right now, teach her a lesson she would never forget as he had to so many others before. But there was something about the way those cerulean eyes stared at him, the boldness of the words she had uttered, the purity in her worldview that reluctantly stayed his hand. Why couldn't he do it?
His rapid breathing began to slow as he willed the wildfire within him to recede. He reminded himself of the big picture and his overarching goal. It was getting closer every day. If he wanted her to trust him, this was not the way to do it. Damn his unruly temper.
It was not until his anger began to dissipate that he realized how closely he had been leaning in to the girl. His nose was inches from hers. He could see the shades of indigo and periwinkle and even flecks of violet that he had never noticed in her blue irises, her eyes darting back and forth anxiously as they studied his face. She smelled like an odd mix of water lilies and desert rain, reminding him vaguely of childhood summers spent at the beach house. Quickly he shoved the memory back. Memories made him feel, and he did not like feeling. Feeling weakened you, had the power to break you. And he would never succumb to such a corruptible place. Never again.
.:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:.
Ozai relaxed his grip on Katara's shoulders as he stepped back and released a long, ragged sigh. But in her consternation she had forgotten that he had been holding her semi-suspended from the ground. Her feet landed awkwardly over the tree's gnarly roots as they made contact with the earth, and even as she tried desperately to right herself, she knew it was too late. The world around her seemed to spin in slow motion and helplessly she felt herself stagger forward, falling straight into Ozai's chest, her hands clutching onto his arms that he had reflexively brought up in an unintended embrace.
The awkward moment she had so narrowly avoided earlier had been saving itself for this very occasion, mocking her now with no respite.
For a moment Katara was frozen. Her mind was screaming for her to yank herself away but she was unable to move, her heart pounding against her chest. When he too failed to recoil, all she could manage to do was swallow hard and lift her widened eyes as she braced herself for his reaction. A cold tingle nipped at her stomach as an unexpected smirk turned up a corner of his mouth.
"Am I that magnetic," he sneered, "or are you this desperate? Perhaps all this talk of love is a mask for insufficiency. Is my failure of a son not satisfying you?"
Katara's jaw nearly unhinged as her entire body cringed. That was all it took to break her from her stupor. With as much force as she could muster, she wrenched herself from Ozai's arms with a disgusted snort and put several paces between them, her brows knitting together in a revolted glower.
"Ugh! You are the most vile, despicable–!" Her words began to sputter, falling short on her flustered lips. There were no words in the world terrible enough for what she wanted to call him. "It was an accident, and you know it! If my feet had been touching the ground, it wouldn't have happened at all."
"Of course. If you say so."
Her teeth ground together, her fists clenched and quivering. "I do say so! I can't believe –!"
"You're blushing."
Her severed words caught in her throat as she choked back a gasp. Was she? A glint of dread flickered in her eyes as she realized to her horror that he was right.
"Only because you're so infuriating!" she barked back, desperate to play it off. But even to her own ears her defense fell flat, unconvincing. Gods, what was the matter with her?
"In my experience, excessive denial is a feeble attempt to camouflage one's guilt."
"Aaghh!" she shouted, throwing her hands in the air and pacing away from him. "I'm through with this conversation!"
"Well, that's good because I doubt the dying sun will wait for you to confess the truth." Ozai smirked as he slipped in one last jeer. The blush on her face deepened; she fought the urge to scream, crossing her arms in a huff. That arrogant smirk, his self-superior attitude, his entire countenance made her blood boil. His ability to exasperate her was seemingly boundless.
"It's getting late," he continued, finally disowning his sardonic tone. "Therefore, we need to take advantage of what remaining daylight we have. We'll keep following the river and set up camp at nightfall."
Katara glowered at the ground, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, refusing to turn her face back to his. What had she been thinking? Of course he would never allow her to unearth everything he had long since locked away and buried so deeply without instead shifting the conversation to humiliate her. How stupid could she be – to think she could resuscitate some ounce of goodness in him by bringing those memories to the surface?
With as much pride as she could muster, she stomped over to her pile of supplies, wanting nothing more than to crawl into her sleeping mat and bury her reddened face. This could not be happening. She recognized all the telltale signs and symptoms, but… it just could not be true. Not here. Not him. Perhaps it was the northern Earth Kingdom air or the river water they had been drinking. It could be the falling temperatures or the excess of almonds and dried fruits she had been living on. There had to be some way to explain this bizarre plague of horrific feelings that had taken hold of her.
She knelt down next to the heap of baggage, began gathering her things. She blinked away the stinging mist that was now clouding her eyes. What was she becoming? Aang, she pleaded. I'm sor– She stopped; something inside her told her he was not listening. His ears were closed to her. Days had passed, and still no sign of a search. Had he closed his heart to her too?
Her stomach sank. Could Ozai be right? Could Aang have truly turned his back on her? What if he had convinced the others to do the same?
Zuko… she whispered, a single tear escaping down her cheek. Save me, please. Before it's too late.
Pssst! Don't forget to review! It only takes a second, and it's like candy for us writers. The kind of candy that's not only delicious but good for you ;-) And don't worry, more Zuko coming right up!