Zuko's breaths are practiced, almost meditative. The soldiers are returning to the airships from the city; he's due to join them within the hour, but for now, he's dismissed the servants and prepares alone. Somehow, being without them reminds him of simpler times. That banishment is now simpler times creates an unsteady feeling in his stomach.
His hair falls straight and black just past his shoulder blades, and the lingering wetness from the last decent wash he'll have for a while creates a stickiness against his back. Toweling it off, he dries his skin and pulls on his military tunic and pants, then regards his armor with a critical eye.
It's taken a beating. There's a large dent in the helmet from an earthbender's rock that he's more or less reshaped with careful heat, but his head hurts just looking at it. Scrapes from throwing stars and arrows litter the breastplate, and his shoulder pieces are in tatters.
You're going to get yourself killed, Mai said.
He shakes off the memory and reaches for a pile of fabric strips piled next to his bracers. Reaching into the pile, he pulls out a thick, blue strap with a shimmering blue stone secured to the center. It smells like smoke and dirt, and the strap's edges are frayed, the clasp that once clung to it long gone. He'll need to replace the strap before long.
Zuko lays the necklace along his left forearm, then he wraps the white strips around the necklace and his arm like he's dressing a wound.
Why do you wear that? Just throw it out. Or give it to a servant.
It should be returned to its owner, he'd said.
So mail it.
Somehow he'd never really thought she'd actually return to the South Pole. She was like a pentapus, the way she clung to the Avatar, and he hated her for it. Maybe he respected her for it, if he's honest, but honest reflection has never gotten him anywhere useful.
He pulls the bracers over his arms and his boots on his feet, and then the moon begins to rise, and it's time.
Spirits help him if this invasion fails.
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Aang scratches another tick mark in the wall as the sun begins to stream through the tiny window of his cell. Although he feels dizzy, he pushes himself off the floor as he does every morning, and he pushes himself through all of his airbending forms and as many waterbending forms as he can remember. The chi-blocking tea Zuko freely admits to slipping him has made him weak and foggy, but Aang knows Katara and Sokka will come for him.
They have to.
Visions of flying boars and dancing dragons come to him in his sleep. Roku visits him. A guard visits him with two meals every day. And so Aang subsists.
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"Can't you just wait until Katara can free Aang? It won't make any difference to wait a few weeks."
"I'm tired of waiting, Sokka. I'm tired of wondering when Princess Azula is going to find us. Katara should have freed the Avatar years ago if he's so important, and just because you seem to think the Fire Lord is an idiot doesn't mean his sister is. Or his father. We're fighting for our lives here."
"Zuko is not an idiot."
Jet rolls his eyes. "Your plan is crazy. Smellerbee and I move out tomorrow."
"No crazier than yours."
"At least mine is going to do some damage. You sent a rabbit-mouse into a wolf-bat cave. And for what?"
"Katara can handle herself."
Jet narrows his eyes and chews on his straw pointedly. "Come on, Sokka. She's not the girl for this. She can fight, but she won't-"
"Shut up, Jet," Sokka says, low and dangerous. "I didn't tell her to."
Jet's laugh is dry and brittle. "We aren't kids anymore. Women have to do a lot better than batting their eyelashes."
Sokka turns away. "Get out."
"Why, for telling you the truth? Even if she does manage to get the Fire Lord's attention, it isn't like he's going to bring her back to the Fire Nation. He'll chew her up and spit her out before she gets anywhere near freeing the Avatar. You're trading her for nothing. And don't think I don't know you're betting on her stopping the attack on the North Pole. It's not going to happen, Sokka, and even if she can pull it off, we're not standing down."
"Get. Out." Sokka grits his teeth. Jet smiles but leaves the other man to his thoughts.
Jet doesn't know about the necklace Katara is missing, and he doesn't know how to play Pai Sho. Sokka hopes these are exploitable weaknesses.
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"Go home, Appa. I'm going to bring Aang back. I promise." With a low moan, the bison heaves himself into the sky, and he glances over his shoulder at her as he retreats.
Not a moment too soon. Katara can see the red bulbs of Fire Nation airships cresting the midday horizon, like bloodspots on the fluffy, light clouds. It will be a dry night. Not ideal, but she's become a master since the last time she faced Zuko. The plants obey her; she can kill him with the sweat on his forehead if she has to.
The only question, really, is whether she can get him to free Aang, but she isn't a manipulator like Jet or a flirt like Jet or compelling like Jet. She's just Katara. If this is the best Sokka can come up with, he's either losing his touch or knows something she doesn't.
The flagship, enormous as it is, looms over the plateaus beneath her hilltop perch. As it descends, she sees Zuko standing on the firebender's platform, the same one his father stood on to raze the Wulong Forest four years ago.
She shivers, though she tries to keep still. Zuko is the image of his father. The clear side of his face is toward her, and he's just close enough that she can see the fine details of his straight nose and widow's peak, tightly tied hair long and dark where he'd once been bald as Aang. He has foregone his gold crown, and his armor looks old, dented, and weathered.
The northern sun heats her back, keeping her warm among the rocks as the afternoon drags on. Katara watches the little red ants far below her. Too many to fit into the ruins of the Air Temple, they pitch scarlet tents, a red swath on the landscape broken only by small clearings with roaring fires.
By the time the camp has begun to settle down for the night, the sun is setting, and the chill in the air begins to invade her thick cloak. The shadows are growing longer, and Zuko has put his tent on the outer edge of the camp. Too good to be among the common soldiers, she supposes, and too proud. Makes her job easier.
Time to move.
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The map is spread out in the center of a table in Commander Jee's tent, a replica of the one Zuko has in his own. The grizzled older man points to a green circle in the center. "Admiral Zhao has proposed we direct our forces here. Warmer temperatures will make firebending easier."
Zuko is not and has never been all that fond of anything Zhao comes up with. "But?"
Jee shrugs. "Nothing. It's not a bad plan. The waterbenders won't expect it; the palace was in the opposite direction the last time we were able to get a scout in."
Zuko frowns. "We can't fight our way to the center of enemy territory and then turn around and melt everything."
A corner of Jee's mouth quirks up. "It would be effective."
Zuko narrows his eyes. "Is that what Zhao is proposing?"
"Not explicitly, sir. I'm sure he wanted you to have the credit for the idea."
Zuko blows smoke from his nose and rubs the skin between his eyes. "Yes, Captain, I'm sure that's what he wants." He turns toward the flap at the entrance to Jee's tent. "I'm going to bed. My uncle would tell us to get some rest. We'll revise Zhao's plans at sunrise."
"Of course, sir."
"Lieutenant Jee."
"Prince Zuko."
"Thank you."
"Your uncle owes me my weight in gold." For a moment, it almost looks as if the two men might smile.
But they do not, and as Zuko's silhouette flickers and slips into the night, Jee wonders if the sham title is starting to take its toll or if the young man has been tempered by the horrors of war. Prince Zuko, because that's the uninflated reality of things, is growing into a peculiar man. Jee hopes he lives long enough to truly become Fire Lord.
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He throws her down on the floor of the tent, driving his knee into her back and her chin into the dirt. One hand wrenches her arms behind her back, holding her wrists together, and with the other hand he holds a flame near the side of her head. "Who are you?" He demands. "And what are you doing here?"
Katara wills herself to stay calm. "I came to talk to you," she says, focusing on her breathing. In, out. In, out.
Zuko barks a sardonic laugh. "I'm about to start a siege of the Northern Water Tribe, and you sneak into my tent to talk? If you were sane, you'd request an audience."
"Zuko."
"His hand tightens painfully around her wrists. "Fire Lord Zuko to you, girl. Now tell me who you are."
Does he remember her name? "Katara," she says, her voice carrying more confidence than she feels. If possible, his grip tightens even more, and she can't feel her fingertips. "Let me go!"
The pressure doesn't change. "the Avatar's girlfriend, paying me a visit? Are you hoping I'll let him go if you ask nicely?"
Not what she was going to ask for, but she'll take it. "Let me go." Nothing. She tries again. "Zuko, you're hurting me."
And then he's off her, a few steps away. He takes a firebending stance, fist no more than a foot from from her face, and glares. "Don't try anything, peasant." More slowly than she'd like, Katara staggers up off the ground, rising so that she's nearly touching him when she stumbles. "Back off," he says.
"No," she spits.
"I thought you wanted to talk. You're not making this any easier for yourself."
"Oh, so you're listening. Great. Don't attack the North Pole."
Zuko looks at her blankly for a moment before a large grin splits his face. She can't believe it in the moment, but Zuko, angry, humorless, stiff Fire Nation royal pain, is almost belly laughing. "You think," he says, fighting his mirth, "that you can just sneak into my tent and demand I stop an invasion that's been planned for months?"
"Don't you want to know how I know?"
She could swear he rolls his eyes at her, but it's hard to tell with the proximity and growing darkness. "I'm not going to waste time before a siege to find one spy. It's not like your little band of rebels could stop it anyway."
Katara steps back and slowly lifts her arms in surrender. So her way didn't work. So what? No one expected it to. But she's never been good at the damsel in distress routine, and she clearly can't talk to Zuko for longer than thirty seconds without one of them insulting the other, so Sokka's plan isn't going anywhere either. She's winging it.
Steeling herself, Katara takes a deep breath. "Zuko, you love your country."
He raises his eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Of course I do."
"Your people are suffering in this war."
He sighs heavily, looking away from her. "I know they are."
"You're the Fire Lord. End it."
Zuko laughs bitterly. "You think that title means anything? It's a castoff, from my father. In case you haven't heard, he's the Phoenix King now. He has all the power in the world."
"Okay, so convince your father to end it."
"Did you come here to kill me or to rub my complete lack of power in my face? If you're going to kill me, go ahead and try. This is ridiculous."
"Actually, I'm here to seduce you."
Zuko's cheeks flame red and his eyes go wide. He takes a step back. "What?"
"Sokka - my brother - thought that if I could do that, you might call off the invasion."
"Your brother is an idiot."
"You don't think I'm pretty?"
Zuko's mouth drops open and he stutters as he tries to find words. Finally, he lands on something. "Yeah. Um. Sure. For a Water Tribe peasant you aren't terrible-looking."
Katara sighs. She's shown her cards and gotten nowhere. "Don't hurt yourself."
"Look, Katara, I'm getting married on the summer solstice. I wouldn't betray my fiancée regardless. So I'm going to keep you as my prisoner until after the siege, and then I'll let you go. We don't have to make this harder than it needs to be."
"You could kill me."
Zuko looks well and truly baffled. "Do…do you want me to kill you?"
"What? No! Why would you even think that?!"
"Women are crazy," Zuko mutters. He looks her in the eyes. "You're crazy."
"Oh, really. You think I'm crazy? You should hear the strategy that isn't I-try-to-seduce-a-firebender. They're just going to blow up everyone."
He moves like lightning, and then he's standing above her again, glaring down at her menacingly. "What are you talking about? The rebels are planting more bombs? Where?"
Katara blinks. More bombs? "That's none of your concern," she replies primly. "Secret battle plans," she says, despite the nausea rising in her stomach.
Then he's gripping her shoulders and holding her up to his eye level, forcing her feet to dangle slightly off the ground. "Tell me."
"Let Aang go."
"You know I can't do that."
"Why not?"
"You stupid peasant! What, you think I can just let the Avatar go without completely destroying my honor? My father will have me killed. I'll be buried at sea like some ice-wielding barbarian!"
"Ice-wielding barbarian," she says dryly.
"Where are the bombs, Katara," he roars, his face an inch from hers.
She winces. "You have to free Aang, Zuko. They're crazy. They won't remove them unless the Avatar goes free to help with the rebellion. Sokka thinks calling off the invasion is enough, but-"
"Where. Are. The bombs." His voice rings in her ear.
She meets his eyes, wide and shimmering, and she has a horrible feeling that this isn't the first time Jet has tried this. "I don't know."
He slams her down, and she staggers before falling into the table. "You people leveled Ember Island last year, don't you remember? Do you see this?" He points to the gash in his breast plate. "This is from the debris. I was there. I watched every child on the beach that morning get blown away to nothing, and there was nothing I could do about it." He looms over her, face a mask of fury, and she scrabbles back on the table to get away from him. Zuko follows. "You killed my fiancée's little brother with that stunt you-"
"That wasn't me," she says, sudden tears running freely down her face. "I swear it wasn't, Zuko, I would never-"
"Right. You'll just fight with people who will do it for you." The words sting as they roll off his tongue.
"He promised he wouldn't," she whispered. "He promised."
"Guess you trusted the wrong person, Katara. You should have gone home when you had the chance." The snarl in his voice tells her he doesn't believe her, not really, and she wonders if she'll die here, lying atop a map of the Northern Water Tribe, in a tent outside an Air Temple.
They stare at each other in silence, Zuko simmering, Katara shaking. "He's going to destroy everything. He wants to kill everyone he can. Even Aang. Please, Zuko, help me stop this. Let Aang go."
"You're asking for something impossible," he snaps. "I can't let the Avatar go. I can't sit here and wait for my people to be slaughtered." He turns away from her. "Have you considered getting rid of him?"
"I'm trying to prevent death, Zuko, not kill someone. Have you considered getting rid of the Phoenix King?"
He's upon her then, tackling her to the floor and clapping a hand over her mouth. "You really are a stupid peasant. You'll get us both killed talking like that. You think my father doesn't have spies?" Something seems to occur to him. "You'd ask me to kill my father?"
She shakes her head, and he lifts his hand but does not get off of her. "He's kind of a war criminal and an awful person, so yes."
"And what about your war criminal?"
"He's not my war criminal-"
"Really."
"Get off me."
"No."
"Zuko, can we just talk like normal people for a minute? I won't ask you to kill anyone, you don't ask me to kill anyone, and maybe we can work something out."
If anything, Zuko sits on her harder. "Or I could just keep you here and force your brother to ransom you."
"Will you stop thinking evil little thoughts for two seconds?"
"Will you shut up for two seconds?"
"Ugh! You are just a pea-brained, fire-breathing, coal-digging-"
"Fire Lord Zuko!" A third voice carries through the thin material of the tent. "Is everything all right?"
"I'm fine, Captain Jee," Zuko says. "I'm interrogating a prisoner."
A beat. "We have a prisoner?"
"Yes. I'll debrief you in the morning."
"Very well, sir." The man's steps fade away, and Zuko crawls off Katara.
"You're going to have to stop yelling."
"So are you!" She protests. "And stop knocking me down!"
"Stop. Yelling." He hisses.
"Fine," she hisses back. "Will you just listen for a second?"
"Fine. Peasant."
"And stop insulting me!"
"Quiet!"
"If you won't call off the invasion, let me go. Let me steal your airship. I'll go to the Fire Nation while you have your stupid invasion and free Aang. He can defeat your father and end this war."
"I doubt it. The Phoenix King is too strong." He pauses. "And you're not getting the Avatar back."
"Why not? You got your honor back, didn't you?"
Zuko's expression is unreadable. "I got everything I wanted."
"Great. So now I'll just be going to take back Aang, and then we'll defeat you and the rest of the Fire Nation so Jet doesn't start playing hide and explode with your islands."
"First of all, why would I agree to that. Now that we know your plans, we'll evacuate the islands. Second of all, who do you think is going to have to drop everything to recapture him?"
Katara is finding herself increasingly bemused at the notion of honor in the Fire Nation. "Can't someone else who lost honor do it? It's not like you'd lose it again." She holds back a frown. "How did you lose it in the first place?"
"That's not important. You're not going to the Fire Nation."
She takes a deep breath, wondering what she's risking telling him this. "It won't just be the islands, Zuko. Jet is going to take everything down by the end of the month. Call off the invasion."
He will. He has to. She can feel his weakness-Fire Lord Zuko has, against all odds, started to feel something for peasants. Her heart pounds as she wills him to agree. Appa is gone; this was always a one-way trip without Zuko's cooperation, unwitting or not.
And if Jet finds out that she's given him up, or if Sokka realizes she's just gone and told Zuko the whole plan and hoped for the best, this little episode of going rogue may be the last thing she does anyway.
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When the boredom sinks in and the moon rises, as it does now, he thinks of her. Katara, beautiful with her braid flying behind her when she bends and her blue eyes that sparkle when she learns a new form. He remembers her wide eyes, her readiness to follow him to ride every animal he could think of. He misses her light teasing. Katara, all light and hope and everything he misses about being free.
She's coming for him.
They'll get married when he's free - he's sixteen now, isn't he? They'll have three or four airbending babies and maybe a waterbending baby or two and live in the Southern Air Temple until they're old and gray. They'll teach the children to respect all life and make fruit tarts. They'll go for rides on Appa and play with Momo and maybe see the world.
She's coming for him. She has to be.
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It rankles her that he isn't threatened. Zuko has not deigned to answer her tonight, instead throwing her a couple of scratchy blankets and going to sleep. Katara lies awake on the hard ground across the tent and glares in Zuko's direction.
"I could kill you and you'd never feel a thing," she whispers. "I could make the grass strangle you. I could stab you. I could drown you in your own spit. I could-"
"Water peasant," Zuko grumbles, turning over. "Either kill me or be quiet and go to sleep."
She hates him. He'll regret this, underestimating her. Maybe not tonight, maybe not until after the siege, but soon he'll know she's not a scared little girl anymore.
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A/N: I hope you guys like this because I have all kinds of feelings. Feel free to drop constructive criticism, though. Or ideas for a better summary because I hate it.