WhIP

by footfungus

nederlands verhalen over mijn otp

67. ZUTARA 1

Incendiary

Anonymous

Summary:

Bizarrely, the first thing Katara felt was a wave of relief.

Zuko. Not Ozai. They just wanted her to marry Prince Zuko.

And then the horror of it washed over her, cold and harsh and insistent; an iron grip on her heart.

Notes:

Welcome to my first ever (Zutara) multi-chapter!

This story is "canon divergent", as in it diverges from the canon story at a specific point, but you will see many variations and deviations from the canon universe and we don't follow the show's plot. One of the biggest and most important changes is the tone. This is a story about war for adults. As such, the universe and content will be much darker.

Reader discretion is advised.

Please also note that more tags will likely be added as I draft and go along.

And a final disclaimer: I do not own Avatar or any of the characters, nor do I make any profit from this story.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: The Ultimatum

Chapter Text

"They do not care if you are good.
They barely care if you are wicked.
The only thing that makes them listen is power."

― Madeline Miller, Circe

The arctic wind whistled without restraint across the courtyard of snow and ice, under a dazzlingly bright summer sun that didn't set.

Katara watched Aang's gloved hands trembling with the effort of waterbending.

Aang had pulled ice-cold water from the falls cascading down the walls of hard, gleaming ice in the palace courtyard of the Northern Water Tribe, and he now attempted to bend it in a circle around him, impatiently blinking falling snowflakes out of his eyes. It was a basic move, and yet Aang's stream of water was thin, wavering unsteadily. And then it finally dropped, falling to the ground with a resounding splash.

Katara cringed, but she carefully schooled her features to a bright smile when Aang turned to face her.

"Much better!" she said, encouragingly. "You're really improving."

Bitter frustration brimmed in Aang's gray eyes, and he made a small scoffing noise before sharply turning back around, summoning water from the falls once more. Katara sighed quietly, trying to ignore the steady ache building in her chest.

Katara had hoped that Aang's general mood would improve over time after the accident in Ba Sing Se, but sometimes she feared he was getting worse. There were minutes—moments, seconds—where she caught glimpses of her friend as he'd been before: calm, loving, optimistic. But Aang had died briefly from that lightning strike, and when he'd finally woken up again, he'd never been the same. In the former Aang's place was someone more angry. More bitter. Less hopeful. The worst part of all was the sad resignation she sometimes saw in his eyes.

Katara still remembered how it felt, holding him limp in her arms, his heart not beating. And after he'd woken up back in the North Pole—after using up her own vial of spirit water and much more from the spirit pool here, besides—he'd become almost a stranger.

Quickly, she directed her gaze up to the sky, blinking back the sudden burning of tears.

And then her entire body froze upon seeing black ash falling gently, seemingly innocuously, from the sky.

Katara stumbled toward Aang so quickly that she nearly lost her footing. He, too, had just noticed the ash falling into the water pools at the base of the palace walls, and the water he'd been bending dropped as he stared, horrified at the way the crystal clear water of the once shining pools began to grow murky and thick, choked with ash. "Let's go inside," Katara suggested, shaking his wrist. "Come on, Aang."

They rushed toward the palace, where others were already beginning to congregate.

The small crowd of nobility inside vibrated with collective, palpable anxiety, muttering among themselves. Chief Arnook stood on the dais of ice at the front of the room, and Katara spotted her father beside him; Toph and Sokka sought them out quickly through the crowd, weaving among the chattering people. Sokka's mouth pressed into a grim line as he and Katara shared a long look.

They'd all been expecting the Fire Nation to attack.

It wasn't like this was a surprise, though it was much sooner than anticipated. Her father, Sokka, and Chief Arnook had all seemed to think that the Fire Nation would concentrate on the Earth Kingdom for a while, particularly the area surrounding the recently conquered Ba Sing Se.

Apparently they'd been wrong.

"Arnook and Dad want me at the top of the wall, with the troops," Sokka said.

"We'll come with you," said Katara firmly.

Her heart pounded, painful and erratic, as the four of them slipped deftly through the throngs of people rushing into the safety of the palace, and then through even more of them scurrying through the blackening streets, running for their homes. The citizens' faces were stricken with panic, and sounds of screaming and sobbing lingered in the air, following them as the group pressed on. They hurried on and up, slipping on the long, treacherous stairs of ice to the top of the city wall, which overlooked the ocean.

By the time they arrived, the streets below, as well as the city wall itself, were covered in a thick layer of soot. Agna Kel'a no longer glittered.

Katara's gaze sought out the horizon, and the sight of the approaching ships made her chest seize up.

For a moment she couldn't breathe at all.

For a moment she was eight years old all over again, watching the ships with that same insignia approach, watching the same soot fall from the sky and taint the beautiful white landscape around her. Those ships had brought death and destruction and the end of Katara's childhood.

This time, she knew they were bringing a possible end to the Water Tribes all together.

Sokka reached over and slipped his hand into hers, squeezing hard. She knew he was remembering their mother too.

Even if it was earlier than their estimates, Katara supposed that it did make sense that the Fire Nation would come now. The all-day sunshine in the North Pole during the summer months gave the Fire Nation an obvious and massive advantage. And to the Fire Nation's knowledge, the Avatar was dead and could not come to the defense of the North Pole this time. The worst part was that they weren't exactly wrong. Aang still had his airbending, but the other forms of bending had been almost completely lost to his injury, and his training had been so painfully slow since he woke that at this rate, Katara estimated it would be at least a year or two until he was ready to face Fire Lord Ozai.

She did not want to even consider the possibility that the other forms of bending were lost forever along with his Avatar State, the collective knowledge of previous lives vanished. None of this was something Katara could express to Aang. The guilt and pressure would ruin him.

The Fire Nation had come to destroy them. They'd come to eliminate them, leaving only the rest of the Earth Kingdom to fall. In less than a year, they'd likely be able to dominate the entire world. So it made sense that the Fire Nation had come.

What didn't make sense was what they all suddenly saw hanging from the approaching warships.

For a long moment Katara just stared, dumbfounded, the cold wind whistling and nipping sharply at her ears, her parka hood lying forgotten on her shoulders as flakes of ash settled in her thick hair.

White flags.

But why? The Fire Nation didn't need to surrender. They didn't need to negotiate. They had the upper hand in every way possible.

Nevertheless there were indeed white flags. She was not seeing things and they were not a mirage. The flags were bright in the rays of the blazing sun and impossible to miss, hoisted high on every single one of the warships gliding silently through the icy water.

Was it a trick? It had to be.

Sokka reacted first. His expression still grim, his ponytail rustling slightly in the freezing wind—stronger than usual here, high up on the wall of ice and snow, unprotected from the elements—he said, "Katara, maybe you should go see what's going on. You too, Aang. You shouldn't have come anyway, and you need to be hidden away in case there really are negotiations. And if there aren't, we'll need to evacuate you. Toph and I will stay here with the troops for now." Katara could tell from Sokka's expression that he still expected an attack.

She didn't want to leave him or Toph, but she just gave a jerky nod and tucked her arm into Aang's. They hurried down the wall and once more picked their way through the labyrinth of buildings until they reached the palace. Her father waited on the icy steps outside, his face unreadable. "What's going on?" Aang gripped his staff tightly as they strode forward.

"Arnook has gone out to the city gate to see if they are actually sending a delegation that wants to speak with us," explained Hakoda. "If the intention of peace is legitimate, they'll be at the palace soon enough. Come with me, Avatar. They cannot know you are alive."

Aang's eyes flashed briefly, and he looked like he might argue.

After he'd woken from his coma, Aang had been deeply disturbed to know that the world thought he'd died. Thankfully, however, he now just nodded sullenly, agreeing to be led away and into hiding. Katara hugged him tightly, briefly, and then she was left alone, standing before the palace in the falling soot, shivering slightly despite her warmest parka. Her father returned before Arnook did, which Katara was thankful for even if they didn't speak. There wasn't much to be said. All that they could do was wait for what came next.

And then a group appeared in the distance, marching briskly through the streets in the direction of the palace.

Arnook led at the front, before a small group of five Fire Nation soldiers. They held white flags, but even so, Katara's muscles went tense watching them approach. Some citizens peered with frightened eyes from their homes, watching the enemy march through their streets.

One Fire Nation figure, however, strutted directly beside Arnook, head high and shoulders thrust back. They brimmed with confidence, positively oozed with it. It could be no mistaking who walked like that. Katara drew in a sharp breath when the little procession came near enough for her suspicion to be confirmed, and a flash of boiling rage coursed through her at the sight of none other than Princess Azula.

The diplomatic procession moved slowly up the palace steps and halted just before Katara and Hakoda. For a moment, there was only a long silence, interrupted briefly by the whistles of the wind whipping over the open palace courtyard below.

And then Azula smiled. It was a terrible smile. It was taunting and malicious and cruel, the sort of smile that promised pain. Her golden eyes swept calculatingly over Katara and Hakoda, and sudden goosebumps erupted across Katara's skin that had nothing to do with the bitter cold.

"How very charming," said Azula finally, her sharp gaze drifting over the buildings of blackened ice.

Her tone was mocking. Chief Arnook visibly bristled, but he seemed to decide not to comment on Azula's clear condescension. Instead he said to Katara and Hakoda, his voice flat and careful, "Princess Azula claims that she is here to discuss a possible end to the war."

"That's right." Azula's eyes glinted before she let out a dramatic little sigh. "Though I believe the least that decent hosts could do is offer a warmer place to carry out the negotiations, yes? The weather in this place is monstrous. Is this supposed to be summer?"

Arnook's voice wavered, but otherwise he was able to keep it forcibly calm. "Of course. Right this way, Princess Azula."

Azula smirked at Katara as she stepped by her, and Katara did nothing to hide her vicious glare, baring her teeth at the Fire Princess. The last time she'd seen the Azula was in Ba Sing Se, when Azula had struck Aang down with her lightning bolt, her fingers smoking and cold triumph on her face. And while Azula did not know that she hadn't succeeded in killing the Avatar, she had succeeded in snuffing out any hopes of quickly defeating the Fire Lord, due to Aang's slow recovery and lack of Avatar State.

They proceeded through the palace entry hall, through low-lit corridors leading to the official diplomatic chamber. Arnook's servants scurried to start a fire in the hearth. It was built of sturdy stone and metal, protecting the rest of the icy walls from melting and yet still able to send a pleasant warmth furling into the room. A long, grand table of ivory surrounded by high-backed chairs stretched toward them from the opposite side of the room, and the whale oil lanterns dotting the walls where brighter here, their light flickering across hanging tapestries of deep blue and cream.

"There," Chief Arnook said curtly, when the servants had finished quickly lighting all the lamps and preparing the fire, bowing upon their departure. He jabbed a gnarled finger at the chair nearest the flames. "Warmth."

"Lovely." Azula was still smirking as she sank into the chair. Her soldiers, presumably her personal guard, filed around her, surrounding her, though Katara was quite certain that if it came down to it she wouldn't need their protection at all.

Katara and her father warily sat as well, stiff on the edge of their chairs. Arnook, however, remained standing, pacing back and forth behind them. Katara wondered if this was because he wanted to maintain some outward semblance of control.

"Well, Princess?" Hakoda hid his contempt more successfully than Arnook. He sounded perfectly mild.

"I am here," said Azula, daintily crossing her legs and clasping her hands over the table, "because I want to make a proposal to your tribes. I hope to end the squabbling between our nations."

Squabbling.

Katara clenched her hands into fists under the table so tightly that her nails dug painful half-crescent moons into her palms. What a dismissive way to describe the slaughtering that the Fire Nation had been carrying out over the past one hundred years. Katara glanced at her father to see that his lips were pursed; Arnook's footsteps faltered briefly before starting up again, but he said nothing.

"As I'm sure you all know," continued Azula, "Water follows Air in the Avatar cycle. That means the Avatar has already been born in one of your two tribes when the Avatar fell in Ba Sing Se."

Katara blinked, hoping to hide her emotions from playing out across her face. Was the Fire Nation not aware that if he'd really been killed in the Avatar State, the cycle would have ended? Was this a secret that the Avatars had kept among themselves? It made sense that they would—it would be a massive vulnerability for everyone to know. Well, she wasn't about to let Azula find out any differently now.

"When you murdered him, you mean," Katara snapped.

As soon as the words came out, Katara heard Arnook make a disgruntled noise. But Katara couldn't bring herself to regret them, even if Aang wasn't really dead. That wasn't really the point. The point was that he could have been. He could have been, and this horrible woman sitting across from her, self-satisfied and triumphant like all of this was some gigantic game to her, would have been the one responsible.

Azula thought she was responsible, and she only spoke with clear relish of it.

"Katara." Hakoda's voice was quiet. Full of warning.

Katara bit her tongue and tried to calm the irregular, rapid beating of her heart, the blood rushing in her ears.

"It's far too early to know who the Avatar is," said Arnook. His footsteps stopped again, and he sounded strained. "You know children usually don't show abilities and can't be identified until they are at least two or three years of age, often later. So if that's part of your negotiations—"

"It's not," said Azula. "Or I should say not quite yet."

There was a brief pause. "Go on," said Arnook.

Azula's smile was like a well-greased trap. "The Fire Nation has become aware that the Northern and Southern Water Tribes seem to have made an official alliance," she said, looking between the two Water Tribe Chiefs. "Is this true?"

Her father shifted uneasily in his seat, glancing back toward Arnook.

After Aang had been struck they had flown straight here, and Arnook had welcomed them easily. Aang had, after all, protected his tribe some months prior. Hakoda had received word of the incident and had arrived not long after. Fearing for the safety of the Southern Water Tribe, he'd proposed an alliance. Arnook had not agreed to help the Southern Water Tribe troops in the war, preferring to remain isolationist, but he had agreed to host Southern Water Tribe members. Since then a steady stream of the vulnerable population from the Southern Water Tribe had been escorted to the North by boat. Gran-Gran had arrived just last week. Most Southerners were less than pleased to be here as refugees.

The cultural clashes had already begun causing high tensions, but Hakoda had feared that his tribe would be attacked back home, with no soldiers to protect them. It was, to say the least, a rather tense and tentative alliance. But it was still an alliance.

"That's right," said Arnook finally. "How do you know this?"

"The Fire Nation knows everything that happens on the water," Azula said, the curve of her lips smug. "Our naval power is unrivaled. We saw hordes of ships sailing this way and put two and two together."

"We greatly appreciate your restraint from attacking innocent civilians," Hakoda said dryly.

Azula's eyes flicked to him. "Strategically speaking, it didn't make sense for us," she said. "My proposal is this: we form an official alliance between the Fire Nation and the Water Tribes. No more attacks. No more war."

"Why?" Arnook asked shrewdly. "What advantage does this bring you all the sudden?"

"The biggest advantage of all," said Azula, as if she was explaining a concept to a particularly slow schoolchild. "We will secure our future by allying ourselves with the next Avatar. We demand that they will be sent to live and be raised in the Fire Nation when they are identified."

Arnook's footsteps stuttered, and Katara heard him curse under his breath.

Hakoda just dipped his chin, frowning down at the table. Firelight flickered in his blue eyes. "Name your other demands."

"The Northern Water Tribe will become a Fire Nation colony," said Azula. "Officials will be sent to co-rule with you and maintain order. You understand, of course, that we must ensure that the new Avatar doesn't slip away. Even if you do your best, the parents may wish to hide their child. Trade and taxation would be the decisions of the Fire Lord. You will stay out of our business regarding our continued conquests in the Earth Kingdom. Your local laws and customs are otherwise permitted to remain your own, if they don't cause unrest."

"You want us to be your puppet." Arnook sounded furious.

"Precisely," said Azula. Her eyes suddenly landed on Katara, and her smile widened. "You should know that we can't chance future treachery. An official document is not enough if we must wait years for our most important demand. We require a more...secure alliance. Familial."

Everyone stared at her, and for a moment the only sound was the pop of flames in the hearth.

"A marriage between our Nations," said Azula. "In case that wasn't clear." She leaned back in her chair, examining her fingernails, pretending not to notice that the room had gone deathly silent. But her eyes glittered, and Katara knew that she was reveling in the effect of her words.

"Why?" Katara asked. "Why not just take a prisoner to ensure good behavior?"

Azula looked amused. "Surely marriage would be preferable to a cell?"

Katara frowned. It still didn't make sense. The Fire Nation held all the power. They could demand that Chief Arnook came with them, or her father. Why would they care what was preferable? There had to be another reason. "That's not an answer," she said.

Azula sighed loudly. "Consider it an initial sign of good faith. Between new allies."

Katara fought the urge to loudly scoff. Right.

"What are the details of the marriage alliance?" Hakoda asked, still calm.

"We need a female. She must be a bender, and she must be royalty."

"My daughter is no longer with us," said Arnook quietly. "There is no other royalty here."

"Isn't there?" said Azula, her eyes flicking to Katara again and her mouth curving into a vicious smile at the way Katara went very still in her seat. Katara had never thought of herself as royalty before. The South didn't have Princesses the way the North did.

But her father was still the Chief of the South.

The silence in the room was thick and tense.

Katara felt as though her chair was falling away from under her. That the palace floor was about to open up and swallow her whole. Her extremities were numb. This could not be happening. It couldn't. Finally, the silence broke. "You're asking me to hand over my daughter to marry the Fire Lord?" Her father sounded rough and unsteady, the first time he sounded anything other than calm or neutral.

A strange ringing filled Katara's ears, and her lungs wouldn't fill properly.

"No," said Azula. "My father is still married." She looked to Katara, her cold smile widening. "I'm asking your daughter to marry my brother."

Bizarrely, the first thing Katara felt at this knowledge was a wave of relief.

Zuko. Not Ozai.

They just wanted her to marry Prince Zuko.

Then the horror of it washed over her, cold and harsh and insistent. An iron grip on her heart.

"If you refuse," continued Azula, far too pleasantly, "my waiting ships will attack. We will wipe out everything you know." Suddenly, she stood. "That is all I have to say. I will give you some time to discuss our offer in private, among yourselves. Do consider it. Searching for the Avatar reborn once again in the Earth Kingdom would be a long and tedious task, and we'd certainly prefer not to do it. Just as I'm sure you'd all prefer to stay alive." Azula smirked again. "One hour." And with that she turned, briskly striding to the door, her personal guard trailing behind her. Arnook was shaking as the door swung closed, furious at Princess Azula's audacity in his own palace.

"No," said Hakoda immediately. He shook his head, his jaw tight. "Absolutely not."

"Hakoda," began Arnook, "you can't possibly deny that it buys us the valuable time we need—"

"Time that we need. The South." Hakoda's voice was so sharp it sliced. His fingers curled tightly around the edge of the table. "Because it isn't like you've been contributing to the war effort, have you, Arnook? My men are the ones fighting and dying while you and your people have remained safe here, behind your wall. And are you really telling me that you would have sent Yue to this fate?"

"Yue would have sent herself," Arnook snapped back. "She knew the value of sacrifice and duty, Hakoda. It's why she's no longer with us, why the moon still exists after the Fire Nation tried to rip it out of the sky. It's why your daughter and your son are still alive. Not to mention the Avatar and the entire Northern Water Tribe." He paused, raising a brow. "I'm not so selfish as to put my needs above my entire tribe's survival."

Hakoda's eyes flashed, and his chair scraped loudly across the floor as he stood abruptly.

"Dad. He's right." Katara's voice shook, and she felt almost faint, but she rose to her feet as well anyway, staring steadily at her father.

"Katara—"

"What other option do we really have?" Katara choked back a growing lump in her throat. "The Fire Nation will beat us if we fight now. We all know it and they know it too. And we can't just sit back and let everyone die."

"But—"

"Dad. There's nothing else. Not yet." Katara stood up straighter and raised her chin, determined to show strength and not fear.

Like Yue.

"If we do this," she continued, "it's like Arnook said. We have more time to get stronger. They don't have any idea Aang is alive, and we have a few years before they demand that we send the Avatar to them. That's enough for us to gather strength and fight back." She eyed Arnook pointedly. "All of us can gather strength and fight back. Aang can keep training in secret. He'll be our secret weapon. Once he's ready, I bet we could smuggle him in somehow. I'll—" she momentarily faltered over the incessant and still rapidly growing lump in her throat. "Well…I'll have been there long enough by then to figure out how."

Yes. Months. Years of her life, maybe, depending on how long Aang took to train again. Katara tried to hide the shaking in her hands. She'd thought she would fight. She'd thought she would be a fighter, but she was going to be reduced to a distraction.

A mere decoy on Prince Zuko's arm.

It matters, she told herself fiercely. This is how I can best help now. It matters.

"This is insanity." Hakoda's breathing was harsh. Stuttered.

"Your daughter is an extremely capable woman," said Arnook. He sounded much gentler now, and he threw Katara a grateful look. She just narrowed her eyes at him, and Arnook cleared his throat. "She is correct that this would buy valuable time to turn the tides of this war."

"And I can take care of myself," Katara insisted, staring at her father. Being strong for him helped her not focus on the creeping sensation of dread. But the helplessness that flashed across his face then, as he looked back at her—it almost made her waver. It almost made her break down into tears and run to him, flinging herself in his arms and begging him to protect her and hide her and keep her safe.

But she couldn't. And he couldn't.

"I've made my decision," said Katara, desperately trying to ignore the uncomfortable, growing sense of nausea churning her insides.

And so when Azula returned to the chamber almost exactly one hour later, Katara stood on wobbly legs but tall and proud, waiting for her. Her father stood behind her, one of his hands gripping her shoulder so tight it hurt. Sokka and Toph had returned from the wall and stood on either side of her, pale and horrified. Sokka held her hand in his again, and he watched Azula's every move like one watches a snake. Chief Arnook hovered some distance away, watching the proceedings with a resigned set to his mouth.

"I agree," said Katara, voice echoing through the cavernous chamber. "But I need to know the full terms, Azula."

"Princess Azula." Azula sounded harsh for the first time. "Forgetting a title in the Fire Nation is punishable by death. Best you learn that quickly." Her eyes glinted again, and Katara fought a shudder. She would be going to live in the Fire Nation, with its hatred for other benders and its rigid culture, marrying a man she distrusted and despised.

"The terms," said Azula after a horrible pause, "are quite simple. You will not be treated as a member of the noble class. You will have freedom of movement within the capital. You will have freedom of correspondence as long as you agree to let your letters be examined to ensure you are not sending sensitive information. If you are discovered to be engaging in nefarious activities, you will be executed. If you are discovered committing adultery, you will be executed. If your tribe misbehaves and breaks our alliance in any way, you will be executed."

Katara swallowed hard. "Anything else?" she managed to say.

"Just one more thing," said Azula. "An alliance through family is not considered complete without a new generation to ensure that both families are truly bound together. If you do not take the conception of an heir seriously, you and my brother will both be assumed to be conspiring against the current throne and you will be executed."

Hakoda made a sudden and furious hissing sort of noise.

Bile shot up into Katara's throat. "I see," she whispered.

"Katara, please," Hakoda begged, sounding strangled.

"No." Katara's voice was harder than she intended it to be. But she really needed her father to stop talking, or she wouldn't have the strength to do what needed to be done. She couldn't look at him. "I assume it says all this on the actual contract?" Katara asked Azula stiffly.

"But of course." Azula snapped her fingers and immediately one of her guards came, bringing forward rolls of parchment which Katara took with trembling fingers. "Take your time," said the Fire Princess, leaning back and watching Katara with amused, expectant eyes.

Katara couldn't fully ignore the prickling feeling of Azula's gaze on her as she began to read. Her father, Chief Arnook, and Sokka came to read it as well, and this, at least, made Katara feel better. If something was hidden inside, they would help her catch it. It took them quite a while even though it wasn't a terribly long document, but they wanted to ensure that they scoured it properly. They found nothing of interest. There was nothing openly alarming in it, nothing too ambiguous or too vague, and nothing that Azula didn't already mention.

Everything was straightforward. There didn't seem to be a trick hidden inside.

And so Katara took the brush that Arnook handed her, dipped it in ink, and, with slow, careful strokes, she signed her name. Her hands shook so badly that it was a true wonder she made it legible at all. But it was unmistakably her name, clear and bold on the dotted line.

Declaring her willingness to marry Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation for peace.

Or at least a pretense of it.

Chapter 2: The Fire Nation

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Make the people love you.

It was the last thing Sokka said to her, whispered into her ear while he hugged her goodbye.

She'd been given one more hour to gather her meager belongings with the expectation that she would leave directly with Azula's fleet. As such, the time she'd had with her loved ones was more hasty than Katara would have liked. She told herself it was better this way.

She remembered once, when they'd both been young children, Sokka had come running into their hut, his chest heaving and face scrunched, tears running down his pudgy little cheeks. He'd showed Katara and their mother his palm, and they saw a sharp piece of ice had been lodged deep into his skin; he'd fallen down and thrown out his hands to catch his fall. Kya had briskly but calmly sat him down, kissing his head and cooing reassurances, and prodded at it gently under the guise of a careful examination. And then, without warning, she'd taken hold and yanked.

Katara had gasped in horror and Sokka had howled, but then it had been over, the blood flow quelled by a bandage that Kya had wrapped tenderly around his hand. Katara told herself now that was how she must see her forced, hasty exit.

That being ripped away quicker made the pain of it easier to bear.

Toph and Gran-Gran were the only ones who did not cry, though Toph's milky eyes had been misty as she'd wrapped her arms around Katara, squeezing tightly, and Gran-Gran had looked quickly away with quivering lips after she'd kissed both of Katara's cheeks. Aang had insisted it was his fault while tears streamed down his face, and had promised to train quickly and somehow bring her home.

Her father's tears had been sparse but still visible. The haunted expression on his face reminded Katara of how he'd looked in the weeks after her mother had died, right before he'd left for the war. And Sokka had crushed her to him like he could hide her in his chest.

The heaviness in the air felt like a death sentence. It certainly did feel like her life was ending.

They all told her they loved her as they said goodbye. They stroked her cheeks and petted her hair, offering helpless assurances, but she found herself lingering on Sokka's words the most, long after she had boarded the ship. Make the people love you.

He'd said it with urgency and a sense of certainty, and something about that made Katara feel calmer. Because when Sokka talked like that, it meant he had a plan. And if he thought that making Fire Nation citizens like her would give her or their cause an advantage in this war, then at least Katara had something else to do besides playing the obedient wife. Something else to focus on besides her upcoming marriage.

She shuddered suddenly and violently, as she did every single time she began to entertain this train of thought.

Unfortunately this happened rather often. The thoughts about her future in the Fire Nation were relentless, and it wasn't as though she had much else to do on the long ship journey. They'd put her on the lowest level, in a damp, dreary little room, and the only interactions Katara had with others were servants bringing her meals or the few soldiers she saw when she ventured out to walk. Still, Katara preferred this bleak loneliness over spending time in the presence of Azula. And so Katara would stare out of the tiny porthole that served as her window, nearly level with the surface of the water, and she would watch the ocean glide by, trying not to think of her arrival.

Most of all she did not want to think of Zuko, but it was impossible to avoid.

The memory of his face alone made her so furious she wanted to scream.

She'd seen so much of his stupid face ever since he'd started hunting Aang, and yet still the image that lingered most was as he'd looked in the cave under Ba Sing Se—eyes closed, head bowed to her, uncharacteristically vulnerable.

Now it was especially hard to avoid thinking about it, being led to the Fire Nation to see him again.

To marry him. And now she was supposed to… conceive with him, according to Azula. Katara wondered how long she could get away with secretly staving off pregnancy. She shuddered again. Those sorts of thoughts made her feel ill, so she always pushed them away.

Thinking about it would change nothing. It would not change that she despised Zuko, or that she and the entire Water Tribes were powerless to stop any part of this. It would not change her complete lack of any experience in that area either, nor the creeping sense of terror that came with knowing she would have to face this particular and very vulnerable unknown with a man she did not trust or even like.

What I'm doing is important, Katara told herself instead. A constant reminder. A mantra of sorts, one that she found helped calm her when her heart began to beat too fast and her throat started to contract.

I'm buying Aang time. I'm buying everyone time. I am not just a decoy. I'm saving them.

I am not just a decoy.

This matters.

Katara assumed she'd see more of the princess during their journey to the Fire Nation, but perhaps Azula thought herself above visiting her, even if it was only for the purposes of malicious taunting. Whatever the reason, Katara was glad for it.

The air in her little cabin grew steadily warmer and wetter. The water that lapped against the side of the ship slowly became a brighter blue and the sun more sweltering as they sailed closer and closer.

Azula did come personally to inform Katara of their impending arrival.

"We will be in the Fire Nation within the hour," said Azula. She stood in Katara's door in full military regalia, her shoulder pads so wide she barely fit in the door. "Servants are bringing you clothes to wear. We will meet with my father upon arrival, and you must look fit to see him."

What Katara wanted to do was spit at Azula and tell her where she could shove her Fire Nation clothing.

Instead she could only jerk her head in reluctant acquiescence.

The dress the servants delivered to her door was thin silk, and though Katara wrinkled her nose at the ash-colored Fire Nation insignia patterns dotting the vivid red fabric, she had to admit that it felt comfortable in the muggy air. The dress was light and breathable, so that even with her arms and legs covered, the blazing heat of midday was tolerable. Still, her hair—which she'd been instructed to leave down and unbraided, tumbling nearly to her waist—was heavy and thick, and sweat pooled on the back of her neck and beaded along her hairline almost as soon as she stepped above deck. Katara blinked, vaguely disoriented. The sun was brighter than she'd expected.

When she could see clearly again, she was gazing out over the rail directly into the harbor, just able to make out the port city beyond.

Far in the distance rose a volcano, with the capital nestled inside.

There was a bustling market in the harbor, and the smells of fish and salt, of spices and perfumes, drifted over to greet them. Katara heard laughter, the clink of coins, the shouts of merchants advertising goods.

The guards surrounded her and Azula, pushing curious stragglers back by igniting flames on their palms, so Katara only got flashes of the docks. But she could see that there were cobblestone streets weaving among the market stalls. There were children in dirty rags running barefoot, scouting for pockets to pick, and there were women draped in the finest robes of gold, their heads and faces covered and only their eyes showing. Sailors strutted through with their crews, already drunk at high noon, roaring with raucous laughter, and drawn tight to their hips were prostitutes with coy smiles and gleaming jewels dangling off barely-covered bodies.

A crowd formed at the base of the ramp, recognizing the arrival of a royal ship. Some started to call out for Princess Azula. Others saw Katara and began to whisper. Still others gawked and pointed at her openly. Azula ignored their praise and cries for her attention and climbed into the palanquin waiting at the base of the ramp.

It wasn't until she sat there staring coldly at Katara that Katara clambered in after her, struggling to contain her scowl, though not before shooting an apologetic look at the four men hovering around the palanquin who would clearly have the highly unpleasant task of hauling them all the way along the road and to the palace under the rays of the sweltering sun.

A faceless swarm of stiff Fire Nation uniforms was the last thing Katara saw before Azula yanked the curtains closed.

"You'll have to work on that, you know," said Azula airily. She leaned back and crossed her legs, her eyes glinting and that cold, calculating smirk on her face. "You'll be a real princess soon. You can't climb into a palanquin looking like an uncoordinated primate."

Katara's fingers twitched, but she settled in her seat across from Azula and looked away.

Unfortunately, there was nothing to look at but the inside of the palanquin and the drawn curtains, all decorated in varying shades of red or pink. The ceiling had swirls of what appeared to be golden vines. It was gorgeous, and Katara decided that she hated it.

"Having some pre-wedding nerves?"

Katara's gaze flicked back over. Azula was knowingly eyeing Katara's hands, which, much to Katara's chagrin, she realized that she was wringing tightly in her lap. "What's it to you?" Katara snapped.

"No need to get out the claws," said Azula, leaning back further and smiling. "I'll be your sister soon."

Katara swallowed the insults and curses that bubbled to her tongue. They would only make things worse. She knew this. She knew this about Azula, and she'd told herself on the ship that she wouldn't allow herself to be baited. Katara had to keep her resolve and play this smart.

She forced a tight smile. "I suppose so," she said, even as the words burned coming out. "Well then, what can I expect next? Could you tell me, as a little sisterly favor? I don't want to do something wrong when I meet the Fire Lord. My manners are ever so backward, after all, being a peasant."

Azula's eyes flashed, hearing the hint of sarcasm Katara had been unable to repress, but she still answered. "When you enter the room, you are expected to get to your knees in front of his throne. Lower your chin and do not look him in the eyes. Only speak when he asks you a direct question, and always use his title. Do you think you can manage that?"

"I'll certainly try," Katara said sweetly.

The gentle sway of the palanquin was making Katara queasy. Azula's occasional barking orders to the men outside to move faster did not help.

And try as she might, Katara could not stop her hands from quivering in her lap as she thought about the meeting that lay ahead.

She'd never seen the Fire Lord before.

He was only a monster that lived in her imagination; something intangible. He was a cruel, faceless man sitting on a throne partially shrouded in darkness, a puppeteer pulling all his strings. The idea of seeing him in the flesh was surreal.

When the palanquin finally stopped her legs were like mashed sea-prunes, and she was still graceless as ever when descending to the steps before the grand palace. She grit her teeth at the way Azula clucked her tongue in open disapproval from behind her.

The palace was massive, the foundation of beige blocks on either side jutting out into the majestic terrasse of sparkling marble. Pagoda-like structures formed the roof, curving and curling upward at the edges, shining in the brilliant sun. Like everything else, the palace was gold and black and red, so imposing that the people lingering before it were small and insignificant dots. The center reminded Katara of a ship. Three structures jutted out, an overhang for the palace doors, exactly like three massive bows of a ship stacked upon one another. It was a blatant boast, a reminder of the fact that the Fire Nation was the greatest maritime power in the world and controlled the seas.

Stretching up and up from these, reaching on into the bright blue sky, was a sturdy tower of vivid red, crowned with a Fire Nation crest. It was a building carefully planned for symmetry; every window, every marble pillar wrapped with glittering gold, had an equal on the opposite side. It was beautiful, easily the most impressive and lavish building that Katara had ever seen.

She decided that she hated it, too.

When Katara returned her attention to Azula, the princess was assessing her.

"You'll do," Azula said finally, condescendingly. "Let's go."

The soldiers began nudging her along, and Katara's feet automatically followed, even if it felt that they were wading through quicksand.

The inside of the palace was cooler, even though sconces with flickering torches lined the walls. It was darker here, too, shadows stretching over the portraits and decorations lining the walls. Depictions of Fire Nation cities and previous Fire Lords, battles, paintings of dragons. Katara barely registered any of it. They walked and walked. She turned corners when she was supposed to, fighting back nausea, and eventually halted when the others did, before a pair of doors that stretched all the way to the cavernous ceiling.

Her stomach lurched as they were pushed open, and she and Azula were led inside.

The throne was the first thing she saw, at the opposite end of the largest room she'd ever been in.

Polished black pillars paved the way, and a long table that Katara assumed was for war meetings stretched toward them in the center of the room. The wall beyond was yellow, carved with intricate patterns of flames and a dragon, and flames roared up at the very front of the dias, giving the illusion that the entire wall, the throne, and the dias were bathed in fire.

Just like in Katara's imagination, the Fire Lord was a shadow, a dark outline sitting on his throne.

The only sound that could be heard was the stiff click of boots and the shuffle of armor as she and the princess were escorted forward.

Katara felt outside of her body, in some sort of horrible dream.

Once they were near enough to the dias to feel the heat jumping off the flames, Azula knelt. Katara quickly followed her lead, tucking her chin down as she'd been instructed. It was degrading to stare at the floor this way and never look up, but at least she wouldn't have to look at Fire Lord Ozai. The silence stretched on and on. Katara clasped her hands tightly together to control their shaking.

"Welcome back, Princess Azula," said Ozai finally. He spoke slowly, his voice deep and sharp. The sound of it made the hairs on Katara's neck rise. "You've returned with a surprise. Your report?"

Katara blinked, catching herself just in time before she looked up and over at Azula.

A surprise?

"Yes, Father," said Azula, loud and clear and confident, her words echoing off the high ceilings. She stood, and Katara saw only her boots as Azula began to pace before the throne. "As you know, I requested a powerful fleet to ensure the subjugation of the Water Tribes. I return with your full fleet, with no losses or expenses. The Water Tribes are yours—and so is the future Avatar."

Katara's heart and thoughts were racing. Ozai hadn't known that she would be brought here? Azula had planned all of this?

What was in it for her?

She heard Ozai shift to sit up straighter. All of Katara's senses sharpened, honing to the sound. He was a predator, a dangerous animal that she could not look in the eyes and only hope it would not attack. "Explain," Katara heard him say after a moment.

"The Southern Water Tribe was too weak without the North," Azula said. "The Water Tribes made an alliance, and the Southern members fled to the North. Every single one of the remaining members of the two Water Tribes were in Agna Kel'a. Since the Avatar will be born a water-bender next, I went to them.'' Azula strutted back and forth before the throne, boots clicking loudly. "I gave them a choice."

Katara had to swallow the scoff that rose in her throat. A choice. Right.

"I told them that I could attack," continued Azula, "or that we could enter into an alliance, with the Water Tribes as your colony. I have left soldiers there to ensure order and that no one leaves the colony. The main condition of our alliance is that when the Avatar is identified, they will be handed over to be raised here, as a Fire Nation citizen that will learn our values. I know that my plan requires time, but the reward in the future will be worth it. We will be truly unstoppable with the new Avatar on our side."

"And the girl?" Ozai asked. Katara could tell from the sound of his voice that he was smiling.

She tucked her chin further down, letting her hair fall over her face, but still she felt his eyes on her.

Her skin crawled, and she resisted the powerful urge to squirm.

"Collateral," answered Azula softly. "A familial alliance. A wife for Zuko."

There was a very long pause.

And then Ozai began to laugh. "You have outdone yourself, Azula. A new colony, a long-lasting assurance that the Water Tribes remain ours, and control over the future Avatar. Zuko's honor was already restored when he slayed the Avatar and helped you conquer Ba Sing Se, but now he has the opportunity to do his country another service." There was a rustling sound of moving robes.

Slow, predatory footsteps stepped down from the dias and made their way directly to Katara. Her entire body began to shake.

She kept her chin firmly down until his shiny black boots appeared and hot fingers grasped it roughly, lifting it up.

And then she was staring into the callous golden eyes of Fire Lord Ozai.

He was all sharp edges and cruelty. The way he gazed at her, with that mixture of open malice and condescension, reminded Katara of Azula. "Of course," said Ozai softly, "Prince Zuko's duty could be much worse, yes? She may be a peasant, but at least she is pleasing to the eyes."

Katara's throat closed with horror, and it took everything in her not to wrench her face out of Ozai's grip, which was tightening almost painfully on her chin. She held his gaze steadily, doing her best to keep her expression blank and neutral.

Until finally, finally, he let go and stepped back and away.

She was almost grateful to drop her chin again.

"What is your name?" Ozai's voice rang through the room even though he still stood right in front of her.

She swallowed again, trying to keep her voice steady. "Katara, Fire Lord."

Ozai straightened and addressed the guards now waiting out of sight. "Bring her for the usual examination and then to a room," Ozai said. "Azula, go and inform your brother."

Azula's smile was sharp. "With pleasure."

There was a murmur of acknowledgements and a shuffle of bowing from the guards, and then two of them took Katara roughly by the arms and yanked her up. They barely gave her time to adjust to being on her feet before they were pulling her the opposite direction, toward the door. She stumbled between them, slightly off balance. Everything was happening so fast, and their hands were merciless, like steel.

"You're hurting me," Katara said sharply, as they pushed open the doors and pulled her out of the room. She struggled in a vain attempt to loosen their grip, but they didn't relent. In fact, they held tighter. They led her down grand halls that were a blur of red and gold, left and right and right again, down flights of stairs until she was quite certain they were underground. They'd gone far enough that Katara's arms were beginning to go numb in the guards' grasps when they finally came to a halt before another door.

"In you go," one of them said gruffly, pushing her forward.

Katara didn't have much choice. Hesitantly, she pushed open the door.

Inside were two women in flowing red robes, both wizened and wrinkled. Lining the walls were vials filled with substances of various colors, and a fire bubbled in a hearth at the far end of the room with a cauldron hanging low over the flames. The room smelled of herbs and chemicals, and there were tables of dark iron stacked with parchments and a bed that looked uncomfortably like an examination table.

Panic tightened Katara's chest, making it difficult to breathe. What would they do to her?

What sort of examination would she be subjected to?

One of the guards marched forward and began muttering in the taller woman's ear. She listened carefully, her eyes darting to Katara over his shoulder, a little frown on her face. "It will be done," she said finally, nodding her dismissal at the guards.

They exited the room in a metallic rustle of armor, and for a long moment, both women just observed Katara with serious expressions.

Finally, the taller woman spoke again. "Hello, dear," she said. "You must be exhausted. The Fire Lord has insisted we do this right away to speed things along. But it won't take long, and afterward we'll take you to get some rest." She gave Katara a kind, encouraging smile. Katara did not attempt to smile back. It would only look like she had a toothache, and she was very firmly not in the mood.

"Come here, dear." The woman gestured toward herself. "I am Shoshu. I am the healer for the highest members of Fire Nation society. This is my assistant, Kuenni. What's your name?"

Katara cleared her throat but the lump in it did not disappear. She did not move. "Katara."

Shoshu bowed low. "Katara. We will be doing a routine examination to make sure you are healthy and able to marry the prince." She seemed to see Katara stiffen at these words, because she continued, her voice gentler, "There's nothing to fear. You'll lie here—" she gestured to the table right behind her— "and I will check your limbs and muscles by lightly feeling them. There's no need to undress."

Relief made her momentarily weightless. The last thing Katara wanted to do was strip down for these strangers and have them grope around at her or give her an intrusive vaginal examination of some kind. "Is that all?"

Shoshu hestiated. "Kuenni is here to make sure that you are not already pregnant."

Dark spots appeared in Katara's vision. "What? I…don't have to undress for that?"

"No," said Shoshu, but she did not elaborate, and she avoided Katara's eyes.

She wasn't pregnant, of course, but wildly, she had the fleeting hope that they would find something wrong with her. Wrong enough that she would be let go. But she knew that she could not actually hope for this. Ironically, she had to hope that she would pass their examination and be able to marry Zuko. The consequences if the alliance had to be broken were too terrible to consider.

One hawk from the Fire Lord and the soldiers now swarming the Northern Water Tribe would attack.

Briefly, Katara thought of Aang. Had they been able to smuggle him out with soldiers watching at every icy turn? Or would he have to remain in hiding somehow, trapped underground in the North?

It took Katara a moment to finally speak again. "Okay."

Shoshu patted the table. "Come here, dear."

Katara obliged, propping herself up on the table and lying back according to Shoshu's gestures. She felt terribly vulnerable like this, and she stared at the ceiling, trying to somehow exit her body. Shoshu's voice was still quiet and soothing. "I'm going to start at your wrists and work up your arms, Katara. I will only apply a light pressure, so you shouldn't feel any pain. Please let me know right away if you do."

Katara jerked her head in a nod. Shoshu's hands were rough and calloused, but gentle as she began pressing on Katara's arm. It didn't hurt at all. In fact, it was almost relaxing. Kuenni hovered, carefully watching Shoshu's technique as the healer worked over Katara's arms, and then her shoulders, and then as she felt around lightly on her stomach and on her legs. Katara wasn't quite certain what she was looking for, but each time Shoshu moved to a new part of her body she told Katara exactly where she was going.

Soon enough Katara's heart was no longer pounding and the walls no longer felt they were closing in on her.

When she was finished, Shoshu had Katara sit up, tapping on her knees and elbows with a little instrument, watching the limbs jump of their own accord, testing her reflexes. "You're incredibly healthy," said Shoshu, looking pleased, and then she stepped back. "Kuenni, if you would."

Kuenni gestured that she should lie back once more. Katara obeyed, watching the woman carefully.

There was something naggingly familiar about her.

The mystery was solved in seconds.

Kuenni drew water from a nearby bowl, coated her palms, and held it over Katara's stomach, and Katara choked on a sharp inhale.

A water-bender.

Shoshu shuffled her feet, clearly uncomfortable. Kuenni didn't take her gaze from Katara's, and Katara stared right back, eyes round, and she saw now all the features that told her Kuenni was just like her. Her skin was not as dark as Katara's, but it was certainly not as light as the people of the Fire Nation. And her eyes were a piercing azure. Where was she from? The North? Or was she a captured member of the South?

Kuenni finally drew away from her stomach, bending the water back into the bowl from which it had come.

And then she touched Katara's wrist, faint and brief. Katara's eyes burned, and finally Kuenni looked away.

She shook her head at Shoshu.

"Good," said Shoshu. "That's all for now, dear. If you're having medical problems of any kind, feel free to come to me. Kuenni will show you to your room now. Usually royalty is up in the highest levels of the palace, but while you're still unmarried you'll stay down here with the servants." She looked apologetic, probably because it was meant as a snub, but to Katara this was only a massive relief.

Maybe that meant less chance of seeing Azula or Zuko or Ozai.

Shoshu bowed one final time as Katara was led out of the room.

Kuenni was silent as she led her through the corridors; Katara was dying to ask her questions, but she didn't dare do it here. Other guards and soldiers that passed them stared at her curiously, even turned their heads to follow their movements, but no one stopped them.

The room in question was tiny, no doubt an unused servant's quarters. There was no window and there were three beds crammed into the space. A door at the opposite end probably led to a small washroom. "Am I sharing with someone?" Katara asked.

Kuenni shook her head and shut the door. She reached out and took Katara's hands in hers, her eyes filling with tears.

"How did you get here?" Katara whispered urgently, squeezing her hands.

But Kuenni shook her head again, a desperate apology on her features.

"Oh. You can't tell me?"

Kuenni pointed at her mouth and then opened her lips, just slightly. Katara nearly reeled back from the sight and caught herself just in time, though she couldn't keep a strangled gasp from tumbling over her lips. Kuenni had no tongue.

Kuenni returned the pressure on Katara's hands, and then pointed at the wardrobe, and at Katara.

"That's mine?" Katara guessed.

Kuenni nodded. She glanced over her shoulder, looking worried, and then she squeezed Katara's hands one last time. With one last look, she began to back toward the door. Katara was left alone, horrified, and with even more questions than before.

It took her quite a while to collect herself, clenching her jaw hard against the threat of tears. She feared if they started they would never stop.

When she had calmed down, she examined the wardrobe first. There were dresses inside, dresses similar in cut and style to the one she wore, all in Fire Nation colors but with different embroideries stitched into the fabric. She then opened the door across the room and found she was correct in guessing it was a washroom. Afterward, she examined every inch of the walls. She wouldn't put it past the Fire Nation to have a secret entrance in here somehow, so someone could burst in on the servants at will, but if there was, Katara found nothing.

Katara scoured the room at least seven times and found nothing suspicious.

Only then did she allow herself to kick off her shoes and test the bed. It was uncomfortable, but it would do.

I would sleep in this bed the entire time here if it meant not sharing with Zuko, she thought bitterly.

She sat on the edge, staring blankly at the wall, and tried to think of the positives.

The tribes were safe. The examination could have been much worse.

But she could not stop thinking of Kuenni's sad eyes, the gaping hole in her mouth where a tongue should be, or the fate of Aang and the others, up in the North. Katara wasn't certain how much time passed before a knock sounded on her door. Expecting it to be servants and hoping it had something to do with food, she walked over and opened it.

Her stomach dropped violently.

Prince Zuko stood on the other side.

Every muscle in her body went tense at the sight of him, instinctively preparing for a fight.

Zuko seemed taller than before. More imposing. He stood framed in the doorway, his black hair pulled into a sleek, shining knot at the back of his head and decorated with a golden crown piece. The lost prince with his honor finally restored. The thought made Katara long to snatch the thing and throw it to the ground, and maybe claw at his scalp hard enough to draw blood for good measure.

She thought he might look grumpy. Bitter and furious, now that his duty to his precious country involved having to marry her. What she did not expect was for him to pale considerably at the sight of her, his eyes going as wide as tea saucers, staring down at her like she was a ghost.

"What?" Katara snarled, when after a full ten seconds he still had said nothing.

"Azula said—but I thought—she always lies—" He sputtered, mouth working soundlessly.

This reaction only enraged her more. So what if he hadn't known, and now he was shocked?

He wasn't the one ripped from his home and brought here under threat of genocide, and this entire mess wouldn't even have happened if he hadn't sided with his lying snake of a sister in Ba Sing Se in the first place.

Right after she'd reached out to him. Right after she'd offered him help.

"Go away," Katara said, her voice low and shaking with fury.

But he didn't move. He stood rooted to the spot, looking almost dizzy.

"Go away," she repeated in a hiss, eyes flashing dangerously at him.

This time, Zuko seemed to actually hear her. He blinked rapidly, and then he obeyed and started to turn away, his movements stilted and jerky. Katara slammed the door on Zuko's back with a sense of savage satisfaction.

She stalked over to her bed and tried to sleep, but it did not find her.

Notes:

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Chapter 3: The Wedding

Chapter Text

Katara tossed and turned in the hard bed for hours before giving up and pacing until her eyes began to itch from exhaustion.

She felt like a caged animal.

No one had told her she could not roam the corridors as she wished. But the idea of doing that was even more unsavory than staying put. There'd been another knock on her door earlier in the evening. It very well could have been dinner, but it also could have been Zuko or Azula, so Katara had ignored it, choosing hunger over the chance of facing one of them again.

As the hours passed, she began to regret that decision.

That was why, when another knock sounded on her door as the night drew to a close, she took the risk and opened it. "Good mor—whoa." A familiar heart-shaped face and gray eyes. Ty Lee. She held a breakfast tray and her perky greeting faltered at the sight of Katara glaring grumpily at her. Ty Lee blinked then said far too brightly, gesturing the tray upward, "Hungry?"

Katara stepped back to allow Ty Lee to glide into the room, where she set the tray down and hovered. "I'm supposed to make sure you eat," she said, when Katara just continued giving her an icy stare. Katara hadn't forgotten that it was Ty Lee that had chi-blocked her in Ba Sing Se, allowing her to be captured by Princess Azula. She hid her cunning behind a bubbly facade, but Katara knew it must be in there somewhere. No one could stay in such close proximity with Azula this long and survive without it.

"Why?"

"To make sure you stay healthy," said Ty Lee. "I'm your lady-in-waiting."

Ty Lee had to be of higher ranking, if she was friends with the princess. This sort of duty seemed beneath her. There was another purpose for Ty Lee's assignment to Katara's side. A shadow, Katara thought. A little spy that will keep an eye on all of my movements for Azula.

"I'm perfectly capable of bathing and dressing myself," said Katara flatly.

Ty Lee just giggled, as if Katara was simply being droll. "Of course you are," she said. "But now you don't have to. I'm also here to help you pick out clothes, and show you around, and help you adjust." She beamed at Katara, who turned away from the exhausting positivity to take a bread roll from the tray, the only thing she faintly recognized among an array of foreign breakfast foods.

Tentatively, she nibbled on it. The bread was soft and rather sweet, melting in her mouth. As she took a few bites, she mulled over the most important questions. She may be able to get useful information out of Ty Lee over time if she was clever and played nice. Katara decided to start with her most pressing issues. "Any news on the upcoming wedding?"

"Three days," said Ty Lee, picking up a kettle on the golden tray and pouring Katara a cup of steaming tea. "The palace needs some time to prepare. There's always a big celebration party the day after weddings here, and the royal celebrations are always huge. And your dress needs to be made, of course. It's going to be beautiful." She smiled hopefully, but Katara picked her bread roll moodily apart. She was nowhere near the point where she could pretend to be excited about that, even to play her dutiful role.

"What am I supposed to do for the next three days?"

"Relax," said Ty Lee. "And I'll show you around the palace."

Katara took a long sip of the tea, watching Ty Lee over the rim of the cup. "Yesterday I saw a waterbending healer," she said finally, carefully neutral. "Is that common here?"

How many waterbending prisoners are here?

Do you cut out all their tongues?

"I—I'm not sure," Ty Lee said, eyes widening. "I don't think so. I never saw any growing up, and I haven't been in the Fire Nation the past few years. I ran away to join the circus. That's where I was when Azula came to get my help with finding Zuko."

Katara turned this information over in her head as she finished her bread roll. Her stomach was so shrunken that one filled her, but Ty Lee also coaxed her to eat a strange-looking spiky fruit of bright orange. After, Ty Lee picked out a new dress and drew water for a morning bath. Ty Lee seemed to think nothing of helping Katara strip down and get in, sitting behind her to pour warm water over her hair and wash it thoroughly in a basin as Katara scrubbed at her own arms and legs and feet. It wasn't as though the Southern Water Tribe had been particularly concerned with modesty; nudity was natural, after all, and one often bathed in the presence of their family. It was too cold to have the tub anywhere else but out near the fire. But to strip down so easily outside the family was still quite irregular.

Katara's eyes burned again as she thought of home, of cozy huts and furs and warm laughter while blizzards raged outdoors. And she thought of her second home, the wandering one she had built with Aang and Sokka and Toph, stories and jokes told over campfires and the feeling of belonging no matter where she was.

Her exhasution made it much harder to keep the tears at bay today. She was almost glad for the distraction when she had to clamber out of the tub. Ty Lee rushed forward with a towel, but Katara flicked her wrist to bend her body and hair dry.

"Ohhh, right," said Ty Lee, wrapping the towel around Katara's shoulders to cover her. "That's handy."

"Makes your job easier," said Katara, and Ty Lee smiled at her.

Of all the people that could be her lady-in-waiting, Katara knew it could be worse.

She didn't trust Ty Lee as far as she could throw her, but at least it wasn't Azula's gloomy, apathetic, and distinctly more unfriendly sidekick. The one with the knives and the black hair.

"Let's get this dress on," said Ty Lee cheerfully.

Today's outfit was gold silk with red stitching. The sleeves were long and light, the bottom flaring out to her knees and the midriff and shoulders bare. Hardly feeling as though she could disagree when Ty Lee suggested a walk—and knowing it was best to get her bearings anyway, to know her surroundings—Katara followed her into the corridor.

Over the next three days, Ty Lee led her around the Fire Nation palace and gardens.

And even Katara, who was determined to dislike everything about the place, had to grudgingly admit to herself that it was beautiful. The building itself was an architectural masterpiece, and the areas of the palace that were not reserved for servants were pristine and glistening. The library was easily Katara's favorite room, with its high, vaulted ceilings made of glass, allowing natural sunlight to filter down onto tables of dark, polished wood. Sages in red robes bent over scrolls and paid them no mind as Ty Lee walked with her through the shelves, thumbing at the ancient texts. The only sounds to be heard were the scribbling of quills and Katara and Ty Lee's light footsteps.

It was peaceful here. Comforting.

When they approached a roped off area with two guards, they were waved by impatiently.

"Restricted," Ty Lee whispered to Katara in explanation as they walked away, weaving through a section of Fire Nation fairy tales. "Only the highest ranking Sages and the Fire Lord himself are allowed in there."

Katara glanced over her shoulder, wishing she could linger closer to the shadowed shelves beyond the stoic guards.

It had been so difficult to find any information on the Fire Nation. Sokka had worked so hard in that library to find a weakness, and now there could be no invasion during the eclipse. Not with Katara here, and with Aang still recovering. But how many secrets were just beyond those guards, Fire Nation or otherwise? Secrets of war, secrets of other cultures?

Knowledge as a weapon, collected and hidden away, advantages or weaknesses only known to the Fire Nation?

Despite the pull of the library or many of the grandly decorated chambers in the palace, it was the gardens and courtyards that were Katara's favorite places. Outside, where she could always smell the sea. There was the citrus grove, with thick trees of lemon and orange, lined in neat rows that Katara could walk in for hours, breathing in the sweet, tangy smells.

There were sprawling gardens, some large enough to get lost in; filled with hedges and flowers, dotted with sun dials and bird baths and paths of tiny white stones winding through the foliage like tendrils. When a breeze rustled the leaves, it always smelled faintly of brine mixed with rich floral undertones, roses and peonies and lilacs. Attendants wielding pruning shears wiped sweat off their brows, bowing to them as they passed. And there was the turtleduck pond, in a courtyard garden nestled right in the center of the palace.

The turtleducks swam over, quacking happily when Katara dipped her hand in the water. She rolled gentle waves and the turtleducks rode them, squawking with glee and ruffling their feathers. Katara couldn't help but giggle quietly and make another wave for them.

But her fun was interrupted when she heard Ty Lee speak. "Oh! Hi, Zuko."

Stiffening, Katara looked up to see that Zuko was indeed hovering near the tree behind them.

Katara quickly got to her feet, brushing herself off. Lounging on the ground felt too vulnerable. She had not seen her husband-to-be since her first night here, nor had she seen the princess. Zuko didn't come any closer; he stood watching her warily.

He cleared his throat. "I didn't know you were here."

Katara said nothing. She heard the rest, the silent implication.

I wouldn't have come here if I'd known.

Ty Lee bit her lip, eyes darting between them. "This is his favorite place," she offered, tentatively. "Right, Zuko?"

"I'm tired," said Katara before he could answer, suddenly needing to get as far away from this pond as possible. She did not wait for Ty Lee. She spun on her heel and walked away, and Ty Lee's long legs bounded to keep up with her.

"Rest is good," Ty Lee agreed, sounding falsely bright again. "Big day tomorrow."

Katara just grimaced. The wedding.

They'd seen plenty of bustling in the palace over the past few days, especially the nearer they were to the servant's quarters. Ty Lee had told her that it was even busier than usual with all the preparations. Thinking about all of that too deeply gave Katara headaches. It also made her feel especially sorry for all the poor people having to scramble to do all this work on such short notice.

So she didn't think about it. She couldn't.

She couldn't think about home or her friends, or being around Zuko after tomorrow, or anything after.

After only three days she'd become shockingly good at compartmentalizing.

The morning of the wedding Ty Lee woke Katara earlier than usual, put her in a dress considered acceptable for a brief walk through the palace, and began leading her up countless flights of stairs. The room they entered was much grander, clearly fit for nobility.

The windows were thrown open, letting in a warm ocean breeze, and already, even this early in the morning—so early, in fact, that the sun's rays had yet to creep fully into the room—the heat pressed in like a thick blanket, stifling and sticky.

Servants fluttered in and out of the room, bringing tea and food, and Ty Lee made preparations at the vanity. Katara, however, just stared in horror at her wedding outfits hanging on the wardrobe. They didn't look light. Instead, they were thick and sturdy. There was a snow-white kimono cut vertically from shoulder to hip. Tassels swung from the collar, but it was otherwise plain. Beside it, however, was a kimono that burst with color. It had standard Fire Nation colors as most everything here did; a red silk base with golden dragons interwoven as the pattern, but it also had flowers, in bright, intricate splashes of greens and blues and whites. Beside the kimono hung a headdress.

It, too, was red, shaped like a cone lying flat on her head. It had tassels, these golden, hanging from the side, and a thin red veil draped elegantly off the front. Only Katara's mouth would be visible underneath. A dragon that appeared to be made of pure gold curled up and around it, mouth open in a mighty roar. Both the headdress itself and the dragon ornament perched atop it looked very heavy.

Katara anticipated a lot of sweat, a massive neck ache, and a possible bout of heatstroke in her future.

Back home, layering was a necessity against the cold. She did not understand why she would pile on layers now, in a Fire Nation summer. Even in the evening for the wedding, it would be sweltering. Ty Lee seemed to read this on her face as the servants finally bustled out of the room and shut the door. "You change afterward," she told Katara hopefully. As if that helped.

What transpired next was one of the most boring and unpleasant days of Katara's life. Hours upon hours of grooming.

First, Ty Lee brought her to the washroom, helped her undress, and washed her hair while Katara bathed. This was a predictable morning routine by now, but Ty Lee was more thorough than usual and took almost double the time with her hair. When all was done and Katara was dry, Ty Lee put a bitter-smelling cream on her arms and legs and instructed Katara to put some between her legs.

Ty Lee then stripped her of all her body hair, a half hour long affair that left her skin red and stinging.

With each ripped strip and hiss of pain, Katara tried desperately not to think of the purpose for this.

Yet more creams and lotions were applied to soothe her irritated skin after.

A light slip was pulled over Katara's head to apparently give her some illusion of modesty, and she was led out to the vanity for Ty Lee to apply make-up. This, horribly, took even longer than the bath and all the cream applications. Lips pursed in concentration, Ty Lee applied brush after brush to Katara's eyes and her cheeks while more servants came in to help, and to start styling Katara's hair with quick, nimble fingers. When Katara looked at the mirror afterward, she barely recognized herself.

They'd made her eyelids glitter gold and put dark lines around the edges. Her lips were bright red.

They'd had difficulty with her face; there'd been bustling and shuffling, running off to look for more supplies and discussions of proper coloring and shading when they'd realized that the make-up for the pale skinned Fire Nation women would not work for Katara. They'd still managed to put large pink circles at the apex of her cheekbones that made it appear as though she was permanently blushing.

Her cheeks looked sharper, and so did her jaw. They'd shaped her face to their will.

Her hair, she had to admit, was beautifully done. Two curls hung from her forehead and the rest was swept back, braided and twisted into a knot. The result was a complicated and elegant up-do. They piled her clothing on, first the white kimono and then the one with color. After came the headdress, and the strain on her neck and shoulders was immediate. She could barely turn her head.

Ty Lee flicked the veil down, and they all stood back and admired their work. Katara just waited, feeling numb.

She felt like a doll. Something looked at, put to service, and discarded after.

"Ready?" Ty Lee asked finally. Never, Katara thought, but she nodded, and her headdress wobbled dangerously at the movement.

She was glad to have Ty Lee there to escort her through the corridors. They'd put her in shoes that had heels, and without her Katara was certain that she'd either trip or tip over, especially with all the stairs. They descended, turned endless corners, and then they were outside a set of doors on the side of the palace. "We're going to the temple," Ty Lee explained, pulling her gently through garden paths.

Katara heard something like a dull roar. "What's that?" she asked, unable to keep the waver from her voice. Her heart began to pound, painful in her chest. The headdress and veil severely limited her vision, and her entire outfit repressed all but the most basic movements. She'd never felt so defenseless since she'd learned how to bend, and now she was surrounded by nothing but enemies.

"The crowd," Ty Lee said, and Katara's stomach lurched. Her footsteps faltered and she nearly tripped.

They came to a halt at the longest staircase Katara had ever seen, twisting and winding down and finally spilling into a great plaza, from which the towering temple rose up into a dusky evening sky tinged with pink. By the time they finally reached the bottom, the arches of her feet were seizing with cramps and her toes throbbed with each step. The sun beat down on her, and sweat pooled under her headdress as well as along every area of the kimono where the fabric clung tight.

Only when Katara had concentrated on making it down the stairs without falling did she find it safe to look up.

A crowd to her right were held at bay by a line of Fire Nation guards, a blur of faces. Katara could not tell if their screams and chants were positive or negative, if they were enjoying her as though she were part of a circus or complaining about her presence. Feeling rather faint, she clung tighter to Ty Lee and tried to drown out the noise to a dull, endless roar.

And then she saw the figure in black standing just before the temple.

Katara's pulse jumped as she saw Zuko start to move forward. He was coming to take her arm. But she did not want to let go of Ty Lee, for Ty Lee to leave her. Too soon Zuko stood before them, and Katara looked up through her shimmering veil.

Likely she saw him more than he could see her. That made her feel marginally better.

Zuko's kimono was a simple black, meant to make Katara stand out beside him. They were more or less like the robes he always wore, and for a moment Katara was filled with rage that he could dress normally. He stepped closer, and it took everything Katara had not to reach for her shoes, rip them off, chuck them at his head, and run. But Sokka's voice whispered in her ear all over again.

Make the people love you.

She smiled suddenly and brilliantly up at Zuko, batting her eyelashes. She watched him blink rapidly, how his lips parted slightly and his eyes filled with confusion, just before she turned and showed her smile to the crowd instead, the red of her lips and the glint of her teeth the only part of her they could see. She lifted a hand in enthusiastic greeting. Bowing would also be a nice touch, but she feared the headdress would come toppling off. The crowd went wild. There were screams and shouts and they sounded… thrilled.

Katara was playing along, and they loved it.

They want to see the peasant grateful to be brought to her new, lavish life, Katara realized. They want to see the peasant fawning over their heroic prince. They want entertainment, and I can provide it for them.

So she leaned into Zuko's side and stood there smiling until her cheeks hurt. The crowd threw out their arms and kept cheering. Flowers were thrown over the shoulders of the guards, adorning the plaza with color, a gesture of love and acceptance Katara had not expected.

Finally she felt a hand on her arm, and she looked back up at Zuko with the most adoring expression she could muster. Not that anyone could really see it, but it was better to practice now, under cover of the veil. He must have been able to see something, though, because his mouth pulled into a thin, suspicious line. The crowd, however, screamed with deafening elation at their new royal couple.

Zuko exerted pressure on her arm and began to lead her to the temple. The heat of him scorched into her side, but she stayed as close as possible. He dipped his head as they walked, to mutter furiously right in her ear. "What are you doing?"

"It's called survival," she shot back under her breath. "And it would be helpful if you could try not looking like such a sour grouch."

His grip tightened, and his glower became even darker.

Their surroundings were instantly darker too, as soon they entered the temple. Sconces along the wall gave the place an orange, fuzzy glow, and between them hung fine tapestries. There weren't as many people here as Katara expected. Just a small crowd of what appeared to be nobles in their finest clothing, seated on the benches, and a row of people with instruments, tucked away along the wall. The rest of the royal family—Ozai and Azula—sat in the front, and they were the only ones still turned toward the front of the room, straight-backed and regal. The others watched Zuko and Katara file in with acute interest. Katara kept her eyes firmly forward.

At least the headdress was good for something. With it on, Katara could not see them in her peripheral vision.

High Sages waited in a solemn line at the front. The low lighting and the quiet, somber mood reminded Katara of a funeral, not a wedding. Her ears rang from the sudden switch to near silence. The sound of their feet were amplified, echoing off the stone walls of the temple, and her heart was in her throat, her previous burst of victorious confidence having vanished.

Everything was a blur. She feared she might pass out.

The sweat pooling under her layers. The heaviness in her neck, the cramp of her feet. The heat, the wretched heat.

The uncomfortable silence was broken when tsungi horns began to play, a soft, soothing melody. The Sages started waving burning sticks over her and Zuko, chanting something under their breaths. Katara could not concentrate on what was being said; she had to fight to simply stand up straight and not keel over. Finally, one of the Sages spoke. "Face your bride and reveal her."

Zuko obeyed. His fingers were shaking. Just barely, but Katara was close enough to notice. As soon as the veil flipped back, his golden eyes searched her exposed face with distinct seriousness, and she saw his throat move as he swallowed hard.

"Take her hands and repeat the sacred vow."

Zuko grasped her hands only lightly, barely touching her. He cleared his throat. The horns settled to a stop.

Everything was deathly silent again.

And then Zuko's soft rasp filled the temple. "This woman," he said, "I will marry. No matter her health, I will love her. I will respect her. I will care for her. I will console her. I will be faithful to her. I will protect her. All of this I swear until I die."

At some point, Katara realized she may be expected to repeat the words back and scrambled to try and remember what the full vow was, but she could not. She was dizzy, and far too warm. It all felt like a twisted dream, and the hypnotic flicker of torches and sheen of incense filling the temple did not help. In the long silence after Zuko finished, she was certain they could all hear her erratic heartbeat.

Should she speak?

Thankfully, the Head Sage said to her, "Do you agree to this vow?"

"Yes," Katara whispered, even though her throat wanted to close. When they seemed to be expecting her to say something else, she added, nearly choking over the words, "I do." She saw Zuko swallow again. His hands drew away, and they turned outward to face the guests at the gesture of the Sage.

Katara stood there, oddly detached and strangely indifferent. There was more music. More burning sticks and prayers. Nothing mattered.

And then they were motioned to follow the Sages. Zuko and Katara went first, and then the royal family and finally the rest of the guests. The Sages now held golden swinging containers, which trailed thick clouds of incense behind them. No one spoke. No one acknowledged the crowd as they crossed the plaza in an agonizingly slow procession.

The stairs back up were murder. Somewhere near the halfway point, Zuko slipped an arm lightly around her waist. He rather determinedly did not look at her, but Katara was too hot and exhausted to even consider caring that he'd done it. His weight and sturdiness at her side did help, especially because he let her lean heavily on him.

Back through the palace.

Back through the corridors, the long trek that she'd already made with Ty Lee.

The only sounds were the swishing of dozens of robes, the swing of the incense lanterns, and the soft, solemn chanting of the Sages.

The incense tickled Katara's throat now that the clouds of it clogged up the corridors, but coughing felt offensive, or even forbidden. Why did there have to be so much incense? And why was everyone so quiet? It was unnatural.

She expected the procession to fade away, but the careful march continued and the entire group followed, up, up, up pairs of golden and red staircases, past busts and portraits of Fire Lords past. Even when they approached the gigantic door and the Sages pushed it open, the crowd did not leave. Katara froze before the door, panic seizing her. Would they leave? Surely they would leave.

Surely they would not be expected to—perform for others?

This was a horror that she had never even considered in the realm of possibility. Zuko's fingers curled tighter around her waist before pulling her firmly into the room. She had paused too long and was holding up the procession. She couldn't breathe, could barely see, the incense thick and choking. Everything hurt. All she wanted was to soak her feet for hours, curl up, and cry.

Zuko led her to stand right beside the bed. She noted, vaguely, that she must be in his room. Their room.

The Fire Sages crowded the bed and began to chant louder, waving their incense lamps with more vigor. They sprinkled a blood-red flower petal over the sheets and chanted some more. Through the haze, Katara caught a brief glimpse of Azula. The royal family was standing opposite them in the little circle that had formed around the bed. Ozai watched the Sages calmly, but Azula was smirking directly at Katara.

A muscle in Katara's jaw twitched, but thankfully she was able to reign in her murderous glare.

Apparently the Sages' chanting over the bed was not enough, because then they came over to Zuko and Katara and started blessing them directly with strange words that Katara didn't recognize, in a low language with open consonants and sharp, high-pitched sounds. They swung lanterns and incense right in their faces and tapped them on the shoulders, one after the other. They gave her and Zuko drinks, three small glasses each that Katara could not refuse and that burned her throat and chest going down.

And then finally the Sages started backing away, bowing as they retreated. The room began emptying.

Fire Lord Ozai threw them one last calculating look on the way out, though his mouth was turned just slightly upward. Pleased. Well, that was something. For now, she'd played her role to satisfaction. The Water Tribes were still safe.

Relief, powerful and dizzying, swept over her. She drew a deep, shuddering inhale.

And then Zuko was pulling away, too, leaving with the others.

She almost fell over without him at her side. Stupid shoes. Stupid oversized headdress.

Ty Lee slipped into the room and closed the door, and they were alone again.

Katara knew what was coming, why Ty Lee was here to clean her up all over again. It would be a lie to say she had not thought about this particular part of her duty at all, much as she had tried not to. Katara had never come close to anything resembling physical intimacy of the level expected of her tonight. She remembered the feel of Jet's warm hand on her hip, pinning her to the wall and pressing her to it as he kissed her over and over, his tongue gliding along her lip so he could slip it in her mouth. That was all.

She numbly lifted her arms at Ty Lee's gesture and after long minutes of pulling at sashes and working at buttons, Ty Lee had fully stripped her and begun leading her to the washroom. It was gigantic, ornate, and it had no less than four bathtubs. This was no doubt a royal suite. As Katara waited for Ty Lee to draw her water for a bath, her eyes found and lingered on a mirror near the tub.

Katara was thinner than she remembered being before leaving the Southern Water Tribe. It was to be expected after so much time foraging and camping and fighting around the world. But she was still surprised to see just how much her collar bones protruded; perhaps the stress from Aang's coma and everything after had weighed heavier on her physical health than she'd realized.

It was even stranger to see her body now, knowing that it would shortly be on display for the first man outside her family.

How woefully unprepared she was crashed over her like an all-consuming wave.

"Katara?" Ty Lee gently touched her shoulder.

Katara jumped, not having noticed that Ty Lee had finished drawing the water. Her legs were shaking so badly she almost feared she wouldn't make it, but finally, Katara stepped into the tub and slid down with a gratified sigh. The steaming water dulled her aches.

Ty Lee took a washcloth and began scrubbing Katara's arms. For once she wasn't chattering; maybe she could sense that Katara couldn't handle it at the moment. Still, the strong alcohol Katara had drunk began to soothe the edges of her frayed nerves. It made her warm and almost drowsy, and by the time she was clean again it was difficult to step out steadily.

Ty Lee wrapped her in a towel and began putting more makeup on her. She took Katara's hair out and let it tumble to her waist in waves. Katara tried to imagine she was anywhere else. She stared at her reflection in the mirror when it was finally finished, her eyes glassy from deadened misery and glazed from drink.

A lump formed in Katara's throat as she suddenly thought of Toph, how they had gone to a spa together in Ba Sing Se.

It felt like that was in another lifetime.

"You look very pretty," Ty Lee said kindly.

Katara blinked back the burning sensation creeping up into her eyes. She was determined not to cry, but she could not speak properly, so she just nodded stiffly and followed Ty Lee back out to the room. Ty Lee put no wraps on her for the wedding night. She only slipped a thin but comfortable robe of red silk over Katara's trembling shoulders.

Ty Lee hesitated a moment, eyes darting toward the door, and then she took a quick step forward and grasped both of Katara's hands in hers. Katara almost wrenched away, but Ty Lee's face was so earnest that Katara stayed still, staring wide-eyed at her.

"Zuko won't hurt you," Ty Lee promised in a whisper. "He's not like that."

Katara still couldn't speak. It was like her jaw was glued shut, and the room kept tilting ever so slightly, which was rather distracting.

Ty Lee squeezed her one last time.

Katara opened her mouth and closed it again as she walked away. Finally, she was able to say, with a slight slur, "What should I do?"

"Just wait here," Ty Lee said, with a small, encouraging smile. "Zuko will be back soon."

Katara could think of nothing to say to this that wasn't blatantly treasonous, so she remained silent.

The heavy door shut behind Ty Lee with a loud click.

And Katara could only wait.

Chapter 4: The Wedding Night

Notes:

I am giving one final reminder that this story will contain dark and potentially triggering content. Parts of this story are supposed to raise feelings of discomfort. I do not want people to read along and be surprised by this.

I am adding tags as we go. If you need them, please continue checking the tags with each new chapter.

Reader discretion is heavily advised.

Chapter Text

Silence descended into the room, stifling and suffocating.

Katara began to shuffle her feet and wring her hands together, ears pricking for the sound of steps. Her legs and fingers physically itched with the desire to move, to hide, to protect herself. To run far, far away and never come back. But if she did that, there would be nothing and no one to run to. The Water Tribes would be destroyed, and she would be alone. And that was if she even managed to escape at all, which was a highly unlikely scenario, even miraculous. The palace was crawling with hundreds of elite firebending guards.

Time passed in strange lurches, waves alternating between complete numbness and all-consuming anxiety. It went on and on and on until finally, the knob on the door clicked and slowly began to turn.

Prince Zuko walked in, his expression guarded. When he saw her, his eyes flickered briefly, and he stopped just on the other side of the door, pursing his lips tightly together. He wasn't happy about this either, which wasn't incredibly surprising. Katara had already suspected that the Fire Lord agreeing to marry Zuko to her had been intended as an insult to his recently returned son.

Katara's arms instinctively crossed across her chest and her shoulders hunched inward.

When she saw Zuko's feet striding purposefully toward her, she stumbled back a few paces until she bumped into the bed, the need to put automatic distance between them entirely unconscious. Blood rushed in her ears and her heart shot into her throat, but Zuko's feet quickly stopped. He was staring at her with a strange expression. A mixture of frustration and something like pain.

Katara dipped her chin, letting her hair shield her face.

The silence stretched on, almost physically unbearable. Finally she couldn't take it any longer.

She glanced up under her lashes only to see him quietly watching her with a slight frown.

The thick incense clouds in the room had faded, and in the dying sunlight reflecting off the rich red walls, Katara could get a better look at her new husband. And it struck her that he did not look quite like the same man that she'd offered to heal in the catacombs under Ba Sing Se. That man had been more rested and better fed, despite being a refugee. The dark shadows under his eyes had been less pronounced, his cheekbones had not been so jarringly prominent, and he hadn't had an ashen hue to his face. Prince Zuko now looked almost ill.

A familiar, faint tug of empathy yanked at Katara's heartstrings, even here, even now, but she hardened her resolve and shoved it down. Zuko had manipulated her that way before. He must have been able to tell in Ba Sing Se that she had a natural tendency toward compassion, and he'd immediately exploited that to his advantage. And now look at where she was. She would never let that happen again.

She would not let Zuko fool her.

Remember Ba Sing Se.

Do not let your guard down.

Katara could feel her chest hitching tighter, but she pushed that feeling down too, and she tilted her chin up resolutely. She could do this. This was her only duty now, the only thing she had left to do and the only thing left she could do. No matter the price she would do it.

I'm giving Aang time, she reminded herself. I'm giving all of us the time we need to regroup.

I'm protecting them. What I'm doing matters. It matters.

When Zuko finally spoke, it was quiet and hoarse. "Is he really dead?"

Katara blinked.

The spirit water.

And just like that, the memories of Ba Sing Se flooded back all over again, despite her best attempts to repress them. How he'd looked standing before her, his head bowed, letting her touch his scar, a vial of deep blue water between them. She'd marveled at it at the time, at the fact that her enemy had let himself be so vulnerable, and that every time she'd lashed out at him in that cave of green crystals he'd responded only by being unnaturally calm, even gentle with her. Well, she thought bitterly, now I know why.

He'd been clever. He'd tricked her into letting her guard down.

More memories overwhelmed her. Her fingers shaking so violently she feared she would smash the vial as she tried to heal Aang. The lack of heartbeat in his frail body. That horrible time between the usage of the spirit water and Aang's reawakening.

A fresh wave of indignation and anger and hurt surged through her, pricking at her like thousands of pesky little needles.

She hated it. She hated her lack of indifference even more. She hated Zuko most of all.

And now he was making sure to clean up his loose ends.

If the Avatar was not truly dead, then it threatened his position. His throne.

"Yes," she said stiffly.

"Really?" Zuko moved a bit closer, eyeing her carefully.

It took everything Katara had not to blink or look away. Instead she nudged her chin higher, her defiant gaze never leaving his golden eyes. "Yes." Her harsh tone was lessened by the vague sluggishness of her words, the way they tripped slightly over one another. "Should I congratulate you?"

Zuko flinched. "The spirit water—"

"Treats injuries. He was already dead when I caught him. He had no heartbeat. I can't revive the dead." When he continued to watch her with clear suspicion, Katara just sneered at him. He didn't believe her. She wished she hadn't had to have those stupid drinks.

They brought her guard down, made her unable to think as clearly or lie as effectively.

Zuko raised his one eyebrow, seemingly thinking along the same lines. "You're slurring."

Furious heat burst through her veins. "It's not like I wanted to drink whatever that was!"

Now that she was really looking, she saw the flush in his cheeks. But maybe he was more used to alcohol, because he didn't seem as affected as Katara, though he was also bigger than she was and had drunk the same amount.

Everything about this was so unfair she could hardly breathe.

"It was sake," said Zuko.

"I don't care," she snapped. "Are we going to get this over with now, or what?"

Katara didn't want to dawdle. The suspicion about Aang's death was an unwelcome topic, one she needed to get away from, and waiting only made the anxiety about the weddng night worse, especially now that she was fairly confident that Zuko wasn't just going to jump on her and tear at her clothes like a savage. Once it was done it would no longer hang over her, and she could fall into blissful unconsciousness.

Even if she did still have to sleep in the same bed with him right afterward.

Zuko's lips parted as he stared at her in blatant disbelief, his good eye getting wider. "Wh-what?"

Katara just pushed out a furious sigh and moved pointedly toward the bed, reaching for the covers. "I'd like to keep this robe on, if you don't mind. Less contact with my filthy peasant skin that way, right? Good for both of us." She was glad when her voice did not shake.

Anger was easier than fear; she clung to it.

The flush on Zuko's cheekbones noticeably deepened. "That's not...we don't need to…do that."

Katara looked up and frowned. "The marriage contract said we have to take conception seriously."

His brow furrowed. "What?"

"You didn't read it when you signed it?" she asked, scathingly.

His face twisted. "I didn't get to read or sign anything."

Katara faltered, feeling a sudden spike of guilt. "Oh," she mumbled.

Zuko suddenly gripped at his hair and began to pace. "Azula is up to something," he said finally. His eyes were almost wild, and she got the distinct feeling he was speaking mostly for himself.

"Isn't Azula always up to something?"

Zuko gave her a withering look that made her bristle and forget her brief feeling of guilt.

"Yes," he said. "But this doesn't make sense. What does this do for her? What does she want?"

"She probably wants the throne," said Katara. "That can't be a surprise to you."

"Of course she does, in the long-term," Zuko said, with a little scowl. "But she would never take it from our father. She'll just want him to choose her over me. But if I have an heir and she doesn't, it only makes me a more logical choice. It steps on her own foot. This isn't a move for the throne. This is something else." He stopped pacing to give her a pointed, knowing look. "She suspects that the Avatar is still alive."

Katara fought to compose her expression. "She said that?"

"Not directly. But she gave me the credit for his death when she spoke to my father. And when I asked her why afterward, she acted like she was helping, but…" His jaw tightened. He didn't need to finish. Katara knew. Katara knew that the way Azula manipulated and threatened was an art form. She'd done it because if Aang was alive, the blame would fall on Zuko and not her. She'd done it as another form of collateral.

Katara felt suddenly cold, even in the warm evening air. She hadn't thought much of it at the time, but Ozai had said that in front of her, hadn't he, on the day she arrived? Zuko's honor was already restored when he slayed the Avatar.

"But why would she think that?" Katara managed. She could not run off and send a letter of warning to Aang. Her letter would be examined. She pressed her palms to her alcohol-warmed cheeks and tried to remain calm. "Did you tell her that I had spirit water?"

"No. Do you really think I'm that stupid?"

Katara glared at him. "Yes."

Zuko just closed his eyes and pinched his nose between his fingers. "Guess I walked right into that one," he muttered under his breath, and then he heaved a deep sigh of irritation and looked down at her again. "Look, it doesn't matter," he finally said fiercely. "It's not strange for it to take a while to get pregnant. My father is healthy and already has two heirs, so there's no reason for anyone to actually care right now."

"Are marriages here considered valid without consummation?"

Zuko opened his mouth and closed it again. He shuffled his feet. "No," he muttered.

"And if the marriage isn't valid, the alliance isn't either."

Panic flitted through Zuko's eyes, but Katara pressed stubbornly on, her voice wavering. "And if the alliance isn't valid," she said, "then the Water Tribes will be invaded by the Fire Nation."

"No one will know," said Zuko, rather desperately.

But Katara was thinking of how the royal suites had even more servants tending to them than any of the others. The way that they fed them and bathed them and changed their sheets, flitting in and out, unimportant and unseen. The way that the servants in the corridors always ceased their chattering whispers and maintained respectful silence whenever Katara and Ty Lee passed by.

Not to mention that Ty Lee herself tended to Katara.

Barely any privacy. So many pairs of eyes and ears. So much risk.

She could tell by the look on Zuko's face that he'd arrived at the same conclusion.

"I can't risk it," Katara said, voice still shaking. "If something goes wrong—"

"It won't." He was staring at her like she'd grown another head.

Anger sparked in her. It burned away all her fear and she clung to the taste of it. She needed it.

"You don't know that," Katara snarled. "And while I'm thrilled you're so confident in gambling on the lives of all my people, I didn't come all this way and give up my entire life to leave something so stupid open to chance. And I certainly don't trust you to lie properly about it."

Zuko began to sputter angrily. "Why not? I'd be punished too! I'm trying to—"

"Be a gentleman?" Katara cut in wryly. "A little late for that, Zuko. I already think you're a monster."

She'd wanted her words to cut, to hurt, to slice, and she immediately saw that she'd succeeded.

Zuko even drew slightly back as if she'd slapped him. For a brief few seconds, Katara enjoyed the vicious feeling, the undeniable rush; she'd finally made him feel some small portion of the hurt he'd made her feel. But the triumph of it faded quicker than she expected when she saw the shock and anger on his face, and it left only a bitter, unsatisfied taste in her mouth. There was a long, terrible silence.

"You're not being fair." His voice was shaking now too, with barely controlled rage.

"Oh, I'm so sorry that I offended your delicate and twisted sense of honor—"

"Stop it," he said, eyes flashing at her. "I didn't want this either!"

"You chose to come back here," Katara said. "You chose to be here. I held Aang dead in my arms and you could have helped! You could have…I offered…" Her voice broke. She fervently wished, yet again, that she had not drunk that stupid sake. It was much harder to ignore the stinging at the corners of her eyes under its influence. She grappled for the anger and found it, clutched to it. It came easier than before. Years and years of pushing it down for the village. For Sokka. And then for Aang. And yet now she could draw on it with relative ease.

There was no one to push it down for here. And so, so many things to be angry about.

The furious expression on Zuko's face morphed into something stricken. "I..."

"I don't want to hear it," she snapped. The soft tone of his voice reminded her of Ba Sing Se.

It was only then that she realized how close they were. As they'd argued they'd stepped closer and closer, leaning forward and into the other, and now they stood inches apart, chests almost touching as they heaved with emotion. "This needs to happen," Katara continued, trying to sound neutral but firm. "You know it does. So let's just get it over with. Please don't make me ask again."

Zuko swallowed hard, eyes darting almost fearfully about her face. He was very pale.

And then he closed his eyes, shoulders slumping.

The anger melted out of him so quickly it was disconcerting. It made Katara's stomach twist, and the next words spilled out of her without conscious input from her brain. "I'm sorry I called you a monster," she mumbled. "I appreciate that you're...restrained. About this."

Judging by the muscle that twitched in his jaw, it was the wrong thing to say. He acted as if he had not heard her apology, and he did not look at her either. Finally, after a long moment, he ran a hand through his hair, still staring down at the floor. "I'll give you time to…" He waved an arm vaguely at the bed. "Get ready." He was turning away and in the washroom before she could blink.

And Katara was left standing alone, her chest growing tighter with each breath. She wanted Zuko to match her fury, to keep fighting with her. That was much better than that horrible, defeated resignation on his face. Now she was just left with her nerves.

Her robes could easily be hiked up for…the event. What else was there to do?

She could only slide under the covers with a grimace, heart pounding so hard it hurt, and wait.

This wait was even worse than sitting here alone in the room after the procession and the blessings. Her stomach churned so badly she feared she might be sick. The room swayed, and she squeezed her eyes shut. When the door to the washroom finally creaked open, she heard Zuko's feet pause a moment, and how he took a deep, steadying breath. And then his steps were sweeping across the room.

She heard him fumbling around in a shelf. A clink of a bottle. The sound of liquid pouring into a clay cup. A gasp and a dull thud as he slammed it back onto the nearby table. He poured another and drank it. And another.

"Want some?" she heard him mutter after a few moments.

She opened her eyes to see him gesturing at her with a bottle. Katara considered. It had made her more relaxed. But also more impulsive, more vulnerable. And she didn't necessarily trust it would stay in her swirling stomach. "No," she said. "But thank you."

Zuko sharply waved a hand and the lit candles in the room extinguished with a hiss, bathing the room in darkness. Katara heard everything as if it was one thousand times louder than it actually was. His slow advance to the bed. The light sound of a robe being shed and piling on the floor. The shuffle of blankets as he slid into the bed with her, the press of his weight dipping on the unnaturally gigantic mattress.

He didn't come close enough to touch her. Even so, his body heat blazed warmth into the space underneath the sheets. A lump built in her throat and she felt the prickling of tears at the corner of her eyes. She still did not let them fall. After a while, he turned his head toward her, his hair hanging over his eyes. Katara could barely make out his face in the darkness. The thing she saw most was his scar.

Zuko tried to swallow and seemed to fail. "Have you, uh…done this before?"

Katara's mouth twisted. "Does it really matter?"

"Well," Zuko rasped, after a brief but deeply uncomfortable pause, "I'll be careful and, um, the more…uh, relaxed you are, the better it will—"

"I know all of that. I don't care about it being good. Just please don't touch me more than necessary." Her voice came out sharp, sharper than she'd meant to speak, but the room was beginning to constrict and her chest was so tight it hurt and she did not want him to know any of that. She didn't want any of this to feel real. She did not want him to kiss or caress her. It was duty and would stay that way.

Zuko said nothing for a long time. She resolutely didn't meet his eyes.

Finally, he shifted and slowly rose from the bed again. He still had wraps on, but Katara saw much more bare skin before he swept back off to the washroom. When he returned, he had a bowl in his hand, and he handed it to her. "It's carrageenan," he said. Katara did not know the word but guessed the function from context, and she snatched it from him, cheeks burning. She didn't need to tell him to leave. He went back to the washroom without a word. Fingers shaking, Katara shifted her robe and spread the gelatinous, sticky substance between her legs.

When Zuko finally returned, he slid closer to her in the bed. Tentatively, as if half afraid she would bolt away.

He continued scooting until he was pressed fully against her side. His face was in her peripheral vision, blurry, but Katara did not look, did not focus. She tried counting the sun patterns on the ceiling instead. He finally reached to touch her arm, and she couldn't contain a flinch. His touch was searing hot, and much gentler than she'd expected. "I…" His voice was thick. "Katara?"

"What?"

"I'm going to, um, come on top of you now."

"Okay." Her voice was barely a hoarse whisper.

She heard him fumbling to unravel his wraps. He reached over and swiped his fingers through the lubricant before he awkwardly began to shift over her. In the edges of her vision she got glimpses of a broad, bare chest and large arms, easily able to pin her and keep her trapped and immobile as long as he pleased. She was certain by now that Zuko, however she felt about him, would not do that. But instinctive panic still bubbled in her throat. She pushed it away, trying to let the beat of her heart steady her, trying to ignore the desire to shove him off.

She lay perfectly still as he aligned the lines of his body with hers, hovering over her but barely touching her. Even so, his unnatural warmth seeped through her robe. He propped himself on one of his elbows, and she felt rather than saw his other hand reach down. His arm made careful stroking motions, his knuckles brushing her clothed thigh and his head dropping to her collarbone, and Katara stared determinedly at the ceiling, trying to memorize the patterns of intricate gold carved there and forget what was happening.

He lowered himself further down on his elbows, still careful not to put too much weight on her. It didn't matter. The feeling of it was suffocating, her mind unable to think past the feeling of a threat. When she felt the hard length of him against her thigh she went rigid.

She reached for the anger, desperately, but she could not find it.

Her heart was hammering hard in her chest, and the walls of the room kept shrinking, smaller and smaller.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Are you okay?" Zuko's voice was muffled in her neck.

Katara struggled to speak properly. "Yes."

"I would push up your robes and—and start. If you're ready."

She just nodded.

"If something hurts or is uncomfortable, please, um, tell me."

"Fine. Just hurry up and do it," she said, wishing her voice would come out steadier.

His warm fingers brushed her knee, and he began bunching the material of her robes, pushing them up until they were hiked over her hips. He kept his head buried in her neck and did not look down and gawk at her, for which Katara was very grateful. This could be so much worse.

She could have been married to Ozai. Zuko, at least, was not sadistic.

Katara had always been an optimist, so she tried to focus on the little glimmer of goodness in this awful situation. She tried to count the good things, even here. She tried to focus on the fact that Zuko smelled good. He was a distinct swirl of scents, sharp, rich, and sweet. A warm, underlying musk; smoke; a sweeter, earthy wood; and something herbal. He was warm, and his muscles felt nice. His hair, tickling her cheek, was soft. She tried to focus on those things and those things only. Not on the skin of his thighs, hot against hers, nudging her open.

She was fine. Everything was fine.

But her careful cultivation of calm fell away when she felt him pressing at her entrance. Katara reached out and gripped the silk sheets hard into her fists. Her breathing became too rapid, too shallow. She felt dizzy.

"It's okay." Zuko sounded gentler than she'd ever heard him.

She hated that he could tell, hated how close he was and how he could read every shift in her body language. If she opened her mouth at that moment she feared she would start crying, so Katara just nodded, staring at the ceiling again, blinking against the burning of tears in the corners of her eyes. He slowly began to move his hips forward. Her stomach tightened and her whole body went rigid as he started to slide in. A little gasp tumbled over her lips at the pinch, the dull burn. Her fingers clawed in the sheets.

Without the lubricant, it would have been terribly painful. With it was still deeply unpleasant.

Zuko stopped, even though he'd barely entered her. "Okay?"

"Yes." She tried to sound snappish, but failed. When he slid inside further, even as gently and carefully as he did, the stretch suddenly felt like too much. Her whole body went tense and she could not contain a low whimper at the sudden, sharp pain.

Again Zuko paused. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "Please try and relax."

He waited until he felt her nod, and then slowly moved again. Another pinching sensation. It wasn't as painful as before, but it certainly wasn't pleasant either, and it wasn't going away. Zuko stopped again, his breathing ragged in her neck, even though she hadn't made a sound. His entire body was shaking against hers.

Was he—inside all the way? Part of her wanted to glance down and check, but she was quite certain that the answer was no, since his hips weren't touching hers. Was this normal? Did he have to keep going? She didn't know if she could take more.

Zuko touched her shoulder, just a careful brush of his fingertips. The sensation of pain was slowly beginning to slip away. The stretch now just felt neutral. "Tell me when I can move." Zuko sounded husky. Something faintly warm stirred in Katara's stomach, there and gone again. "I won't…go deeper than this. And I'll go slow."

After a few moments, she spoke, gripping the sheets tighter. "Okay."

Very carefully, Zuko tilted his hips back and rocked forward again. And again. He kept his thrusts shallow and gentle, never pushing inside her further. It wasn't comfortable, but it didn't hurt terribly. She didn't feel as though she was being torn open or any of the other horrible things she'd imagined. There was the discomfort of stretching, of not being aroused enough for it. Nothing she couldn't handle.

It went on and on. It felt like forever.

After a time, one of her hips began to cramp. Without thinking, she shifted, tilting up.

She cried out when it caused Zuko to slide in deeper on his next thrust than he'd intended, and much more quickly. He made a sound that was half strangled gasp and half helpless moan and then went very still, panting harshly into her neck. One hand came to hold her hip. "Fuck—fuck, I'm so sorry, are you—"

"Fine," Katara gasped, which wasn't exactly true. The dull ache between her legs had intensified. "It's fine, just keep going."

"Katara—"

"Hurry up," she said through clenched teeth. She weaved her hands through his hair and yanked, urging him on. He groaned low in his throat when her fingers lightly scraped his scalp, and he rocked into her again. He still kept it shallow, too slow, too leisurely, and Katara needed things to go faster. If he kept stopping to check on her and never became less tentative it would never end, so she tentatively wrapped one leg around his lower back. It made the angle deeper, and it hurt. This time she bit her lip hard to stifle any sounds. He'd made a raspy moan and his hand had tightened on her hip, and if Zuko liked it that meant it would be over sooner. The next snap of his hips was more erratic.

She was careful not to show any discomfort. She pulled on his hair and dug her heel into his lower back, and she listened to the sound of his breathing getting faster and shorter, and the quiet groans that were pulled from him, getting more frequent as he picked up speed.

His thumb rubbed her hip, and he pushed fingers through her hair. Something warm fluttered in her again, and she very nearly jerked away.

But she waited and closed her eyes.

And then Zuko's body seized up, every muscle pulling taut. He emitted a masculine growl into her throat and his hips jerked, and the briefest thrill shot up Katara's spine. She gasped at the feeling of him twitching inside her, the spurts of warmth. He pressed his lips to her neck, and his body shuddered against hers for what felt like a long time before he went still.

He did not lift his head. Katara lay limp under him and almost stunned.

It was over.

The space between her legs ached, but it wasn't as painful as it could have been.

Mostly she was disgusted at the thrill she'd felt when he'd come inside her, at the flares of warmth in her belly she'd felt during.

When Zuko slipped carefully out of her and rolled off to the side, she felt hot tears sliding down her cheeks, the first she'd let fall since arriving. She'd waited too long, and now she couldn't keep them back. This was her life now. Crumbs of intimacy with someone she hated. Constant scrutiny from the servants and the citizens and the royal family. Snide comments. Loneliness, being out of place. Not knowing the customs, not knowing the food. Constant fear for her people. Would it all fade in time? Would she ever get to leave, or was this a life sentence?

Katara didn't even realize how hard she was crying until she made a shuddering little gasp, trying to get air.

Zuko's head snapped over. "K-Katara?"

She didn't look at him. She didn't want to look at him ever again.

"I—I hurt you?" He reached out with a shaking hand, but she recoiled from his touch. "I thought—you moved your hips and your leg and I thought—you said you would tell me if—I thought you were okay—fuck, I should have checked better, I should have—fuck—"

Zuko couldn't even form a sentence. He sounded sick.

Katara just cried harder. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault, but she couldn't speak. Could barely breathe.

She should have let herself cry before this. Should have known to emotionally prepare, to purge the tears properly before spending more time around Zuko. Now it was all too much. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want him to be kind to her. She didn't want to be trapped in this with him and find horrible stretches of common ground to make it bearable.

She most certainly didn't want to react to him.

Zuko reached for her again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Please believe me. I—"

Katara only let out a little sob, curling away.

Her abdomen throbbed. There was something sticky between her thighs and the horrible sensation of something trickling out of her.

Suddenly, Zuko's weight shifted away. She heard him scramble up from the bed and rip open the window. He choked in air, and Katara thought he was only trying to gain composure until she heard the sounds of violent retching. Katara sat up, wincing at the movement and gathering the blankets to her, peering across the dark room in horror. Zuko's robe was hanging loose over his shoulders, and he was vomiting out of the window, his body convulsing. He rested his forehead against the windowsill after, gripping wildly at his hair.

The room was still blurry with leftover tears, but the shock of Zuko being sick had made Katara stop crying.

"I'm sorry," Zuko was muttering, already turning away from the window. "I'll go. I'll go." In the moonlight, she could see the sweat on his brow, the twist of revulsion on his features. He swept across the room and toward the door, frantically tying his robe as he went.

The lump in Katara's throat only made her succeed in getting out a strangled sound.

By the time she could finally say his name he was already gone, the door closed behind him.

Chapter 5: The Note

Chapter Text

Katara was still alone when she woke the next morning. Her stomach was churning, her body was weak, and there was still a dull ache between her legs, a lingering soreness. The last thing she wanted to do was get up and face the day. Face Zuko.

Where was Zuko, anyway? Katara hadn't exactly slept restfully; she had woken in the night more than once with her heart racing as her body worked off the effects of the alcohol. If he had come to bed she would almost certainly have noticed it. Katara was just considering lying back down and pushing the pillow over her head when a rap sounded on the door. She sat up, her gut twisting unpleasantly.

"Come in."

It was not Zuko, but Ty Lee. She bounded to the bed.

"Good morning!" she said, still bright as ever, politely pretending not to notice that Katara looked awful.

"Morning," Katara mumbled, allowing Ty Lee to push the covers back and pull her out of bed. Katara's sash had become looser in sleep, and she hastened to tighten it. As she did so, she caught a glint of red out of the corner of her eye.

Her eyes widened when she saw that the sheets were stained with blood.

Katara knew not every woman bled after. She'd assumed the stickiness between her thighs had only been the oil and…well, Zuko. But she'd been wrong. All three fluids were on the bed. The evidence of the night before brought back the memories. Katara pushed them away, trying not to see or feel what had transpired, but the images persisted. Zuko over her, hard and warm. The push and stretch and pinches of pain. His fingers in her hair. Zuko's face, pale and horrorstruck, stumbling over his words, the sound of him throwing up out the window.

How he wouldn't look at her after, desperate to get away.

Ty Lee's grip on Katara's arm tightened. "How do you feel?" she asked urgently.

Katara saw no point in beating around the bush. "Not great," she said, hoarsely.

Ty Lee led Katara for a bath much slower than usual, for which Katara was grateful. The soreness between her legs made walking uncomfortable. Even worse was the residual pain in her feet. Just thinking about all those stairs made Katara tired and angry all over again.

"I know just the fix," Ty Lee said. "A warm bath and getting all cleaned up will make you feel much better. And I'll get you a cold compress for your stomach." She squeezed Katara's arm. Katara's legs wobbled when she stepped into the tub, but she made it without incident or injury. As she bathed, she deliberated on whether she should ask Ty Lee if she had seen Zuko. Maybe it was because Ty Lee was the only person Katara had really talked to since she'd left the North Pole and she was lonely. But she said tentatively, "Um…Ty Lee?"

"Yes?"

"Have you seen Zuko?"

There was a brief pause. "Zuko? No, I haven't."

Katara couldn't read her tone, and Ty Lee stood behind her, washing her hair. She swallowed further questions and said nothing more.

After she was cleaned and dressed, they emerged into the bedroom again.

Servants had come in to tidy up the room. There were three of them, two women and a man, bustling about in almost absolute silence, well-practiced at melting away in plain sight. They bowed low to Katara in greeting, murmuring her new title, but they kept their eyes mostly to the floor as they worked, save for a few curious glances her way. Katara's cheeks burned at the thought of the messy sheets—one of the women was currently pulling fresh sheets tightly onto the bed—but now people knew the marriage was valid.

Last night had not been for nothing, and that, at least, made Katara feel marginally better.

She sat at the vanity and tried to ignore the queasiness in her stomach as Ty Lee began styling her hair. She longed for food, and yet the smells drifting over from the carts the servants were beginning to roll in also upset her stomach. To avoid thinking about the end of the night again, Katara reflected on her conversation with Zuko instead, turning it over in her mind. Azula is up to something, he'd said.

If Zuko was right that Azula wasn't doing all this to seize the throne soon, then what was her goal?

Katara knew there was something missing, something she wasn't seeing. But what?

The servants tidied up with practiced efficiency, arranging the sheets and fluffing the pillows to perfection. They brought trays to the bedside tables that contained large pitchers of cold water, dry, meticulously stacked rolled towels, and food, bowls of brightly colored berries and stacks of steaming buns. Ty Lee finished patting creams and powders on Katara's face and swiping colors on her cheeks and eyes before she led Katara back to the bed and prepared her a tray. The servants took their leave with bows.

Katara had just settled in with the compress Ty Lee brought and taken her first bite when the door burst wildly open. Zuko stood in the doorway in the same robes from the night before. He was pale, and had dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept at all.

"I need her ready in ten minutes," he said to Ty Lee, hoarsely.

Katara really did not appreciate being talked about as if she were not in the room, as if Ty Lee was her handler, and she was just about to open her mouth and say so when Ty Lee spoke. "It can't wait?"

Katara's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Ty Lee had questioned Zuko, her prince. But Zuko did not appear bothered by it or to even have noticed, and it was then that Katara realized that Ty Lee was not friends with only Azula.

"No," said Zuko, already stalking off toward a wardrobe and pulling out new robes.

"But Katara doesn't feel well," said Ty Lee.

"Nothing I can do. Summons from the Fire Lord," Zuko said stiffly, sweeping to the washroom.

"She needs to eat."

Zuko paused abruptly in the doorway, his back to them, and Katara wondered if Ty Lee had finally crossed a line.

But all he said was, "The summons are for breakfast."

Ty Lee bit her lip after he shut the door and gave Katara an apologetic look before she helped her back out of bed. After Katara stood, Ty Lee's eyes snagged on the sheets. Katara followed her gaze and saw more blood. She'd been due to start her monthly in a few days, but apparently it was early. No wonder she hurt so badly today. Katara stared down at it, tears welling in her eyes.

"Don't worry." Ty Lee briskly swept the covers back over it. "I'll tell the servants to change the sheets while you're gone." She prepared a wet washcloth, brought Katara behind a divider wall in the corner of the room, decorated with dragons and cherry blossoms, and let Katara clean herself off in relative privacy before returning with cloth rags for her to wrap tightly around herself, under her regular layer of wraps. An extra layer in the heat. What was more, the dress she'd been wearing was not fit for an audience with the Fire Lord.

The new one was far less comfortable, and the urge to cry returned.

When she emerged, Zuko was waiting, top bun and crown back in place. He wore beautiful, intricately stitched flowing robes of red. None of it changed how tired he looked. Their eyes met, only for a moment, before he looked away, the line of his shoulders tense.

She, too, directed her gaze away, to the floor. It was strange to look at Zuko for too long.

They'd had sex. He'd been inside her. They hated each other, but he'd stifled that guttural moan into her throat when he'd come and she couldn't stop hearing it, and things were entirely different now and yet still the same. But there was no avoiding each other, not really.

Finally, Zuko muttered to Ty Lee, "Thank you."

It was a dismissal, but Ty Lee still did not bow to him. She glided out of the room in the prancing way that she often did, peeking over her shoulder at Katara just before she closed the door.

The silence was thick and horrible.

Finally, Zuko took a hesitant step forward and held out his arm. Seeing the Fire Lord was the exact last thing Katara wanted to do, but she placed her arm on top of Zuko's as expected and let him lead her into the corridor, fighting not to wince whenever they took stairs.

Once they were out of earshot from the guards at the door, she saw Zuko's throat bob as he swallowed hard. He opened his mouth, and for a long time, nothing came out. But finally he managed to say, voice low with shame, "Katara, I'm very sorry I hurt you."

"It's okay," she said tiredly.

"No," he persisted. "It's not. You probably don't believe me, but I didn't want...I mean, I would have stopped."

"I know you would have," she said.

His gaze cut down and over. His scarred side faced her, and the permanently squinted eye widened just slightly in surprise. "You do?"

"Yes," she said. "It's not your fault. I didn't tell you."

Zuko halted suddenly in the corridor, and she nearly stumbled when she stopped with him. "You purposefully hid it from me?" She heard anger creeping into his voice. "I thought I got…" He flushed scarlet instead of finishing the sentence, and then whirled on her. "Why?"

"I did what had to be done," she said steadily, though she felt a twinge of guilt.

His eyes sparked. "I asked you to tell me if anything hurt."

"Well, I'm sorry, but if you kept treating me like glass it never would have ended!"

Zuko flushed deeper, his fists drawing tight at his sides. "So you just let me—"

Someone rounded the nearest corner. A servant.

Zuko and Katara quickly faced forward again and began to walk, mouths snapping shut, trying to appear neutral.

Another horrible silence followed as soon as they were alone, the only noise the dull sound of their footsteps.

When she finally chanced a look at him, his jaw was set tight and his amber eyes were burning, but he was not looking at her. He still looked vaguely queasy. "I know you hate me," he said. "But we have a lot of problems in common now, whether you like it or not. So you could consider not completely shutting me out. It would make all of this a lot easier. For both of us."

Katara thought again of the sweat on his brow, the ghostly hue of his face when he'd turned back from the window. She gazed down at the carpet, feeling another spike of guilt. "Are you feeling better today?"

"As good as can be expected." He'd said it in a rather clipped tone, but then it softened. "Are you?"

"As good as can be expected," she echoed. "Where were you?"

"I went to the beach," he mumbled.

Katara didn't press. It wasn't the time. "Are there any rules or bits of etiquette I should know for this breakfast?"

"Do you know how to use sticks to eat?"

Katara rolled her eyes. "Of course."

"Don't address my father unless he addresses you. Don't forget his title. Don't say anything critical of him or the Fire Nation. Don't slurp your food or your tea. Let me put the food on your plate for you."

Katara frowned at the last one. "What? I can't pick what I want to eat?"

"You can," said Zuko. "But I think you'll want me to pick it out."

"Why?"

"Because half the dishes on the table will probably be too spicy for you."

Katara sighed. "Right. Okay."

The walk was not as long as Katara would have liked, even if her feet were still killing her.

The echoing emptiness of the royal dining room was strange. She followed Zuko and knelt at the table at the center of the room, at the spot right beside his. Servants immediately rushed forward to pour tea. Sunlight poured into the room through the windows, and Katara could already feel sweat pooling in too many spots under her dress.

Katara clasped her hands in her lap, trying to ignore the dull, lingering cramps in her belly, and waited.

Azula and Ozai finally arrived. She heard their footsteps and saw a muscle jumping in Zuko's jaw, but he appeared otherwise unaffected by their entry. He inclined his neck in a partial bow over the table. Katara followed his lead, heart pounding.

"Sit up, sit up," said Ozai lazily, settling in across from them.

Azula sat beside her brother. They all waited for Ozai to serve himself food before they started.

Katara took Zuko's advice and let him fill her plate.

"You both look worse for the wear," said Ozai casually, as they began to eat. "But I suppose exhaustion is a sign of a good wedding night, isn't it? I remember mine well." He chuckled, and the hairs on Katara's neck stood on end, a chill washing over her. She did not even want to begin to imagine the horror Zuko's mother had faced. Zuko did not reply, only inclined his head slightly.

But Katara saw the muscle jumping in his jaw again.

That's something we have in common.

She shook the words and memory away, taking a long sip of scalding tea. Now wasn't the time to think of that, either.

"Well, Prince Zuko?" Ozai prompted. "Are you pleased with her?"

Katara's hands shook and she nearly sloshed her tea over the rim of the cup. He made her sound like a slave. Her chest tightened with rage, but she dared not speak. She tried to find something else to focus on, something to distract her. She began filtering through the faces of her loved ones, over and over. A reminder of why she was here and why she must endure it.

"I am," Zuko answered carefully.

"No gratitude?" Ozai sounded amused.

Zuko's knuckles turned white on his utensils. "Yes. I'm very grateful," he said. "Thank you, Father."

Ozai's eyes flicked to Katara over his cup. She had her head slightly bowed over her plate, but somehow she still felt his gaze boring into her. "I hear that the citizens are buzzing about their new exotic princess," Ozai commented. "I hear you were positively radiant outside the temple. But I find it hard to believe that you're truly pleased to be here, Katara." His eyes glinted.

Beside her, Zuko's fingers twitched on the table.

Azula had a sharp, almost savage smile on her face as she watched the exchange.

Ozai was testing her. Katara knew that. She weighed her next words carefully.

"The Water Tribes don't have the strength of the Fire Nation, Fire Lord," said Katara, watching Ozai's lips quirk knowingly at the flattery. "But we are a flexible people. I'm very adaptable to change." She paused, and dipped her head slightly. "It helps that it's beautiful here."

This second compliment was sincere, at least. Ozai's smile grew wider. It made Katara uneasy.

"A woman that knows her strengths," he said finally, taking another sip. "Admirable. I wonder, are you also clever enough to be aware of your weaknesses? Only then can you snuff them out."

Katara thought again of the vial of spirit water. She remembered that horrible feeling of fear and anger when she'd poured it over Aang, knowing the vial could have been empty, and it would have been her fault. She picked a half-truth, something she sometimes feared about herself.

Something Ozai would like to hear.

"I'm too compassionate, Fire Lord," she said finally.

Zuko's fingers twitched again, and he reached for his bowl.

"Oh? And what would you prefer to be instead?"

Powerful, she thought.

Unbidden. Automatic.

Something she had never truly desired before, not like this. She'd never really considered it, perhaps because she had never been quite so helpless. Aang had always been the one with the most power, devastating amounts of it, and it had been her job to help him navigate it.

But that wasn't her job anymore.

It could be a terrible thing to say or a great thing to say. The people of the Fire Nation respected ambition and drive. Ozai might appreciate the answer. On the other hand, he might see it as a threat. After deliberating a moment, she followed her gut instinct.

She looked Ozai right in the eye and said, "Powerful, Fire Lord."

There was a split second pause.

And then Ozai threw back his head and laughed. "Fire Nation ambition," he said. "I respect that. Well, your choice to ally with the Fire Nation has been rewarded, has it not? A Fire Nation princess is one of the most powerful people in the world. But I wonder," he said softly, mockingly, "will you be content with learning to wield your new position? Or do I need to begin worrying about poison in my tea?"

"I wouldn't dream of breaking the alliance, Fire Lord," Katara said, fighting to keep her hand steady on her chopsticks.

"I should hope not. You would be caught, and the punishment for your treason is being burned alive. And much as my people love when you bat your pretty eyes and perform for them on the arm of my son, Princess Katara, they would still eagerly gather to see you screaming on the pyre." He spoke lower, his tone almost silky. Somehow that made it even more threatening than if he'd shouted.

Katara simply inclined her head and took a slow bite of noodles, heartbeat erratic in her chest.

She fought to breathe normally, swallow the food normally. Her vision was swimming.

"The royal physician will be waiting in your quarters to see the two of you after breakfast," said Ozai.

Katara did not dare ask why. Neither, apparently, did Zuko. "Yes, Father," was all he said.

"The wedding celebration will take place in a little under a week," said Ozai idly. "Normally a wedding celebration would occur today, but as this is a royal celebration, we want to give important families coming in from other parts of the country time to arrive." He suddenly snapped his fingers. "Word on the arrangements?"

One of the servants lining the walls stepped forward and began reciting the undertakings of the palace preparations.

Katara found her focus drifting, only half listening. It didn't really matter to her what sort of food would be there, where it would be, or how many guests would be arriving and from which social classes they came. Her heart had still not calmed from her interaction with Ozai, and despite being so hungry earlier, she could barely get her food down. The only good thing in all of this was that she did not have to attend any celebration tonight. The breakfast dragged on. She'd never been happier to be dismissed from a room when it was over.

Zuko was silent as he led her back up to their room, but she felt his arm shaking under hers.

When they pushed open the door, Shoshu was indeed waiting for them. Katara glanced around the room, hoping to see Kuenni, but the waterbender wasn't there. Shoshu bowed deeply, and then smiled at them. "Prince Zuko," she greeted. "Princess Katara. Many happy returns and congratulations on your marriage. I wish you endless happiness."

"What is this for?" Zuko asked impatiently.

"You and Princess Katara will have regular meetings with me to see how conception is progressing," said Shoshu. "You haven't been married long enough to check for pregnancy yet, but today I will counsel you both on improving fertility chances."

Katara would rather sink straight into the floor than sit through this. But she had little choice.

"Come sit, come sit," Shoshu invited, gesturing to chairs that she'd brought forward.

They moved stiffly to settle in the chairs. Shoshu sat across from them.

"First we must determine your fertile window, Princess Katara. When did you last bleed?"

Katara gaped at her. Beside her, Zuko shuffled his feet and stared at the ceiling as if he wanted to levitate upward and exit through it. Finally, she mumbled, cheeks flaming, "I started this morning."

"Hmm." Shoshu frowned. "Are you sure it wasn't from intercourse? Was it the expected time?"

"It was a few days early," said Katara.

Shoshu's expression cleared. "Ah. Good. Then that puts your fertility time in roughly two weeks, Princess." Her eyes flicked between them. "There are several factors that can influence conception. First, lifestyle. Your diets are well cared for and will have a healthy variety. Princess Katara, you must avoid alcohol. Prince Zuko, you must avoid hot springs." Zuko's brow furrowed and his mouth twisted into a frown, but he said nothing. "Regular exercise and movement is important for both of you, but take it easy in the heat."

"Is there a place I can go to spar?" Katara asked.

"Yes," Zuko muttered to her, to Katara's surprise. "It's near the southern courtyard. Ty Lee can show you."

"No sparring for you, Princess," said Shoshu, shaking her head.

Katara stared at her in horror. "I—I can't spar with anyone? But—"

"I'm sorry, Princess Katara. That is considered too strenuous for your body. Light exercise only."

Katara's lips quivered, and her eyes, horribly, began to burn. "But—"

"That's ridiculous," Zuko snapped suddenly. "She will spar if she pleases."

"All sparring partners are under strict orders from the Fire Lord not to fight Princess Katara," said Shoshu. "I am sorry."

Katara felt as if she were crumbling apart. They were taking everything from her.

Every single thing she had, every little thing that could have made her happy.

Shoshu took one look at her face, twisted in anguish, and at Zuko's, full of anger, and spoke hastily to move past the topic. "Stress reduction is important, too. Particularly for you, Princess Katara."

Katara couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter.

Shoshu faltered, her words trailing off. "Yes, Princess?"

"Oh, nothing," said Katara, feeling her hands begin to shake as the anger rose. It felt good. She let it in, let it settle over her like a protective blanket. "I was just thinking it's a good thing I'm in such a stress-free environment."

The healer only sighed. "I know it must be difficult to be far away from home, dear." Katara opened her mouth to say something rude—as if distance was her greatest problem—but Shoshu looked genuinely sorry for her, so she shut it again.

It was not wise to make enemies with people here who were marginally kind.

Still, the rage pounded behind her eyes.

"Now, for the other conception factors," said Shoshu.

Zuko coughed uncomfortably.

"During the fertile window, you should have sexual intercourse every day, preferably during the hours of the sun, when Prince Zuko is at his most virile. From our research it seems that normal position is best for conceiving. We believe it is because the position creates a feeling of intimacy. During ejaculation, position yourself as deep as possible for higher chances." Shoshu's tone was brisk but neutral. She did not seem the least bit bothered to be explaining any of this. Katara, on the other hand, thought she might explode from the heat in her face.

She was uncomfortably aware of Zuko beside her.

"After intercourse, Princess Katara, please lie on your back with your knees drawn to your chest. Remain that way for fifteen minutes." Shoshu stood. "That is all for now. I do suggest you get to know each other until then. It can take time to adjust to a new partner, and as I said, we believe intimacy plays a role. If you have need of it, I can offer you a natural aphrodisiac to drink before sexual activity."

Zuko stood as well, so quickly he almost knocked his chair over. His fists were clenched at his sides again. "Is that all?" The layers of his irritation and displeasure were apparent in his voice. He might as well have snarled at her to get out.

Shoshu just bowed. "Yes, Prince Zuko. We'll all check in with each other before the fertile window."

"Looking forward to it," Zuko said, not even bothering to hide his sarcasm. He stalked to the door and held it pointedly open.

Shoshu bowed one final time before exiting, and then she was gone. Zuko did not turn back around. His shoulders were moving very fast. Finally, he spoke, but he only muttered, "I'll send Ty Lee to see if you need anything. It would probably send a good message if we walked together later in public, through the gardens. If you're up for it." And then he was gone, too.

Katara just stared at the door, reeling from the abrupt exits.

It always seemed Zuko could not get away from her fast enough.

Slowly, she stood and glanced around the room.

It was the first time she had seen it in the daylight, her first opportunity to really look around, so she ignored the cramps still eating away at her abdomen and slowly walked around, examining her surroundings.

She already knew the washroom, of course, positioned in the far corner and against the wall that was lined with ceiling-high windows. Sunlight streamed in, and as it was approaching high noon, the heat poured in with it. On the other side of the room was a fireplace and a desk with a brush and ink, as well as some shelves. Each had a few trinkets and rolls of parchment, and a few glass bottles that Katara recognized as the alcohol Zuko had drank the night before. But Zuko's room was generally very empty, for a prince, with hardly any treasures or fineries, and barely any personal possessions at all. Near the room divider was a wardrobe that, upon opening, she saw had clothing for both her and Zuko. Her clothing took up an exponentially larger part of the space.

Katara was suddenly very glad she had Ty Lee to dress her.

She knew nothing of Fire Nation fashion or what was appropriate, and she did not have the mental capacity or the desire to learn anytime soon. Right now Katara fully intended to stay in bed until Zuko came to walk with her, so all that mattered now was comfort.

With difficulty, she began stripping down behind the divider. Ty Lee arrived before she'd finished.

"How was your breakfast?" she asked, seamlessly moving in to help Katara change out her bloody wraps and hand her new ones.

Katara fought not to shudder as she remembered Ozai's eyes blazing at her.

The clear relish in his voice as he spoke about her burning on the pyre.

"Uneventful," she mumbled.

She did not feel much like talking. Ty Lee, thankfully, seemed to know this and did not press. She only tucked Katara into the bed, told her she would send for snacks and tea, and let Katara be. Servants came in not much later to deliver what Ty Lee had promised.

Katara was buried under the covers despite the heat, trying desperately not to cry.

It wasn't until they'd left that Katara saw the note on her tray of food.

Fingers shaking, she picked it up and unfolded it under the covers, in case someone came in the door.

Her eyes scanned the message, and widened.

Night of the full moon. The eastern lemon grove outside the palace walls. Fifth toll of the watchtower.

Katara hastily crumpled up the note, her heart pounding so fast she felt dizzy. There was no fire in the hearth on such a hot day, but the sconces lining the walls were lit with flames, and she scurried over and threw the note in.

She watched the paper curl and shrivel and blacken, the evidence of something treasonous burning into ash.

Chapter 6: The Court

Chapter Text

Night of the full moon.

The eastern lemon grove outside the palace walls.

Fifth toll of the watchtower.

Katara ran the words in her head over and over. She did not want to forget them.

She paced the room, cursing herself for hiding under the covers instead of seeing who had brought the note to her. She could likely narrow it down if she tried. How many servants could possibly be allowed in the royal quarters? She could keep a careful eye out over the next few days. Or perhaps subtly ask Ty Lee questions about security and servants for the royal quarters.

Katara wasn't even sure if the note was from an ally. It could also very well be a trap. And she could not go. She knew that.

Even if she burned with curiosity, even if she yearned to be active, she knew it would be a stupid risk. If it were only her life at risk it would be one thing, but she had the tribes to think about. It was not worth it. She could not go.

Still, Katara calculated the time until the next full moon, as if just knowing when she could theoretically go would make her feel less powerless, less useless. It was in ten days. Ten days, and she had to let the time come and go. She had to let the mystery pass.

Katara finally stopped at one of the windows. She stood in a patch of sun, letting it heat her skin, observing the courtyard below, the one with the turtleduck pond. She was not sure how long she stood there, mind whirring, watching the waves of activity. Sometimes whole groups of people would walk through, chattering among each other, as if they'd just finished a meeting. Sometimes it was empty for long stretches until a Sage or a scribe bustled through in a hurry, arms piled with scrolls and a fire hawk on their shoulder.

Once, Katara even saw Azula strutting through, her head and shoulders high. The sight of the princess made her stomach clench.

What do you want? Katara wanted to scream down at her.

Was the note sent on Azula's orders, perhaps? Designed to lure her into treason? But Katara dismissed that possibility quickly. If Azula wanted her dead, Katara found it hard to believe she would bring her all the way here. Why go through all the trouble only to execute her a few weeks later? No, it wasn't Azula. It still did not mean it was someone wanting to help her.

Katara gripped the windowsill, a restless itch under her skin.

She would give anything to go spar right now.

Ty Lee dropped in to help dress her for an afternoon walk, in a light, breezy scarlet sundress that flared out at the hips and left part of her spine bare, but Katara did not yet ask her any questions. She needed to think, to approach this entire thing very carefully with her, if at all. Ty Lee had been kind, and she seemed to have a genuine sense of care for her, but she was still here on Azula's orders.

Zuko arrived and hovered awkwardly, waiting for Ty Lee to finish brushing her hair.

When Ty Lee was gone, he held out his arm with a resigned sort of air. "How do you feel?" Zuko asked, as they made their way out and through deep red corridors. The muggy air seeped into the palace, and the air drawn into her lungs felt half like water.

"I feel better than I did this morning," Katara said honestly. The heat made her lethargic and her abdomen still cramped unpleasantly, but the note had distracted her somewhat from her bodily pains, and the aftereffects of the sake had worn off, which helped immensely.

They rounded corner after corner, picking their way through the lavish palace maze.

Towering vases of flowers lined the corridors, as did ornate pillars and portraits of the Fire Nation's glory. One of the corridors contained floor-to-ceiling size paintings of previous Fire Lords and their families, all sitting in stiff, serious poses. At the end of the corridor was the most recent, and Katara's feet halted automatically when she saw the current royal family. Four members were in the painting, not three.

Fire Lord Ozai sat in the chair with the highest back. On the ground knelt Zuko and Azula as young children, their hands clasped carefully in their laps. Zuko knelt directly below Ozai, who had a hand placed on his son's shoulder. Azula was positioned near her mother, the now missing Fire Lady. Katara stepped closer to stare at the woman Zuko told her he'd lost. His mother had a crown of her own in her top bun. Her hands were tucked inside pushed together sleeves. Her chair was smaller than Ozai's, and they weren't near enough to touch.

No one smiled.

Zuko had no scar.

Katara drew even closer, both fascinated and sickened. She felt as though she were seeing something secret, even if it was hung here for all to see. Eventually she turned away, back to Zuko. He hovered several feet back, his eyes also lingering on the portrait.

"What was your mother's name?" Katara asked quietly.

He looked away. "Ursa."

What happened? Where is she? But something about his expression made Katara's questions die in her throat. According to Azula, the Fire Lord was still technically married to Ursa. But Zuko seemed to have believed that she was dead.

"No one knows what happened to her." Another voice rang through the corridor, and Katara tensed. Azula was striding toward them. She wore clothing more suited for battle than for a princess walking through a palace. "We woke up one morning, and she was gone. Fled the palace." Azula sighed dramatically before shooting Zuko a cruel little smirk. "Wonderful mother."

Zuko's face had twisted up as Azula spoke, pain and fury all mixed together. "Stop it, Azula."

Azula just laughed. "Oh, Zuzu. Even after all these years of absence, you'll defend her? Surely even you aren't that soft or stupid. She left and never came back. Get over it." Her eyes suddenly flashed. "Then again, she always did like you better, didn't she?"

Zuko's entire body had begun to shake. Katara wasn't sure she'd ever seen him so angry.

"Well, no matter," continued Azula lightly, circling around Zuko as if he were prey, that taunting, smug smile on her face. "She'll be painted out of the next one, I'm sure. And now that you're married, Zuzu, they'll want one of you and your new wife. A new royal family." She stopped right behind him, hovering on his scarred side, speaking into his shriveled ear. "Just be sure they get your good side."

Katara thought the remark would infuriate him, that surely Zuko would lash out at his sister. Instead he flinched so violently that Katara strode forward without thinking, taking his arm. "Come on," she said stiffly, but Zuko did not move.

His free hand drifted to touch his scarred cheek. He appeared almost dazed.

"Oh come now, no need to get defensive," said Azula, amused. "I was only giving friendly advice."

Katara bit her tongue on an insult and tugged harder on Zuko's arm. He finally began to walk with her.

"Too bad we can't spar," Azula called after Katara's retreating back. "I'd love a rematch."

More anger flared in Katara at the mention of her limitations.

Their rules, designed to make her miserable and weak.

How long had it been since she'd truly fought? Had it really been in Ba Sing Se, so many weeks ago? Even back in the North Pole she'd mostly been training Aang, and his waterbending had been so basic that she'd only been helping him through early moves. She needed to run, to jump, to feel the adrenaline from danger. She needed a fight. But she did not turn back.

Azula wanted to goad her, but Katara would not let her win.

Zuko did not seem to be breathing normally for a long time. His harsh pants only seemed to even out when they finally emerged outside. Katara's mind was spinning. Could Zuko's mother truly have just…left him? Had he told himself she was dead so he didn't have to face the truth of her abandonment? But Azula also had no reason to tell the truth and every reason to taunt and undermine her brother.

Azula knew very well how to poke where it would hurt.

And if Ursa was alive, Katara didn't believe for a second that no one knew where she was.

"Where would you like to go?" Zuko asked finally, interrupting her musings.

His voice sounded dull. He clearly did not want to discuss what had just happened.

And even though Katara knew she had to forget the note, knew she could not follow its summons, she found herself saying, "I really like the citrus groves here. But is there one outside the palace walls?"

If Zuko thought it was an odd request, he didn't show it. He merely nodded and began weaving through the first garden, this one filled with shrubbery cut in shapes of animals and tall, towering sunflowers. To Katara's relief, they were heading east. She had not wanted to be too specific, lest that was suspicious.

It was quiet for a long time. Katara tried to focus on anything other than the note, her anger and helplessness, and the strange churning sensation in her stomach that she didn't think had anything to do with her physical state and unfortunately had everything to do with the expression on Zuko's face. Do not feel sorry for him, she chided herself. He chose this. Do not let your guard down.

Finally, as they approached the edges of the garden, Zuko asked, "What was your mother's name?"

"Kya," she answered after a moment, hoping she sounded steady.

Zuko cleared his throat, wavering. He looked distinctly uncomfortable. "The necklace you always wore," he said. "Did Azula take it? When she brought you here? Is that why you don't have it now?"

Katara blinked and glanced up at him, squinting a little in the harsh sunlight.

She'd become used to the lack of her mother's necklace sometime on the ship. She'd brought her hand to her neck often in her cabin, caressing the bare skin. But since she'd come here she'd hardly had the time to think about the missing jewelry around her neck, how she felt less like herself without it. The mention of it hurt. The fact that she was becoming used to it being gone hurt even more.

But she was surprised that Zuko had noticed its absence at all.

"No," she said finally. "I didn't want it to belong to the Fire Nation. I left it with my father."

"Oh," Zuko mumbled.

He did not say anything more.

They pushed out of the garden and into the next section of the palace, a sprawling stone courtyard with two massive marble fountains and a pagoda in the far corner. People lingered here with umbrellas to avoid burning their skin, whispering at the sight of them, bowing when they passed, their eyes alight with possible gossip. Katara pressed closer into Zuko's side and forced herself to smile brightly at them.

Zuko, on the other hand, did not oblige them. If anything he only looked more grumpy.

They made their way through the labyrinth of outdoor courtyards and corridors, and finally they came to wide, sprawling streets dotted with mansions. The displays of wealth here were even more grotesque and blatant than in the Upper Ring of Ba Sing Se. One house had a fountain bigger than the hut Katara had grown up in, spurting water in four directions from the mouths of four golden dragons. Another had a cage with a tigerdillo inside, a cage far too small and with no grass or enrichment for the poor animal.

It paced back and forth, restless and miserable. Katara had the wild and rather violent urge to run over and free it, to watch it get its vengeance on the tittering nobles that watched it through its bars.

The guards at the wall nodded tersely to Zuko as they passed. Five minutes later, they came to the beginning of the grove, with its clean-cut lines of trees and grassy paths between them, the bursts of the yellow fruit striking against the backdrop of green leaves. Katara breathed in the scent of citrus, tinted with the salt of the sea and the smell of earth. They walked up and down rows in silence. Beside her, a few stray pieces of black hair had come loose from Zuko's top bun and blew in the slight breeze.

For a brief instant, Katara remembered his hair on her cheek, his body pressed on top of hers.

She pushed the memories away, her stomach churning again.

He looked healthier than Katara had seen him so far despite his exhaustion, and she thought it might be the effect of his element. The sun's rays filtered through the leaves and beat down on them, and it was as if the sunlight coiled beneath the surface of Zuko's skin, straining tight against his muscles, begging to be used. Raw power wanting to break out. He even seemed to faintly glow, his golden eyes gleaming.

Preferably during the hours of the sun, when Prince Zuko is at his most virile…

Katara shuddered, but she wasn't thinking of her experience anymore.

She was thinking of Ursa, married to Ozai. Ozai's callous comments about his wedding night.

Ursa, trapped in the palace just like her, except with a husband far, far crueler. Had Ursa been so terrified of her husband, so mistreated and abused, that she'd left her children behind? Katara did not want to judge, but she also could not imagine leaving any children she would have to such a monster. Her eyes searched Zuko's face almost unconsciously, as if it would hold answers.

He looked like his mother. He had the same sharp cheekbones, the same chin. When his hair was up like this and when she was right beside him, she could see the edges of his scar more clearly, drifting up past his hairline.

The more she looked, the more she saw that it was vaguely shaped like…like a hand.

Katara's chest tightened and she quickly looked away.

It was rude to speculate about something like that. She knew Zuko was sensitive about it. Seeing him scarless in the portrait had disturbed her, for whatever reason. It wasn't new information. Of course she'd known Zuko hadn't always had it, that sometime he'd existed without a scar. But the images of his unscarred face, Ozai's hand on his shoulder, and Ursa's prim posture were unsettling, seared in her mind.

Perhaps because this family, this disastrous, broken, twisted family that seemed to exist to hurt each other, wasn't just Zuko's anymore.

She was now entangled in their mess, too.

Zuko left again when he returned Katara to their quarters.

She didn't even have time to consider speaking with him before he was out the door.

Katara spent the rest of the afternoon resting and took dinner in her room. She watched the servants that bustled in carefully. They were the same three that had cleaned up that morning. It had to be one of them. They went about their work as usual, in silence and their heads tucked low. But Katara saw that one of the women darted glances at her more often. As they were about to leave, she called out.

"Wait," she said, and the three servants turned, faces flickering. She guessed they were usually only spoken to if they made a mistake. Her heart twisted, and she was careful to keep her tone kind. "Thank you for taking such good care of my quarters. Could I have your names?"

The woman that had not been sneaking glances at her stepped forward and spoke. She was tall and slim with a heart-shaped face. "You honor us, Princess," she said, bowing. "I am Saki. I am the head servant dedicated to these quarters. I am available for you any time of the day or night." She bowed again. "This is Usoro," she said, gesturing to the shy-looking man. "And this is Meinga," she finished, pointing at the woman Katara suspected may have brought the note. Her suspicions rose when Meinga could barely meet her gaze.

Katara told herself that she only had to know. That she didn't have to act on it.

"I would ask Meinga to assist me with a quick task," she said. "You can go, Saki and Usoro. Thank you."

After another round of bows, the other two left. Meinga had paled, her eyes blown wide with fear.

"Was it you?" Katara asked, as soon as the door closed.

"I—what do you mean, Princess?" Meinga's voice had gone shrill. She so obviously knew what Katara meant.

"It was, wasn't it?" Katara pressed. "You put that note on my tray."

"I don't—I'm not sure I—" Meinga seemed so afraid she could hardly speak. Her eyes darted to the door.

"It's okay," said Katara. "I wish you no harm."

"I don't know what it said!" Meinga burst out. "I was just told to give it to you."

A swell of excitement at possible answers rose in Katara's chest. "Who wanted you to give it to me?"

"I don't know," Meinga said, trembling. "They wore a mask."

"What kind of mask?"

"Just a plain black mask. Please," Meinga whimpered. "Princess, please, I didn't want to. I'm not treasonous, I swear. I don't know what it said, but I guessed someone was threatening you." She suddenly looked rather embarrassed. "You know, since you're a foreigner and all. But please don't report me. They told me to deliver it and keep my mouth shut or they'd capture Mama. She lives all alone."

The excitement in Katara's chest shriveled to horror. "They threatened you?"

"Yes," Meinga whispered.

"Don't worry," said Katara firmly. "I know you're not treasonous, Meinga. I won't say a word. Thank you for answering my questions."

Meinga bowed so low her forehead almost scraped the floor. "Thank you, Princess Katara. Thank you."

Her fear was difficult to behold. Were all the servants in this palace so terrified of those with higher rank?

Because she couldn't help herself, she asked, "Did you serve Prince Zuko before I came here?"

Confusion flitted across Meinga's face at the change in subject, but she hardly missed a beat. "Yes, Princess."

"Was he cruel to any of you?"

"Oh, no, Princess," said Meinga. "No, Prince Zuko has been very kind since his return. He almost always thanks us when he sees us. He barely makes requests. Sometimes he even started cleaning up his own tea trays instead of letting us do it, like he forgot we were there. He said he worked in a tea shop, and that he—" She seemed to think she had been speaking too much because she stopped abruptly, her face reddening and her eyes sinking to the floor.

Katara let out a slow sigh of relief. "Good," she said. "That will be all. Thank you very much, Meinga."

Meinga bowed again and left.

Katara doubted the servants could leave the palace, and she also doubted that someone could easily sneak in.

That meant the masked figure that gave the note to Meinga had to have been someone already inside.

Katara needed to put this whole thing out of her mind right now. It was only getting murkier, more dangerous to get involved. Not to mention there were guards outside her door and a palace wall separating her from the rendezvous point. Even if she wanted to go on the full moon, which she didn't—or better said, she couldn't—it was impossible. Impossible and reckless.

As the sunset began to cast a soft orange glow into the room, Katara couldn't hold still any longer. She tried to leave and was told by the guards that she must be accompanied by Ty Lee, Zuko, or the guards themselves. Katara had expected this but still found it incredibly grating. Ty Lee was by far the most preferable, and when she arrived, Katara asked to be taken to the library.

When she told one of the rather grumpy-looking attendants that she wanted to borrow books, she and Ty Lee were given woven baskets and Katara spent at least two hours poking through the towering aisles. Titles swam before her eyes and she thumbed through them. The sheer amount of this collection was overwhelming. Finally, she decided on books that covered the general history of the Fire Nation and its royal family, as well as scrolls detailing the layout of the palace grounds and Caldera City beyond its walls. She grabbed a few materials on Fire Nation architecture, Fire Nation cuisine, and Fire Nation myths and fairy tales. The attendant painstakingly wrote out each thing Katara was taking from the library, told her she had one week, and let her go, lugging a basket laden with books and with Ty Lee in her wake.

"Doing some research?" Ty Lee asked brightly.

"I thought it was probably best to know my new home," Katara told her, which wasn't technically a lie.

She and Ty Lee put the baskets down once back in the room and went to the washroom for an evening bath. After, she had tea and settled in with the first book, which was horrifically biased and gleefully touted Fire Nation supremacy. Katara hadn't expected anything else. When she read between the lines, she got a decent overview, but slowly, it began to make her angry, so she switched to a book of fairy tales.

Her eyes were drooping heavily when the door finally clicked open. Katara slowly closed the book and met Zuko's wary, vaguely disappointed gaze. He'd come late because he wanted her to be asleep. "Hi," said Katara, very cautiously.

He just gave her a curt nod in greeting. "Do you need the washroom?"

"No. Go ahead."

Katara tried to read again but found she couldn't focus, half listening for the sounds of Zuko emerging again. When he did, his hair was damp and he was shirtless, only wearing red, light silk trousers. She quickly looked away. He slid into the bed beside her and the scent of soaps drifted over, as well as hints of the scents she'd caught the night before. A sweet, earthy wood; smoke; something herbal…

Katara fervently wished that he would put a shirt on. But even now, long after the sun had gone down, the temperature was unnaturally high. If Zuko weren't here she would gladly have slept nude. At least the bed was large and they were far away from each other.

He was probably happy about that, too.

There was an awkward silence. Finally, Zuko said, "Do you still want to read, or…?"

"No. I was just waiting for you."

She felt his surprise, could practically see his one eyebrow shooting up, even if she was still staring down at the cover of the book in her lap. "Oh. Is it because you wanted to, uh, talk about something?"

"Not really. I just wanted to make sure you came back. I don't think we need rumors."

"Yeah," he muttered, rather bitterly. "I know."

"But I guess I am curious what's going to happen over the next few days," said Katara. "You know, if there are things we'll have to do. Like breakfast today. A little more warning would be nice." She gripped her book tighter, trying to forget the sudden image of Ozai at the table.

They would still eagerly gather to see you screaming on the pyre.

"I don't know much either," Zuko said. "But it's probably safe to assume that we'll both have to be there to personally greet the most important guests that show up for their stay at the palace."

"Will we have to eat with them?" Katara tried to contain the horror she felt and failed.

"I don't know."

"How many important guests are coming?"

"I don't know." A muscle in his cheek jumped.

"What do I have to be there for? What am I supposed to do?"

"Nothing. Stand there and look pretty," Zuko said flatly.

Katara scowled. "Is that all I'm good for around here? That and giving birth to your heirs?"

"Apparently," said Zuko. Outwardly he looked calm, except his fingers were curled tightly around the blankets. He still did not look directly at her. "We should probably walk together every day," Zuko added. "Otherwise do whatever you want."

"Except spar," Katara said, with a little huff.

Zuko pursed his lips but didn't say anything to that. "The beaches are really nice here. You could ask Ty Lee to take you. She loves the beach. I'm sure she'd be happy if you felt like going."

"Okay," said Katara. The beach did sound nice. Being near the ocean again.

"And in that collection," said Zuko, pointing at the book, "Dragon Mother is a good one."

"Oh. Thank you," said Katara, rather surprised. She tried to imagine Zuko sitting still long enough to read. She supposed he had been the captain of a ship for a long time during his banishment, with stretches of boredom on the open sea. Apparently he'd spent at least some of that time reading. Every time they interacted she was introduced to a new contradiction, reminded of how little she actually knew about him. That doesn't matter, she thought. I know enough. I know what he's done, what he cares about. Don't let your guard down.

"If you aren't going to read I'd put out the lights," Zuko said pointedly.

Katara put the book on the bedside table, scooting to lie down properly. "Okay."

He waved a hand and the candles extinguished. The moonlight drifted into the room again just as it had the night before. Katara yearned to run outside, to feel it thrumming at her chi, to use her body and bend.

Zuko turned on his side, putting his back to her. She knew by his breathing that he was awake for a long time, and despite how tired she was, Katara also couldn't sleep for what felt like hours. She couldn't stop thinking of notes and masks and threats and treason.

She thought of Ursa, a fellow prisoner of marriage, a ghost of the past and a weight on the present.

And Katara thought of that tigerdillo, pacing around in its little cage, and her heart sank.

Katara had a strange dream that night.

She was back in her village, smiling as she watched Aang entertain the children with tricks and his staff. It had been so long since she'd heard them laugh like that, deep laughs from their bellies. Gran-Gran stood beside her, watching with mild disapproval. The children warped into the giggling girls on Kyoshi Island, but still Gran-Gran remained. Her presence was a comfort.

And then quite suddenly, she grabbed Katara's arm, almost hard enough to hurt. "I see the hope in your eyes."

"He's the Avatar," said Katara, still smiling. "I believe in him. I know he can help the world."

"Katara, don't put all your hopes in that boy."

"But Gran-Gran—"

"Don't put all your hopes in that boy." Her voice morphed into something deep and thunderous, something ancient and filled with an endless supply of rage. Something inhuman. Her face began to turn to ash and crumble before Katara's eyes.

It kept crumbling, ash falling into the sand.

Katara screamed, but no one noticed. No one heard.

Gran-Gran's face became unrecognizable as she choked on ash and soot. And then her eyes blazed with sudden amber, cruel and cold.

"Where is he now?" Ozai taunted. "Where did your hope in one boy get you? You little fool."

Burning hands flew toward her face—

Katara jolted awake with a little gasp.

Sunlight streamed into her room, a beam falling gently across the bed. It was late.

Zuko was already gone, but that was no surprise.

Katara quickly discovered that being a princess with few privileges was terribly boring.

The next few days in her new role passed much the same as the first, though thankfully without any meals with Ozai or run-ins with Azula. Zuko walked with her every morning and every afternoon. They barely spoke to each other. Katara spent time drinking tea and reading, trying to glean as much information as possible about her whereabouts. And then, when that became too much, she immersed herself back in the much more enjoyable fairy tales or cultural stories of the Fire Nation. She wandered the palace and the countless gardens with Ty Lee, mapping the place to memory as best she could. One day, she and Ty Lee went to the beach.

That was easily her favorite day so far, splashing in the waves and bending the salty water. She twirled it around her waist and flicked her wrist to make the water dance and shimmer. The tide lapped over her toes and Ty Lee clapped and cheered her on, and for the first time since she'd arrived Katara felt almost…happy. Or at the very least, she was able to forget her woes during the time she was bending.

The exhilaration faded as they made their way back to the palace, glittering in the late afternoon sun.

It turned into full-blown anxiety when she arrived at her room and saw Zuko expectantly waiting. He was wearing robes much finer than he normally did, and that could only mean one thing. "New arrivals," he told her. "We're supposed to be in front of the palace in an hour."

Ty Lee wasted no time bringing Katara to the washroom, working quickly to get the sand and sweat off her skin and out of her hair. She put her in a yellow dress this time, embroidered with a pattern of vibrant red flowers that Katara had recently learned from her reading were fire lilies. She styled Katara's hair in a typical top knot today and put a golden dragon necklace around her throat. The make-up took ages.

By the time she was finally done Katara looked and felt like a doll all over again.

"There!" Ty Lee clapped her hands together, beaming. "Doesn't she look great, Zuko?"

Katara hadn't even noticed Zuko come back into the room. She glanced up and their eyes met in the mirror. He cleared his throat.

"Yes," he said, rather tonelessly, looking down. "Very nice."

After Ty Lee left Katara mechanically put her arm on Zuko's, already a habit after their walks. Dread coiled tightly in her stomach and made it hard to breathe, but she straightened her shoulders and tilted her chin up. Body language was everything. If she could make the nobles like her, perhaps she'd be safer.

When they arrived, Ozai and Azula were already there.

Ozai didn't even bother looking at them, his sharp eyes fixed ahead.

Azula gave them both a nod and a little smirk.

Thankfully, Azula was on Ozai's left and Zuko took his place to his father's right, so Katara did not have to stand beside either of them. They waited in heavy silence. The sun was setting over the stone plaza by the time Katara finally saw movement.

What appeared to be a family was approaching over a ridiculously long red rug, so long it stretched out across the plaza. They'd clambered out of a palanquin and walked over with grace, arms tucked neatly together in their sleeves. As they drew closer, Katara got a burst of sudden recognition. Zuko must have also had it at the same time she did, because she felt him stiffen beside her.

The daughter was Azula's other friend. The dark-haired one with the knives. Mai. Her features were carefully arranged into detached boredom as she strolled along behind her parents, her bangs so long they partially covered her eyes. Her father was the ruler of Omashu, or what the Fire Nation now called New Ozai. Her mother, a woman with brown hair and soft features, carried a toddler.

Katara remembered that toddler. They'd returned him to his family back in Omashu.

They must be visiting from the Earth Kingdom for the celebration.

They filed into a line and bowed low, murmuring greetings to the Fire Lord.

"Welcome, Governor Ukano," said Ozai. "I hope the journey was pleasant."

"Nothing to complain about, Fire Lord Ozai," said Ukano, bowing again. He appeared rather nervous, his eyes only darting up to Ozai's for moments at a time. "It was our honor." He turned to fully face Zuko and Katara. "Many happy returns on your marriage."

"Thank you." Zuko's voice was neutral. Katara found it best to say nothing.

She noted that Mai was watching Zuko with her eyes slightly narrowed.

"An interesting choice for Prince Zuko," said Ukano's wife suddenly. She was staring at Katara with thinly veiled distaste.

Katara's hopes of winning nobles over quickly began to fade. Her mere presence as a peasant ruined her chances.

"Of course we're so pleased to have Mai back home with us," said Ukano quickly. "So pleased. All of us want what is best for the Fire Nation, and the Water Tribes were a hefty prize indeed. She was devastated, of course, but she is young, and she understands. We all must make sacrifices for our country."

Clarity hit Katara so fast she nearly swayed.

Zuko and Mai had been…together before she arrived?

Katara cautiously peeked at Mai again to see that her icy stare was now leveled at her.

She fought the urge to visibly cringe.

Mai must have been here with Zuko, but then left when they'd broken up. When they'd been forced to break up, because Zuko had to marry her. Against her, Zuko was so tense he felt like stone. This must be the first time they were seeing each other since it happened.

Well, great. This was just great.

Ozai seemed to have anticipated this conversation, because he only looked amused. "Yes. Prince Zuko's duty came first, I'm afraid, but your daughter will find a splendid match one day," he said. "I'm sure of it."

"Ah, duty," said Mai's mother, with a tinkling little laugh that Katara immediately decided she hated, "a wonderful necessity, even if there is certain...tediousness." She gripped her son closer to her and wrinkled her nose at Katara.

"Does she even know how to read?" Ukano asked, with mild curiousity.

Azula let out a vicious laugh. Ozai smiled. Even Mai's mouth twitched.

He hadn't even really meant it as an insult. Somehow that was almost more insulting.

Katara was too shocked to speak, or even think. She felt as though she'd been slapped.

"Of course," Zuko said. "She's been reading Fire Nation history and fairy tales."

He was making it sound as though she was interested in the Fire Nation. He was vouching for her. Somehow this made Katara want to cry, but she bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood and refrained.

"Oh, excellent!" said Ukano. "Showing her a little much-needed culture, are you?"

"She chose the books herself," said Zuko, a shade cooler than before.

"How dutiful of her." It still sounded like a jab, even if Mai's voice was as monotone as Katara remembered, her face blank. If she hadn't seen Mai glaring earlier, Katara would have thought Mai wasn't affected by any of this at all.

Zuko's eyes sank to the stone of the plaza beneath their feet and he said nothing more.

"The guards will show you to your quarters," said Ozai. "Don't hesitate to ask for what you need."

The family bowed—her mother even whispered something in the toddler's ear and he made a sloppy little inclination with his head, giggling as if it were a game—and then they were being escorted away.

Katara was shaking with fury, but she tried to keep her expression blank.

There were four more groups after that. Katara had no idea who they were or where exactly they were coming from. She only heard Ozai addressing them by their titles. The first two groups, one husband and wife and then two husbands, blatantly ignored her except for granting her a few curious, lingering looks. And as much as that infuriated her, Katara now knew that being ignored was preferable to casual condescension or awful remarks. The third group was a father with two sons. Each wore a uniform full of honorary pins.

The sons blatantly stared at Katara, mouths hanging open as if she were an exotic animal on display.

But it was still far better than their father, General Eza, whose lips had lingered uncomfortably long on Azula's knuckles right after greeting Ozai, and who then turned to look at Zuko and Katara with greedy interest. "Well," he said, grinning widely, "It's been a few years, Prince Zuko. You look…different." And then he smirked and made an exaggerated wink with his left eye.

Katara stared at the man in disbelief. He was joking about Zuko's scar.

Upon closer inspection, she saw a necklace around General Eza's neck made of human teeth, and her stomach dropped.

Every instinct Katara possessed told her to run far, far away from him. Ozai was cruel and dangerous, but Katara doubted he ever saw actual battle. He was a spoiled monarch, letting his soldiers and even his children do most of the dirty work.

But this man, General Eza…he radiated a very different sort of danger. A battle-hardened danger.

This was a man who had directly committed atrocities rather than ordering them from a golden throne.

"Yes," was all Zuko said, very stiffly.

Eza gave him a wolfish smile. "I'm glad you learned your lesson."

Zuko swallowed. "Yes. I am grateful I had the chance to restore my honor."

"Of course," said Eza, inclining his head. "Your father is a wise leader. He must have known you would prove yourself eventually. And coming home wasn't even your only reward, was it?" His gaze then flicked to Katara, and she had to fight not to automatically shrink back. He was blatantly leering. "What a beauty," he said. His hand shot out, alarmingly swift.

The necklace of teeth rattled with the movement and he took firm hold of her wrist, running a slow hand up her forearm. A mocking, gentle caress. Katara's throat closed with horror, but she could not move. She couldn't do a thing. "You delicious little creature," Eza murmured, very softly. "Skin like chocolate." He paused, and then smirked again. "Or mud."

Katara saw red.

She forgot all the reasons she should stay docile and wrenched her arm away, breathing hard. "You—"

"General Eza." Zuko cut her off very sharply. One of his hands slid around Katara's waist and pulled her into his side, his fingers closing around one of her wrists and squeezing. A subtle warning. He drew himself up to full height, his glower dark and his voice even darker. "Do I really need to remind you that is my wife? Don't touch her again."

Eza just started to chuckle, the sound echoing around the large plaza. "It's a relief to see that you finally grew a pair of balls in your time away, Prince Zuko. You'll need them." He winked at Katara before addressing Zuko again. "Apologies. Water Tribe women always make me forget myself. There's just something about them." He licked his lips, deliberately slow. Behind him, his sons grinned.

Zuko had gone pale with rage. He only narrowed his eyes, and for a long moment he and Eza stared each other down.

Ozai watched the exchange with a detached expression, not bothering to intervene. He wanted to see how Zuko would handle the threat.

It was a game for him, an amusing little show.

Katara wanted to vomit. Her heart was pounding very fast.

She'd never been happier to see someone walking away from her as General Eza and his sons departed to the palace.

Zuko did not let go of her wrist, but Katara found she didn't mind, not right now. His grip and the heat of his side were like an anchor. She would not delude herself that Zuko was safe, but at the very least he was the best option here. For now it would have to be enough.

The last group of arrivals was the strangest by far.

They refused the palanquins and strutted the length of the plaza. In the front was a woman, her presence broad and commanding. She had hair that sprang out in a wild, curly mane around her head, the only woman Katara had seen so far with unbound hair. Bangles clanged on her wrists, and her fingers and ears and neck glittered with jewelry, some of the largest gems Katara had ever seen.

She led a group of roughly a dozen women. They were dressed more modestly than their leader, but jewelry shone on their bodies all the same. Their outfits were long skirts and thin tops of dark green. The fabric barely covered their breasts and left their midriffs exposed. Little rubies and emeralds shone on their bellies, winking joyously in the dying sunlight as they approached the royal family. Despite their provocative attire, they held fans to coyly cover most of their faces. Only their eyes and foreheads were visible above the thin paper.

"Ah," said Ozai, raising an eyebrow. "Welcome, Madame Mavang."

Madame Mavang's entire group dipped in unison into the customary low bow. When she looked up again, Katara saw that her eyes weren't golden, but a deep brown. "Fire Lord," she purred. Her voice had a very pleasing rasp to it, and her little smile was relaxed, self-assured.

"I trust you and your Fire Lilies are faring well?" Ozai's eyes were ranging over the women.

Madame Mavang just grinned. "Aren't we always?"

The ladies behind her giggled, and there was a rustling sound like birds' wings as the fans began to flutter.

Ozai's answering smile was thin.

He doesn't like her, Katara realized suddenly.

Katara eyed Madame Mavang with distinctly more interest now, sizing her up. If the Fire Lord didn't like her and she was still alive, even invited to the palace for a royal celebration, clearly the woman was doing something right. She wasn't dressed exactly like a noble and she didn't have the airs of one, but rather of someone that had put on the role instead. Mavang seemed unbothered by Ozai's coolness.

She faced Azula with a little flourish. "I heard about your coup in Ba Sing Se, Princess Azula."

"It was nothing," said Azula. "The Dai Li are as easily manipulated as cattle."

Mavang laughed. "All men are, Princess. I commend you. Very impressive."

Finally, she turned to Zuko and Katara. A slow smile spread across her face as she stepped closer, drinking them in. "Well," she said, "last time I saw you, Prince Zuko, you were just a little prince." Her eyes moved up and down him. "But now you've gotten so big."

Another chorus of giggles erupted from the Fire Lilies at the innuendo.

Zuko flushed but he spoke evenly, greeting her with a neutral nod. "Madame Mavang."

She chuckled. "Oh, Prince Zuko. You were even humorless as a child. Now it's gotten even worse."

Madame Mavang then put the full blast of her keen eyes on Katara.

Out of anyone else, Madame Mavang's staring perturbed Katara the most; except, of course, for General Eza, who was clearly a brute and a pig. But Madame Mavang's gaze was uncomfortable in a far different way. She looked at Katara as if she was calculating her worth on the spot, as if her eyes could pierce a hole right into Katara's being. Somehow Katara felt both seen in a way that she hadn't since she'd arrived, and yet also put on display like an ostrich-horse on auction. "You must be Princess Katara," said Mavang finally.

She was the first person today to have used Katara's actual name or address her without insult or disgust. That made it far easier for Katara to incline her head politely. "Yes. A pleasure to meet you, Madame Mavang."

"Oh, believe me, the pleasure is all mine. Southern Water Tribe, are you not?"

"Yes."

"A Master bender, yes?"

Katara blinked, but did not ask how she knew. "That's right."

Madame Mavang gave a nod of approval. "And so young? Impressive. Quite a few of my most precious Fire Lilies are from the Water Tribes, you know." She swept a hand behind her, and Katara's eyes widened, trying to seek out blue eyes over the edges of the fans. "Well, Princess Katara," said Mavang, cutting her search short. "I truly look forward to getting to know you."

Katara did not exactly share the sentiment, but she nodded all the same.

Madame Mavang waved her Lilies after her without bowing and without waiting to be dismissed.

Katara watched her go with a grudging sense of respect and awe.

As she and Zuko were finally given leave to return to their quarters, she thought of Azula and Zuko. Azula, the younger sibling, but clearly the favorite. She knew more about the happenings of the palace and had far more autonomy and less fear than Zuko.

She thought of General Eza, dangerous in a way that Ozai was not.

And she thought of Mavang, who possessed a clear immunity to Ozai's wrath, an immunity that Katara did not understand.

Finally, she thought of herself, a princess only in name. But in reality, she was still a peasant to be disrespected, insulted, and leered at.

She thought she might be starting to understand this court.

Making the people and nobles like her was still a clever move, but it wasn't her best chance at surviving, after all. Katara had never been part of a royal court before, but she was beginning to see that power did not necessarily follow rank.

Sometimes, power was far more subtle.

Zuko did not immediately leave when they returned to the quarters, which was a first.

Instead, he swept over to the wardrobe and rifled around for a few minutes. Then he turned and tossed a wad of dark fabric at her, which Katara caught automatically despite her surprise. "Put that on," he said gruffly. "It'll be a little big, but it will work." He kept rummaging.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Katara crossed her arms and glared at the back of his head. The nerve of him. "As if I'm just going to follow your orders."

Zuko shot her an exasperated look over his shoulder. "We're going to the beach," he said.

"I already went to the beach today."

"A different beach."

"Still a no," she said.

"I didn't ask," said Zuko roughly. "You almost insulted General Eza. Who, by the way, is one of the very last people you ever want to insult."

"I figured that out for myself, thanks," Katara snapped. "That necklace of teeth was just one little clue."

But she knew Zuko was right. She'd almost forgotten herself. She needed an outlet, or she would snap. Still, her anger roiled, lashing out after holding so much of it in. "What's it to you, anyway?" she said, voice shaking. "We hate each other. Why not try and be free of me?"

Zuko slowly straightened and turned to face her. There was something in his eyes she couldn't interpret. "When did I say I hated you?"

Katara faltered. "I...what?"

"Just because you hate me doesn't mean I hate you." His expression hardened.

"Oh, please. You chased us around the world, attacked us—"

"None of that was personal," said Zuko. "I just wanted the Avatar."

"Oh, well, that makes it all so much better!"

"That's not what I—" He let out a frustrated growl, pinching the bridge of his nose. His eyes blazed at her when he finally looked up. "Look, this might be a shock for you, but I don't actually want to see you hurt or suffering or—or anything like that, okay? And if you don't hold your tongue, especially with a man like Eza, things will get very bad, very fast. Do you know what he's capable of?" He advanced toward her, his eyes sparking hotter. "I've heard stories of his campaigns since I've been back, Katara. About his rise to power. Did you know he's the only man with rank that isn't a firebender? And not just any rank, a General. That has never happened. And believe me, you don't want to hear the details of how he managed it." Katara gaped at him, but Zuko pressed forcefully on. "So we are going down to that beach, and we're going to blow off some steam so we can both get through this fucking celebration alive."

His chest was heaving by the time he'd finished.

Katara's lungs felt like they were collapsing. Her mouth was very dry.

She swallowed with difficulty and eyed the clothes in her trembling hands. "So, what, you want to go for a couple's jog?"

"No," said Zuko, raising his eyebrow at her. "We're going to spar where no one can see."

Chapter 7: The Intrusion

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

"This is a bad idea," Katara muttered, as they swept through the corridor.

"No, it isn't." Zuko turned sharply at the next corner, the basket on his arm swinging almost violently in his wake.

They wore their kimonos over the dark clothing underneath; the official story, should anyone ask, was that they were going to the beach for an evening picnic. A romantic outing as husband and wife. Thankfully, they hadn't run into someone yet that would ask. Katara expected they would, especially now, with so many more unwelcome guests milling about in the palace. But to her surprise they made it out of the palace easily. They were seen only by some servants and guards, who bowed low as they passed, and by several small groups of nobles mingling in the courtyards, eyeing them with smiles and whispers.

There was a driver outside the palace walls, waiting with a wagon that was pulled by gigantic and rather terrifying komodo-rhinos.

Still, as much as Katara didn't really like them, it was far better than making people carry them all the way to the beach in a palanquin.

The driver was a small, friendly man that had given both Katara and Ty Lee a kind smile when he'd taken them to the beach earlier that day. He gave the same kind smile to her and Zuko now, and when they settled in and Zuko told him the destination, he snapped the reins and the wagon lurched into action. Katara took in the passing scenery, how the Fire Nation looked when it faded to dusk; the pink and orange hues of the sky settling over jungle foliage, dotted with the glow of floating fireflies. There were villages sprinkled along the road to the beach, and people were out tending their gardens, preferring to work at twilight rather than in the oppressive heat of the day.

Many looked up and watched the wagon pass, and Katara beamed and gave them all cheerful waves. They just gaped back at her.

One man dropped the bundle of weeds he'd just rooted out of his flowerbeds, his mouth hanging wide open.

The road became rougher the closer they got to the beach. Finally, the wagon drew to a shuddering halt, and the driver hopped down and bowed low. "Here we are, Prince Zuko. Shall I wait for you here?"

"Thank you. It will be a few hours," said Zuko, sliding out of the wagon with Katara right on his heels, shooting a nervous glance at the komodo-rhinos. "You can come back later if you don't want to wait."

"Thank you, Prince Zuko." Another bow, another snap of the whip, and the wagon rattled away.

Zuko jerked his head to the right. "We have a bit of a walk."

The sun was low, its dying rays spilling out over the ocean. The evening light was soft and fading, and Katara walked along the shore as close to the water as possible so that the waves could push up over her toes, the tides pushing higher and higher as night settled in. The beach was mostly empty, save for a few stragglers here and there. Most were hauling in fishing nets, but there were several couples walking hand-in-hand, and a few families playing in the sand or hunting for seashells. One father was building a sandcastle with his daughter, and her giggles echoed loudly across the beach. Her laugh was infectious, and Katara found herself starting to smile as she watched.

It was nice, seeing regular Fire Nation citizens just being people.

Nice to see evidence that they weren't all stuffy nobles.

The illusion of normality was always broken when the citizens spotted them and realized who they were. They hastily dropped to their knees and bowed. It was distinctly uncomfortable, watching them drop to the sand like that. And curiously, judging by the look on Zuko's face, he didn't like the attention either. They walked and walked, until the sun barely cut over the line of the horizon. The moon was already visible. It was waxing, and again Katara thought of the note, masked figures, and the lemon grove at full moon. But she forced the thoughts away.

They walked until the shores were deserted and they walked some more.

"Almost there," Zuko said finally.

When they came to the end of the beach, where the sand turned into either the ocean or the cliffs behind them, Katara assumed they were a safe enough distance to spar. But Zuko took off his shoes and his kimono and began rolling up his trousers over his calves, up to the knee.

He gestured for her to do the same, and Katara frowned. "Are we swimming?"

"Just a little," he answered, stuffing his kimono and his shoes in some nearby reeds.

Katara eyed the ocean dubiously. It was just water. And Katara was a strong swimmer. There was no real reason to be nervous. But she knew that this warm water ocean, unlike the ocean back home or the many rivers she'd encountered on her travels, had creatures of the deep.

And the water was so dark. So endless. And the ocean was so old, so merciless.

She'd seen its wrath back during the invasion of the Northern Water Tribe, when the moon had been stolen from it. It was precisely because she was a waterbender that she had a respectful fear of the ocean.

Zuko looked up as he rolled his second pant leg, seeing her still frozen and gazing at the water.

"Don't tell me you're scared of your own element," he said, sounding a little amused.

She whirled on him. "You're an idiot if you're not at least a little afraid of the ocean."

"We're not going where it's deep, or where there are dangerous tides," said Zuko.

Grudgingly, Katara shrugged off her kimono and her shoes, stuffed them in the same reeds, and began rolling up her pant legs just as he had. When she was finished, Zuko waded out into the water and she followed. They both fell into a clean, even breaststroke when the water became too deep, bobbing in the gentle waves. Their clothes became a heavy weight, floating out and around them in the water.

Zuko didn't swim out far, instead remaining close to the coastline of jagged cliffs. The waves crashed against the rock, slowly eroding it, spraying a mist of seawater up and over them as they swam. The ocean, Katara also knew, could be patient with its power. The taste of salt settled heavily on Katara's tongue, and she struggled to keep sight of Zuko's dark hair in front of her in the dying light.

Finally, Katara saw the mouth of what was undeniably a small cave nestled into the cliffs.

They were nearly at the entrance when she felt something on her leg. Something slimy and horrible.

She let out a loud screech, momentarily overcome by panic.

Zuko turned and came swimming back toward her, but Katara was already bending the water into a small whirlpool beneath her, forming a powerful wave. It catapulted her forward, tangling Zuko along with it before it crashed through the cave with unceremonious power, depositing them both on the nearest surface, coughing and sputtering. The feeling on her leg hadn't gone away. Katara scrabbled for her calf, half blinded by the sting of saltwater in her eyes and the raw fear of seeing some animal latched onto her leg. But Zuko got there first.

Her eyes flew open when she felt him beside her, even as they burned from the saltwater.

With a pointed look, Zuko reached out and unraveled a long tangle of seaweed from around her leg. "It's just seaweed," he said unnecessarily, before he tossed it off to the side, the ghost of a smirk on his face. She pushed to her feet, trying to ignore the agitated heat in her cheeks. Zuko was giving her a curious look. "Have you never been swimming in the ocean before?"

"Not far from the shore, no," said Katara curtly, waving her hands to dry them both.

He just stared at her as if he couldn't believe it.

"What? In case you didn't notice, the ocean where I lived wasn't exactly a comfortable temperature to swim in," she said. "And when I was traveling with my friends we were mostly inland, on rivers, where the water was actually drinkable and where there weren't Fire Nation harbors." She arched an eyebrow at him. "You know, where we might have run into an angry prince with a ship, trying to hunt us down?"

"All right, easy," Zuko said, holding up his hands. "I was just surprised."

Katara glanced around at her surroundings. The cave was gloomy, and there was a steady drip drip sound that echoed through at regular intervals. Sharp stalactites hung down from the ceiling, and if Katara squinted enough into the dark, she could see that the cave went on, further into the cliffs and underground. "This looks like a smuggler's cave," she said, trying not to sound nervous.

"I don't think it is. And if we bend on the beach, someone might see my fire," said Zuko. "I thought this was our best option. And it has water for you to use, since you can't bring your pouches without someone noticing."

Katara had to admit that it was a good idea, but she didn't want to give him the verbal gratification after he'd teased her about the seawood, so she only walked off to examine the cave, scouting the perimeter of the cavern slowly. She saw no signs of it being a hideout, no remains of a fire left behind or waste or other signs of a camp, and after her thorough search she felt marginally better.

Even if the way sounds echoed against the damp rock was rather eerie. As was the dark.

But then light blazed to life in the cave. Katara turned, and Zuko's palms were filled with fire, the shadows flickering across his face. "Do you know how to fight without your bending?" he asked.

"No," she said, frowning. "Why?"

He shrugged. "You might not always have access to water when you need it."

Another excellent point. A waterbender always needed a source, unlike a firebender. And she did often feel bare and exposed here, unable to wear her pouches. Katara folded her arms across her chest, wishing that he would stop making such excellent and helpful points. "I only just started learning bending less than a year ago," she said. "I didn't really have time to think about anything else."

"Now you do," Zuko said.

"Do you know how to fight without bending?"

"Yeah. I can wield dao swords and I can fight hand-to-hand."

"So is this an offer to teach me, or something?"

He shrugged again. "Sure. If you want."

Katara saw a glint of moonlight reflecting on the ocean outside, felt her chi thrum in anticipation. She drew ocean water from the mouth of the cave to swirl around her waist, and she felt alive, just as she had at the beach earlier that day with Ty Lee. Only this was even better, because her blood was running hot through her veins and her heart was speeding in anticipation of a fight. A real one.

"I think I need to bend first," she said.

In response, the fire on Zuko's palms burned brighter, leaping higher. His eyes gleamed, and then he curled his hands into fists and rose them, one above his head and one reaching straight out, both pointed at her.

They began to slowly circle each other.

"It would be nice if you could try and avoid getting saltwater in my eyes," he said. His voice was casual, but his eyes were darting up and down her. Judging. Calculating his first move, his strategy.

But if he thought he was going to distract her with little jokes or conversation, he was dead wrong.

Starting out on the defensive would probably keep her stuck there, and Katara wanted to win. She needed to win. She drew on her well of fury. She pictured Zuko across from her exactly as he'd been in Ba Sing Se. She let herself vividly remember how she'd felt when he'd attacked Aang and not Azula. She'd fully expected him to attack Azula. She'd expected him to help her after she'd offered to help him.

She'd been so, so stupid.

The rage and shame and bitterness fueled her. She planted her feet and attacked without warning, sending a wave of water careening toward him. She only had time to see Zuko's eyes widen before he dove out of the way, rolling with smooth efficiency along the hard floor of the cave and back up to his feet as he shot a fireball at her. Katara blocked it, pushing a wave of water in front of her and hardening it to ice.

His flames licked along the ice and melted it in seconds. It came splashing down along her feet.

And the real fight began.

They rolled and spun and dodged, bursts of fire lighting up the air only to meet with water and evaporate in a hiss of steam. Once, Katara slid ice under his feet and Zuko went down so hard he nearly smacked his head. Another time, Katara narrowly dodged a stream of fire and her back rammed into a ridge in the cave wall so roughly that she cried out, and she knew there would be bruises along her spine.

Neither of them eased up their attacks.

Katara liked to think that she would have easily won if she hadn't been out of practice.

She saw how Zuko's element was weaker than hers right now, under cover of the approaching night.

But it had been weeks since she'd trained, and most of those weeks had been spent lying around, and she bared her teeth as she sent a whirl of ice daggers at him, furious that the Fire Nation had weakened her. Even the climate worked against her. She began to pant with long, ragged breaths far earlier than Zuko did. He was used to the heavy air. For Katara it was like she had water settled deep in her lungs. Her muscles burned and every attack was agony, but she refused to give in. She would not back down. She needed to win.

"Out of shape?" Zuko taunted, obviously noticing her fatigue, and as he swirled fire on his palm to push it at her, she saw his smirk. Anger bubbled in her, and Katara's next wave hit him square in the chest and smacked him into a hanging stalactite.

He recovered just in time to melt her next barrage of ice daggers and dodge a stream of water, sent directly and purposefully for his eyes.

His smirk slipped into a snarl.

It went on for what felt like hours.

Zuko was a blur but so was she, and as they attacked each other, despite the burn in her lungs and in her entire body and the pains from the tumbles she took when Zuko managed a hit, Katara felt good. The world shimmered as a result of her adrenaline. Her body was wide awake.

It was only now, fighting for the first time in weeks, that Katara realized what fighting really was. What it could be.

Fighting was a release, but it could easily be a need, a craving. She saw how it could turn into an addiction.

How someone could begin to miss the raw struggle to survive, could feel hollow without it.

Because all sensations were one thousand times more intense during a fight, when hovering on the brink of injury or being killed. Fighting was a constant and blatant reminder of how it felt to be alive. And although the rational part of her knew that Zuko wasn't actually trying to kill her, something still ignited in her at seeing him, her enemy, across from her like this. Before Ba Sing Se, his face had always meant danger. It wasn't danger anymore, not exactly, but rather an odd mixture of pain and anger and, oddly, a sliver of safety.

But her nerves were frayed after living on edge and in fear every single day in the palace. She'd been forced to repress every desire to protect herself, and now they bubbled to the surface as her survival instinct took over. Her blood pounded in her veins, in her skull.

Fight, screamed the voice she'd had to squash down. Fight and survive. Fight back, or you will die.

Katara let out a shout and lashed out with all her pent-up power.

She sent a whip at him and at the last minute turned it to ice, making a sharp, swiping diagonal motion.

The ice met its mark. It slashed Zuko right across the chest, and he staggered back.

He fell to his knees, but she was so stunned that it still took her a second to realize he'd put one shaking palm up in surrender, and that he was gasping. His other palm was pressed tightly to his chest, just below his collarbone, where Katara could see blood beginning to bloom up and through his torn shirt. She was certain there was a long, bloody gash underneath the fabric. A deep one.

Deep enough that the spill of blood was falling alarmingly fast, splattering onto the cave floor.

Zuko hunched over with a low groan, his face pinched with pain.

Katara dashed forward, almost stumbling in her haste. She fell to her knees at his side, felt the scrape of rock cutting her up and ignored it to yank at the hem of his shirt, heart pounding erratically. "We need to take this off so I can heal it properly," she said, voice tight with anxiety. "Hurry up, lift both your arms." He obeyed, grimacing as he moved, and she tugged the shirt off and away.

The sudden contrast of the pale gleam of his skin and the cut made her briefly freeze, her throat closing with horror. She'd sliced him deep. The skin was flayed open, a red, gaping abyss right on his chest. It shouldn't be this deep. She'd forgotten herself.

Her vision swam briefly at the sight of all the blood and the smell of iron that filled her nose, but she pushed it furiously away and pulled water quickly to her shaking palms before settling them over the wound.

Zuko gnashed his teeth together at the contact. "That stings," he hissed.

"I know. It's the salt in the water," said Katara apologetically, as her hands began to glow.

Zuko pounded his bloody fist on the floor and squeezed his eyes shut.

"It's okay," Katara tried to soothe. "It's going to be fine. I can close it."

The cut began to close up, stitch together before her eyes, and his expression eased slightly as the pain faded. Blood stopped spilling to the cave floor, but there was nothing to be done for Katara's trousers, for she'd knelt right in the puddle without noticing. Zuko tilted his chin down and opened his eyes, watching the cut fade to dark pink and then gradually grow lighter and lighter until it was white.

And then it was as if it hadn't been there at all. Katara sat back, panting. Her entire body was shaking, and she felt sick. That cut was already bad enough, but what if she'd accidentally hit his neck? She could have killed him.

Zuko was still staring down at his now nonexistent gash, mouth hanging open.

"I'm so sorry," Katara said, voice smaller than before.

His fingers touched the spot where the cut had been as if he'd find it hidden there, still invisible. And then he looked up at her. There was something swimming in his eyes that made her hasten to explain herself.

"It wasn't on purpose," Katara said, her breath hitching. "I swear. I never meant…I would never…" She wanted to cry. She also couldn't stop staring at the spot where the cut had been. Finally, she reluctantly met his eyes. "I'm still angry at you," she admitted in a hoarse whisper. "But I hope you know that wasn't the reason that…I—I didn't mean to go so far. I don't know what happened. I'm really sorry."

"You didn't look angry," said Zuko quietly. "You looked scared."

Katara swallowed hard. She had no idea how to respond to that.

She had been afraid. But not of him. Not exactly.

Now she just felt ashamed and out of control. "I'm so sorry," she said, yet again.

"Don't worry about it." Zuko's voice was steady and he sounded like he really meant it, though he was still watching her a little warily, his bare chest heaving with exertion. His fingers kept twitching to the spot where the cut had been, as if he expected it to return.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this anymore." She stared down at her hands, coated with Zuko's blood.

"Yes, we should," Zuko said firmly. He lit a fire in his palm and more light sprang into the cave.

His face was very close. Much closer than she'd noticed as she had frantically healed him in the dark. They hadn't been this close since…well, several nights ago. After the wedding. An avalanche of memories rose up; the scents of smoke and something herbal, the stretches of pain, his face in her neck during and then ghostly pale after. Zuko's eyes flickered, and she wondered if he was thinking of it too.

Hastily, Katara got to her feet, taking care not to slip in the puddle of blood, and held out her hand.

Zuko winced a little as she helped him up, but he was stable on his feet.

"Can you swim? Do you feel dizzy?" There was too much spilled blood for Katara to be at ease.

"I'm fine. Don't you want to try hand-to-hand?"

Katara shook her head. "Not tonight."

She saw Zuko frown. "If this is because of the injury—"

"No," said Katara, only half a lie. "I just feel…drained." That part was true. She felt like she'd spent every drop of her energy.

"That's probably the humidity," said Zuko. "You'll get used to it. If you want to get used to it faster, you could wear a cloth over your mouth when you train. That's what my Masters made me do."

"What?" Katara said, horrified. "Why?"

Zuko shrugged. "Makes it even harder to breathe, but when the cloth comes off it's much easier."

"That's awful."

Zuko's eyes flickered again. "That part was tame," he said flatly.

Katara hadn't given much thought to Zuko's extensive military training. Unlike her, he'd probably trained his whole life and trained intensely, learning how to be lethal in multiple ways. She shuddered to think of the Fire Nation military discipline tactics.

Katara's empathy roared up, and it was even harder to push down now, after she'd accidentally hurt him. After she'd spent more time with him. But she had to try and feel nothing. This didn't change anything. She still had to make sure to keep up her emotional wall, carefully structure it piece by piece and fill in any gaps. She had to lace it with barbs, to ensure that no part of Zuko could ever make it through.

"At least with hand-to-hand we don't have to come out here," Zuko said. "I can show you the beginner's stuff in our room, so we could try it tomorrow. If you want. It's just basic stances and steps at first."

"Okay," Katara agreed, as she mentally laced her wall with more barbs to balance out the gratefulness.

They moved out toward the mouth of the cave, Zuko lighting the way with his flame. By now the water was pitch black, and Katara tried not to think about that too much as they waded out. "Watch out for that killer seaweed," Zuko said, lips twitching, as if he'd read her mind.

Katara shot him the filthiest glare she could muster, but that only seemed to amuse him further.

Despite his teasing, Zuko swam at her side this time. They made it without incident, and they began searching in the reeds for their kimonos. They washed the traces of blood away as best they could and Katara dried them. Zuko produced the picnic basket and opened it, shoving some fruit into her hands and taking some for himself. They had to eat something in order for it to look like they'd actually gone on a picnic.

The stars were out and twinkling by the time they began trudging along through the sand again, back toward the meeting point for the wagon, slowly eating the snacks they'd brought. And Katara realized that despite everything, she felt more relaxed than she had since she'd arrived.

"Thank you," she said suddenly. "You were right about it being a good idea."

Zuko's face was tilted up as he walked, looking almost thoughtfully at the sky.

For a moment, Katara took in the white light of the moon illuminating his features, settling across his sharp cheekbones like a caress.

And then he gave her a sidelong glance. And a small smile. A tentative truce.

Questions for him bubbled to her tongue. Why are you here? Why did you choose to come back to this palace, this living nightmare? What was your mother like? What was your last memory of her? How did you get the scar? Do you miss Mai? Where do you go every day?

Are you as scared as I am?

But Zuko was the one to actually ask a question. "How did you learn to heal like that?"

Katara blinked. "Oh," she said. "Um…well, Aang was practicing firebending one day and he accidentally burned my palms. I wanted to put them in cold water because they hurt, but then…" She trailed off with a shrug. "My hands started glowing and they just healed."

"You just stumbled across your insanely useful healing abilities?" He sounded stunned.

Despite herself, Katara smiled, just a little.

The next morning when Katara woke, Zuko was still asleep beside her.

For a long moment she stared at him, dumbfounded, thinking maybe it was an illusion.

The sun leaked widely into the room. It was late, and yet here he was, asleep in the sun. Even in sleep there was a crease on his forehead that wouldn't go away, a slight frown tugging his mouth downward. A knock suddenly sounded on the door, and Katara quickly sat up.

"Come in," she said cautiously. It was Meinga that slipped in, clutching a scroll in her hand.

"Princess." Meinga bowed low. "I have something for you."

Zuko began to stir at the sound of voices.

"For me?" And then Katara saw the blue ribbon on the scroll, the insignia on the seal. She scrambled out of bed so fast she nearly tangled her legs up in the sheets. She eagerly tore open the letter, breathless.

Katara,

How are you? We can't stop thinking about you.

Dad and I have been helping Arnook with the logistics of being a colony. The Fire Nation soldiers and representatives sent here have been pretty flexible and helpful, actually. Toph went home to her parents just a day or two after you left. There's no war to fight anymore, and she was miserable in all the ice. She kept refusing to wear shoes even though we told her she'd eventually get frostbite.

We all miss you so much. We've been trying to negotiate a visit to you, but we keep getting told no. Maybe you can visit instead. We'll keep trying.

Please write back soon and let us know how you are.

We love you.

Sokka

Katara's chest felt strange after reading it. Like it was expanding and contracting at the same time. It felt stripped down of Sokka completely, a ghost of her brother's voice on paper. He could not write honestly, and she was certain his words couldn't be taken at face value. There was no way that Sokka, under normal circumstances, would write that Fire Nation soldiers have been flexible or helpful. The tidbit about Toph also stood out to Katara. If Sokka wrote it, the Fire Nation had seen it, and that must mean Toph really had left the Northern Water Tribe.

Toph, part of the wealthy and powerful Beifong family, must have gotten a pass to leave.

Maybe her parents had struck a deal with the Fire Nation to get their daughter back.

But the Toph that Katara knew would never be content to stay trapped under her parents' roof ever again.

She read over the sentences again and again, as if she could see whether this was some sort of plan, some sort of clue. She read the whole letter again, too, three more times, clinging to Maybe you can visit and We love you and We miss you so much. Because she couldn't get the full Sokka from the words, she stared at his handwriting, the hasty scrawl that indicated a need to rush out thoughts that came too quickly.

She clutched the scroll to her chest, hot tears pricking at her eyes.

What was the Northern Water Tribe really like under occupation? Sokka wouldn't even be able to tell her if things were bad, if they were being hurt or mistreated. Despite the letter, she was still in the dark, and she could do nothing.

"Prince Zuko? Is there anything I can get you?" Meinga's voice interrupted Katara's thoughts.

Zuko had sat up and was quietly watching her with the letter. His hair was down and shaggy, wild with sleep and sticking up in the back. Meinga had moved to his side of the bed and remained in a partial bow, eyes darting up every once in a while to look at him.

He blinked, and his attention turned to her. "Could we get breakfast, please, Meinga?"

"Yes, of course," she said, hastily scuttling backward and away.

"So, you got a letter." Zuko's voice was carefully neutral.

"It's from my brother."

She got the distinct feeling Zuko wanted to ask more, but he thankfully didn't press.

Katara carefully tucked the scroll in the little table drawer beside her bed and resolved to answer it soon.

Breakfast was steamed buns and bowls of noodles so spicy that Katara had to take gulps of water every time she took a bite, and for the first time Katara ate at the table in the room with Zuko. They still barely spoke, but the fact that he was willing to stay in the room after she'd nearly cut him open the night before was at least a testament to the fact that he was trying to get along. Katara wasn't stupid; she knew that it was a simple matter of self-preservation, a mutually beneficial arrangement. They lived in too close a proximity to fight all the time. That would only make them both miserable, so they had apparently silently agreed to linger together in their tentative truce.

Ty Lee appeared to prepare Katara for the day not long after they'd finished, but before she could take her off to the washroom for her morning bath, there was another knock on the door.

"Yes?" Zuko called, rather irritably.

A servant Katara didn't know entered and bowed low. "Prince Zuko. You and Princess Katara are being summoned to the sun room as soon as you are ready." More servants began filing in, carrying outfits. Both were vivid red. Zuko's outfit was fine silk robes. Katara's wasn't a dress, but two separate pieces, a long skirt and a top that looked horribly similar to the ones that the Lilies wore, except that it had straps. Still, it would expose her entire midriff, upper back, upper chest, and her arms. The stitching glittered, obnoxiously bright.

"You were instructed to wear these," said the servant, bowing again.

"What's the sun room?" Katara asked with trepidation as Ty Lee led her off to the washroom.

"It's up here in the royal suites," Ty Lee explained, helping her in the bath. "It's a beautiful room, full of plants and flowers and with a domed glass ceiling to see the sky. During the day, artists usually work up there. It gets the best natural light."

Oh.

Oh no. Katara would have to sit still for hours while some artist painted them. It was for a portrait.

Ty Lee's preparation took well over an hour, but Katara was already getting used to the drudgery of grooming by now, though the unfairness still irritated her. Zuko had started getting ready after and still finished long before she had, and he lingered by the door, pacing restlessly.

When she was finally ready, he led her out the door and to the right.

The sun room wasn't far, just as Ty Lee had said.

A short man with a bushy mustache that seemed to take up his entire face brightened immediately upon seeing them. "Ah, there you are! What an honor it is Prince Zuko, Princess Katara." He bowed. When he straightened, Katara saw that he wore an apron splattered with various colors of paint. But there was no prepared easel; he only held a sketchpad in his hand and seemed to be quivering with visible excitement.

"Come in, come in," he said. "My name is Zaoje. I'm here on behalf of the Ember Island Players."

Zuko stiffened. "What?"

"Haven't you heard? The Ember Island Players are writing a play all about the Fire Lord's brilliant series of wins in the war and the heroes that helped him." Zaoje was beaming. "And you two are all the rage. The people are going to love your story."

"Our story?" Katara asked blankly.

"Yes, Princess Katara! A tale of star-crossed lovers! I'm here to make a sketch for promotional posters."

It was silent for a moment as Zuko and Katara just stared at him.

"My father knows about this?" Zuko asked finally.

"Oh yes, the Fire Lord was thrilled at the idea of this play," said Zaoje. "He approved all our plans. It keeps the citizens happy."

No, it keeps them misinformed and loyal, Katara thought bitterly.

She'd gone into this thinking it was a royal portrait, that perhaps Azula had commissioned this as some sort of cruel joke after their conversation with her in the corridor. But this was much worse. This was Fire Nation propaganda in the form of a play. And Katara had a sneaking suspicion how she would be portrayed, if what they'd chosen for her to wear was any indication. Katara wanted to scream.

Zuko let out a low, grumbling sigh. "Fine. Where do we sit?"

Zaoje gestured to two chairs sitting opposite each other. He sat in one and prepared his sketchbook and supplies, but when Zuko stood behind the chair and Katara sat, he said, "Oh, wait, Prince Zuko! That's your seat."

"Why would she be the one standing?" Zuko asked.

"Oh, she won't be standing." Zaoje smiled. "You're to be on his lap, Princess Katara."

Her throat tightened. "I would prefer another chair," she said, hoping to infuse royal command in her words.

"I'm sorry, Princess," Zaoje said, shaking his head. "Our playwrights were very specific. It needs to capture the mood."

Katara forced herself to stand and let Zuko take the chair. He spread his arms to make room for her, looking just as irritated as she felt, and she slowly settled to sit sideways in his lap. One strong arm wrapped around her lower back to keep her upright, his fingers resting as lightly as possible on her waist. "No need to be shy!" said Zaoje, striding forward. "Come on now, get closer. Prince Zuko, the other arm here—" He arranged it so that Zuko's other arm was across her upper thighs. He now encircled her completely, both hands tight on her hip.

"Princess Katara, both arms around his neck, please—and lean in, as close as possible—there."

Zaoje started to sketch.

It was horrifically awkward. It was so close. Zuko was warm, and she could smell him again, that pleasant mixture of herbs and earth and smoke. She could see the pulse jumping in his neck, could feel just how tense he was against her. Any other time she'd had to be close to Zuko had at least been under the cover of darkness. This felt much more vulnerable, particularly the way his arm was lying across her thighs. She was also painfully aware of how much of her skin was exposed.

But the very worst part, perhaps, was that she didn't exactly mind being embraced. She hadn't been hugged or held by another human being since she'd left the Northern Water Tribe. She barely had anyone to talk to here, and certainly no one to truly confide in. This was a horrible reminder of her loneliness, the sharp ache of it brought to the surface. And the sketching went on forever. It was agony.

They were blissfully interrupted by the door swinging open.

Then Katara saw that it was Azula and started wishing for the sketching to continue.

Azula flashed them a savage, amused little smile. "How adorable," she drawled.

"Princess Azula! I'm so pleased you agree," Zaoje said, basking in her praise.

"What is it, Azula?" Zuko asked stiffly.

"So sorry to interrupt," Azula said, "but you're needed at a meeting in the war room, brother." She glanced dismissively at Zaoje. "This will have to continue tomorrow, I'm afraid." Zuko had gone pale at Azula's words, and his hands tightened unconsciously on Katara's waist.

Zaoje hastily stood and bowed. "Of course, Princess. Whatever is needed."

Katara stood, thankful to stretch her legs again, but she watched with worried eyes as Zuko followed Azula out of the room.

He was trying to hide it, but Katara saw. Something had him terrified.

The rest of the day was spent being idle in her room, trying to read and distract herself from the strange, instinctual fear that she felt. Eventually, when Zuko didn't even return as afternoon came, so they could do their daily walk, Katara asked Ty Lee to walk with her. They weaved through the gardens for hours. The day stretched to evening and Katara went back to her room. And then it was night.

And still, Zuko did not return.

Katara woke in the night with a strangled gasp.

At first she thought it might have been another strange dream, only this time she couldn't remember. But then she felt the powerful grip on her shoulder, shaking her so hard her teeth rattled. Through bleary eyes, she saw Madame Mavang standing over her.

Her smile flashed in the dark.

Katara opened her mouth to scream, but Mavang clapped a hand over her mouth hard, shaking her head with a sigh. "You'll just attract more guards, darling."

The next several things happened in a blur.

Katara wrenched her arm and tried to draw water from the pitcher at her bedside table, but Mavang snapped her fingers, and before Katara could even blink two Lilies were upon her. One struck a blow to the chest, palm open, so forceful that Katara wheezed and saw stars. The other took advantage of her disorientation to yank her up, tugging her arms behind her back and containing her wrists so that she could not bend. Katara caught a glimpse of the two guards keeping watch on her room, crumpled outside in the corridor.

Two more Lilies moved to shut the door.

Katara's eyes bulged and darted wildly about as she struggled, but there were no weapons. No escape.

Zuko's side of the bed was empty. She'd fallen asleep waiting, but he'd never come back.

"Do calm down, Master Katara," said Mavang, her voice soothing. "I only want to talk. It's so difficult to have private conversations here when they always babysit you, isn't it? But I'm not your enemy, darling. I'd be happy to let my Lilies release you. Will you behave?"

Katara had little choice. She slowly went still and then gave a furious jerk of her head in affirmation.

Mavang nodded, and the Lilies let her go. Katara stumbled but righted herself quickly.

"Are the guards dead?" Her voice came out very shrill.

"No," said Madame Mavang breezily, waving a dismissive, gem-studded hand. "But they've been poisoned. It will addle their minds and when they wake, they won't remember a thing." Mavang shrugged, as if their fates weren't her concern or her fault at all. She leaned forward. "Well now, Master Katara…" She tilted her head, and a little smile formed on her lips. "Am I correct in assuming you prefer that title over 'Princess'?"

Katara didn't answer. Her entire body was shaking violently.

"I do apologize for the intrusion," said Mavang. "But like I said, it can be so hard to talk in private."

"What do you want?" Katara demanded, finally finding her voice. "Where is Zuko?"

Another flash of Mavang's smile, a brief glint of white in the dark. "Sit." It was less an offer and more a command. Katara heard the scrape of a chair behind her, and Mavang pointed. Reluctantly, Katara sank into it and waited as Mavang sat in her own chair across from her, observing her carefully. Her Liles drifted behind her, waiting for any command. "That war meeting is still going on. Ridiculous, isn't it?" said Mavang finally. "Most of the guards are near the war room, protecting the Fire Nation's most important people. So here I am."

She tilted her head. "Would you like some advice, Master Katara? I give it to all my Lilies."

"No," said Katara automatically, eyeing the women behind Mavang with vague distaste.

"Oh, I see," said Mavang, raising a perfect brow. "You think you're better than us. Is that it?"

The Lilies narrowed their eyes at her. Katara shifted uncomfortably. "No. I just—"

"Yes, you do. I see it in your eyes. We're just common whores, and you're a princess. A hero." Mavang leaned forward further and her voice dropped an octave, silky and dangerously sweet. "My Lilies, Master Katara, always have contracts with the people who pay for them. If contracts are broken and a customer tries to perform an act that was not agreed upon, my Lilies are highly trained to defend themselves." She paused, letting the words linger uncomfortably. "Tell me, can you stop Prince Zuko from doing whatever he likes to you?"

Katara's fingers clenched around the chair. "Zuko isn't cruel."

"I'm glad for you. But what if he was? What could you do?" Her eyes cooled. "Your body isn't just a tool for sex, it's a vessel for a baby that they'll mold to their liking. You're just a glorified little whore, forced into pregnancy," said Mavang viciously. "All they care about is getting Prince Zuko's royal seed in you, darling. The only difference between my Lilies and you is that my Lilies have a say. You do not."

Katara's heart was beating so fast it hurt. She wanted to reach out and strangle her.

She hated that she had no argument for what Mavang was saying.

"Get to the point," she hissed.

"My advice," said Madame Mavang, "is that if you want to tip the balance of power, you sometimes have to play along, pretending to have none. But you do have power, Master Katara. Use your body. Use the areas where men are weakest to gain loyalty, control, and secrets. You do not trust your husband, but you don't need to. Slowly erode at his heart until he belongs to you." Madame Mavang paused, clearly taking note of Katara's discomfort. "Ah, you are inexperienced, is that it? It's quite simple, darling. Undress him slowly. Always look him in the eyes, especially if you take him in your mouth. Which is a very important thing to do, by the way. Worship him. Tease him. Let him—"

"Enough," Katara snapped, and Mavang grinned. The Lilies behind her broke into giggles.

"Take it or leave it," Mavang said, with an unconcerned little shrug. She tapped her long nails on the arm of the chair. "As it happens, I also have an offer, Master Katara. That's why I'm here."

Katara narrowed her eyes. "What is it?"

Mavang leaned forward again. "If a day comes that…well, let's say you need to escape the Fire Nation," she said, and Katara's eyes widened, "I would be willing to offer you passage." Mavang idly examined her fingernails. "Of course, my offers always come with a price."

"What do you know?" Katara asked, thinking wildly of the note, of the full moon and the lemon grove. "Why would I need to escape?"

"Ah ah," said Mavang, with a little click of her tongue. "Secrets are a form of power, young one. They are their own currency. I work hard to carefully cultivate my stash of secrets, and I'm certainly not in the business of simply giving them away to anyone who asks."

"Well, it's like you said," Katara said stiffly. "I'm nothing. I have nothing. I can't offer you anything."

"Perhaps you could simply owe me a future favor of my choosing." Mavang's gaze cut to hers, and she smiled again.

Katara was suddenly and very strongly reminded of a story she'd recently read in the book of Fire Nation fairy tales, a story of a malevolent fairy that tricked humans into taking deals. The terms were too unclear. Not to mention that Mavang could easily betray her.

"No thank you," said Katara.

Mavang didn't seem surprised. "Well, if you ever change your mind, Master Katara, do let me know." She stood. "I'd best be going. Do keep this little conversation between us, yes? If you don't, I will know, and I would have to kill you, which would be unfortunate. I do rather like you."

She snapped her fingers, and the Lilies pounced.

Katara didn't stand a chance against all four of them. She struggled, but three gripped her tight and one yanked at her arm. Something sharp dug in to her skin as Mavang watched with dispassionate eyes. "Apologies," she drawled, watching Katara twitch and her eyes begin to slowly droop. "But it has to look like you were actually attacked, doesn't it? Don't worry. It's just a little something that will make you sleep."

Black was creeping into the edges of Katara's vision, but she briefly saw Mavang step forward. She cupped Katara's cheek.

"Just think about everything I said, darling," she whispered, and then the whole world went dark.

Notes:

Zutara posing for the play by dylanaz

Chapter 8: The Agni Kai

Chapter Text

Katara woke with a sluggish sense of confusion.

All of her limbs felt unnaturally heavy. She was lying on something soft and comfortable, and as her eyes tried to flutter open, something briefly touched one of her arms. Part of her brain flashed with panic; the other part was too drowsy to register it fully. A raspy voice spoke, quiet but laced with urgency. It took her a while to discern that it was saying her name. "Katara."

She pried her eyes open. For a moment, everything was blurry.

Then Zuko's face swam into focus over her, tight with concern.

She tried to speak, but her tongue felt very heavy. So did her head. Slowly, bits and pieces came rushing back. Mavang's smile, sharp in the dark. Her advice and her offer. Katara's vision briefly blurred again as she studied Zuko's face, shimmering in the flickering candlelight.

He looked exhausted, and his eyes had a vaguely wild light to them as he leaned over her. "How do you feel?"

"I'm…fine." Talking was difficult, but the drowsiness was already wearing off fast.

Whatever Mavang had given her, it wasn't meant to do her any serious harm.

"I was summoned from the meeting as soon as they found you." Zuko's rasp was thicker than usual. "You've been out for a few hours." His hand twitched, and his eyes flicked about her face. "Do you remember anything?"

Katara squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head in one swift jerking motion.

"Well," said Zuko, rather roughly, "Shoshu said that was to be expected, since you were drugged. She was here for a while too. She checked to make sure you weren't…hurt. While you were unconscious." His face suddenly twisted, and it dawned on Katara that she must have been checked to see if the attacker had assaulted her. She supposed it was a fair assumption. Why else would someone break in and leave her drugged like this? Zuko and Shoshu obviously didn't know it had just been Mavang casually suggesting treason.

Katara shifted with a frown. Knowing that she'd been examined while unconscious was highly uncomfortable, another kind of helplessness.

"But there's no sign of injuries or anything at all," Zuko continued, running an agitated hand through his hair as he stared at her. "It's like they broke in just to prove they could. And I know it wasn't a fucking coincidence that it was during the war meeting."

She was surprised by how furious he sounded, the way his eyes flashed.

Katara cast about for a different topic in the hopes of distracting him. Mavong certainly wasn't trustworthy, but Katara didn't want her exposed. She had information that was important and Katara wanted to find out more first. In order to do that, she had to play along. At least for a little while. "What happened to the guards?" she asked, thinking of their bodies slumped on the floor.

"They were poisoned. Non-fatal, but they'll be ill." He lowered his eyes. "And they'll be punished."

"What?" Katara struggled to sit up, but Zuko pushed her gently back down. "But—"

"Katara, this was a serious safety breach. There can't be guards at our door that don't do their jobs." She tried to sit up again, fighting through a brief wave of dizziness, but Zuko pushed her back again. "Stop it. Relax."

"Fire them, don't punish them!" she said shrilly. "What sort of punishment are they getting?"

Zuko looked away. "None of this is my decision."

"How will they be punished?" She felt wide awake now, though faint nausea swirled in her stomach.

"They'll be whipped," said Zuko tonelessly, and Katara shrunk back into the pillows, horrified.

"Please don't let that happen," she pleaded.

"You know I can't stop it."

"Can't or won't?"

"I can't override my father. I'm sorry."

Katara's lips quivered and she looked down to the blankets.

"Are you sure you don't remember anything?" Zuko pressed. The deep crease of anxiety on his forehead hadn't disappeared, and Katara just nodded, hoping he didn't somehow see or sense her guilt. It felt wrong hiding this truth from Zuko, even though it really shouldn't. She had no reason to trust him with it. But he was clearly agitated, and now he would also feel unsafe in his own room.

Still, if she told him it was Mavang, Katara would have to make up some reason why she'd come here, because there was no way that she could tell Zuko that she'd been offered passage from the Fire Nation.

And she wasn't even sure Zuko would let it rest without trying to get Mavang punished.

"This won't happen again," said Zuko firmly. His hand twitched again, and he pushed it through his hair. "I promise. More guards will be posted outside the door. You don't need to feel unsafe."

"I don't," Katara said, which was mostly the truth.

Zuko just gave her a very dubious look.

Maybe she should be acting more scared. Hiding things from him was going to prove difficult.

"Why were you gone so long?" she asked, thinking it was best that she change the subject again.

And maybe she could learn more about the war meeting at the same time.

Secrets are a form of power, young one. They are their own currency.

"The war meeting was…" Zuko hesitated, and cleared his throat. "There was something pressing."

He's hiding something, too.

Katara saw it etched on Zuko's exhausted face, plain as day, and her mind whirred with how to best coax the information out of him. Tentatively, she reached over and touched his wrist. Zuko stared at where her fingers brushed his skin with distinct unease for a long moment before he finally looked up at her. "Is everything okay?" Katara asked quietly.

He was silent for a long time. But Katara saw it playing out across his face. He was lonely, too. He didn't have anyone to confide in either, and part of him wanted to talk to her. To tell her what was happening.

Use the areas where men are weakest to gain loyalty, control, and secrets.

Something like victory rose in her chest, but it was unpleasantly diluted with cold shame.

That's not what I'm doing, Katara thought, rather desperately. I'm not using him. I'm only trying to survive. He made his choices. I have to make mine. I'm just trying to keep from being left in the dark. I have to know what's happening.

"There was an attack," Zuko said finally, very hoarsely.

Katara's lips parted in shock. "What? Where?"

"A small island not far from here, right on the coast." Zuko tiredly rubbed his hands over his face. "It was smart. They put blasting jelly inside gutted fish and sewed them back up. They didn't have to bother with barrels or fuses. All the fish stalls at the market were filled with them, which means either Fire Nation citizens did it or were forced into helping. All they needed were a few fiery arrows. All the stalls exploded." His throat bobbed. "It took out the harbor. A lot of people died or were badly burned. Mostly civilians. They timed the attack for the busiest hour, when there would be as many people there as possible. It was too crowded for everyone to escape into the water."

Katara covered her mouth with her hands, eyes wide. Horrible images flickered through her head.

Screams and sobs as the harbor went up in flames, the frantic, panicked stampede to jump into the sea.

"And the war meeting just kept getting dragged on and on. Most of it was about fucking funds." Zuko looked disgusted. "We sat around arguing over funds. Who would send aid, where the money would come from, petty squabbles that were more about personal grievances than anything else, wasting valuable fucking time—" Zuko stopped abruptly. His face had become flushed with anger as he ranted but now he lowered his gaze, abashed. "Sorry," he muttered. "That doesn't...you don't want to hear the petty politics."

On the contrary, Katara wanted to hear them very much, but she did not want to appear too eager, so she kept quiet.

Zuko observed her for a moment, and his gaze softened. "You should rest. I'll stay awake."

"You look half dead," said Katara. "And you won't be any help to me like that. Get some sleep, Zuko."

Zuko gave her a brief, reluctant smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Katara had to tell him two more times to go to the washroom and get ready for bed until he finally agreed. When he slid into bed, she was still wide awake.

And she stared up at the ceiling for a long time, thinking that somehow all of this was connected.

The next several days passed in a strange blur.

Zuko was mostly away in meetings as the Fire Nation scrambled to respond to the attack on their soil, which Katara came to understand did not happen often and had not happened in a very, very long time.

She was only able to get bits and pieces of information from Zuko, but she did learn that they had to rebuild what apparently had been a rather important harbor in a strategic location. Most importantly, security was tightening in the palace and all of Caldera City, especially for the upcoming celebration. For Katara this was particularly unwelcome news, because now there were even more guards trailing her everywhere; Ty Lee was no longer enough to accompany her, even for a simple walk. The clang of their armor was a pervasive sound, always following her whenever she ventured outside her room. The sound of it put her on edge, made her chi thrum and twitch.

Sometimes she wanted to spin and attack them just to no longer hear it anymore. To get peace.

In her room, at least, she could be alone, and she often was; though then, of course, it was the loneliness that became unbearable. She read and she drank tea. She wrote a letter to her brother, and she made a point to get to know her servants whenever they stopped by. They beamed when she spoke to them with kindness and seemed flustered when she asked them personal questions, but they answered with shy, uncertain smiles. She watched the bustling movements in the courtyard with the turtleduck pond from her window.

She saw Zuko even less than she had before, with a few notable exceptions.

They had to go up to the sun room for two more agonizing sessions so that the sketch for the play could be finished ("It's perfect!" Zaoje had swooned, as Zuko and Katara had awkwardly untangled themselves from each other after hours of sitting); she saw him for breakfast and for one daily walk; and now, every morning, Zuko woke her up early to fight.

They didn't have the time to go all the way to the cave and bend, so hand-to-hand had to be enough.

It did feel good to be doing something.

Unfortunately, it was mostly highly frustrating so far.

The first time, Zuko woke her before the sun was even up with a gentle shake to the shoulders, though he got progressively rougher when she kept swatting him away and trying to hide under the covers.

"You're clearly not a morning person," he said, once she'd stumbled out of bed.

She glared at him with sleepy eyes and ran her hands through her hair, which was so tangled and wild it probably looked not unlike a bird's nest. "This better be very important," she grumbled, though her threat was undercut by a gigantic yawn.

"I told you I'd teach you fighting steps," Zuko said. "And this is the only time I have to do it."

Katara let out a little groan of protest but still shuffled over to the wardrobe and pulled out something light and easy to wear, trousers that would cling to her tightly enough that it wouldn't affect her movement but light enough that they were comfortable. She tossed on a shirt at random behind the room divider and emerged while trying to pile her hair on her head and get it out of the way. She didn't even bother brushing it, which she knew very well she would regret later, when Ty Lee took the comb to her head. Her limbs were stiff and tight from sleep, but she shuffled over and stood expectantly before Zuko. He regarded her for a long moment.

"That's mine," he said finally, pointing at her shirt.

Katara peered down at it, blinking slowly. That would explain why it was quite big on her.

She simply bunched it up at the bottom and tied it together. "There," she said.

He tilted his head, and she saw the flash of amusement on his face. It wasn't in his smile or his mouth, though sometimes she noticed that Zuko's mouth twitched if he found something funny. But a smile on Zuko was rare, and usually his amusement could only be found in his eyes. They glinted or glittered or got brighter, and his brow rose, his face becoming open and less surly, even if for just a brief second.

"Already stealing things of mine, are we?"

Katara rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. It's just a shirt."

"You're also starting to steal my side of the bed," said Zuko. "Last night you were sleeping almost diagonally." He raised his eyebrow at her. "And guess whose feet were creeping into my space? And guess who kicks in their sleep? Pretty violently, I might add."

"Well, maybe you deserved a few good kicks."

He made a sound, short and bright, half a chuckle that was still scratchy from sleep even if he looked far more awake than she felt. And Katara looked away, suddenly uncomfortable with the easy and almost warm familiarity.

"Mirror my stance." Zuko squatted into a fighting position, fists raised. Feeling rather stupid, Katara copied him. She felt even stupider when he straightened and eyed her, analyzing her posture. "Raise your elbows," he said, and Katara obeyed. "Higher," he said, and she scowled. But even when she complied it didn't seem to be enough, because he came to lift them for her, only touching her very lightly before quickly stepping away. "The hand-to-hand style I was taught draws on firebending steps," said Zuko. "I know a little bit about waterbending style, but I don't know enough to adapt this into a better technique for you. Sorry. You'll have to change the way you move a little bit in order to get some of the moves, I think."

She frowned. "How do you know anything about waterbending style?"

Zuko's eyes went a little glassy. "My uncle studied waterbenders. He taught me a little bit."

Katara hesitated. "Where is your uncle now?"

Zuko looked down, jaw clenching. "Prison."

Yes. Because Zuko had put him there.

Katara had to remember her wall, her barbs.

"Waterbending moves are more fluid," said Zuko. "There's a lot of circling and redirecting, and using your opponent's energy against them. But this is more aggressive, more forceful. You have to move with strong punches and swift jabs and kicks. You have to think like a firebender."

"It sounds like if I have to fight anyone bigger than me I'll lose," said Katara doubtfully.

"No," said Zuko. "It's all about angles, not size. Hit at the right angle with the right amount of force and in the right spots—like the throat, or the solar plexus—and it doesn't matter how big you are. You can win."

After that he showed her a simple punch-kick combination, and she tried to copy him.

It was more difficult than she thought it would be. She was not used to moving the way she was supposed to, with sharp, harsh movements rather than slides of her feet and gentle, spinning twists. "You look like you're dancing, not fighting," commented Zuko after her fourth try.

She rounded on him. "Don't you have anything nice to say?" He'd only been critiquing her so far.

His eyes glinted at her. "Sure. You'll look very graceful when your opponent defeats you."

She glared, and he coughed out another sound that was almost like a laugh.

They ran through several different combinations, one of which involved Katara trying to strike out with one quick hit to the throat. They did that one over and over, with Zuko correcting her angle and blocking her almost lazily each time. Then he had them switch and she was supposed to block him, and try to use his own momentum against him, just as she would with waterbending. That was much easier, and once, she even succeeded in grabbing his wrist and using the force of his punch to wrench his arm forward and down. He stumbled, but when she went to drive her knee up into his groin he kicked her legs out from under her.

She tumbled to the ground but was up again in seconds, seething.

"I think that's enough for today." His eyes were bright again. She wanted to strangle him.

And then Katara had a sudden suspicion. "You're doing this just to make fun of me, aren't you?"

The amusement slid off Zuko's face and he looked genuinely surprised. "What? No."

She just huffed.

"You're doing really well," he said, and she heard the sincerity in his tone. "You'll pick it up if we practice a little bit every day. You picked up waterbending unnaturally fast, didn't you?"

Katara just stared at him. She had no idea he'd paid that much attention to her waterbending progression.

And then she remembered his words, hurled at her with disgust and anger, back in the spirit oasis. Furious that she'd trapped him in ice, that he'd expected to defeat her easily and had instead found a real match.

You've found a Master, haven't you?

And so it was that every morning, Zuko woke her when it was still dark and spent at least an hour drilling her with steps before he disappeared for most of the day, and Katara was back to occupying her time either by herself—in which she usually stayed safely in her room and read books or practiced the steps on her own—or with Ty Lee, who walked with her and who kept her filled in on all the details of the upcoming party, which Katara had begun actively listening to out of boredom and morbid curiosity.

She learned which fashions were in style.

She learned that there would be entertainment, and all about the special dishes being served, including in-depth recommendations from Ty Lee. She learned about the palace gossip and who was attending the party with which partner and what that meant both socially and politically. It was all exhausting, and yet somehow she couldn't stop listening. Perhaps it was the bright, happy way Ty Lee talked.

Either way, Katara was starting to genuinely like her.

But she could not forget her barbs with Ty Lee either.

The morning of the party passed like any other. The endless meetings would have to come to a halt at midday for the party preparations, but it was even earlier than that, sometime around midmorning, when Zuko appeared in their quarters again.

The moment Katara saw him, she knew that something was wrong.

She put down her book and stood from her chair to take him in, how pale he looked and how he seemed almost frozen in the doorway.

She did not expect good news. Her expectation was correct.

"There's something we have to attend," said Zuko, sounding very hoarse. "Right away."

"What is it?" Katara asked cautiously, trying to ignore the unpleasant twist to her stomach.

He came in and shut the door before he began rummaging around in the wardrobe. "An Agni Kai. You need to wear something traditional…here." He pulled out a golden kimono and hung it on the room divider. His eyes flicked over her, appraising her. "The rest is acceptable, I suppose." He turned away.

Katara felt her entire body go hot with irritation. "Oh, why thank you."

He stopped searching through the wardrobe for his outfit and looked at her. "That's not what I meant."

"You really know what to say to a woman," said Katara dryly.

He flushed. "Look, I said that's not what I meant! I was commenting on whether you're following social customs, not…not how you look." He sighed irritably. "Why do I even bother?"

"What does that mean?" She bristled with indignance.

"Nothing, just—can you put the claws away for five seconds?"

"The claws?" she sputtered, and Zuko groaned.

"For fuck's sake—"

"You'd better desperately hope I don't grow claws one day!"

To her utter outrage, Zuko suddenly looked like he was trying not to laugh. "Yes, maybe that would improve your hand-to-hand combat skills? Though you did already slash my chest open, so—"

"You know that was an accident!"

"—not to mention the very aggressive nighttime kicking—"

Her face burned. "Okay, listen, jerk—"

"—doesn't really seem like you of all people need more weapons at your disposal, especially claws—"

"He says, while teaching me another fighting style!"

His eyes glittered. "A decision I'm clearly going to regret."

"That would be a decision you regret?! Really, Zuko?"

Zuko's mouth worked soundlessly before he cleared his throat and looked down.

Their uneasy truce included bickering, but so far it definitely did not include actually digging into real wounds. Into things that were open sores, things that actually hurt. And even though she hadn't said it outright, he knew very well that she was referencing everything he'd done. She saw it in the way his face had twisted up and how he wouldn't look at her for a long time. Finally, Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose, as Katara noticed he often did when under stress. "This Agni Kai is not going to be fun," he said, very tightly. "Please let's not fight right now. It's like I said after—" He stopped, his throat seemingly getting stuck on the words, and he flushed again. "Well when I—I said that I know you hate me, but we have common problems, and it will be easier for both of us if we go into them as a team."

Katara swallowed, willing to concede that he had a point. "Fine. Okay. What's an Agni Kai?"

"A firebending match fought for honor," said Zuko. "Usually to the death."

Katara's jaw dropped open and she staggered a few paces back. "I—I'm sorry, what?"

"Yeah. So get dressed," said Zuko curtly. "We have to leave soon."

"But I don't want to watch that!"

"We both haven't wanted a lot of things." He yanked his robes off and Katara averted her eyes away from rippling back muscles as he started to shrug his own golden kimono on. Her feet felt like lead as she walked behind the divider to change.

"Why do we have to do this?" Katara asked faintly, once out in the corridor, her arm placed on Zuko's as usual.

They descended several flights of stairs and were accosted with flurries of movement, an unnatural bustle of activity in the corridors. The nobles were dressed in clean, perfectly pressed, luxurious clothing and they chattered in low, excited tones as they, too, headed the same direction as Zuko and Katara. Down, and further down. It was a vast sea of gold and red, of eager faces and the rustle of fluttering fans.

"Two commanders got into it at the war meeting," Zuko muttered. "One challenged the other."

"And why do we have to come watch them do their weird little show of aggression?"

"Keep your voice down," Zuko snarled, and he looked so fierce that Katara actually recoiled. But his voice only got harder. "You've gotten far too comfortable insulting Fire Nation traditions. We're watching because they're nobles, and that's what we do here."

Katara wanted to retort, but two things held her back.

The first was the sheer number of the people in the corridors. Zuko wasn't wrong that she'd gotten comfortable expressing her true opinions or her disgust in front of him, and she wasn't quite ready to fully think about what that meant yet. But what she knew for certain was that the other people could not hear her, so she kept quiet. The second was that despite Zuko's outward projection of anger, his body language told a rather different story. His arm began to shake under hers, and he kept getting ever paler.

It got worse the lower they descended into the depths of the palace. At one point the change in the air became so noticeable, so delightfully cool on her perpetually warm skin, that Katara would have known they were underground even if she wouldn't have seen that there were no more windows. The way was lit with artificial light now, a trail of torches leading the people to their promise of violence.

Zuko's footsteps even began to slow as if he were forcing himself to move through quicksand, and his breathing seemed to become more labored. Finally, they came to a vast archway, blocked by a curtain. He pushed it open to reveal a grand arena of dizzying size, a courtyard with seats surrounding it. People eagerly pressed into chairs as close to the action as they possibly could, and for a long moment, Zuko stood there in the doorway, swaying slightly and staring into the room beyond. His eyes glazed over and his jaw went slack.

Katara was frowning up at him, confused, when a voice sounded from behind them.

"Ah. If it isn't the royal family's new couple."

Katara would have recognized that soft, awful voice even without the faint rattle of teeth that accompanied it. Zuko slowly turned, and she copied him with a growing sense of dread. General Eza stood before them flanked by his two sons. He was smirking.

"I've seen plenty of your husband at war meetings, but I've missed seeing your pretty little face, Princess Katara," he said, with a wink. "I must say, I appreciate you even more with your hair down." He eyed her greedily, and Katara vividly imagined trying out one of those new moves Zuko had been teaching her. A swift strike to the throat. A knee right to the groin. The highly satisfying sound of Eza's pain.

Those thoughts were what made her able to say, "Thank you. You're so kind."

Eza smiled wider. "I've been hoping you'll honor me with a dance tonight at the party."

The idea of being that close to him made bile rise up almost violently in her throat, but Katara wasn't about to let him bully and intimidate her. "Of course," she said very sweetly, lifting her chin.

"Is this your first Agni Kai?" Eza took a taunting step closer.

Zuko curled a hand on her waist and pulled her into him.

"Yes," Katara said, trying to hide her disgust at the raw excitement she saw in Eza and his son's eyes.

"They're a glorious display of power," said Eza. "I've always wished I could take part. Non-benders also need to let out our…baser urges, after all." He grinned, and Katara felt the shudder run up her spine and yet still refused to break his gaze. "But I find I can do that in other ways," Eza said, and his sons snickered. "And an Agni Kai is a delightful spectacle," he went on, and then suddenly his eyes were on Zuko, and something very savage went across his face, a twisted glee. "Isn't that right, Prince Zuko?"

There was a horrible pause.

"Yes," Zuko gritted out.

"Stomachache, Prince Zuko? You're not looking so well." Eza tilted his head. "But there's really no need to be so stoic. I'd be more than happy to keep your wife company if you need to go and rest."

"I'm feeling just fine," Zuko said, glaring at him. His hand tightened on her hip.

Eza turned slightly to address Katara again, his face alight with sudden mischief. "Have you heard the enthralling story of your husband's incredibly famous Agni Kai, Princess Katara?"

"Eza," Zuko snarled, his raspy voice laced with dangerous warning.

Eza's eyes flashed, and Katara suddenly was afraid he was going to strike Zuko. But he only smirked again and said, "Tut tut. Such secrets between a wedded couple? That's not a good foundation for a life partnership." He took another step forward and leaned in close. "And it's General Eza. Don't forget it." Chortling, he and his sons brushed past them and made their way into the arena.

"What was he talking about?" Katara whispered, but Zuko shook his head.

"Not now," he said. " Please," he added desperately, when he saw her open her mouth.

Katara acquiesced and fell into silence, though she continued to watch Zuko with growing unease as he led her inside and to their seats. They were located up in the very front, and they had to pass rows and rows of nosy nobles to get there, some simply watching them pass and others calling out a greeting. Fire Lord Ozai and Azula were already there, filed in their seats in their fineries and their crowns glinting on their heads as though they'd come for an opera and not a public bloodbath. Zuko led her to their row and they made low, sweeping bows to the Fire Lord. Azula flashed her usual condescending smile. Katara found herself beside Azula this time rather than at the end; it was Zuko who sat there.

That was probably for the best. He really didn't look good. She pressed closer to Zuko's side and took hold of his arm, trying to get his attention, but he didn't appear to have noticed. A thin sheen of sweat shone on his face, and he looked ill. His eyes had gone cloudy again.

Fear tightened her chest. "Hey," she whispered, shaking his arm. "Zuko?"

He didn't respond. It didn't even seem like he'd heard her.

He was staring unseeingly down at the arena, and his entire body had begun to shake.

Two men strode into the arena, pushing out their chests and surveying the crowd. Their eyes were filled with feral delight, with bloodlust, and they wasted no time bowing to the Fire Lord. With a nod of his head, Ozai gave permission for them to move.

The two men crossed to opposite sides of the arena.

They divested their robes until they were shirtless. They crouched, turning their backs to each other and placing a fist on the ground, and two young men draped a thin cloth over their shoulders before hastily moving away. The two participants slowly stood and rose, letting the cloth fall dramatically to the floor as they turned to face each other. They slowly got into a battle stance, crouching low, arms up, watching each other with teeth bared. The entire arena had fallen deathly, impossibly silent. There wasn't even a whisper.

"Begin," roared Ozai, loud and clear, and fireballs burst from the participants' ready hands.

They were sitting so close to the courtyard that Katara could feel the heat on her skin as flames licked through the air.

But Katara barely noticed the fighting on the stage, the way they dodged and ran and punched and kicked, the whirls of fire paired with the erupting screams of the crowd. She was too focused on Zuko, who had started to curl forward over himself, almost as if in a bow, the shaking in his body increasing to violent tremors. Panic rose in her at the sight.

Katara wrapped an arm around his waist and used it to hold him upright. No one could see him like this, that much she knew.

His breathing was too ragged, too harsh. He was so tense that Katara feared he would pull a muscle. She subtly felt for the pulse on his wrist and it was jumping, racing erratically. But it was the glazed sheen of his eyes that terrified her most.

Zuko wasn't in this room anymore. He was somewhere far away.

Katara tried to swallow down her blinding fear and stay calm.

She placed a palm flat on his chest and used it to hold him up, for he was still curling forward over himself as if in agony. She tucked her other arm around the middle of his back and scooted close, propping him on her. To anyone that didn't scrutinize his face, it would just look like she was embracing him.

Katara held him steady and tried to stare at the arena without really looking.

She tried not to see exactly what was going on, to only process it in bursts of light and blurry shapes moving around each other.

Zuko shuddered and let out a choked sound just as the arena erupted with delighted cheers.

Someone had won. One of the men lay on the ground, panting, and the other was above him, his fist a flaming ball of fire. The second man struck, and the arena erupted with screams of agony. It mixed with jeers and chants from the crowd, the eager stampede of their feet.

Katara tried to keep her vision unfocused. All she saw was a thrashing blur.

But she could not block out the sounds. It went on and on. Burning, apparently, was not as quick a death as she would have guessed.

Perhaps worse still was that she couldn't block out the smell. She'd only had a light breakfast, and her stomach growled. And then she fought not to gag. Not at the smell of burnt flesh, but at the sickened feeling with herself, at the fact that it smelled good.

She clung tightly to Zuko, trembling and numb with horror.

Eventually, Zuko let out a shuddering sigh and leaned slightly into her.

He still panted harshly, but his eyes were more lucid. He was back.

"It's okay," Katara whispered into his ear, though her heart pounded frantically. It was a horrific lie. Right now nothing was okay at all, but she needed to keep him composed. "Just a little longer."

The man in the arena had finally stopped twitching and screaming. The crowd's noises were beginning to die down, and a rustle of movement rippled through the seats as people stood. Katara nudged Zuko in the side, and to her great relief he was able to get to his feet, though he slipped an arm around her waist again to hide his unsteadiness. Katara wasn't sure how they made it out without incident.

She wasn't sure how they did polite nods and made small talk with the few people that stopped to eagerly chat with them, as if a man hadn't been slaughtered right before them and they hadn't watched him scream himself hoarse while he burned. She expected Zuko to keel over at any second, but even though he leaned slightly on her, his eyes were clear and his voice was strong when he addressed anyone that wanted to say a few words to their prince and princess. He was polite, but distant.

They bowed low to Fire Lord Ozai on the way out and then finally, finally, they were away from that horrible place.

They made it all the way to their quarters before Zuko slumped against the wall, shaking.

Katara rushed to bring him water, pushing the cup into his weak fingers. He drank it like he'd been wandering the desert for a week in dehydration, then he slumped against the wall again. "I'm sorry," he muttered finally, his voice laced with clear shame.

Katara just stared incredulously at the top of his bowed head. "What? Why?"

"I wasn't…a good team member." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Don't apologize for being ill," she said firmly. "Lie down. I'll go ask for some tea."

"Can't," he croaked. "One last quick meeting before…before the party." He shuddered.

She wished he would simply say he was ill and rest as he so clearly needed, but she knew that was out of the question. He wouldn't do it.

She touched his arm. "Has this happened before?"

Another tremor ripped through his torso. "Yes. Not...not quite the same, but..." He trailed off, his breathing still rather ragged.

Katara had so many questions, but she was afraid to ask them. Afraid that she would hurt his pride, and even more afraid that questions would send him spiraling again. She had guesses, suspicions, but she wanted to hear the truth from his mouth. But she didn't even have to ask. After a moment, Zuko spoke. "It was…that room…it's where I got this."

He pointed briefly at the left side of his face, though he still didn't look up.

Katara edged a little closer, very slowly, half afraid of spooking him.

"So it was during an Agni Kai?" she asked quietly.

His head bobbed as he slowly nodded.

She tried not to imagine it but the images came anyway. A flaming hand pressed to Zuko's face. His screams, echoing through that arena. And if it had happened here, then it had been before his banishment. She wasn't sure what age he'd been banished, but she knew he had been banished for quite some time when he'd started chasing them. And that he connected the scar with the banishment. Something cold settled deep into her bones as she considered the implications of it all; as she put the pieces together.

He'd been so young when he'd gone into that arena.

And who had the power to banish a prince?

Who else but the Fire Lord?

"Thank you," Zuko said suddenly. He looked up. His eyes were bloodshot and the exhaustion had crept back onto his features, but she did see gratefulness. "For offering to heal it. In Ba Sing Se. That was valuable water. But you offered, and you didn't press for information or ask questions and—" His throat worked while he tried to find the words "—and it meant a lot," he said, voice low. "Katara. I'm sorry."

The desperate shame was on every inch of his face now too.

Katara wanted to say something harsh. She wanted to ask what, exactly, he was apologizing for. She wanted to carefully cover herself with more barbs. She wished she could be cold and say 'Well, apparently it didn't mean enough', but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

All she felt right now was a deadened detachment.

Ba Sing Se and everything else seemed so far away at the moment, almost inconsequential.

Nothing felt quite real.

She realized that she was still shaking, and that her ears were ringing.

Zuko started to straighten up. "I have to go."

Katara automatically reached out to steady him, biting her lip. "Are you sure you can't just skip it?"

He let out a hollow laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Well, but Zuko—"

"I'll see you later." He cut her off more brusquely than she'd expected.

And then he left, sweeping out the door before she could get another word in.

Katara staggered to a chair and sat down heavily, trying to process what she'd learned. What she'd seen and heard. But she couldn't. Every time her thoughts veered in any direction close to what had just happened, her mind shrank away. She was glad when Ty Lee showed up, even if it would mean excessive grooming all over again, hours and hours of it to prepare for the big celebration.

But at least it was a bit of a distraction. As Ty Lee began to wash her hair, Katara closed her eyes.

The numbness began to fade. She began to process.

She began to hear the screams again, the sound of flames and a bloodthirsty crowd.

But then she found the rage, and it steadied her. She knew this rage. It was not the passionate spark she felt in moments of great anger, the kind that faded away quickly and that she always regretted afterward for the harsh words or stupid actions it caused.

No.

This was white hot and far more powerful, the kind of rage that came from a deep, dark part of her. It burned, low and constant and endless, growing brighter and brighter. This was a steady, all-encompassing rage that festered and hated.

It had been building since she was eight years old. This was a rage that was patient.

But it would not wait forever.

Chapter 9: The Party

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The undertaking of Katara's grooming and preparation for the big celebration was just as long, if not longer, than her actual wedding day.

That day she'd been forced into stiff, traditional clothing and a monstrous headdress, and so Katara watched anxiously as her outfit for that evening was delivered by several servants. They bowed low, darting hopeful glances to try and read her approval.

And when Katara, filled with inexplicable relief, assured them that she loved it, she was being entirely honest.

It was a dress, not a kimono. It was light and airy. There was no headdress, which was probably the best part, and though it clung tightly to her body it couldn't be called revealing. The dress reached all the way up to her throat, closed at the top with a delicate red collar of silk. It covered her legs and arms, though it was shimmering and see-through along the chest until just above her breasts, as well as down the middle of her back. It was gold, with shining patterns of red stitching curving like snakes all along her torso and hips.

Ty Lee pinned a bloodred flower behind her ear, and Katara's hair tumbled in soft curls almost all the way to her waist, remaining down rather than in a traditional top bun. She wore bright scarlet lipstick, and her eyes were smokey at the edges. The golden color that Ty Lee put on Katara's eyelids to match the dress glittered merrily, and long, dangling earrings were pushed into Katara's ears, roaring dragons also made of gold that curled protectively around a central shining ruby.

She put a necklace of red rubies on Katara, too, a dazzling display tucked tightly against her neck.

And Katara's shoes, best of all, were flat and soft, hidden under her dress.

She'd heard the door open and close several times during the seemingly endless hours of pampering, but the coming and going of servants meant that was a regularity that Katara had grown used to by now.

So it surprised her when, what was probably hours later, she glanced up in the mirror and saw Zuko, being led out of the washroom by two servants and with only a towel wrapped around his waist. He moved behind the room divider to get dressed, and powerful relief swept through Katara at the fact that he had returned in one piece from his meeting, a relief she couldn't deny but still didn't really want to feel.

Katara was ready before he emerged, standing by Ty Lee's side and trying not to think of the evening ahead or her growing nerves.

Zuko wore a robe of red that matched her stitching, simple and elegant, cut with perfect precision to emphasize his broad chest and shoulders. The hem of his robe and his sleeves faded into a smoky black color, as did his collar. His crown piece was nestled into his top bun, sparkling in the evening sunlight. He looked the part of the regal prince, but Katara could see the shadows under his eyes.

Ty Lee and the others looked at them for a long moment, beaming at their handiwork; at their prince and princess, done up by their hands and their talents. When Zuko just blinked slowly at her and didn't appear to be moving anything along, Katara earnestly thanked them and bid them goodbye with a bow. She watched the room start to slowly empty, wondering if any of the servants would actually get to enjoy themselves tonight or if they always had to work. Her attention turned back to Zuko when they were alone.

She'd expected that he would have his arm already up, impatient and grimly resigned to their evening.

But he was standing quite still, his golden eyes traveling slowly over her attire. Finally, they met hers.

There were several beats of too-long silence in which Katara suddenly started feeling oppressively warm. She hastily pushed some hair behind her ear and found that she had to look anywhere but right at him.

"That looks more comfortable than your bridal outfit," he said finally. His rasp had thickened.

Katara, relieved to be back to more familiar territory and not still lingering in that strange, weighted silence, said, "It's the shoes I'm most happy about." She hiked her skirts up to her ankles and showed him. "It appears I'll be able to walk today without fear of injury."

There it was, that small light of amusement in his eyes.

Katara didn't even realize she'd been trying to draw it out until she'd been successful in doing so. She tucked her chin down with a small smile, though quickly looked up again when he approached. He held out his arm. Here, up close, he looked even worse. So pale and wan.

So worn out.

At this point it was a mixture of compassion and self-preservation that made her offer. She knew that if Zuko was more alert and he didn't spiral again as he had earlier, the party would be easier for her, too. "Let me try and heal you," Katara blurted out.

"But I'm not injured," he said, with a small frown.

Katara swallowed, trying to determine how to best phrase it. Carefully and diplomatically, in a way that wouldn't hurt his pride. "Well I…I've tried soothing the mind before." An alarmingly fast lump built in her throat at the thought of Jet, brainwashed and confused, sitting on the chair before her in Ba Sing Se.

"What do you mean, 'soothing the mind?'"

She hesitated. "Someone I knew was brainwashed by the Dai Li in Ba Sing Se, and we were trying to get his memories back. He'd forgotten who he was, so we tried to have him remember what the Fire Nation did to his family and his village." A shadow passed over Zuko's face, but he kept quiet as she continued. "But it was too painful for him to remember, so I tried to sort of…ease the distress of the memories. With my healing." Katara bit hard on the inside of her cheek for something else to focus on besides the dangerous creeping of tears stinging at her eyes. They hadn't even been able to stay and help Jet after that rock crushed him.

He was probably dead, but not knowing his fate with certainty ate away at her.

"To be honest I don't know exactly what I did," Katara admitted, when she could speak again and be certain that her voice wouldn't waver uncontrollably. "And I've only tried it that one time."

Zuko watched her for a long moment, clearly wary.

"You don't want what happened at the Agni Kai to happen at the party," he concluded finally.

"Yes," Katara admitted. "But I also don't particularly enjoy seeing you needlessly suffer."

Zuko blinked.

"Okay," he said, moving over and sinking to a chair. "But we have to make it quick."

Katara stood stock still for a few seconds, rather shocked that he had said yes. And then she briskly followed and situated herself behind the chair, drawing water and tentatively holding it to the sides of his head, just over his temples. She bit her lip, trying to remember what exactly she'd done with Jet. "Maybe try remembering some things that are weighing on you," Katara suggested.

"You won't see them?" His voice had suddenly gotten very hard and he'd shifted slightly forward in his chair, away from her, gripping the sides tight. "You won't know what I'm thinking?"

"I'm not a mind reader, Zuko," she said gently. "I just heal."

"Right," he muttered, some of the tension going out of his body as he slowly leaned back again.

But he still did not seem entirely at ease, even when she brought the water up to his temples.

Katara concentrated. With Jet she remembered feeling spikes of sensation, like bursts of heat buzzing across her palms, a raging storm in his mind, and she had only tried to calm that heat with her abilities. She suspected the brain was far too complex or that she had to study under a healing Master to do anything more specific or understand what she was actually doing. But regardless, it was working.

More and more tension seeped out of Zuko's shoulders. His head drooped forward.

After a while, he let out a quiet, rumbling sigh.

When she pulled away, she asked tentatively, "How do you feel?"

He cleared his throat. "A little better."

She tried not to be offended by the slight surprise in his voice. "Better how?"

"I don't know. A little more relaxed, I think. I had a headache before too, and that's also gone."

"Well, that's physical," said Katara, feeling a little put out that the change hadn't been as dramatic as she had hoped for. But really, what had she been expecting? She couldn't fix a painful past. "That's easy."

Zuko made a quiet, disbelieving sound and slowly stood to face her. "Easy?"

"I mean, comparatively," Katara said.

He just shook his head in stunned disbelief, though there was a distinct warmth on his face as he looked at her, a real gratefulness that made her very uncertain where she should look all over again. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said quietly.

The silence became heavy and lingering again as they stood before each other.

And then Zuko held out his arm again with a deep sigh. "We should go."

The party was held in a grand ballroom in the upper levels of the palace.

The ceiling was a glass dome similar to the sun room, opening up to star-filled heavens.

Potted citrus trees and towering flowers were dotted along the walls, as were large, imposing windows, slightly cracked open to let in some cooler evening air. There were tables clustered in one section of the room and a wide dance floor directly in the middle, complete with a waiting band. Several fountains trickled gently, and tiki torches were propped at intervals, giving the room a low, delicate light. In the far corner, wide doors opened onto a large balcony.

As soon as they stepped inside, people called out in greeting.

The sheer speed with which they gathered around them was almost blinding; swaths of people in their fineries, skirts twirling and heads bobbing as people sank into bows. Katara tried to read their faces, and what she saw was a mixture of reactions to her. Some looked at her with open hostility, even going so far as to only jerk their heads forward at her even as they bowed low to Zuko. Some were merely wary. Others looked neutral or even politely curious.

It was those last groups that Katara knew she was most likely to find favor with, so it was these faces that she directed her smiles and her returning bows to most. It was uncertain how much time she would be spending in the Fire Nation. Maybe even years.

It was very important to have at least some nobles like her, if she could manage it.

The only other person that was marginally on her side, if it could be called that, was Zuko, but that was not enough. For now she let him handle most of the talking and kept quiet, observing carefully.

As they tried to weave through the crowd, Katara caught sight of Mai's family hovering on the fringes.

The resentment on their faces was clear. Katara knew that if she were not here, it would likely be Mai in her place. Or at least it would have been, perhaps in a few years. Whatever ambitions that family had of getting one of their own in the royal family were ruined, and they blamed her for it. Mai's face was carefully blank; it was almost eerie how little emotion she showed. It made Katara supremely uncomfortable. She was used to being able to read people, to tune into their emotions to help and care for them.

Zuko slowly led her to the front of the room, where a dais had been erected.

Four ornate chairs rested upon it, overlooking the crowd, and she sat in the one on the very end, next to Zuko.

Azula had followed them and now sat in hers, but Ozai had not yet arrived. Katara suspected he had a flair for dramatics.

The room was filled with the expected hum of excitement, the promise of revelry and a party.

Katara arranged her face to something neutral and detached, and let her eyes carefully sweep over the crowd. The amount of people staring at them was overwhelming. Awful. She despised their lingering eyes.

A toy, a puppet, a grotesque little doll—that was how their eyes made her feel. That was how the simpering smiles and conspiratorial glances made her feel, though many didn't bother with simple glances, didn't bother to hide their ogling. Some stared at her openly, tittering and whispering together, like she was indeed just a pretty little pet put on display for their amusement. Like that tigerdillo.

A pretty little pet in a pretty cage, in a pretty dress on a pretty throne.

The lump in her throat grew to the point of physical pain, and she looked sharply away from a group of nobility observing her with greedy interest and yet an undercurrent of lingering disgust. Not all the eyeballs were so unfriendly, but enough were that it felt like she was drowning. Her gaze swung to Zuko, sitting beside her. He was watching the same group she had been, his lips pursed.

Katara knew that a show of unity was important.

She knew enough from her observations that most of the crowd looked to Zuko with respect. Eza was an exception, not the rule. Zuko was their prince, the hero that had helped conquer Ba Sing Se and slaughter the Avatar. He was the one who had dutifully married a Water Tribe peasant to further the Fire Nation. Those thoughts made a hard pit form in her stomach, but that didn't matter. It couldn't.

Zuko's solidarity up here would be a clear message, a message that she desperately needed.

Until now he'd only been grumpy and glaring on their walks, but tonight she would have to ask more of him.

So Katara leaned over and whispered, "Take my hand."

His shoulders tensed. She saw his hesitation clearly as his eyes slid sideways to her.

And then they darted out to the crowd, and Katara saw what they landed on. Mai.

The hard pit in her stomach tightened and she struggled not to openly scowl.

Well, fine.

It wasn't that Katara actively wanted to hurt Mai, but if she had to choose between Mai's feelings about an ex-boyfriend and her own favor and survival here, she would obviously choose herself. She hadn't forgotten Mai launching knives at her, helping Azula come after Aang in Omashu. Furious, Katara fixed her attention on the far wall, staring at it but not seeing much of anything at all.

She let everything blur together, red and gold and dragons curling along the wall panels, the vases of flowers, the sounds of the room drowning into a buzzing hum of chattering, laughter, and glasses clinking.

The seat was hard and unyielding. Gazes and pairs of eyes still probed at her, and she wanted to run.

And then she felt the brush of fingers. She jerked in surprise as Zuko's warm palm settled, draping gently over the back of her hand. She refused to look at him; she was both grateful for the gesture and still irritated at his dawdling.

When Fire Lord Ozai finally made his appearance, the entire room sank into a bow.

Azula stood and so did Zuko, pulling Katara to her feet. He didn't let go even when they bowed.

The room was still as Ozai swept forward, the sounds of his steps quiet and yet still commanding. It was as if the room hardly dared to breathe in the glory of his presence. Many of the nobles here likely didn't have direct access to the Fire Lord. To them he was a monarch to be mythologized. Even when everyone straightened up again as Ozai took a seat and the noise of merrymaking began to resume, the atmosphere returning back to normal, Katara didn't miss the way that the only lower class people allowed here—the servants carrying trays of food and drink—were too terrified to look in Ozai's direction. Even many of the nobles didn't seem to want to look directly at him.

A flash of jewels glittered in her peripheral vision, and Katara caught a glimpse of Mavang and her Lilies.

As she and Zuko and Azula settled back into their seats, Zuko laced his fingers with hers, and Mavang winked at her.

Katara narrowed her eyes slightly, but that only seemed to amuse Mavang more.

Music began to play. The dance floor began to fill with people.

And Katara was left to watch the crowd again from afar, and in return have them watch her.

She watched them mingle and gossip, and drink free rice wine and sake and eat from the fancy little platters offered to them by the servants. Was this all being royalty was at parties such as these? Sitting in the very front of public events, above the subjects both literally and figuratively, detached and bored, watching people have their fun until your own legs went numb from sitting?

Every once in a while Azula snapped her fingers and servants would nearly trip over themselves in their haste to serve her.

Katara felt sweat pooling at the base of her spine and shifted uncomfortably.

It seemed like they had to sit there forever before Zuko finally leaned over to her.

"We should mingle more," he muttered. "Just a little."

It wasn't the most pleasant prospect, but sitting still was also threatening to drive her mad, so Katara nodded and allowed him to pull her to her feet, sweeping her away and off the dais. They didn't even have to go searching for someone to speak with.

The work of mingling consisted of merely standing still and waiting for people to come to them.

There was bowing. So much bowing.

There were polite inquiries about their health, and well wishes for their marriage, and casual talk about what this meant for trade and the war. Several people gushed about the upcoming play, as the news for it was beginning to circulate wider. Some of the bolder party guests tried to rope them into gossip.

Zuko was speaking to a family with a son about to join the military while Katara hovered at his side and tried to smile naturally when a servant appeared at her side. "Drink, Princess Katara?"

Katara, who was dreadfully thirsty—the heat of the day did not fade as thoroughly in the evenings as the Fire Nation dipped into deeper summer, and the oppressive swell of hundreds of bodies in the room didn't exactly help the temperature—smiled gratefully and nodded, reaching for one of the tall ceramic cups. But slim fingers with sharp, perfectly frosted scarlet-tipped nails plucked it away first.

Azula grinned and raised the cup. "You're not allowed, dear sister," she drawled. "Alcohol, remember?" She took a long drink and then gave Katara a shrewd look. "Or are you trying to avoid pregnancy?"

The family Zuko had been speaking with got very quiet.

The son was giving her an accusing stare, and the mother looked disdainful. They had been polite to her, but most of their attention had been on Zuko. Now their suspicion of her flared quickly; it was almost too easy to stoke those flames, something Katara suspected that Azula already knew. "I didn't know it was alcohol," Katara said, truthfully, struggling to keep her voice even.

"She hasn't been here very long," Zuko cut in sharply. "She doesn't know all our drinks yet, Azula."

"But he does." Azula jerked her chin toward the servant, who went very still where he was holding the tray up to the group. "How dare you serve the princess alcohol? She is trying to produce a royal heir."

The servant looked like he might faint. "I'm so sorry, Princess. Please, I had no idea."

Katara was shaking with fury, but she forced a tight smile. "Come now, sister," she said, and Azula's golden eyes cut to hers at the slightly mocking way Katara used the word, her fingers tightening on her cup. "No need to be so harsh. He only meant to make me happy. This is a happy occasion, is it not?"

Azula's eyes narrowed, only briefly, observing the way the servant stared at Katara with a mixture of awe and gratitude, before she sighed dramatically. "I suppose you're right." She snapped her fingers at another servant and pushed one of their cups into Katara's hands instead. "This is more appropriate for you."

If others weren't watching, Katara might have considered spitting it into Azula's face.

As it was, she gave her another tight smile and took a sip.

The liquid was so sharp and bubbling that she began to cough, the tingle in her throat almost too strong to handle. Nobles standing nearby tittered, covering their laughs with poorly pretend coughs, and some of them began to whisper at each other, amused eyes darting to her. Katara felt her cheeks burn. No doubt they were speaking of her lack of grace. How unfit she was to be a princess.

She wished she could bend the fizzy liquid and fling it in all their faces.

"Princess Azula." The father of the family hurriedly cut in with a bow. "It is such an honor."

Azula raised an eyebrow. "How are the negotiations coming with the Beifongs, Minister?"

Katara startled at hearing Toph's last name, though she tried not to show it.

"Slowly," the man admitted, and Katara recalled that he'd mentioned being a financial minister of some sort. "But we'll get them on our side, Princess. The Beifongs' wealth is legendary."

"Best see that you do, and quickly."

The man dipped his chin, properly chastised.

Katara had seen the fear in his eyes before he lowered his gaze, though, and she followed a wild impulse. A hunch. She struggled to remember this family's last name among the sea of names she'd already heard.

"I'm sure Minister Sheem is doing everything he can," Katara said kindly. "We thank you for your work."

The Minister's eyes darted up to her, cautious but clearly pleased to have been acknowledged.

And Azula clearly hadn't missed the look the Minister had given Katara either, because her eyes were now like dangerous daggers. But Katara barely looked at her before she continued. "Many blessings for your son joining our ranks," she added, with a little bow. "Your family's services to this country are noticed and deeply appreciated."

There was an abrupt turn in the mood. The family was now looking politely flattered and rather proud. They were so starved for positive reinforcement they were apparently even willing to take it from Katara. Katara pushed down a smirk.

Let Azula rule with only fear and intimidation. It wasn't the only way.

"We live to serve, Princess Katara," said the Minister, a real smile on his face as he bowed.

Azula was called away, but she shot Katara one last look of utter hatred before she strode off.

"So," said the Minister into the awkward silence, "a royal heir so soon?"

"Apparently," Zuko muttered, and Katara desperately wished she could elbow him hard in the ribs.

"Yes," she said, smiling brightly. "Isn't that exciting?"

The mother covered her heart with her hand, eyes wide. "Oh! You're already pregnant, Princess?"

"Not yet," Katara said. "But I hope to be soon."

She seemed to be convincing enough in her eagerness; the family visibly thawed at her words, and the mother's face moved from wary to pleased and warm. "That is wonderful news," she said. "Many of us nobles feared you might not wish to produce an heir for the Fire Nation or have our interests at heart."

"Zyra," her husband chastised. "You are being rude to our princess."

"No. Speak openly. Your unease is understandable," said Katara, hoping she sounded gracious and regal. "I know our people have long been enemies. But I assure you that the Fire Nation's interests are aligned with mine now, and I wish only to strengthen this alliance together. It is the right choice."

Their eyebrows went up in open approval, and Katara felt a vicious surge of triumph.

Maybe she could convince some nobles to like her.

She noticed that they bowed much lower to her when they murmured their goodbyes.

"For fuck's sake," she heard Zuko mutter. "Azula will pay you back for that, you know."

"Let her try," said Katara, with more bravery than she felt. "And you could have gone along with some of this at least a little bit!"

"You handled it just fine." He maneuvered her sharply through the crowd, waving people away that started to converge on them. She wasn't complaining; she'd had enough of these political conversations.

"I know I did, but it would still help if you weren't standing there being so—oh! Um, hello."

Another servant had approached them and bowed low, but Katara's gaze had drifted to the tray he carried. Small, brown balls were steaming on the platter, and she recognized them instantly.

"Are those sea prunes?" She couldn't keep the excitement from her voice.

The servant beamed. "Yes, Princess Katara! We get them here in the Fire Nation now. Our chef had to do some research on how to best cook and spice them, and he wanted to know what you thought."

Katara plucked one and ate it. A wave of sadness and joy and nostalgia rolled over her at the taste, the smell. They weren't exactly like home; the spices were slightly different, not quite right, but they were still very tasty and it was clear the kitchen had done the work of trying to make them properly. The servant was watching her with such apprehension, caring so much about her approval, that Katara's chest swelled with emotion. These palace workers, endlessly waiting on others, had taken the time to try and replicate a bit of her culture for her. They could have easily made them more suitable to Fire Nation tastes, but they had done this for her.

"These are wonderful," Katara said earnestly, and his face lit up.

"Really? They are like the ones you know?"

"They're very close." She ate another, savoring it. "Delicious. It's like a piece of home."

The servant bowed low again, radiant with joy. "Thank you, Princess! Thank you!"

"No. Thank you. And I will have to personally thank the chef." Katara gave him a warm smile.

The servant seemed so overwhelmed by her praise that he could barely speak. Before he could skitter away with the tray, Katara had a sudden mischievous idea. "May I take a few more before you go?"

"Of course, Princess!"

When he was gone she faced Zuko, three sea prunes in hand. "Try one," she said, holding it out.

She pressed her lips together as he stared down at them, clearly unsure.

"What's wrong?" she asked sweetly. "You don't think something from my culture can taste good?"

Zuko glared and snatched it from her, popping it in his mouth. She watched him chew, quickly at first, and then more slowly. Disgust and horror flickered across his features before he could hide it.

"Don't you love it?" Katara's eyes danced at him. "They're my favorite food."

He swallowed it slowly, clearly trying not to grimace. "Um…yes. Yes, it's great."

"Really?" She beamed and held out another. "I'm so glad! Here you go."

Zuko actually took a step back. "Oh, I, uh…well…"

"What's wrong? Don't you like it?"

Panic flashed in his eyes. "Yes," he said hurriedly. "Yes, but I'm, um, full?"

"Is that a question?"

"No?"

A laugh was pressing at her chest so hard it took an inhumane effort not to let it out. "Are you really full, Zuko?" She tilted her head. "Or are you lying about liking the sea prune for my benefit?"

"I'm lying about liking the sea prune for your benefit," he burst out, looking both relieved to have said it and rather apprehensive at her reaction. "I'm sorry. I wanted to like it, I really did, but it was just awful."

Katara finally burst into laughter, so loudly that people glanced over.

Zuko gaped at her and then gradual suspicion stole over his features. "You knew I would hate it?"

"I had a good guess." She smirked. "I've never met a foreigner that likes our sea prunes."

He blinked rapidly at her a few times. "Seriously?"

She waved the remaining sea prunes under his nose. "Mmm…"

He swatted her away, but his mouth had briefly twitched into a smile. "You're mean. You know that?"

"You have terrible taste in food." She dramatically popped another one in her mouth.

He wrinkled his nose. "How can you stand it? It's like swallowing rubber."

"Maybe I enjoy rubber, Zuko. Don't judge." She held out the last one. "Are you sure you don't want it?"

He pretended to gag. "Get that away from me."

She just laughed again, pushing it closer to his face. "Yummy…"

He caught her wrist and held her away. "Don't," he warned, though his eyes held that shine of amusement that she realized she quite liked. It reminded her of being with her friends again. Of something normal. And on Zuko it was a very pleasing effect. Maybe because it finally made him look less grumpy.

"Or what?" she taunted. "You'll scowl me to death?"

"That doesn't even make sense."

"Doesn't it?"

He sighed, but she knew he was feigning his irritation because she could see the way his mouth twitched again, still fighting a smile. "If I eat the last one, will you stop whatever this is?"

She didn't have a chance to answer.

"What is that thing?" A monotone voice with a hint of disdain spoke from right beside them.

Katara jerked back and away from Zuko—just now realizing that they'd actually been standing quite close, his hand still wrapped around her wrist—as if they'd been caught doing something wrong.

Mai appeared calm, even as her gaze flicked slowly between them. Ty Lee was at her side, her arm woven through Mai's, and she gave Katara a bright smile. Katara didn't miss, however, the almost worried glance that Ty Lee threw at Mai. Katara quickly ate the last sea prune and nervously smoothed her dress, feeling very warm and wishing to run. Mai didn't have to pretend at being regal. She looked lovely.

Like she belonged here.

Her eyelids were dashed with red eyeshadow. Her bangs hung so low over her eyes that Katara wondered how it didn't itch; her sleek hair was done up in an intricate bun. She wore red, an elegant, sweeping gown that flared out at the hips, though her fabrics were adorned with black, curling flowers, matching her black nails; which Katara noted were abnormally sharp. Ty Lee had chosen yellow, and she looked wonderful, too, albeit in a different way than Mai. Her fabric was shimmering and her cheeks rosy.

Katara decided to fall into the familiar Fire Nation routine to glaze over the horrific awkwardness.

"Lady Mai," she said, bowing as she now knew was customary. "How nice to see you again."

"Let's not do this fake court etiquette," Mai said. "We both know you don't actually mean that."

Katara straightened up. "Fine by me," she said, her voice several shades cooler.

"How is Omashu?" Zuko asked. He sounded strangled and he wouldn't look directly at Mai.

"Wonderful," drawled Mai. "I've always wanted to just hang around while my father ruled a city."

Katara's temper flared. How dare she complain about such an easy fate?

"Yes," she said sweetly. "It must be so difficult to get by, being an upper class conqueror with servants."

Mai's face didn't change; she only slowly moved her eyes back to Katara's.

"Katara," Zuko muttered, sounding a little exasperated.

"No, let your wife talk, Zuko," said Mai, the first hint of a challenge on her face. "Surely if she's as sympathetic to the Fire Nation as she claims, she can't say anything wrong."

"Lovely decorations!" Ty Lee burst in loudly, and almost desperately. She squeezed Mai's arm.

Everyone ignored her.

"Anything else to say, Katara?" Mai sounded bored, but Katara could sense the bubbling anger under her cool mask. And the whole thing was so unfair she wanted to scream. She understood that Mai wasn't happy. Katara even had sympathy for her situation. But Katara didn't want to hear her privileged complaints, and she certainly didn't deserve to be sneered at for being forced to marry Zuko.

Mai's anger was valid, but misplaced. If Mai wanted to be furious at someone, it should be Azula.

Either way, Katara was getting very tired of all this disrespect.

"Yes, actually," said Katara, and Zuko shifted uneasily beside her, clearly having heard the new, dangerous lilt in her tone. "Generally speaking I'll admit that I find all these titles here pompous and ridiculous, but I get the strangest feeling you're not using mine to disrespect me." She paused, rather enjoying the flash of unease she saw in the other woman's eyes. "You did seem to find your father's comment about my reading abilities funny. But regardless of what you and your family may believe about peasants, Lady Mai, I now outrank you. So refuse to acknowledge my title again, and I will make you very sorry."

Ty Lee inhaled sharply and Mai blanched. Beside her, Zuko groaned quietly and pinched the bridge of his nose. The tense silence that followed seemed thick enough to slice with a knife.

Mai finally dipped into a brief, grudging bow. "Yes. Apologies, Princess Katara."

But Katara was finished with this conversation.

"I'm sure you three have a lot to catch up on," she said, forcing her tone to stay polite. She bowed again. "I've been wanting to see the balcony for a while now, and I don't want to intrude. I'll go get some air."

And with that, she turned on her heel and strode away.

The balcony was blissfully empty, most people happy to swing about on the dance floor or chase down more drinks. It was strung up with flickering torches, casting dancing light in the dark. Flowered vines weaved through the thick stone railing, and Katara made her way directly there, to stand as far at the edge of the palace as possible and stare out at the horizon.

In the distance, she could just barely make out the ocean. The sight of it immediately put Katara more at ease.

"Have you thought about my offer?" Mavang's silky voice drifted from the doorway behind her, but Katara did not turn.

A breeze swept over the balcony, smelling of the sea.

Katara briefly closed her eyes, wishing she could have had a longer moment of peace.

But she'd already known this celebration wouldn't give her that, so she just sighed.

"I don't have any reason to think about it further," said Katara curtly. "You know very well I can't just leave. That would break the alliance." She paused, listening to the sound of Mavang approaching, her footsteps light as she came to stand beside Katara. Her ringed fingers draped elegantly over the railing. "Maybe," Katara continued, "if I had some idea as to why you think I'll need to escape…"

Mavang chuckled, cutting her off. "Nice try, Master Katara. I told you my policy on secrets."

Katara let out a frustrated huff but didn't respond.

Mavang's sharp eyes were also directed toward the sea, and for a brief moment she looked wistful. But then she turned around and leaned back, keeping an eye on the doorway to make sure they remained alone and unheard. "I see you and your new husband look a tiny bit cozier, even if still rather stiff and uncomfortable. Have you started heeding my excellent advice yet, Master Katara?"

"Oh, shut up," Katara muttered, feeling a flicker of resentment all over again at Zuko's hesitation to do something as simple as take her hand for the sake of the crowd. Mavang just laughed.

There was a brief pause.

"What if," Mavang said, "I suggest an exchange? A secret for a secret."

Katara gave her a sharp look. "Only if you go first."

"Ah, that doesn't sound fair to me. I surely have better secrets."

"You broke into my room and injected me with something," said Katara, glaring. "You spoke of treason. I could have ratted you out, and I didn't. I think I can ask that you be the one to take the first plunge."

Mavang grinned. "Very well. But your secret has to be a good one, Master Katara." She paused again, taking Katara in before turning her gaze back to the party beyond, the sound of laughter and voices spilling outside. "Have you ever wondered what happened to Fire Lady Ursa?" she asked casually.

Katara whirled on her, heart pounding. "Do you know what happened?"

Mavang's smile this time was slow and dangerous. "Maybe. I certainly know where she is now."

"She's alive?" Katara whispered, thinking suddenly of Zuko, the pain on his face standing before that portrait, his belief that his mother is dead. A spike of jealousy burst through her, intermingled with curiosity and excitement. "Where is she? Why hasn't she come back? Is this what you have over Ozai?"

"I already gave you one secret, darling," said Mavang airily. "Don't get greedy."

Katara blinked, outraged. "That was your secret? But—but I thought you were going to tell me why I might want to escape! I thought you would tell me what you clearly know! That was our deal."

"No. I only said a secret for a secret," said Mavang, unfazed. "It isn't my fault you don't listen."

Katara wanted to slap her.

"Your husband is going to check out here soon," said Mavang calmly, and when Katara looked over her shoulder she did indeed see Zuko pushing his way through the crowd, eyes flicking about. "Hurry up."

"Fine." Katara had to force out the words through gritted teeth. "I received a note from an unknown source asking me to meet in the eastern lemon grove, in the middle of the night on the full moon. I have no idea who sent it."

Mavang showed no surprise. She tilted her head. "Do you intend to find out?"

"I can't get out of the palace, even if I wanted to," Katara said bitterly. "Too many guards."

She glanced over her shoulder again. Zuko had spotted them and was headed toward the balcony.

"Oh, Master Katara," murmured Mavang, shaking her head, making her jewelry rattle. She sounded almost disappointed. "There's always a way to sneak around, particularly in a palace such as this."

Katara opened her mouth to ask more, but it was too late. Zuko's raspy voice rang into the night, rising over the sounds of the party. "Katara." He stood framed in the doorway, glancing between her and Mavang before striding forward. "Madame Mavang," he greeted, inclining his head, polite but wary.

"Prince Zuko," Mavang purred. "I was just telling Master Katara here that you play the tsungi horn." She lied with apparent and alarming ease. "And I was just about to tell her what they say about those who play the tsungi horn." She winked. "Then again, your wife seems to be carrying a lot of tension and can't even drink, so perhaps you could just enlighten her with a practical demonstration later."

Zuko flushed, and Katara recognized Mavang's tactic immediately.

She'd purposefully chosen a topic that she knew would make Zuko uncomfortable. A misdirect, an attempt to keep him from asking questions about what they'd actually been talking about.

As usual, irritation and admiration warred in Katara in equal parts when it came to Mavang.

"Well, I best be going," said Mavang lightly. "I'm sure there are plenty of contracts with my Lilies waiting to be drawn up. These sorts of parties always promise wonderful revenue." She grinned suggestively, eyes flicking between them. "I wish you both a very pleasurable evening."

She swept away, and Zuko glared after her before he turned back to Katara.

"Katara," he said, rather sharply as he moved closer, voice low, "You can't trust Mavang."

She didn't think he was wrong, but Katara rolled her eyes. "Ironic that you are telling me who to trust."

"I'm serious," he growled, undeterred. "She's ruthless. She only cares about gold and leverage."

"She's smart enough to stay alive even though your father clearly hates her," Katara said, though she was uncertain why, exactly, she was defending Mavang to him. "Seems like a skill I desperately need."

"You want to be like Mavang?" He looked incredulous.

"I want to stay alive," she snapped.

"You don't know her," said Zuko.

"And you do?"

"Yes," said Zuko forcefully. "I ran into her a few times when I was banished. She's slippery."

This information made Katara pause. "You did?" She frowned. "Wait. Where?"

"Mavang is a pirate," he explained. Then he frowned. "Or she was, before she got enough power to have other people doing her dirty work for her. Now she stays in her floating city and rules over half of them."

"Her floating city?"

Zuko looked a little smug. "I told you that you don't know her."

His self-righteous expression enraged her. "As if I should trust your judgment anyway."

Zuko squeezed his eyes tightly shut. When he opened them again, they were dull. "We should get back inside and dance together at least once," he said. "Can you manage not to act angry a little longer?"

"I'm not the one with acting problems," Katara shot back. "Are you sure you can manage to dance with me? That would require touching me, and I know how very difficult that is for you."

Zuko's lips parted in shock. And then he swallowed hard. "You don't understand."

"I understand perfectly," Katara said coldly. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

"You're acting like it tonight," he snapped. "First you piss off Azula, and then you threaten Mai?"

"And what about you? Being so unenthusiastic about a royal heir in front of other people?"

Zuko faltered, but another voice rang through the night before he could answer.

"Princess Katara."

A smooth, horrible voice. The rattle of teeth.

The worst possible person to arrive on the balcony right now.

Katara grit her teeth and then arranged her expression into detached politeness before turning. Zuko didn't even bother with niceties; his face held the full ferocity of his dislike as Eza approached. Eza didn't seem fazed by Zuko's unfriendly demeanor; indeed, he barely looked at Zuko. He only moved forward and extended his hand. Up close, Katara could smell the alcohol on him, see it in the haze of his eyes.

Eza bowed slightly, eyes raking hungrily over her as he did so. "May I have the honor?"

He was here to dance with her.

The last thing Katara wanted to do was touch him, but refusing might anger or offend him. Better to gratify him now, in a room full of people, than have possible dealings with him later.

With any luck, he would be away from the palace soon after tonight and she'd be rid of his presence.

"Of course," she said, and placed her hand in his to let him lead her to the dance floor.

Thankfully, he kept a reasonable distance from her as he led her back inside, among the twirling people, though perhaps that was only because Zuko was tailing after them with an expression that was similar to one that had bitten straight into a very sour lemon. Katara gave him a subtle elbow to the ribs and a warning look that she hoped he would interpret as a plea to get his temper under control.

And then she was swept away, right into the bustle of people spinning dizzying circles to the music.

Eza immediately put a hand on the small of her back and drew her closer than necessary as he began to guide her through the steps. His fingers curled tight on her hand and his breath, smelling so strongly of drink, was warm on her temple. The necklace of teeth was level with her eyes, and she turned her head to the side to avoid looking at them, fighting a shudder.

Through the shifting bodies, Katara spotted Zuko watching them, eyes narrowed.

The relief she'd felt in their quarters at his presence swept through her again, despite their argument.

It did help to know that he would surely step in to side with her if Eza crossed a line.

Katara half expected Eza to do something mildly inappropriate for a public dance. Linger too long on her waist. Trail his hand up her back and into her hair. Small tests, designed to see how she would respond.

He did not. He didn't even speak for quite some time.

But finally, he leaned back slightly to look at her, taking her in. She pretended not to notice.

"Prince Zuko is a lucky man," he commented finally.

"Thank you," she replied, trying and mostly succeeding in keeping the disgust out of her voice.

"Tell me, was he the first one to slide between your thighs?"

The blunt and intrusive question caught Katara briefly off guard. She fumbled some of the dance steps, cheeks heating despite herself with mortification, and he took the excuse to draw her even closer.

When her rage had calmed, she finally said, forcibly light, "That is quite inappropriate, General Eza."

Eza just let out a drunken chuckle, spinning and dipping her in cue with the music and with the sea of other dancers before sweeping her up again. He tucked his chin down, putting his mouth right at her ear. "Do you ask him to take you from behind so you don't have to look at what's left of his face?"

Katara inhaled sharply, her vision momentarily blurring.

"Watch it, General," she said coldly. "He is your prince and my husband. I will not hear him insulted."

"Apologies, Princess Katara."

He didn't sound sorry at all. He sounded gleeful. He knew that he had ruffled her.

"That attack at the harbor was interesting, was it not?" he continued, and something in his tone made Katara's pulse begin to pick up speed. "I thought of you immediately, of course. No one has suggested yet that your tribes might be involved, and for that I'm thankful. Could you imagine if someone were to come to that idea? The alliance could be broken and you, little beauty, could be executed. Simply terrible."

Katara's breath drew short and black spots danced before her eyes. Her heartbeats became painful.

It took Katara several bars of music and spinning through steps to formulate a careful response. "I'm thankful, too," she said slowly. "I'm confident it wasn't the work of my tribes. We mourn senseless violence. Unlike others." She couldn't resist the pointed jab, but he didn't seem to notice it or care.

"How touching," he drawled. "But that would likely not convince the Fire Lord."

"Neither would a baseless accusation without proof," she said sharply, before she could stop herself. He smiled slowly at her outburst, condescendingly, as one might do to a child throwing a tantrum.

He knew that he was getting under her skin, despite her best efforts to show him otherwise.

"Ah," said Eza. "You think it is proof that matters here? Not always, Princess Katara. It would be your words and pleas against a high-ranking official." He lowered his voice to something dark and silky. "And as much as I'd love to hear you plead, I don't have so much confidence that it would actually work."

Katara's mind fogged with sharp, unbridled fear.

"I could help keep that sort of talk in check," said Eza, and Katara's stomach twisted. He gave her a shark-like smile. "A favor in exchange for another, of course. We could help each other."

She had to force out the question. "What do you want?"

"General Eza." The raspy voice, though sharp and unfriendly, was so welcome she almost wanted to cry. She stepped back and toward the sound of it and felt warm hands come to her shoulders.

"Prince Zuko," said Eza, his smug grin offsetting the faux respect of his brief bow. "I was just telling your wife what a lucky man you are to have her. I so appreciate you allowing me this brief dance."

"I'm so glad you enjoyed it," said Zuko roughly. "Because it is not happening again."

And then he steered Katara firmly away by the shoulders, turned her around, and fell into step with the next dance, which was just beginning to pick up. She automatically struggled to follow and promptly stepped on his foot. "What was that about keeping our tempers with Eza?" she asked, incredulous.

Zuko chose to ignore that and spoke in a very low voice. "What did he say to you?"

Katara opened her mouth, but the words wouldn't come out. Hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

"Katara," Zuko said urgently.

"He—" Katara gripped him tighter. "He implied that he would put out the idea that the recent attack on the Fire Nation was the Water Tribes, but that I could stop that by doing him a…favor."

Zuko made a sound like a snarl. "What does he want?"

"I don't know," Katara whispered, feeling faint. "You showed up right when he was about to tell me."

"No one will believe it," said Zuko. "Okay? Whatever Eza asks you for, don't think for a second you need to do it. The suspicions of one General won't break an alliance that benefits the Fire Nation. He's just trying to scare you. Avoid him. Do not go anywhere alone until he leaves. That slimy little fuck."

He was breathing very hard, and he'd gotten unnaturally warm as they mindlessly moved through steps.

Katara wished she shared his confidence. But Eza had fought his way to a position that wasn't even supposed to rightfully be his, as a nonbender. He was shrewd and calculating, and his threat, whatever assurances Zuko had, scared her deeply.

"You were so concerned with not upsetting him tonight," Katara said.

"I was concerned with you upsetting him. I can get away with it a little bit more."

"That's not fair."

"No," Zuko agreed.

There was a pause. The hand on her hip was barely there, his touch light as always but still scorching hot, almost as if his hand would burn through her fabric. With a jolt, she realized that he probably could.

She was glad when Zuko stopped after three songs and began leading her back to the seat on the dias, even if she didn't want to be seated before the crowd again. It still seemed like a better option than speaking with anyone directly. Too many secrets and too many agendas. It was exhausting. Katara did not know how long she sat there, staring over the faces of the crowd, ignoring their gawking.

It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. However long it was, the time dragged.

Her legs ached to move and twitch, but she sat still and resolute, chin held high.

She would not give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her restless and unused to this role.

They wanted to see a peasant struggling to be a proper princess. Katara refused to give them that.

It seemed to be getting late, and Katara fervently hoped that meant she could soon leave.

Many of the guests were drunk, staggering and knocking into each other, spilling wine and ordering the poor servants to mop it up before the floor became too sticky. They were loud and raucous, laughing and giggling and red-faced, shouting during their conversations even if their faces were only a few inches away from each other. A low voice spoken directly into her ear made Katara jump.

She hadn't even heard Azula approach behind her. "Come with me, sister."

She used the word mockingly, and a shiver of fear ran up Katara's spine.

"Why?" Katara muttered back, keeping a fake smile plastered on her face for the watching crowd.

"I have a gift for you."

Another shiver ripped through her, but Katara didn't think she could deny Azula. Zuko made to stand with her when she rose to her feet, but Azula put a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head. "Relax, brother," she said. "I'll bring your wife back in one piece, I promise."

Several guests close to the dais smiled at the exchange, probably thinking it a lighthearted joke.

Katara shook her head very slightly at Zuko when it looked like he might argue, and then she allowed Azula to lead her off the dais and toward the exit. But they didn't leave the room; Azula only took her to a spot where there were less people, closer to the wall and away from the dance floor, tucked in shadows near a potted plant.

"What is this?" Katara asked.

Azula gestured to someone in the crowd. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

There was a more vicious edge than usual to her voice, and Katara watched with growing unease as a tall man began to slide through the crowd, clad in standard Fire Nation robes for nobility. Several people clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, and many more bowed in reverence.

As soon as he drew close enough, he bowed low. "Princesses. You honor me."

It was as though a tunnel closed around him, and he was the only thing Katara could see. Her ears felt as though they were full of water but her mouth was dry as sand. She heard a strange sound, very faintly, almost like a strangled whimper, and she vaguely realized it had come from her own mouth.

Azula smiled. "Princess Katara," she said pleasantly. "This is Yon Rha."

Yon Rha.

He had an angular face, harsh lines and a protruding jaw. His face was mostly unfamiliar to her.

He'd had a helmet on that day, after all.

It was the eyes she recognized, and that sharp, gravelly voice.

They had both haunted her dreams for years.

Those eyes that had gleamed under the helmet, attached to a man looming over her and her mother in their hut, her mother helpless on her knees before him. That voice, that had barked at her to leave. Katara couldn't breathe. It was astounding how quickly she became that terrified child she'd been all over again, every limb shaking as she stared up at the foreign, terrifying man in her hut.

She tried to focus on careful breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Slowly.

The sounds of the room had become white noise.

She did not want to look directly at him. She thought she would be ill.

But Azula waited, letting the silence stretch into something painful.

Finally, Katara looked up again, right into the face of the man who had murdered her mother.

Yon Rha was watching her, clearly a little confused by this interaction. Katara's stomach heaved, and she forced herself not to squeeze her eyes shut. Azula directly addressed Yon Rha. "Admiral," he said lightly, "do come closer to our new princess. Look carefully at her." Yon Rha frowned, but only slightly, and he tentatively stepped forward. "Don't be shy," said Azula. "Princess Katara won't bite. Closer."

He obeyed. Her mother's killer was only inches away, staring into her eyes. Katara's entire body shook.

"Have you seen her before?" Azula asked.

Yon Rha's eyes flickered, and his frown deepened. "I…don't think so, Princess."

He was telling the truth. Katara could see it in his eyes; she was nothing to him.

Perhaps he'd terrorized so many their faces were just a blur.

The rage flared up again, choking her.

"No?" Azula sounded rather amused. "Do look closer, Admiral."

He did. His eyes carefully scanned her face.

And slowly, Katara saw vague comprehension enter his eyes, though still with flecks of uncertainty.

"You're the little Water Tribe girl…" he murmured, half to himself.

But Azula heard. "Indeed."

Her voice had suddenly grown very cold, so cold that even though the torches still burned merrily in their sconces along the walls, a chill swept through Katara as if they had all suddenly gone out. "It is truly fortunate that Princess Katara is with us," she said. "The Fire Nation will continue to reap many rewards from this alliance. But the truth of the matter is that she is alive because of your failure, Yon Rha."

Naked fear began to fill Yon Rha's face.

"Fire Lord Azulon received intelligence of a waterbender living in the Southern Water Tribe," Azula said. "The Southern Raiders were tasked with exterminating that threat. The last living waterbender."

She paused, letting the words settle.

"Princess Katara is a waterbender," she said softly. "And she is not from the North. How can that be?"

Yon Rha fell to his knees. "Princess," he gasped, already preparing to plead, but Azula ignored him.

"The woman you killed was protecting the last waterbender, because it was her mother." She turned her fiery gaze on Yon Rha, though not before reveling in the way Katara swayed on her feet. "As any fool would probably have realized, should they have stopped to think for just a few moments longer."

"Princess," Yon Rha began again, stammering as his eyes filled with tears, "Please—"

"Oh, get up. I'm not going to harm you, Yon Rha," said Azula. "You're lucky we need her now. I simply wanted you to meet her."

Azula's golden eyes were triumphant when they landed on Katara. Enjoying her anguish.

Azula is going to pay you back for that.

Zuko had been right. She had, and swiftly.

Katara's knees were weak when she stumbled back. But that rage kindling in her roared to life, dangerous and all-consuming.

For the first time, she wished she was a firebender so she could make them burn. For the first time, she wanted to make someone suffer.

She knew the feeling should scare her, but it didn't. Her fingers only twitched with the longing of it as her mind flew through vicious, horrible ways to make the light fade from Yon Rha's eyes. She could not burn him slowly, as someone like Azula could. But perhaps she could bend water down his throat, force it into his lungs and hold it there while he flailed and twitched, drowning on dry land.

Katara's chest constricted, her blood running hot.

She forced herself to think of her tribe, to vividly imagine Gran-Gran and her father and Sokka's faces.

She could not stay in this room another moment.

She'd fought so hard to keep her composure these past weeks, even as everyone around her poked and prodded at it, testing her. Toying with her. Now, the last bits of it finally left her. And because fighting back was an impossibility, would hurt her tribe, she did the only other thing she could think of.

Katara turned on her heel and fled.

Notes:

Katara and Zuko at the party, interrupted by Mai by thechromepaladin

Chapter 10: The Palace Roof

Chapter Text

Katara subdued every single guard that tried to stop her.

She bent water from any fountain she could find and froze them to walls. She knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she would almost certainly pay for this bout of impulsivity later. But the rest of her mind was screaming, and she couldn't bring herself to care.

Her shoes and dress were made for walking delicately on marble floors in fancy rooms, not for pounding across the stone of the plaza or sprinting with any real mobility. The bottom of her feet began to ache almost immediately, but she didn't care about that either. She breezed out of the courtyard and nearly tripped down steps. Subconsciously, she'd been heading for the dirt road that would lead to the beach. To the sea. Now she pushed forward on that path with full knowledge of where she was headed.

There were shouts behind her, from the direction of the palace, but they were quickly fading into the night.

She picked up the pace, starting to pant in the sticky, heavy air.

Dirt clouded up around her feet as she finally hit the road. She was almost wheezing by the time she saw the approach of a wagon coming from the opposite direction. Katara veered left immediately, crashing into the foliage lining the road, charging through bushes and vines with single-minded determination; though she stumbled and cried out when her recklessness brought her through a patch of thorns. It tore gashes into her dress and deep scratches into her arms, her chest, her stomach, and even her face.

Katara barely felt it. This was so similar to the adrenaline rush she'd felt sparring Zuko, back in that cave.

She almost felt that she could keep running forever and never stop.

Even in her muddled state, Katara recognized that she shouldn't plunge too deeply into the jungle. There could be wild animals, and it was too easy to get lost. Katara was not experienced with tracking a path in flora such as this. So she turned again, following the general direction of the road, and kept going. The closer she came to the ocean, the stronger she felt her chi thrumming.

The full moon was approaching, and Katara's veins were vibrating, full to bursting with its power.

She followed the pulse of it, the steady ebb and flow, like waves that seemed to move in time with the fluttering beat of her heart. She entangled herself in another nasty patch of brambles in the process and at one point took a hard fall over a rotting log, sharp pain shooting up her wrists and palms when she threw her hands out to catch her fall. But still she scrambled through, leaped up, and kept running.

Finally, after what felt like hours, she broke the treeline.

The sound of the ocean was instantly louder without the subtle sound of nocturnal animals in the jungle. Finally starting to come down from her wild burst of energy, Katara staggered through the sand and sat where the tide could lap at her toes. She stared numbly at the water.

But she didn't have peace for long before she heard faint yells from down the beach.

She should have known.

Katara glanced over to see several figures heading straight for her. She didn't bother trying to run away. She supposed she could. She could even drown them in the ocean, if she pleased. But Katara just watched them arrive with dull eyes.

It was a group of several guards, led by Zuko. His sleek hair was falling haphazardly out of his bun, and he looked a mixture of incredulous, relieved, and angry to see her sitting there at the edge of the sea. The guards' hands blazed with sudden fire, and instinctively, Katara scrambled to her feet to defend herself. She pulled a menacing, trembling wave into a wall behind her and they all skidded to a stop.

"I'll take it from here," said Zuko. Though he spoke to his guards, his eyes did not leave her. He was the only one without fire and that wasn't in an attack position; he walked toward her so slowly it was almost as if he was afraid of spooking her. "Head back to the palace," Zuko continued. "Tell them the princess has been found and is unharmed. And leave a wagon for us. I'll escort her back soon."

The wave behind her shook. She still resented being spoken about as if she needed handling. But she was also wondering just how long she'd been running through the jungle, how long they'd searched for her.

None of the guards moved, and Zuko broke his gaze with her to glare at them. "I said stand down."

"Respectfully, Prince Zuko," said one of the guards hesitantly, "the waterbender has the ocean and the moon right now. For your own protection, I don't think we should leave you alone with—"

"I was giving an order, not a suggestion," snapped Zuko. "Go."

Very reluctantly, the guards began to back away, though Katara noticed that they didn't let their flames flicker out until they were far away from the wave towering in the air. She watched them retreat, breathing hard, and then her wide eyes found Zuko's. He started to advance forward again, still purposefully slow. He stopped a few feet away from her. "Are you going to drown me?" he asked softly.

"Am I going to be punished when I get back to the palace?"

"No." His voice became firmer. "But you probably shouldn't run off without telling anyone again."

With a loud, resigned splash, she sent the chunk of ocean back where it belonged. Zuko seemed to take this as a sign that he could move closer, because he moved to stand right in front of her. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine."

But he'd already taken careful hold of her arm, examining the deep scratches from the thorns for a moment before she could wrench away. "There are scratches everywhere," he said. "You're bleeding."

"I'm aware."

She could feel him gaping at her, even if she didn't look directly at him. He pushed an agitated hand through his hair. "Katara, you can't just run into the jungle! Do you have any idea what's in there?"

"Thorns," said Katara flatly. "A lot of them."

Zuko made a sound of exasperation. "Would you please heal yourself?"

She flopped back into the sand and began using the ocean water to close her various scratches. There really were a lot of them; it was only just now that Katara started feeling their sting. Zuko settled in to sit beside her, and part of her wanted to tell him to go away. But he probably wouldn't listen anyway, and speaking more than necessary sounded too tiring. She felt strangely empty, and when she'd finished taking care of the cuts she only sat back and continued staring at the waves almost without seeing them. The murderous rage had faded and so had the burst of adrenaline. Now she was just small and exhausted and wanted to curl into a ball in the sand and never get back up.

She was so tired. So, so tired.

"Would you like to tell me why you ran off?" Zuko sounded gentler than she'd ever heard him.

"No."

"What did Azula do?"

"I said no."

Zuko fell into silence, but when she peeked at him a moment later she saw the frustration on his face. Katara did her best to ignore him, but the mention of Azula had brought back the image of her smirking at Katara beside Yon Rha. Yon Rha. Her mother's killer was an honorable guest at that palace. She shoved the memory of his voice away, but she kept hearing him shouting at her to leave her hut.

And her mother…

Go get your father. I'll handle this, sweetie.

Her mother, so calm and controlled. She would never have lost her composure the way Katara had. She'd been sprawled on her back when they'd found her, neck at an impossible angle and eyes glassy. Katara's lips trembled and her eyes began to burn.

She had died so Katara could live.

How did Azula always know precisely what to say or do to hurt someone?

Katara suddenly frowned, scooting slightly back as the tide pushed higher, threatening to soak her now tattered dress. Yes…how had Azula known about her mother? How could she possibly have known that?

Finding out about Yon Rha failing to get rid of Katara would have been easy. Azula was almost certainly the type to read war reports and revel in the atrocities. She would have seen that Yon Rha had been tasked with finding the last waterbender, and that someone had been eliminated. Azula, of course, knew that someone wasn't the last waterbender, because Azula had married that waterbender off to her brother.

But how could she possibly have known that it had been Katara's mother that died instead?

A lucky guess, perhaps? Confirmed only by Katara's reaction? Azula did have excellent hunches. She suspected Aang was alive, after all, and though she didn't know it for certain, she was right. But…

A horrible suspicion stole over her.

"Zuko," Katara said, a deadly calm in her voice. "Did you tell Azula about my mother?"

Zuko jerked and looked at her, his brow furrowing. "I—what?"

"You heard me. Did you tell Azula the Fire Nation killed my mother?"

The flash of guilt in his eyes and the long pause after the question gave her the answer she'd wanted. Vicious rage briefly blinded her. He began to stammer something, but the words were white noise. Katara had already turned and smacked him across the face so hard his head turned. Zuko let out a yelp of pain, clutching at his cheek and staring at her as if he'd never seen her before.

"You're disgusting." She rose to her feet. The ocean began to stir restlessly beside her.

"Katara, now wait, hold on," Zuko cut in, sounding very nervous now, standing and scrambling quickly away from her and from the tide, which was now rising too quickly to be natural.

"Hold on?" She began to advance on him. She drew water up to her hands and kept stalking forward even as he backed quickly away, still clutching his swelling check. "You ran home and told your awful sister about my murdered mother? Were you pleased to be able to give information that could be used against me, Zuko? Did it make you feel good? Did it make you feel useful?"

"Used against—? Katara, no." Zuko's eyes were now wild, and he held his hands up in the air in a placating gesture even as he kept backing away from her. "It wasn't like that! Please, just let me explain—"

"It wasn't like that?" she shrieked, sending a violent wave of water at him.

The water crashed into him, knocking him flat on his back. He didn't even try to deflect it.

Katara stood over him, chest heaving with emotion. Zuko lay on the sand dripping wet. He pushed hair out of his eyes, wincing gingerly when his fingers brushed the purpling bruise on his cheekbone.

The only thing that kept Katara from attacking him again was that he wasn't bothering to fight back.

He slowly sat up, wet hair clinging to his neck. "Azula was asking me all these questions about our imprisonment together, okay? I already told you she suspected the Avatar was alive. But she…" He hesitated, but then directly met her eyes. "She also suspected that you and I were…starting to get along."

A bowed head. Her palm, tentative on his scar, so certain he would jerk away.

But no. Closed eyes, total submission.

She forgot her anger in her confusion. "What? How would she know that?"

Zuko grimaced. "She heard you. When we were all fighting. She heard you say that you thought I'd changed. I think she put the rest together." His voice got hard. "She's pretty good at that. And…"

But he seemed to think he had said too much, because he shut his mouth and looked away.

"Oh no," Katara said angrily. "No, say it."

"It's not important."

"Then it's not an issue to tell me, is it? Talk." She jerked some of the ocean's water into a threatening whip, swirling it around her. Zuko watched it for a moment, uneasy, but he still didn't draw his fire.

"I didn't strike you when I should have," he said flatly. "She noticed that too."

She frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"You had Azula beat. Remember? You had her all caught up in your…tentacle things." He flapped his arms around rather lamely. "I broke that off and helped her. I sent flames through your water."

The memory sent a fresh wave of resentment through her. She glared. "So?"

"So," said Zuko, "the correct target, the much bigger and more obvious target, was you."

Katara let the water twirling around her drop with a splash. "But…"

"Instead of subduing you for good, I didn't take the clear shot," Zuko said. "That makes no strategic sense, especially not against someone that can beat Azula. Of course she noticed that."

"Why…why didn't you take the shot?" Katara couldn't help but ask, very bewildered now.

He bristled. "It wasn't conscious! Probably because you just offered me valuable healing water!"

"And? You clearly didn't care! You attacked me and my friends right afterward!"

"Well, some part of me obviously cared, even then," Zuko said gruffly.

Katara was rendered speechless for a moment. And then she remembered the reason for this conversation, and her voice hardened. "And how, exactly, did that mean you had to tell Azula about my mother?"

He flinched. "It wasn't on purpose, I swear. I just…she kept asking what we were talking about, what happened, and you know how relentless she can be. I was so focused on making sure that she didn't sniff out anything about you having spirit water that I blurted out the subject of our mothers when it came to mind. I was panicking. I'm so sorry." He truly looked it. Katara half turned away, closing her eyes.

And then she sighed and dropped down beside him. "Let me heal your cheek," she said, quieter now. She was just exhausted again. She kept burning through her flares of rage so fast it almost left her weak.

He tentatively inched toward her, and Katara yanked water to her palms and scooted to hold them over his cheek. Below her hands, the black and purple coloring of the bruise began to fade, and the swelling slowly receded. "I'm sorry I hit you," she said stiffly, concentrating hard on the injury so she didn't have to look at him. He was very close. "But I'm starting to get very tired of your stupid choices affecting me."

"I know. I'm sorry," he said again, voice scratchier than before. "I would take it back if I could."

Katara just let out a humorless little scoff. As if that mattered. The damage was done.

She felt his eyes scanning her face. "What did Azula do?" he repeated.

His cheek had gone back to normal; Katara pulled back and looked away. There was palpable concern on his face, and it almost made her want to start crying. "We should probably get back."

"Katara—"

"Please stop."

"All right," he said, very quietly. He helped her to her feet and began to shrug off his robe.

Katara stiffened, glancing away from his bare chest. "What are you doing?"

"I thought maybe you wouldn't want to go back looking like you got in a fight with a tigerdillo." He gestured to her dress, now littered with rips and gashes, before he held out his open robe. She relented, letting him carefully drape it over her shoulders, and they made their way up the beach in silence.

The trip back to the palace was also quiet. Katara tried very hard not to think of Yon Rha, or her mother's final moments, or Zuko's eyes still observing her as the wagon rattled roughly up the road.

They went to a side entrance this time rather than enter at the front of the palace, and though they did pass a few party guests on their way up to their quarters—it would have been a real miracle if they hadn't seen someone—Katara suspected that they would be too drunk to remember the glimpse of the disheveled prince and princess rushing back to their quarters without saying a proper goodbye from the party.

Zuko spoke in low murmurs to the guards outside as Katara slipped into the room.

Unfortunately, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She looked frightful. Her hair had become dirty and matted, she was covered in sand and mud and sea water, and when she pushed Zuko's robe off her shoulders, her beautiful dress was mostly ruined.

She sighed, plucked out a nightgown, and dipped into the washroom.

Despite her exhaustion, she had the feeling she wouldn't be able to sleep. So she took her time, brushing out all the tangles of her hair and lingering in the bath. It was there that she finally allowed herself a long cry. She stifled her sobs so they wouldn't be heard from the next room, and her cheeks were so puffy afterward that her face hurt. The numbness returned, and still she lingered, staring at the ceiling.

The water was cold and her skin shriveled when she finally made herself get out of the tub. Mostly she was hoping Zuko would be asleep when she emerged, and at first glance she thought she was out of luck.

All the candles were extinguished except one, melted almost all the way down. Zuko was sitting up in bed, an open book on his lap, but his head was tucked down to his chest. There were trays beside the bed, too; a platter with tea, another with sea prunes, and another with a food she didn't recognize, all of it long ago gone cold. Despite herself, a thick lump grew in Katara's throat.

She edged closer, observing the slight frown on Zuko's face, even in sleep.

Spirits, he was so aggravating. Disappointing her one moment, deeply kind in the next. And yet despite her many sources of irritation with him, the conviction that he was conniving and sneaky—the one she'd believed about him when she'd first arrived—was now laughable to her.

He was quite clearly nothing like Azula.

Katara sighed, knowing she couldn't leave him like this. She would be the one healing his neck ache tomorrow, but it also just seemed particularly cruel when he'd fallen asleep in this position because he'd been waiting for her with tea and food. So she reached forward and plucked the book from his lap, blew out the candle, and grit her teeth before trying to move him, trying to slide him down so that his head was actually resting on a pillow and not lolling in the air. He was very solid. She pursed her lips and kept trying to shift him.

Suddenly, his eyes shot open, and his hands reached out to close tightly around her wrists. She struggled, but couldn't rip herself away. Alarm was on his features, as was a dangerous snarl, even though he only looked half awake. She couldn't bend. He had overpowered her with startling ease, and if fire sprang to his hands, he could burn her terribly. Her heart began to pound as she stared into his glazed eyes.

"It's just me," she pleaded. "Just Katara. Zuko, please let me go."

His eyes began to clear. And then horror filled his face and he let go of her. She staggered back. "You fell asleep sitting up," she explained, voice shaking. "I was just trying to lay you down properly."

"Did I hurt you?" he croaked. He looked down at his hands as if they'd betrayed him.

"No," she said, still breathing a little too hard from the burst of fear.

"I didn't—I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"I know. It's okay. I shouldn't have disturbed you." Katara's heartbeat was starting to slow, though it quickened again when he looked up. "You looked really uncomfortable. I just wanted to help, since it seemed you stayed up waiting for me." She eyed the platters of food again.

"I thought you might be hungry," he said softly.

She was. She'd barely eaten anything that evening.

"What's that?" She pointed at the tray of food she didn't know. It looked like pastries.

"Fruit tarts." He hesitated and then shifted to get out of the bed, his thin night robe billowing out behind him. He hadn't even bothered tying it in the front. He held one out to her. "Do you want one?"

Katara eyed it suspiciously. "It isn't spicy?"

"No." He paused, eyes going bright with brief amusement. "Although I did consider asking for something very spicy as payback for the sea prune, I went with something I actually think you'll like."

"How nice of you," Katara said, gingerly plucking the fruit tart from him and trying a bite.

It was incredible. The dough was crumbling and sweet. There was a hint of some sort of cream on the inside, and the kiwi on top was fresh and tart. She blinked, and then looked up at Zuko. His expression was very smug, as if he'd known very well how delicious it was and couldn't wait for her to admit it out loud. Katara arranged her face to indifference and swallowed. "It's fine, I guess," she said lightly.

"Fine?" He shook his head. "You're a little liar."

"It's acceptable," Katara said, inwardly wanting another bite very, very badly. "But average."

Zuko snatched it away from her so quickly that she didn't have time to react. "I guess they're all for me then," he said, shrugging. He stepped in front of the tray as if to guard it, mischief in his eyes. "Since I'll actually appreciate them."

"Could I please have mine back, at least?"

"Mmm, no, I don't think so. Why would you want this average—hey!"

Katara had lunged for the fruit tart and he lurched back, crashing into the platter and nearly knocking it over. But he held the fruit tart up above his head, out of her reach, and she jumped helplessly, trying to reach it. Zuko laughed, actually laughed, and the sound of it was so foreign from him that she almost froze in surprise.

A warm feeling trickled up her spine, and there was a quick little flutter in her stomach.

The most aggravating part about Zuko, she decided, was that she enjoyed getting along with him.

"Just admit they're the best thing you've ever eaten, and I'll give it back," he taunted.

In response, Katara took the cold tea nearby and bent it right into his face. She took advantage of his sputtering distraction to jump once more and get the fruit tart back, grinning at his indignation. He stalked over to the towels and mopped up his face and neck before glowering at her with no real venom.

"Low blow."

"Oh believe me, I can stoop much lower," she said, taking a triumphant bite.

Her gaze drifted to the bed, acutely aware of both her mental and physical exhaustion. But she was afraid to try and sleep. Afraid that if she closed her eyes she would only see Yon Rha's, or relive that horrible day he'd been in her hut. Not to mention all the other things that had happened just today. Like that Agni Kai.

"Tired?" Zuko prompted, when he seemingly saw where she was looking.

"Very. But I don't know if I can sleep right now," Katara said honestly. Something flickered across Zuko's face, and she rushed to add, "But you shouldn't wait up. Get some sleep. I can occupy myself."

He watched her for a long moment, and then he said carefully, "Would it bother you if I stayed up?"

"I don't want to answer any personal questions," she warned.

He nodded in easy acceptance. "Okay. Then how about I just show you something cool?"

Katara tilted her head, curious despite herself. "What might that be?"

Zuko swept over to the bookshelf and grabbed the bottle of alcohol he kept there. Briefly, it made Katara remember her very first night here. The way he'd downed cup after cup to be able to get through their duty. But she pushed the rest away. She didn't need to remember more unpleasantness right now.

He gestured for her to follow him. He led her into the washroom, where the air was still very damp and smelled of the rose petals Katara had put in her bath water. Zuko crossed to the far side and opened the window before clambering up on the countertop; Katara's eyes widened when she realized his intention. "There's a ledge down and off to the right," Zuko said. "I'll go first."

"You want to climb around on the roof?"

"I've done it plenty of times. The shingles here and the shape make it easy to walk around."

Katara watched with apprehension as Zuko began to climb one-handed out the window, still clinging to the bottle with the other. He swung out, and for a moment he just hung there, suspended. And then he dropped, and Katara let out a little scream, rushing to the window.

But he was there, standing on a thin section of roof and pressed flat against the wall, his amber eyes bright in the dark. He set the bottle down on the ledge beside him and waved her down. "No," said Katara, shaking her head vigorously. "No way. I'm going to fall."

"You won't fall."

"Yes, I will," she said, not liking the way her voice got higher with fear.

"Katara, I just did this one-handed. I promise that you can manage it with two."

"Yes, but you just said you did this all the time. I have no experience climbing around on palace roofs. Is this just your secret plan to get rid of me?" It had mostly been a joke, but Zuko's face grew somber.

"Of course not," he said, very seriously. "Just hang down and feel around for the ledge with your foot."

"This is ridiculous," Katara grumbled, but she started to comply anyway before she stopped and realized what she was wearing. "Hold on. I'll be right back!" she called, and before he could respond, she hurried back out to the bedroom and threw light trousers on under her nightgown.

"Where did you go?" he asked when she returned.

"I'm not about to hang above you in just a dress," she said pointedly, before swinging over the ledge. Her arms were more tired than usual. Her entire body was more tired than usual. And so she shook and strained as she slowly lowered herself out the window to hang by the arms, her heartbeat loud in her ears. She blindly swung her foot around, trying to locate the ledge.

"Uh oh," she heard Zuko mutter, and panic seized her.

"What?" Her voice had gone fully shrill now, and her arms trembled violently.

"Well, I'm quite a bit taller than you," he said. "I don't think you can reach the ledge."

"Seriously?" If she could have, she would have swung out and kicked him in the head.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"Sorry? Zuko, your poor planning now has me dangling from a window!"

She felt a touch on her ankle, a brief brush of fingers, and nearly lurched out of her skin. "I'll guide you until you're right over the ledge and then you just need to drop. It's not a far fall, and the ledge is wide."

Katara held tighter to the window, shaking her head. "No. No, I can't do that." She tried to scramble up and back inside, but she only ended up slipping down further, and pure terror overcame her.

"Yes, you can," Zuko said fiercely. "Even if you miss, I'll catch you."

"And why would you do that?" she cried out, nearly beside herself now. Her arms shook. Why had she followed Zuko out a window? Did she have an addiction to thrill? A death wish, perhaps? "If I fall and die, all your problems are solved, aren't they? No more unwanted wife for you. You can have Mai back and have the life you always wanted here." Sudden tears burned in her eyes. A few of them even fell.

There was a very uncomfortable silence. She had never directly acknowledged his relationship with Mai before and neither had he.

She was very glad she couldn't see his face.

But his voice was very calm when he spoke, though distinctly raspier. "I promise I will not let you fall and die." The touch was back on her ankle, guiding it off to the right. "There. You're right above it. Drop down."

"I can't," she gasped.

"Katara, just drop down!"

Katara released her grip on the windowsill. She hit the ledge hard, and though Zuko had been right and it was very wide, much less terrifying than she'd imagined, she stumbled. For a brief second, she feared the worst. But Zuko was there, his hands flying to her waist and pinning her to him. She clung to his biceps in a way that was probably hard enough to scratch, swaying slightly and her entire body shaking.

"See?" he murmured into her ear, hands moving up to her shoulders. "Easy."

"I want to slap you again," she said weakly. "How are we supposed to get back up there?"

"We drop down again. From up there." He pointed. "Right onto the window ledge."

"Awesome," she muttered darkly. "Just great."

Zuko took hold of her wrist and began edging them both along the ledge. Katara followed his lead, carefully shuffling her feet and determinedly not looking down. "You'll like it once we get there," he told her, but Katara was too concentrated on moving properly that she couldn't even scoff in return.

The ledge formed into a curved section of roof, and just as Zuko had told her, it was easy enough to crouch and move along it. Even so, he hovered close to her. They climbed higher and higher. In the distance, she could see the glass panels of the sun room, a domed shape rising out of the roof. Finally, they came to a flat section of roof between two curved turrets, and Katara's eyes widened.

It overlooked everything.

The moon's white light illuminated the palace roof, the gardens and the courtyards, and the winding streets just outside the palace walls. She could see buildings stacked alongside each other, packed too tightly in the poorer districts and more majestic and sprawling in the wealthier ones; it was Caldera City in all its glory, torches lighting it up for the night. She could see the watchtower. She could see outside the palace walls. She could see the ocean, and endless stars twinkling in the sky. It was breathtaking. Katara knew what it was like to feel small after traveling on Appa. This was another reminder, and this was especially stunning because of the lush, tropical vibrancy of the Fire Nation.

"Oh," she breathed, flopping down on the flat section and staring out toward the sea.

"Yeah," Zuko said, sitting beside her. "It's especially nice at sunrise or sunset."

"I bet."

Katara could see guards dotting perimeters, marching on the night watch. She studied their movements, wondering if the roof offered a way down somewhere else. If she wouldn't be seen should she decide not to be. If she should decide to go in a few days, when it was the full moon in the sky instead...

She was distracted by the sound of Zuko taking a long drink and then coughing slightly.

He offered it to her next, but she raised an eyebrow. "I'm not allowed, remember?"

"I won't tell," said Zuko.

But alcohol would lower her guard. What if he took advantage of slight inebriation by questioning her about Aang, about the spirit water? Not to mention that she was on a roof, and drinking didn't seem like the best idea when she knew she had to get back into that window. So she quickly shook her head.

He shrugged and didn't press.

He only took occasional drinks as they both stared at the sky in silence. Eventually, Katara stretched out onto her back, finding constellations that she'd never seen before.

Quite some time had passed before Zuko spoke again, and he sounded subdued.

"Do you really think that I wish you dead?"

She blinked, rather shocked at the blunt question. "Maybe not actively," she said, staring up at the moon now. Almost full. "But you can't deny that it would be much better for you if I suddenly wasn't around."

"I don't think so," he said quietly. "I think I was always chasing the idea of home that I was forced to leave behind as a kid, when I was banished. I missed the Fire Nation so much." He paused, spinning the bottle in his hands. "But even before you got here, I realized I was chasing something that never really existed in the first place. It especially didn't exist after my mother was gone." His face twisted, and he kicked softly at the roof, scuffing his shoe. "Even if having Uncle did help. Not that I appreciated him when I should have."

His raw words disturbed her, because if he was lying, it was very, very convincing.

They also reminded her of something else.

Katara's conversation with Mavang rushed back in vivid detail, making her freeze.

Should she…tell him about Ursa? If she did, she had the feeling Zuko would rush off to Mavang and confront her. Maybe it would at least be best to wait until Mavang was away from the palace again. And she didn't even know if Mavang had been telling the truth; Katara really didn't know if giving Zuko that hope was more or less cruel.

"I bet you miss home," Zuko said.

Katara swallowed and forced her thoughts away from the previous Fire Lady. "Sometimes," she said. "But I really liked traveling around after I found Aang. I mean, I didn't like all the pressure of him having to train to defeat your father. Or being chased." She gave him a pointed look, and he dipped his chin. "But I think if I could leave here, and the world was normal, I would just want to…roam around for a while."

Zuko blinked. "Wait. You found the Avatar?"

Katara slowly smiled. "Yes. It was an accident."

Zuko let out a disbelieving scoff. "I searched for years, and you found him by accident?"

"That's right," she said. "Funny how the world works, isn't it?"

"Hilarious," he muttered, with a slight slur.

She stared at the emptying bottle in his hand and frowned. "You're going to fall and get yourself killed when we try to climb back if you don't stop drinking that, Zuko."

"Oh, don't act like you care." His sudden mood swing to grumpiness confused her. Probably the drink.

"I do, actually. Give me that." She reached for the bottle.

He swatted her away. "No."

"If you die, do consider that I will probably get passed off to someone far worse," she said heatedly. "Someone like Eza." She shuddered. "So you don't get to be so idiotic. Give it to me right now."

"Oh, I see. You only care because I'm keeping you from worse." But he handed her the bottle.

"Well, you are the best option here. But you're also…tolerable sometimes," she admitted.

The ghost of a smile suddenly quirked at the edges of his mouth. "Am I?"

"Sometimes," she emphasized.

His eyes ranged over her for a moment. "You're tolerable, too."

There was a brief silence.

"Your dress tonight," he said, still stumbling clumsily over his words. "It was…pretty."

Heat crept into her neck. "You really have had enough of that drink, haven't you?"

"Ty Lee thinks I should compliment you more," he muttered, no longer looking at her.

Katara snorted, wondering exactly how that conversation came about and trying to imagine bubbly Ty Lee lecturing a scowling Zuko on how to treat his wife. "Well, I'm sure the people who made the dress would appreciate your compliment."

Zuko flushed. "You know that's not what I meant."

She did. She remembered his eyes slowly taking her in when he'd first seen her in it.

For the first time, she thought about what would happen between them if she were here for years and years. They would, Katara assumed, only grow more comfortable with each other over time. Already, the difference between her arrival and now was astounding. And their relationship would obviously have to be sexual, at least until they produced enough heirs. She eyed the sliver of his chest peeking out from his robe that he still hadn't tied, the precise shape of his jawline and the curve of his cheekbone. The soft amber of his eyes.

Well, she wasn't blind. It certainly wasn't like Zuko was objectionable in that area.

So that part would probably become more comfortable, too. She thought of the thrill that had shot up her spine, the flutters of warmth, even on that first awful night. Maybe it would become comfortable far quicker than she would prefer. More heat flared in her neck and cheeks and she looked quickly away.

It didn't matter. She would not be here so long. She had to believe that.

"I'm sorry for earlier tonight, too," he blurted out.

"What do you mean?" she asked, glad for the distraction from the path her thoughts had taken.

"I know you want to look more like a real couple in public," he rasped, staring unseeingly out toward the ocean. "I'm sorry I hesitated when you asked for it. It was selfish. I know that's important for you."

"It's not selfish to not want to hurt someone," Katara said, a little uncertain how to respond.

"Yes, it was," Zuko said sharply. "The stakes are much higher for you than for her. I'll be better. I know that seems empty because she's going back to Omashu, but even if she weren't, I would be better."

In the silence that passed, a breeze of wind blew over the rooftop.

"Thank you for saying that," she said quietly. "And I'm sorry it has to be that way for you both."

Zuko's shoulders slumped. "Well, to be honest, we weren't doing all that great before this anyway."

Katara blinked, not quite sure that she wanted to hear details. Zuko really got chatty when he drank.

I could probably use that to my advantage at some point if I needed to, a little voice in her head said, a voice that sounded rather suspiciously like Madame Mavang. She shoved that thought away, too.

"Oh?" she settled on saying.

"I didn't feel like I could make her happy," said Zuko, and sudden frustration brimmed in his eyes. "I tried to open up to her about how I was feeling complicated about coming back home, but she didn't want to hear it. I wanted her to express herself, to just show something, because I know her parents tried to stamp everything out of her, but she always felt nagged if I tried to encourage it. I tried to give her gifts and make her feel special, but I could never seem to do any of that stuff right, either." He sighed. "I know I was being an asshole sometimes too. But I was really trying with her. I wanted it to be better." His shoulders hunched further. He looked thoroughly dejected, and her heart twisted.

Katara knew very well that Zuko was prone to irritable or angry outbursts and that he wasn't always easy to deal with, but she herself couldn't imagine being with someone so emotionless and apathetic. For her, at least, it would make her feel supremely lonely, even under normal circumstances. And Zuko's circumstances were also anything but normal.

"Maybe there was nothing to figure out," said Katara gently. "Maybe you were just incompatible."

Zuko squinted at her as if he couldn't conceive of the blame not resting on him entirely.

"Did you have someone else?" he asked. "Before?" He blinked rapidly, and then seemed to realize what he had asked. "Sorry," he stuttered quickly. "You said no personal questions. You obviously don't have to answer."

Katara stared down at the bottle in her hands and then decided to throw caution to the winds. She wanted to have at least less than an hour of escape. Of feeling somewhat normal. Did she not deserve that? So she took a long gulp, also coughing as it burned down her throat.

"You should probably be careful," Zuko said, staring at her. "It's strong stuff."

"Shut up," she said, taking another drink. "I can hold my liquor."

"I know for a fact that you really can't," he said, that ghost of a smile pulling at his mouth again.

Katara tilted her head and gazed up at the sky. "The stars are really different here."

Zuko scooted closer and traced out a pattern in the sky. "See that one?"

"Mhm." She took another drink, tilting her head so far it hurt. "What is it supposed to be?"

"It's the chubby baby."

Katara let out a shriek of laughter. Already she felt very warm and relaxed. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." Zuko was smiling. "See? Look. There's the legs. There's the round belly. And that star—" he indicated with his finger "—is supposed to be the head. Chubby babies are healthy. It's good luck."

Katara laughed again. "That is so odd. But it's also not wrong." She took another drink. Zuko deftly snatched that away from her, too. "Hey!" she protested, pouting at him, but he shook his head.

"That's enough," he said. "You do need to drop back into the window, remember?"

"I could just sleep up here," she mused. "Right underneath the glory of the chubby baby."

He smiled. "You also need to not be hungover tomorrow morning," he said. "We're sparring."

She perked up at that. "Hand-to-hand, or regular?"

"Both," he said. "If you want."

"Of course I do." She turned her head to gaze at him. He'd also stretched out on his back beside her, his black hair spread out around his head on the roof. His scarred side faced her, and he seemed to realize it, because she saw his eyes dart over to her and then saw how he turned his face away as much as possible. Even when a lot of his self-consciousness had fallen away with the alcohol, this still remained.

Ozai should die, Katara thought suddenly. He should die, for this and for everything else.

Yon Rha's face flashed through her mind again. Her tipsiness lowered her guard; she was unprepared for the wave of rage and pain that hit at the image. At the knowledge, all over again, that she was alive because her mother was not. Katara had always felt guilty about that day. Always wondered whether she could have run faster to get to her father. Wondered if it should have been her instead. Now she knew.

It was supposed to be her.

And quite suddenly, she burst into tears. She thought she'd gotten it all out during her long bath.

Apparently she'd been wrong.

Zuko scrambled into a sitting position, looking horrified. "Katara…?" he asked weakly.

"It was supposed to be me," she sobbed, burying her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

She felt Zuko scoot closer, the warmth of his body pressed against hers. An arm slipped around her shoulders, his hand gripping her tight. And he just held her like that, a solid rock against her side while she cried herself out for the second time that night; until she felt dried out and exhausted and the violent weeping had devolved into quiet, broken sniffles. "I'm sorry," she finally said, hollowly.

Zuko's fingers squeezed her shoulder tighter. "Don't apologize." He hesitated. "Can I fix it?"

"No."

"Can't I try? Whatever Azula said—"

"Do you know Yon Rha?" Katara's voice had gone rather shrill again.

"What? Yon Rha?" Zuko sounded like he was frowning. "No."

"Azula introduced me to him," Katara said. "He's a retired Admiral."

"I don't really see what this has to do with—"

"He was the leader of the Southern Raiders. But she didn't actually need to introduce me," continued Katara. "I'd already met him once before. The day my mother died." Her voice shook and faded out.

Zuko sounded almost sick. "He…was he the one who…"

"Yes," she whispered. "I remembered his eyes right away. And his voice." She shuddered.

Zuko's hand on her shoulder had become almost painfully tight. "Katara…"

"It's fine," she said dully, though it wasn't fine at all. "The worst part was—" She stopped and tried to swallow the lump that had already returned to her throat. "The worst part was that I always thought it was random. But Azula said the Fire Nation came for a very specific reason. They wanted to get rid of the last waterbender. My mother…when I came into the hut and he was there, she told me to go get my father. And then she must have lied to him. Because I'm here, and she's not." Her lips trembled violently.

"I'm sorry," Zuko said hoarsely. "I'm so sorry. She was a very brave woman."

"I know," she mumbled, reaching for her necklace.

But it was gone, her throat bare.

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting away more tears at its absence.

"For what it's worth," Zuko said, sounding furious now, "I'm going to have a chat with Azula."

"Don't bother," said Katara, feeling very tired now. "What's done is done. Talking to her about it will only make her feel more vindicated."

It was quiet for a long time. Neither of them moved away.

"I wanted to kill him," she finally admitted.

"Understandable," said Zuko.

"No, you don't get it," she said fiercely. "I actively… fantasized about it. I even wished I was a firebender so I could burn him slowly. I thought about how I could make it slow as a waterbender. I imagined pushing liquid into his lungs and drowning him. I've…I've never felt so hateful before. It felt good."

Even though he'd gone very tense against her, Zuko merely said, "Don't judge yourself, Katara."

Katara wasn't sure what it meant that his solidarity comforted her. She tried to imagine telling Aang this, or even Sokka. Toph would probably be the only one not to worry. Sokka would look concerned. Aang would think she was losing it entirely. Maybe she really was. Maybe this place was rubbing off on her. What would that slowly festering part of her be like, if she stayed here for years and years?

Who would she even be?

"I think I want to go get some sleep now," she said finally, voice small.

"Okay." Zuko began to shift to his feet and helped her do the same.

She fixed her eyes on a spot over his shoulder, uncomfortable with being looked at now that her eyes were puffy again and she had been ugly crying on him. How mortifying. She blamed the drinking. The thing was, the rest of the time had been quite enjoyable. More enjoyable than she'd anticipated. Zuko had clearly been trying to cheer her up, and he'd succeeded.

So Katara took a deep breath and met his eyes. "Thank you," she said. "For bringing me here. It was nice."

Zuko's amber gaze softened. "I'm glad."

"And for listening," she added.

"You listened to me, too," he reminded her. "And you helped me a lot, earlier today. Thank you."

They quietly looked at each other, and for the first time Katara was very unsure where they stood.

At the beginning there'd been mostly open hostility. Then they had waded into their tentative, uneasy truce. But this felt like something else now, something more than just tolerating each other for the sake of practicality. A very shaky bond, perhaps. And that was actually distinctly terrifying. The truce felt much easier than this. It had unspoken rules and guidelines. This did not.

Katara sighed. "And that fruit tart was one of the best things I've ever tasted."

A grin broke out over Zuko's face, and it took her aback the same way his laugh had. "Sweet victory."

"Don't get too smug," she warned him.

"I'll try to reign it in," he said, carefully leading her the safest path down the shingles.

Chapter 11: The Quandary

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Katara woke up feeling horrifically, stiflingly hot.

She sat up, pushing the covers off her with a ragged gasp. There was a pool of sweat on her lower back, as well as beading along her hairline and the back of her neck. Her hair felt too thick and heavy, and her heart pounded faster than usual after drinking the night before.

It really hadn't even been that much. Maybe Zuko had a point about her being unable to hold liquor.

Reflexively, Katara glanced beside her.

Zuko was curled on his side, facing away from her, his shoulders still lifting and lowering in slow, even movements. Still asleep. Judging by how far the sun reached into the room it was already past midday, so he must have really needed it. The late hour partially explained the heat, though today was also just boiling. Katara hadn't thought the days could get much hotter here, but she suspected the Fire Nation summer would continue proving her wrong. Even after sleeping in, it was exactly the sort of day for lethargically lying about on the beach.

Sparring anytime before this evening was probably out of the question.

What Katara really wanted to do was explore the roof and watch the rotations of the perimeter and the guards from above, preferably without Zuko this time. She had not forgotten Mavang's words about the ease of sneaking around in the palace. She must speak from experience. Maybe there were passages, ways to get the Lilies and other courtesans secretly in and out of rooms.

If there was a way to be certain she wouldn't be caught on the full moon…

The temptation to go pulled at her stronger than ever before. She hated doing nothing, the passivity of it all. She hated just waiting for the next person to torment her. She hated being unable to receive real news from her family and friends.

She was broken off from her musings by Zuko, starting to stir slightly beside her.

But before he could fully wake, the door to their room burst open.

Zuko shot up in much the same way she had, quickly and with a low gasp. He was deeply flushed from the heat, his legs tangled haphazardly in the sheets. Anger immediately contorted Zuko's features at the intrusion, but it fell away so quickly it was jarring, into a flash of brief terror before his expression settled on solemn reverence. He bowed his head.

The only person that could simply waltz into Zuko's quarters without an invitation was Fire Lord Ozai.

And indeed, he strode into the room with three guards trailing him.

Katara felt suddenly very small and very exposed, sitting there sweaty and in her nightgown.

She hastily inclined her neck downward as well, heart pounding.

"Having a nice lie-in?" Ozai strolled over to the desk, poking around at the possessions sitting on it; the brushes, the ink, the scrolls of paper. He was dressed in heavy Fire Nation robes with full ceremonial shoulder pads, his long black hair flowing over his shoulders. Katara had no idea how he could stand it, but Ozai appeared fully unbothered by the heat. His fingers kept plucking up objects at random on Zuko's desk, examining them with an air of casual nonchalance. Zuko, for his part, looked like he was barely breathing.

Finally, Ozai looked directly at them.

He was even more terrifying at this time of day. Zuko's distinct glow, that raw, coiling power in the sun Katara had noticed at the height of his element, was gentle compared to Ozai so close to midday. The Fire Lord's golden eyes blazed, and he moved with a predatorial grace that made Katara begin wishing she was actually facing a wild animal in that jungle rather than this.

Right now, Ozai looked unbeatable. The guards around him were entirely unnecessary.

"Get up," he said softly.

Zuko and Katara had no choice but to obey. They shuffled over and knelt before him.

"I believe it's time we spoke about last night," Ozai said. "Now that you're both rested."

He still spoke casually, but Katara heard the undercurrent of danger in his tone.

"Father," Zuko said, very hoarsely, still staring at the ground. "You said she won't be punished."

"Yes, and I will keep my word on that, Zuko," said Ozai. "Though rest assured, waterbender," he continued, voice hardening, "if you were not attempting to conceive a royal heir I would happily have you whipped, one lash for each guard you attacked." Ozai paused before he addressed the guards behind him. "Remind me, how many guards did we find incapacitated last night?"

"Twenty-three," said one of them gruffly.

Ozai's eyes glittered. "Impressive, I have to admit. Twenty-three lashes would kill a person."

Katara felt the blood drain out of her face. She swayed slightly where she knelt. "I wasn't trying to attack them, Fire Lord," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I didn't want to hurt anyone. I was just trying to get down to the beach without being stopped. That was all."

A long, horrible silence settled into the stifling air.

Beside her, Zuko twitched, pale as a sheet.

"Oh, was that all?" Ozai said.

She only had a split second to realize that she'd said the wrong thing.

He moved so fast that she barely registered it. One moment she only saw Ozai's boots as he strolled before them. In the very next he lunged forward, his hand shooting out to wrap around her throat. A sound of terror clawed out of her chest, a wheeze and a whimper all at once, as he yanked her to her feet and then higher, so that only her toes brushed the ground.

His grip tightened, his face mere inches away. Ozai's teeth were bared, his eyes blazing brighter at her. Her entire body shook like a leaf, and she gasped desperately for air. "I could summon flames, you know," said Ozai calmly. "I could burn this little neck so badly you wouldn't be able to speak ever again. And perhaps we'd all be better off for it. How dare you speak in such a way to me? You should be begging for my forgiveness, not running your mouth and making excuses, you ungrateful, ill-mannered peasant."

"Father," Zuko choked out, sounding ill, "please, she didn't—"

"Say another word, Prince Zuko, and I'll change my mind and fry her vocal chords," Ozai said, his hand tightening.

Zuko fell into helpless silence.

Katara wheezed again, every instinct wanting to reach for his fingers and try to pry them off her. Instead she held very still, tears spilling down her cheeks as she stared into the Fire Lord's cruel eyes. "Beg for mercy," Ozai said, his palm starting to get hotter.

"Please don't hurt me," she whispered. "Please."

But Ozai only tightened his grip. "Apologize."

"I'm sorry," she gasped automatically. Her head was getting very light. If he kept clutching her like this much longer, she was going to pass out. "Please, it won't happen again. I'm so sorry."

His fingers wrenched open.

Katara crumpled to the ground in a heap, sucking in air. Black spots danced in her eyes as too much oxygen rushed back all at once. Humiliation and shame and terror roiled in her in powerful, all-consuming waves, right alongside the dark, familiar taste of rage.

"I suggest you learn to control your tongue," said Ozai. His gaze swept to his son. "You had to learn that lesson too, did you not, Prince Zuko?"

Katara barely caught a glimpse of Zuko's head bobbing as he slowly nodded.

"Consider this your only warning," said Ozai. "Do not think you are safe before heirs. I can still find many ways to punish you, Princess Katara, believe me."

She did. She stared at the floor, still shaking.

"Have I made myself clear, Princess Katara? You may answer."

"Yes, Fire Lord," she whispered immediately.

"Very good." He paused, then turned to address Zuko. "You will take her for a walk and ease the minds of any noble guests that she may have frightened with her rebellious streak last night. There is a meeting in a little over an hour that I expect you to attend. Do not be late."

"Yes, Father," Zuko mumbled, and then Ozai swept away, closing the door behind him.

Zuko was at her side faster than she expected, helping her to her feet. "Are you okay?" He still sounded very hoarse.

"Yes," Katara said shakily, impatiently brushing tears from her cheeks and pulling water from a pitcher to heal her neck before it bruised. "Just super. I've always thought that threats are a perfect way to start a day."

Zuko made a strangled sound and one of his hands twitched out toward her shoulder, but then dropped again as if he'd thought better of actually touching her. "We should hurry," he said quietly. He was still very pale. "We don't have much time if I don't want to be late."

"Okay. What kind of meeting do you think this one is?" Katara asked, both because gathering information was useful and because she wanted to think about anything else besides the Fire Lord holding her by the throat. All because she'd impulsively run away.

All because Azula had briefly felt threatened by her and had retaliated.

Anger tightened her stomach.

Zuko hesitated. "Well, the Fire Nation knows about Black Sun in a few weeks."

"What? How did—"

"Azula," said Zuko. Bitterness contorted his face. "As usual. The Earth King told her about your planned invasion when he thought she was a Kyoshi warrior. Now that you're, uh, here, the invasion won't be happening, but there still was that attack on the harbor. It's still a day where the Fire Nation is vulnerable. I'm guessing it's about planning some extra defenses for that."

"Oh," said Katara faintly, feeling nauseous.

Azula was always one step ahead.

They would have invaded and the Fire Nation would have been completely prepared.

"We should hurry," Zuko repeated, giving her an apologetic look.

"Right. Okay." She swiped the last of her tears away and hardened her resolve. "Do you want to use the washroom first?"

Zuko hesitated again. "I could move the room divider," he offered. "Because I don't think we have the time to get ready separately. I really shouldn't be late."

Katara blinked. "Oh. Of course."

She moved to the wardrobe, opened it, and stared at the various types of clothing in trepidation, envy filling her when Zuko reached over her shoulder and plucked one of his sets of robes without a care. Ty Lee had dressed her enough by now that she had a better idea what was appropriate here, but she still felt wildly overwhelmed. Zuko seemed to notice her distress. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know what's correct to wear without Ty Lee," she confessed.

He blinked, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. "Oh. Um…" He peered at her clothes. "I don't know much about what the etiquette is for you except for the really formal, traditional stuff."

"It's fine," Katara sighed. "I'll figure it out."

"Maybe that?" he suggested awkwardly, pointing at one that she suspected was at random.

She rolled her eyes and made a shooing motion with her hands. "Thanks, but not really helping."

Zuko disappeared while she quickly ran through her options. She finally decided on a cream-colored sundress that still came to her shins but twirled when she moved. It should hold out the heat well enough. It would have to do.

Katara slipped into the washroom to find the air wet and a room divider set between two of the bathtubs. Zuko's clothes hung on it, and there was already lukewarm water in her bath. She swallowed hard, her voice somehow dying in her throat when she opened her mouth to thank him. So instead she quietly and quickly divested herself of her clothing and slid in.

It was stupid to be jittery with him so close, just on the other side of this thin divider, but she was.

By now she was sure he wouldn't intrude on her privacy, and naked men were not a rare species, for spirit's sake.

Plus, she'd likely see Zuko eventually, either by accident due to close quarters or…well, not by accident. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe her nerves came from the reminders this brought of the upcoming conception week, something she'd mostly succeeded in not thinking too deeply about. She really didn't want to start now, either, so she occupied herself by finding nice smelling flowers from the array of petals and herbs on the ledge of the tub and dumping a probably too-large amount of them in the water.

All Katara could really do was ensure that she felt marginally clean again—not that it mattered, she thought ruefully. She would only start sweating again almost immediately after getting back out. As she was dressing, she heard the slosh of water as Zuko emerged, too.

She saw his towel and fresh robes pulled down from the divider.

Too late, Katara realized that she'd chosen a dress that didn't tie in the back.

She stared at it for a long time—there were little holes on one side and tiny little seashells on the other. Buttons. Katara quickly shimmied into the dress, pulling the straps over her shoulders and desperately trying to reach behind her to fix up the buttons, but she only managed three at the very bottom. It wasn't something one wore with wraps underneath; the rest of her back was exposed.

She clutched the fabric tightly to her front and sighed. "Zuko? Could you help me?"

There was a very long pause. Then Zuko cleared his throat. "With, uh…what?"

"I didn't realize the back had buttons," Katara said. "I can't close them."

Another pause.

"Should I come over there now, or…?" he asked finally.

Katara turned around so she wouldn't have to go through the ordeal of watching him approach, and gripped the dress tighter to her chest. "Yes," she said. "Go ahead."

Why did his footsteps seem so much louder than usual?

She was immediately aware when he was right behind her. His body radiated heat.

Katara swallowed again and tried to wait patiently as he started closing buttons, the tips of his unnaturally warm fingers occasionally brushing her spine. He'd buttoned only a few before he cleared his throat again and said, his rasp thick, "Your hair. It's, uh, in the way."

Katara used one hand to pull her hair over her shoulder, feeling immediately more exposed when air hit her bare skin. The silence only grew heavier as he continued closing the buttons. She really wished she wasn't standing in a humid washroom for this.

When he finally finished and drew away, Katara managed to calmly say, "Thank you."

"Sure."

When she turned around, she saw that the golden robe he wore today was the precise shade of his eyes. She forced a casual smile and flicked a wrist to instantly dry his wet hair. Zuko blinked. "Thanks."

"Anytime. Ready?"

Zuko just nodded, taking her arm as soon as they were out in the corridor and turning them to head along the way that Katara knew by now would take them to the beginning of the maze of gardens outside. They came to the rose gardens first, the pink and white and red colors bright in the glaring sunshine, fat bumblebees floating along among the petals. Katara inhaled their sweet smell and instantly felt a little bit better. That lift to her mood faded when she saw the clusters of people in the gardens and how they reacted to her.

Their expressions ranged from resentment to fear to nervousness, and they either fell silent or into hushed whispers.

Zuko pursed his lips and led her straight over to one of the groups, two men and two women that Katara vaguely remembered meeting the night before. They'd been neutral to her, though she seemed to remember them bordering on disdain. Judging by their faces now, that disdain had grown. They were silent for a moment before hurriedly making performative little bows.

"Prince Zuko," said one of the men in greeting. "Princess Katara."

They all eyed her, twirling their sun umbrellas, and Katara became distinctly aware that they were all dressed very differently than she was. The sundress had been too casual a choice, even on a day as hot as this, and the way their mouths tightened confirmed it.

"It seems that Princess Katara is intolerant to the heat," said the other man. "Or are the two of you preparing for a day at the beach?"

His tone was polite through and through, but when the others fought to hide their smiles, the intent behind his words couldn't be more clear. He was commenting on what they saw as a lack of manners and culture. Katara bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood, knowing that letting her temper flare up and informing them where, exactly, they could shove all their stuffy rules about clothing would only make matters worse. She'd been sent here to grovel, and grovel she must. All she could do was inwardly fume.

"The beach is an important enough place to attack Fire Nation guards over, it seems," said one of the women, loftily.

Zuko's hand curved around her waist. "The water reminds her of home," he said. "I understand what it's like to miss home."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the group at the mention of his banishment.

"But surely you don't condone attacking the guards, Prince Zuko," said the same woman.

"Of course he doesn't. And I shouldn't have done that," Katara said quickly, and they all looked at her. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I was just upset and trying to get to the water and I wasn't thinking clearly. I regret it."

She didn't, but she laced as much sincerity into her voice as she could.

They all just gave her simpering smiles.

"I've heard that hysteria can affect peasants sometimes," said the other woman, as if she were speaking of a rabid animal.

Katara stiffened, briefly overwhelmed by a hot flash of anger.

But the Fire Lord's fingers were still a warm, threatening ghost on her throat, so she forced herself to say nothing, even as she wished she could snatch their little umbrellas and use them to give them all a good whack upside the head. Zuko apparently had other ideas, because he opened his mouth to say something, though Katara silenced him with a subtle elbow jab to the ribs. He frowned down at her.

"Well," added the other man, "it's at least a relief that you seem fond of her, Prince Zuko. Incompatibility chances are so high with foreigners, you know."

"No," said Zuko. "I don't."

They tittered as if he'd told a very amusing joke.

Zuko's jaw tightened, and Katara had to elbow him again when the silence stretched on too long. "Well, I think we should probably continue our walk," he said flatly, and turned them away and swept off without looking back, Katara trying to keep pace with his rapid footsteps.

As soon as they were safely tucked behind a particularly large bush of pink roses, Katara turned on him. "Too surly, Zuko."

Zuko stared at her incredulously. "You aren't furious that they kept insulting you?"

"Of course I'm furious! But I don't have the luxury of doing anything about it."

"But I do," Zuko argued.

Katara drew up short for a moment, surprised by the fierce look on his face. Then she shook her head. "Not today. We're trying to ease their minds about me today, and it's much better they think I'm a witless, hysterical peasant than think I'm some dangerous enemy."

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, good point," he muttered. "Then let's get the rest of this over with."

They spent nearly an entire grueling hour out in the gardens, speaking to anyone they saw. Thankfully that first group was easily the worst, and though others were certainly wary, some tension seemed to ease after a conversation. Katara was no fool. She knew their relief and feeling of reassurance was coming from Zuko's presence, his steadfast support of her. And while he wasn't able to completely get rid of his signature scowl—he'd traded it for a strained looking smile that really wasn't much better—he did seem to make an effort to be calmer.

Being out in the sun and heat and doing all that damage control was more tiring than Katara had expected, even if they'd mostly just been standing around. Her steps were dragging by the time they made it back into the palace, which was only slightly cooler than outside.

"You're staggering," Zuko said.

"I'm just tired," said Katara stoutly. "It's too hot."

"If it's any consolation, a heat wave like this usually breaks into something much cooler." Zuko gave her a sheepish look. "Into, uh, well. A tropical storm."

Katara stared at him. "Which part is the consolation? Because what I'm hearing is that I'll have to endure several days of this, and at the end I just get a huge storm for my trouble."

"The storm really cools down the air for a couple days afterward," Zuko said hopefully.

"Ugh." Katara felt awful. She felt sticky and disgusting and awful.

One measly hour in the afternoon heat dealing with idiots, and she was drained. It was a large effort to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving through the corridor, and even then she only trusted herself to move slowly. Her mouth was parched. Likely all of her bodily fluids had been sweated out, siphoned by the humidity. The bath she'd taken had been entirely pointless, just as she'd suspected.

"You're going to make me late," Zuko told her.

"Yes, okay," Katara snapped, getting crankier by the minute, though she quickened her pace.

"You know, I think your clear intolerance to this heat did more to convince those people you aren't a threat than anything we actually said or did."

"I will murder you."

"Are you sure you'll have the energy? Or am I safe today from that particular—hey!"

Katara had smacked his shoulder. "I'll find the energy," she warned. "Don't test me." She paused. "But you go on ahead. I don't want to keep you. I wanted to go down to the kitchens."

He gave her a curious look, but didn't comment. "If we pass any guards, I'll hand you off."

She bristled. "I'm perfectly capable of walking alone, thank you."

"You were attacked in our room," said Zuko.

"And? I can defend myself."

"I know," said Zuko. "That's not the problem. It's my father's punishment when you win."

Katara fell silent, rather mollified upon knowing he wasn't being so careful because he thought she would lose. And of course it probably wouldn't matter if someone came at her and she only turned on them in self-defense. Yet again, Zuko made an excellent point.

If Katara aimed her bending at anyone at all, especially after last night, Ozai's wrath would be terrible.

"Fine," she sighed. "But I hate walking around with them."

"Sorry," said Zuko, sincerely.

They came upon a set of guards three corridors later, and after Zuko instructed them to take her down to the kitchens, he set off to the war room with a resigned expression. Katara watched him retreat down the corridor, feeling a twinge of anxiety.

Sometimes she wasn't sure where her worry for her own sake ended and her worry for purely his began. She was letting herself become far too comfortable with Zuko. She hadn't even been here that long, and already she'd softened too fast. He was easy to relate to, easy to sympathize with, and his loyalties to the Fire Nation were clearly murky. But she'd seen him wavering before, and it had not amounted to anything except a mess. It seemed Zuko would support her here, but he could not be trusted with much else, and she could not forget it.

Be careful with him, the voice in her head whispered, a strict reminder, as her guards took post just outside the kitchen door.

The kitchen was a grand, sprawling room, lined with several preparation counters where servants feverishly chopped stacks of raw meat. There were baskets of overflowing herbs and steamed buns, bundles of vegetables and piles of bright fruit, prepared trays of tea, and people shouting orders about deliveries. Dried herbs hung from the ceilings, and open sacks of flour and rice lined the floor beside her.

It was ordered chaos in only the way large kitchens were.

It smelled incredible. It was also horribly hot, but there was enough to look at that it pulled her focus from the temperature, her exhaustion slowly forgotten. Katara couldn't stop looking around. The vivid colors of the stacks of food. The steam rising in tendrils, hanging thick in the air. The way the servants moved around each other as if they had a sixth sense. Katara had taken up many cooking responsibilities in the tribe at a young age out of necessity, but she'd also always loved the act; the community of preparing something together.

Her heart swelled with nostalgia. This place was wonderful.

Roughly fifty pairs of eyeballs looked up as one and then blew wide when they saw her.

"Um," Katara said, cheeks heating at the undivided attention. "Hello."

They all fell to their knees, murmuring praises, which only made Katara feel more awkward. "Oh, there's no need for all that," she said quickly. They got to their feet, still watching her as though they couldn't believe she was real. "Please, just treat me like anyone else."

They stared at her, the concept incomprehensible to them.

"Princess Katara!" A stout little man hurried over to her from a row of pantries. From the look of his uniform, Katara guessed he was the head chef. The other workers returned to their business, though eyes flitted to her regularly, and some began to murmur to each other, still stunned by her presence. "I'm so, so honored to meet you." He bowed low. "You humble us deeply with your visit. Is everything in order? Was there a dish not to your liking, Princess?"

"No, no," said Katara. "The opposite. I came here to personally thank the head chef. Is that you?"

The man quivered with delight. "Yes, Princess!" He bowed once more. "I am Head Chef Rusai."

"I wanted to thank you for the sea prunes," Katara said. "When I tasted them last night, I could tell you how much effort you made to prepare them authentically." A lump of emotion grew so quickly in her throat it took her aback. Perhaps it was being here, in a setting like this, but the ache for her family and friends rolled over her with sudden, intense fierceness. "It was like having a little piece of home, just for a moment," she said, voice thick. "It really meant a lot to me, Chef Rusai. Thank you."

Rusai's eyes filled with proud tears. "Oh, Princess Katara! You are too kind! You know, if it's not too much trouble, there is something else I would love your opinion on."

"Of course," Katara said, intrigued, and Rusai bustled over to one of the many counters.

Katara recognized the meat he showed her immediately. "Seal meat?" she exclaimed, delighted.

"Yes, Princess," said Rusai, twirling his goatee. "Recently imported because of the alliance. I've heard that the Water Tribes dry it and make jerky, and I would like to make you some. Do you have any tips?"

"We can make it together, if you like," Katara said eagerly, and the room at large immediately paused again, staring at her as if she'd suggested they all fly to the moon together.

"You…want to work in the kitchen, Princess Katara?" Rusai looked terribly confused.

"If that doesn't disturb you. I loved cooking with my tribe back home."

Several of the servants had stopped where they held their trays, their jaws hanging open.

But Rusai recovered quickly. "Of course, Princess. It would be such an honor to learn from you."

"Are you sure you're not too busy? I really don't want to intrude."

"No, Princess," Rusai assured her, waving away her concern. "Supper isn't for some time yet."

And so it was that Katara found herself piling her hair on top of her head and going about showing Rusai how to make seal jerky. She showed him how to cut the strips and properly trim away the fat that would not dry properly; she showed him how to marinate it in a sauce, which wasn't a sauce that they used in the Water Tribes exactly, but they devised one that was close enough. She showed him the proper seasoning, and then helped him hang it in a smoke chamber just outside one of the kitchen side doors.

"There," Katara said, when they'd finished stringing it up from the ceiling, wiping their brows and smelling of smoky meat. She smiled at him. "Give it about half a day, and it should turn out right."

"I will have some delivered to you tomorrow, Princess," said Rusai, beaming. "Thank you."

"Thank you," Katara said, as they stepped back into the kitchen. "Would I be in the way if I stayed to help a bit longer?"

She found she didn't want to leave. After the initial shock of her presence, the servants all gave her continuous smiles when they passed her, and the environment here felt markedly different from being around the nobles and upper classes; the easy familiarity, the way they teased each other and joked around as they worked, even if they didn't dare do it with her; the way they seemed to have made a game out of lobbing things across the room and catching them in baskets, snickering and keeping points.

Rusai agreed, even if he still seemed bewildered by the wish.

Katara tried her best to blend in. She helped peel fruit and chop herbs and she learned their names. She watched the proper technique for arranging fruit on hotcakes, and she found a rhythm that allowed her to move smoothly around everyone in the kitchen, losing herself in the work and in the satisfaction of feeling like part of a functioning whole. After some time, they stopped bowing every time they approached her. Finally, though, several of them ushered her into a chair, insisting she take a break and offering watermelon juice.

She'd almost forgotten the heat in the flurry of activity, but now that she was sitting, she relished the rest and the drink. "Join me," she suggested, and though most seemed tentative to take a break in front of her, the little group that had been closest to her while they prepared food, including Rusai, huddled in a circle, passing around and sharing several watermelons full of sweet juice. "This is delicious," Katara said. "I needed it. Does the heat bother any of you in here all day?"

"You get used to it," one of the servants, a woman named Su, said. "Especially growing up here." Su had propped her feet on a nearby chair, grinning lazily. She had not used Katara's title, and though Katara didn't even notice at first, the others certainly had, because they watched her reaction with nervous apprehension. But Katara just smiled, and they all relaxed.

"What was your home like, Princess?" another woman, Min, asked eagerly.

Katara told them.

She told them of the sprawling, bright plains of snow and ice, about blizzards and fishing, about their huts and the furs they used to stay warm. She told them about days where the sun never set and days where it never rose. They barely made a sound, watching with wide, curious eyes, and by the end, many more servants had crowded around to tentatively participate, or at the very least they walked by far more often than necessary. Several asked questions. They laughed when she told them funny stories from her childhood, and quite a few finally got daring enough to tell her stories about themselves in return. Katara found herself grinning so hard her cheeks hurt.

Her terrible morning felt far away.

"I've always wanted to travel," said Rusai. "Collect more recipes. But hearing you talk is nearly as good, Princess. You've been to many parts of the world, haven't you? Just like Prince Zuko."

"Yes," said a raspy, amused voice from the door. "Just like me."

The servants went scrambling so fast that there was a flurry of chaos, several tripping and stumbling into each other. Watermelon juice sloshed onto the floor as they all hastened to drop to their knees for him.

Zuko was leaning against the doorframe watching them, and Katara briefly wondered how long he'd been there. It was likely he could have gone some time without being spotted, because Katara now noticed that nearly the entire kitchen was distracted from their duties.

"Prince Zuko," Rusai gasped. "We didn't—we were simply—"

"Please stand," Zuko said quietly. "You're not doing anything wrong."

Tangible relief rippled through the kitchen, and everyone got to their feet.

"Watermelon juice, Prince Zuko?" someone tentatively asked into the silence, and there was a bout of nervous giggling.

His mouth twitched. "Not today, thanks. I just came to get Princess Katara. Sorry for interrupting your fun," he added, and they all stared at him, seemingly unsure whether or not he was being sarcastic. When no punishment seemed to be forthcoming, their shoulders relaxed.

"Not at all, we need to start with more dinner preparations anyway, Prince Zuko," said Rusai. He glanced at Katara and smiled. "I'll have some of that seal jerky delivered to you tomorrow, Princess."

"Looking forward to it," she said kindly.

"Thank you for showing me the recipe."

"The pleasure was truly mine."

"If…" Rusai hesitated. "Well, I know the kitchen might not be a terribly exciting place for a princess, but if you ever wanted to come back…"

Katara just laughed. "I really like it here. I'll visit again soon."

There were smiles and bows and a chorus of goodbyes as Katara weaved through the kitchen and took Zuko's arm. The corridor felt much cooler after the steamy kitchen, and she was well aware that she was an utter disaster. Frizzy hair, sweaty, and smelling of smoked meat.

She didn't care one bit. It was the happiest afternoon she'd had in a while.

"I see you've been making friends." Zuko sounded amused again.

"Yes," said Katara, brushing stray hair out of her eyes. She scanned his appearance for clues about the meeting, and while the usual tight lines of stress were around his eyes and on his forehead, he didn't look nearly as ill as he usually did. "Was the meeting okay?"

"No worse than usual." His eyes went distant for a moment, but then cleared. "I thought maybe we could spar soon. If you're up for it."

She nodded.

But rest beforehand was necessary, so when they got back to their room Katara took a cold bath, put on a thin robe, and lay very still on the bed.

"Well, it looks like I have a very good chance of beating you today," said Zuko after a while, from a chair over at his desk. He'd been writing something on a scroll. His mouth pinched together and his forehead scrunched up when he was concentrating deeply, but right now he was smirking at her.

"I just needed to recharge," she said, rolling her eyes before closing them again. "You're still going down."

She heard a low, raspy chuckle. "Keep telling yourself that."

A brief flutter in her stomach, a small smile on her lips.

That voice in her head again: Be careful with him. Keep some distance. Keep your barbs.

And then a knock on the door. She froze, heart already starting to pump hard and fast as automatic terror flooded her. But when the door didn't burst open and reveal Ozai, Katara sat up, staring at the wood. Another brisk knock.

Zuko swept over to open it, his expression wary.

It was Madame Mavang, trailed by several Lilies.

"Madame Mavang," said Zuko, unable to hide his displeasure. "What a surprise."

Katara slowly stood and moved to stand beside Zuko. Madame Mavang was dressed in emerald green robes today, and they glittered in the low afternoon sun. She fanned herself slowly, and her signature smile spread across her face, sly and knowing. She finally bowed, and her Lilies copied her. "Master Katara and Prince Zuko," she purred. "I came to say goodbye. I'm leaving the palace, but I'll be down at the docks in my pleasure barge at least until…the full moon." Her sharp eyes lingered briefly on Katara, whose heartbeat began to speed again.

The full moon.

Mavang was alluding at help with getting to the lemon grove. Katara was certain of it. But Katara knew better than to think Mavang was going to help for nothing. She would want a secret as payment, a good one, and the only secret Katara had was the fact that Aang was alive. The whole war rested on that secret. She could not—would not—give it to Mavang.

Perhaps she could find something else to offer her…

Mavang bowed low again. "Well, goodbye, Master Katara and Prince Zuko," she said. "I do hope we meet again very soon."

And with that, she was already drifting away, a group of Lilies fluttering after her.

Katara's mind raced. What were the odds she could get to the lemon grove on her own?

Her idea—admittedly not yet very fleshed out—of using the rooftops or finding a passage still might work, though climbing back up onto the roof afterward might pose problems. And how would she pass the guards at the walls? Not to mention that she didn't have water pouches if she needed them. Still, if she could somehow manage a way around those things in the limited time frame she had to work with, it would obviously be far more secure than relying on Mavang and her Lilies, even if a bit riskier in other ways…

With a start, she realized that she had dipped away from hypotheticals and into active planning.

She wanted to go to that lemon grove.

As soon as the door closed, Zuko rounded on her. "What was that?"

Katara bristled. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Katara."

"No, Zuko, I don't."

"What's going on between you and Mavang?"

"Nothing. She's not really my type."

Zuko scowled. "Oh, ha ha," he deadpanned. "Again, you know what I meant."

"She just came to say goodbye. Why are you being so grouchy?" But she avoided looking at him.

"But why would she specifically come to say goodbye? And you were talking with her on the balcony last night, too." And then his voice changed, filling with horror as well as suspicion. "Please don't tell me you're entangling yourself with her. Did you give her a secret?"

Katara rolled her eyes and tried to appear calm. "What? No."

But Zuko was sweeping to stand right before her, his gaze far more keen than she was comfortable with. "Mavang deals in sex, gold, or secrets. And since I'm pretty sure it won't be one of the first two, that means you're dealing in secrets. What did you tell her?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Look, whatever she promised you—"

"Which one did you deal in, Zuko?" Katara shot back, trying to distract him. "Because it sounds like you're speaking from experience."

He ignored that. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

This made her pause, surprised.

She'd assumed that he was accusing her of treason, or had been trying to poke around about Aang and the spirit water again.

"Don't go to Mavang with it," Zuko urged. "Just tell me what's going on."

Katara scoffed. "Nothing is going on. And just because we're getting along a little better does not make us trusted confidantes, Zuko."

"I'm just trying to help! Are you saying you trust Mavang?"

"Of course I don't! I'm not stupid. I know she wants leverage or gold, and that if it's in her best interest to take advantage of me, she would. But at least I know where she stands. What to expect. It's just ruthless pragmatism, but she's consistent. You are not. I don't understand your motivations at all. Even if I did have some big, secret problem, why would you ever think I would come to you?"

Zuko's lips parted and he stared at her, too many emotions warring on his face to discern clearly.

Did you ever wonder what happened to Fire Lady Ursa? Mavang's lilting rasp reminded her, and Katara's insides squirmed with guilt as she remembered Zuko standing before the portrait of the royal family; the look on his face when he'd spoken of his mother.

But still she kept her mouth shut. Now was certainly not the time.

"Katara," said Zuko, looking almost desperate. "Listen, I know you won't believe me, and I get that, but I—"

"No." Katara shook her head. "No more, not today. Please."

And then she stalked back over and lay on the bed without another word. Zuko stood very still for a while but eventually went back to his desk without argument, his movements stiff and slow. Some time later, he spoke, carefully neutral. "Do you still want to go spar?"

"Yes."

"Now?"

The heat hadn't faded all that much, but Katara sat up anyway. "Yes."

They prepared exactly the same as they had last time. They ordered food, got dressed and put kimonos over their sparring clothes, and set off down to the beach. It was more crowded today, the nearby villagers flocking there to seek refuge in the waves from the heat. The sun had almost set completely by the time they reached the far shore and they shucked off their kimonos for the swim to the cave, which was no less eerie than last time. "Regular first?" Zuko asked.

Katara nodded, setting herself in position across from him.

They circled each other, eyes narrowed.

Katara struck first, warming up with an easy wave pushed right at him, one that she fully expected him to block. But he didn't.

He struck a pose and threw up his fists, but Katara only saw several sparks flicker on them before Zuko's eyes went wide and the wave crashed into him, throwing him back. She couldn't see him very well in the fading light, not now that the wave had pushed him further away, but she saw his outline slowly getting to his feet. "What was that?" she called, confused.

He didn't answer.

And then she saw brief flickers of flame, sparks that burst onto his palms but fizzled out almost immediately.

Katara caught flashes of Zuko standing there, palms raised upward, face pinched in concentration. All that continued to come off his palms were weak, stuttering sparks and furls of smoke. His silhouette moved; with a yell, he leaped and shifted through a full firebending form, jabbing fists toward the cave wall. And still, only the faintest of sparks emerged.

"Zuko?"

But he didn't seem to hear her.

He began kicking and punching, quick, desperate movements, making sounds of increased frustration when he couldn't call a flame.

Katara rushed over, taking his arm. "Zuko, stop."

"I can't bend." His breathing was ragged, and this close, she saw the sheer panic on his face.

She pulled some of the ocean water to her. "Okay. It's okay. Let me check you."

Zuko just nodded tersely, still distractedly staring down at his hands, his chest heaving.

Katara hovered her glowing palms over his chest, slowly moving down to his abdomen, her frown growing deeper as she went. "There doesn't seem to be anything physically wrong with you," she said. "Can you remember the last time that you bent fire?"

"The last few days have been so chaotic, I…" His hands had begun to shake. "I don't know. I think it's been at least two or three days."

Katara forced her expression to remain calm for his sake, but she'd never encountered this before. She knew how it felt when someone's chi was blocked, and this wasn't it. She remembered the terror she'd felt when she'd been blocked and couldn't bend; like a part of her had been ripped violently away. A gnawing, terrible emptiness and a deeply uncomfortable vulnerability. But at least she'd known the source.

"Do you feel any different?" she pressed.

"No." He reached up and frantically gripped his hair.

"Can you think of anything that might have changed from the last time you bent until now?"

"I…don't know." His expression was so agonizing to look at that Katara reached for his shoulder, gripping it tight. His eyes, somewhat dazed, finally found hers. A deeply frantic light had entered them; he barely looked like himself. "I need to bend," he rasped, voice breaking. "I'm the prince, I can't…no one can know about this."

Yes. Katara already guessed that many people here would see this as some sort of weakness.

"No one will know except for me and you," she said firmly. "I promise."

The tremors in Zuko's hands had worked their way into his entire body. It was wholly impossible for Katara to stay cold and aloof when he looked so scared, so vulnerable, and when she had such clear suspicions about what Ozai was capable of doing to his son.

His eyes were beginning to fade, turning as dangerously distant as they had been at the Agni Kai.

Zuko was disappearing again.

"We'll figure it out and fix it," Katara said fiercely, giving him a slight shake, trying to keep him here. "Okay?"

Zuko just stared unseeingly down at the cave floor, pale in the dark. She wasn't even sure that he'd heard her.

"My father," he croaked finally. "If he knew…" His words died in his throat, his eyes glazing further.

Instinctively, Katara gripped his face in her hands and tilted it to make him look at her. "Zuko. You said we're a team, right? We still are. So we'll figure it out and we'll fix it. We will."

His amber eyes were wide and hazy, trailing slowly across her face.

But slowly they began to clear, and Katara let out a quiet, relieved sigh.

They were standing so close to each other that his breath intermingled with hers. He smelled vaguely of cinnamon, and the other scents she knew by now were his, the ones that clung to his robes. Earthy wood. Musk. Something herbal. Smoke.

Katara quickly released him and stepped away. "We should get back."

Zuko was blinking rather rapidly, and he shook his head once as if to clear it. "We came all the way here. We can still do hand-to-hand."

"No," said Katara firmly. This new concern put all thoughts of sparring practice out of her head. She would not be able to focus, and she doubted Zuko could either. He looked and sounded so terribly hollow. How long could they hide the fact that Zuko could not firebend? "Maybe you just need more rest. We can try tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Zuko agreed after a pause, rather numbly.

And so Katara took his arm, and she began guiding him back to the sea.

Notes:

Zutara in the cave after Zuko loses his bending by beanaroony

Chapter 12: The Visit

Chapter Text

The black ash fell from the sky and the white of the snow darkened, the landscape changing in seconds.

But Katara ran on small legs, the air bursting from her lungs and into clouds in front of her, easily visible in the sharp cold. She skidded to a stop in the doorway of her hut. A tall man stood over her mother, a large, terrifying man in Fire Nation armor. He turned slowly at her arrival, eyes under the helmet brimming with cruelty and impatience, and Katara shrank back. Her legs turned to water.

She looked to her mother, needing reassurance, needing to know what to do—

"Just let her go and I'll give you the information you want."

"You heard your mother. Get out of here!" The man's eyes blazed at her.

And then suddenly they were right before her, their color shifting. Brighter amber than before. Blazing at high noon, unnatural, a merciless gleam. Katara reached for her neck, opening her mouth for air that wouldn't come. Her head was far too light—

She woke with a start, her eyes flying open even as her body could not move.

Every limb was briefly frozen in utter terror, her heart racing so fast it hurt.

She blinked rapidly, pulling herself out of the dream. There were no cruel eyes before her. She was lying on a soft bed, and the room was dark, and no one was hurting her, even though it was still atrociously hot. How could it even be this hot so late? She could feel sticky sweat all over her again. The faint sound of hesitant sparks pulled her awareness back faster.

Still half-asleep, Katara peered beside her in the dark.

Zuko sat up in bed, trying to pull fire to his hands over and over.

"Zuko?" Katara asked hoarsely. He startled at the sound of her voice, looking over. Katara slowly sat up, kicking the covers off her and trying not to pant. Her entire body felt like it was burning. "What are you doing?"

"Did I wake you?" He resumed trying to create fire. A brief spark, a fizzle, a tremor of his hands. As Katara's eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw that Zuko's amber ones were drooping with exhaustion. He glared at his palms again. A brief spark. A fizzle.

"No," Katara said, frowning. "But…"

A brief spark. A fizzle. A growl of frustration.

Katara reached out and snatched one of his wrists. "Stop. Zuko, you need to stop."

"I need to bend."

He tried to shake her away, but she clung tighter. "No, you need to go to sleep. That will help much more than sitting here awake and exhausting yourself trying to bend." When Zuko just sat very still, staring at his palms and a new scowl forming on his face, Katara sighed and tugged gently at his wrist. "Please?"

Zuko's shoulders slumped. "I can't sleep," he muttered.

"Then I'll go ask for some herbal tea." She shifted, but Zuko scrambled up first, shaking his head.

"No, sorry, I'll…I'll do it. You stay there and go back to sleep."

"I feel like I'm on fire. I'll be very lucky to fall back asleep," Katara grumbled, lying back down and trying very hard not to think about the temperature as Zuko strode over to the door to request tea.

After, rather than coming back to bed, he went to one of the wash basins and began dipping several of the small towels in them and wringing them out. "Here." He came over to her side of the bed and handed two to her. "One on the forehead and one on the chest helps. And the feet." He draped the third over her bare feet with surprising delicacy and the coolness that washed over her from that alone was astonishing.

She put the other two on her as instructed and instantly felt a little better. "Thank you."

"Yeah. Sure." Zuko hovered awkwardly, his eyes darting to the edge of the bed.

"Do you want to sit down?" she asked, a bit of amusement flaring in her.

He nodded jerkily and sat. "I really didn't wake you up?"

Blazing eyes. Cruel eyes. Air that wouldn't come.

"No," said Katara quietly. "I had a bad dream."

His eyes flicked to hers. "Oh. Are you, uh—"

"I'm fine." She sighed and closed her eyes. "I don't know how you stand this. But I guess firebenders are really warm all the time, aren't they?" She paused thoughtfully. "You know, it really is interesting that the other three need their element from the outside. But yours…it's inside. I wonder if that also means only firebenders can have a bending block, since you need to access it yourself."

Zuko scoffed. "That would be pretty ironic."

She opened her eyes. "Why's that?"

Zuko gave a little shrug, staring at the opposite wall with a slight twist to his mouth. "We're always told that's part of why firebenders are superior. We're blessed with inner fire." He waved a dismissive hand.

"Maybe we could look into firebending a little," Katara said slowly, propping herself up on her elbows. "There's the library. That might help. And there are other things I've been wondering about."

"Like what?"

"Azula's fire, for example," Katara said. "Why is it blue?"

"Because she's insanely powerful?" Zuko suggested, the familiar bitterness lacing his tone that seemed to appear whenever his sister entered the conversation, though he also looked thoughtful. "I don't know."

"It can't just be power," Katara said, shaking her head. "What about your father and uncle? Or you?"

Zuko scoffed again. "Thanks, but I'm definitely not in that 'powerful' category, Katara."

He didn't say it with any self-pity. To him it was a mere fact, like saying it was hot outside.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Katara said. "Of course you…" She trailed off, eyes glazing as memories of a room lit with an orange fire flickered before her. Sitting on the cushions, a bone thrown into the flames…

Abruptly, she burst into laughter.

She laughed so hard she clutched her stomach and rolled around from side to side, barely able to make out Zuko's irritable voice cutting in. "While I'm so happy you're having such a laugh at my expense—"

"No, no," Katara, sitting up and wiping her eyes, still trying to contain giggles. "It's…"

"What?"

"I met a fortune teller when I was traveling with Sokka and Aang," said Katara. "Aunt Wu. She…" She covered her mouth again, stifling another laugh. "She read my fortune. She told me…" She dissolved again, and Zuko eyed her with extreme displeasure as she snickered into her palm, but she couldn't stop.

"A fortune teller?" Zuko rolled his eyes. "Oh, please."

"Are you too good for fortune tellers, Prince Zuko?"

For some reason, this made him flush. "They're con artists," he said stubbornly.

"You sound like Sokka. All the villagers listening to Aunt Wu drove him crazy." She laughed again at the memory of her brother being so ornery, even as a pang tightened her chest at the thought of him.

"Well, what did she tell you?"

"I thought they were con artists," Katara said, raising her eyebrows.

"I still want in on the joke."

"Well, I asked her if she saw anything in my love line, and—"

"Hold on. You believe this woman can see the future, and the first thing you ask about is that?" His lips twitched and his eyes got brighter, the first time they'd done so since he'd lost his bending in the cave.

Katara's cheeks flamed. "Okay, Mr. Judgmental. Not everyone spends all their energy on hunting people."

Zuko made a small sound of relent. "Point taken."

"And she told me," continued Katara, "that the man I would marry is a powerful bender."

There was a long silence as Zuko just stared at her, a strange expression on his face.

But Aunt Wu's other words came back now, too.

I feel a great romance for you. The man you are going to marry.

She wasn't entirely sure where her sense of vague horror and discomfort at these words came from. That was good news, right? If Aunt Wu had seen correctly, that meant the war would be over, that this time in the Fire Nation would end, that she would marry again. Someone she actually loved; her great romance. The one she'd sighed dreamily about months ago, even if it felt like years. Like a different person had heard that fortune. And yet, these thoughts that should sound like good news still didn't make her feel any less odd.

The idea that this was her great romance was absurd. So where was Zuko in all this?

Did it mean that he would not survive?

Her stomach clenched and she blinked quickly, deciding that Zuko really didn't need to hear the rest of Aunt Wu's predictions. "Well," she said, maybe a little too brightly, "see? Now there's proof."

He rolled his eyes again, so hard it looked like it probably hurt. "I don't think we agree on the meaning of the word 'proof.'"

"So I'm guessing you've never been to a fortune teller?"

"I have. Uncle dragged me to one once." Zuko wrinkled his nose.

"And?"

"And what?"

"Oh, don't play dumb. What was your fortune?"

Zuko cast his gaze upward. "Oh, right. Now I remember. She told me that my future wife would be very nosy and very gullible to con artists. And that I'd be lucky to have a moment's peace once I—" The rest of his words were drowned out into a muffled protest when Katara lobbed a pillow at his head. She glared, but he just threw it back with a little smirk that she unfortunately had to admit was appealing.

A knock on the door announced the arrival of tea, which Katara was a little too grateful for. Zuko offered her a cup after the tray had been brought in and the servants had left, but she shook her head. "Thanks, but there's no way I'm drinking anything warm right now." The towels placed on her were already the same temperature as her skin. She picked them up, flicking a wrist so water soaked through them again, and then flopped gracelessly back down, sighing at the coolness.

"Maybe," said Zuko slowly, staring into his cup of tea, "I could go try and talk to my uncle again."

Katara looked at him. "Again? You already have?"

"Yes." He squeezed his eyes shut. "Well. 'Talk' is a strong word. He wouldn't talk to me. Or even look at me. Then I shouted at him like a child." He hung his head, his hair falling into his eyes. "He hates me."

"I'm sure that's not true," Katara said gently, before she could properly think. And then she grew frustrated. Why should she be comforting Zuko about this, anyway? About any of it? He was a big part of the reason Iroh sat in a cell.

"It's probably too risky anyway," Zuko muttered. "Azula already found out I visited him and warned me off." He suddenly drained his entire cup of tea and slammed it down, looking troubled. And then he stood and moved back over to his side of the bed, sliding in and staring glumly at the ceiling. As if unable to help himself, he tried one more time to call flames to his palms, then let his arms drop in resignation.

His eyes began to flutter not too long after. Something strong had been in that tea.

Katara waited until his breathing had slowed, and then waited some more.

And then she quickly and quietly stole out of bed, holding her breath as she crossed the room. But Zuko didn't stir. He only made a rumbling sigh in his sleep, his breathing getting deeper.

And so Katara crept to the window and clambered silently out of it, heart pounding.

She made it down to the ledge without falling, screaming, or crying, which she saw as a massive success. And then she continued up the roof, slowly and carefully, eyes alert in the night. When she reached the spot where she'd been with Zuko, Katara settled in, enjoying the faint breeze on her cheeks. But she hadn't come out here just to cool down. She'd come out here to watch. To listen, to plan, to calculate.

Katara stayed on the roof for what felt like hours, memorizing the layout of the sloping shingles and the grounds and gardens below. She sought out the best hiding spots. She noticed how the guards stood watch in rotations at the wall. She took note of their switching times, and she counted the bell that tolled at the watchtower each time it rang in the distance. Finally, as the sky began to turn gray instead of pitch-black, signaling an approaching dawn, Katara began her slow descent down the roof and back to her window.

Already excuses were on the tip of her tongue should Zuko be awake.

She'd just been too warm and had wanted to feel the wind.

The rooftop made her feel less trapped and she liked looking at the stars.

But there was no need. Zuko was still fast asleep when she eased back into her side of the bed.

Triumph made her mouth curl into a little half-smile as she closed her eyes.

The next few days passed in a hazy blur of uncomfortable, sticky heat that only seemed to get worse, as well as a rising sense of desperation when the full moon drew nearer and Katara scrambled to find a solution for the lemon grove that did not involve Mavang.

But darting across the grounds alone and unguarded was exceptionally foolish.

She needed another option if she was to actually go without Mavang's help, but time was running out.

When Zuko was with her they went for their usual walks, which always made Katara sweaty and cranky due to the heat and playing nice with people she would rather not. They spent time at the library, pulling enough books on different subjects to mask what they were actually reading about, but so far no information about firebending blocks was forthcoming. And they practiced hand-to-hand, although after Ozai had burst into their room Zuko insisted on going elsewhere. They had taken to sneaking down to the bottom floors of the palace, where not only was it unlikely someone would come across them in one of the many spare rooms of the palace, but also where it was underground and, blessedly, a bit cooler than up in the royal quarters. Katara became winded much faster than usual in the heat. And trying to aim kicks was a real pain in the dresses she had to wear, but she thought she was at least making a bit of progress.

Once, she finally even managed to land the chopping strike to Zuko's throat.

He staggered back, massaging it with a low wheeze, and she put her hands on her hips, beaming.

"Ha! I got you! I finally—"

Zuko recovered and attacked with almost inhuman speed. Distracted, she put her arms up to block, but her form was all wrong, drawing in her haste on her waterbending stances instead. She wasn't sturdy enough when he struck, and she stumbled; before she knew it he'd grabbed both her wrists, yanking them roughly behind her back and trapping her arms at a twisted, awkward angle while he spun her. He pinned her back to his chest, tucking one arm tightly around her torso. She struggled, but his arm only tightened.

"This is what you get for celebrating in the middle of a fight," he said, voice low in her ear.

"Jerk," Katara snapped, twisting violently around to try and free herself. But it was useless.

"Don't bother," Zuko said, sounding amused again. "If this were real, it would be over for you."

"Well, it's not real, so you really could have just let me have my brief moment of pride."

Zuko was a relentless teacher, and very sparse with his praise.

The irritating thing was that it made Katara crave it even more.

"For someone practicing you sure hit my throat really hard, you know that?" He let her go, and she took the opportunity to whirl and attack, hoping to catch him off guard. But he'd expected it. His forearms met her fists, crossed in a firm block.

His eyes glinted tauntingly at her from behind them.

Furious, Katara unleashed a barrage of kicks and punches, but Zuko still lazily blocked each one.

Katara changed tactics, swinging out for his knees instead.

She failed, but not entirely. Though he was able to catch hold of her ankle, he wasn't able to stop her from putting some force into his shin beforehand, enough to make him stagger again. She wrenched her body weight, and they both went toppling to the ground. Strong hands had her arms pinned beside her head before she could even blink, and Katara glared at Zuko over her, panting but unbearably smug.

"Again," he said, "don't bother."

He was very close. He was also on top of her.

Images and feelings came back from the last time he'd been like this, things she usually repressed. His body on hers. In hers. Pinches of pain, and flashes of humiliation and anger and bitterness at the vulnerability of it all. Her body betraying her with brief flashes of warmth, those little spikes of thrill. Katara's chest drew tight.

"Get off," she said, struggling to keep her voice even.

Zuko seemed to notice her change in tone and mood because he did so immediately, scooting away and watching her with clear unease as she slowly sat up.

"Fine. You win," she said, hoping to break the silence with a return to taunting banter, which was where she always felt most comfortable with Zuko.

"Katara," began Zuko quietly, but she cut him off.

"But one of these days I am going to best you without bending," she continued, still far too lightly and without looking at him. She rose to her feet and brushed off, frowning at a tear in the hem of her dress.

Zuko copied her, also slowly getting up. "Katara," he repeated, more firmly.

She turned, her lips pursed. "What?"

His expression was closed off and cautious. "Were you uncomfortable that I pinned you?"

"No." She turned back around and began rather unnecessarily brushing herself off again.

"It really seems like you were."

Scowling, wishing he would just drop it already, Katara rounded furiously on him. "We were sparring. That's normal. I know you're not actually going to hurt me, if that's what you're worried about."

Zuko hesitated, a flush slowly filling his cheeks as he scratched the back of his neck. Katara had a feeling she knew where this was going, and she fervently hoped Zuko would be uncomfortable enough not to move forward with it. But she had no such luck.

"No, it's…I mean, if it's because of…you know, um, when we—"

"We really don't need to discuss this." Katara's cheeks and neck flared with vicious heat, and it was not from the temperature outside.

Nor, unfortunately, was it from the sparring.

Zuko's hands curled into impatient fists at his sides. "Look, next week—"

"—is next week's problem," Katara finished firmly. "Now can we please just get going?"

Scowling, he fell into step with her, but to her relief he didn't push the subject any further.

And despite brief moments of awkwardness and the frustrating losses, sparring did make Katara happier.

Sparring was the only time that Zuko seemed marginally happy, too. He was grumpy or downcast most of the other times she was around him, and more than once she caught him still obsessively trying to draw fire when he thought she wasn't watching. And it occurred to her, three nights before the full moon as she lay in bed beside her sleeping husband, waiting to safely sneak onto the roof, that she didn't have to give her secret about Aang to Mavang for her services. She had another secret right in front of her. A secret that wasn't hers.

No, she thought, horrified at herself. No. You promised him. That is needlessly cruel.

But another protest rose in her as well.

He would do it to you in a heartbeat. You know he would. It will likely come down to you or him one day.

Don't be a soft little fool like in Ba Sing Se.

But now Zuko's previous actions had context. Now she knew what would happen to him if he stepped out of line, and what had happened to him here before. His choices came from abuse and desperation. Context didn't excuse, but it certainly mattered. Because now she understood him, and part of her had already forgiven him, even if she did not trust him. And that made it so much harder to be callous.

She shook her head, trying to clear it. Regardless, Zuko's fate was intertwined with hers. If something happened to him because of his lack of bending, it was as she'd said to him before. She'd probably be pawned off on someone else, which absolutely could not happen.

Her best chance at self-preservation was also keeping his secret, and Katara found that she was deeply relieved to have this excuse. She did not want to examine whether she was capable of betraying Zuko.

Plus, she still had time. She was determined to do this without Mavang.

And so when she wasn't spending time with Zuko or Ty Lee, who also liked to walk the gardens with Katara, chattering about whatever came to her mind, Katara researched. She tucked the map of the palace she'd borrowed from the library into a book and studied it instead of reading, and scoured books on architecture, hoping she could detect anomalies.

She made excuses to walk the palace with Ty Lee and not just the gardens, and she memorized what she saw. Still, Katara wasn't entirely sure how one went about finding a secret passage in a massive palace.

Every night she spent hours on the roof, sneaking out after Zuko fell asleep.

She took the map up there, too, and studied the walls and windows and turrets with keen eyes.

And finally, two nights before the full moon, she noticed something.

Something promising.

Katara tucked her map into her dress and began quietly darting over the roof, to the domed glass of the sun room. She'd been in the sun room before, of course. She'd spent a few days there, perched on Zuko's lap for several hours, posing for a play that still had yet to come out but was sure to be awful when she did inevitably have to see it. And Katara, sitting on Zuko's lap as she had, had found the room far more fascinating than usual, desperate for any excuse to forget where she was and who she was sitting on.

So she knew the interior of the sun room quite well, and there was a strange little section of roof that extended behind the wall. And yet it couldn't belong to any other room, for it was on the back wall.

Heart fluttering with excitement, Katara moved to the sun room's domed glass roof and peered in.

It was dark, of course, but nothing seemed to move; it was deserted in the middle of the night. The ledges of the windows on the other side were thinner, but after some careful maneuvering, Katara dropped down and pulled the latch, swinging inside.

She landed almost silently on the hard floor, in a low crouch. After scanning the room one more time, Katara straightened and moved to the wall with the empty section of roof beyond it. Perhaps the space meant there was something behind that wall.

It was deeply unfortunate that it was the sun room, because the place was very cluttered. Artists were often not the cleanest sort, and Katara lamented that fact as she shifted aside clutter so she could properly move shelves and feel around in them without knocking things over and making noise. She tried pulling books and scrolls and sliding her palms around for secret latches or panels. She scoured every inch of the wall that she could. The sky was beginning to turn gray again and Katara was just about to give up when she spotted something behind a thin tapestry with a typical Fire Nation insignia. A minuscule inscription scratched into the stone, only visible because she stood with her nose right at the wall.

But the shape was undeniable. A Fire Lily.

Heart pounding again, Katara reacted on instinct, pressing the stone firmly.

There was a loud scraping sound and she flinched, eyes flying automatically to the door, but after several long, terrifying moments no footsteps came to apprehend her. She turned her attention back to the wall to see that a narrow hole had opened in it, tiny and circular.

Excitement tingled each of her nerve endings, her lungs drawing short. She'd done it. She'd actually found one.

She would have to crawl on her hands and knees to move through it, but it was a passageway.

The sky steadily grew lighter, and Katara had no more time. She would have to explore where it led tomorrow. With any luck, it would get her outside of the palace wall. For now, she pressed the stone to seal it up and carefully settled the tapestry back in place.

With one last sweep of the room to make sure everything was how she left it, Katara climbed out the window and went back to her quarters, hoping, as she did every night, that Zuko was still sleeping. When she emerged from the washroom she heard, to her deep relief, the slow breathing that indicated he was. Katara was exhausted; she was losing a lot of sleep with her nighttime explorations, but even so, she found it difficult to drift off. The full moon was coming, and that made her restless. Antsy. Her chi vibrated with it.

And now she'd found a possible solution to get to the grove.

The thought was so exhilarating, the triumph racing through her so intensely, that she was still lying awake when Zuko started to stir, waking exactly at dawn as she knew was usually his custom. Katara quickly closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep.

Zuko's weight on the bed shifted and then vanished as he stood, and Katara waited for him to leave, trying not to appear too tense. But his footsteps came to her side of the bed, and it took every bit of her self-control not to yelp when his fingers suddenly wrapped around her ankle. She jolted a little, but thankfully he must have taken it for a reaction in her sleep, because she only heard a soft chuckle.

It became clear what he was doing when one hand held her ankle still while the other carefully slid off her shoe. And then he moved to the other foot and discarded that one too. Katara kept her eyes squeezed shut, inwardly cursing her mistake.

How could she have forgotten to take those off?

She heard Zuko set the shoes down beside her bed.

There was a pause in which he didn't seem to move at all.

And then finally, finally, she heard his steps retreating, away to the washroom.

When the door clicked closed, Katara could let out the exhale of relief she'd been holding.

Maybe she could still get a few meager hours of sleep.

The air was even heavier the next day, proof of the impending storm Zuko had told her about.

Katara's lack of sleep made her eyes swollen and itchy, and though she did spar with Zuko again, she was much worse than usual, with little force behind her movements due to fatigue. Once, when she tried to block one of his lighter attacks, she even ended up falling back and landing hard on her butt, a shock of pain going up her spine. Zuko helped her up, scrutinizing her face with a frown. "Are you sleeping?"

"Not well," Katara mumbled, rubbing her tailbone with a wince.

"That's enough for today," Zuko said firmly.

Katara didn't argue. "I think I'll try and take a nap," she said.

"Can I show you something first?" He looked almost eager, his eyes just a little brighter.

"Sure," she said, rather cautiously.

Zuko led her to the inner courtyard, the one with the turtleduck pond. Katara copied him when he sat at the edge of the water, and his golden eyes scanned the bushes on the opposite bank closely. There was a soft rustle, and he pointed. "Look in there. Can you see them?"

She tried to follow the line of his finger into the underbrush. "No." But then she saw movement, something very small and fluffy. Multiple somethings. Her eyes lit up. "Oh!"

"They hatched about a week ago," said Zuko. "Do you see the little house for them?"

Katara squinted, and also saw glimpses of a little wooden structure nestled in the foliage. "Yes."

Zuko nodded. "With the storm coming up I hope they'll move in there for a while, but they've slowly ventured out of the bushes the past few days with their mother. I've been coming down to keep an eye on it sometimes. Make sure the male doesn't come back. Or if he does, that he doesn't cause problems."

Katara looked at him. Zuko was watching the turtleducklings with a soft set to his features that she didn't think she had ever seen on him before, but also a resolute set to his jaw. Her heart fluttered.

"What sort of problems would the male cause?" she asked.

"Aggression toward the ducklings," said Zuko.

Katara flinched. "His own children?"

"I think that mostly happens when it isn't his own children. Because as soon as he mates with the female, he leaves. But I don't know. Male turtleducks are pretty jealous when it comes to the females. If he comes back to mate her again and sees the ducklings as a threat to her attention, then there might be a chance he would kill them. I looked up what scents might keep him away and sprinkled some herbs around the bushes. I hope that's enough." His face flickered with sudden wistfulness, both happy and sad. "I was a kid the last time there were turtleducklings. My mother was here. She..." His voice grew a little choked. "She would really love this."

Katara scooted a little closer, surprised by how overwhelming her urge was to hug him. She resisted. "Oh, Zuko. I'm so sorry."

Have you ever wondered what happened to Fire Lady Ursa?

Guilt rippled through Katara all over again.

Not yet, she thought. After Mavang sails. After she leaves, I'll tell him.

"I never would have taken you for a duckling caretaker," she teased, trying to lift his spirits.

He elbowed her lightly in the ribs. "Oh, shut up."

"What? It's not a bad thing." And then, seeing some nobles appear on the other side of the courtyard, she tucked her head on Zuko's shoulder while she began tugging off her shoes to soak them in the cool water. Keeping his own end of the bargain for their public relationship, Zuko slid an arm around her shoulders.

The air was heavier than it had ever been since the heatwave began, wet and stifling. Katara closed her eyes, drowsiness stealing over her, especially when sitting in the warm sun. She didn't know how much longer they sat there like that before Katara felt a shadow over her, blocking out the sun. "Well," said a terribly familiar voice, both cold and saccharine, "how picturesque you two are."

Katara peeled her eyes open to see Azula standing over them, arms folded.

Katara immediately lifted her head and lurched back in surprise. They were the only ones in the courtyard now; Katara vaguely wondered if she actually had dozed off. Zuko's grip tightened on her shoulder. "What do you want, Azula?" he asked, very roughly.

Azula smirked. "I come in peace."

"Unlikely." His glower didn't fade.

"Really." Azula raised her arms, tone turning even sweeter as she addressed Katara. "I have a surprise."

"No thanks," Katara said. "I really didn't like your last surprise."

"Ah, well," said Azula. "I admit that my sense of humor isn't for everyone, but I do know you'll actually like this one. Promise. Consider it my way of making amends for the other night." She paused, her eyes glittering. When neither of them made any movement to get up, she said, "Father agreed to it. Come."

That only made Katara feel worse, and she did not enjoy Azula summoning her as one would a pet, but the mention of the Fire Lord was a clear message: she didn't have a choice in the matter.

Zuko rose with her, and they both brushed themselves off before sweeping after Azula.

Azula glanced disdainfully over Katara. "What are you even doing to tear your dresses like that?"

Katara's pulse picked up speed, but she tried to wrangle her emotions. "Just the usual peasant clumsiness," she said flatly.

Azula swept a sharp, calculating gaze over her, and Zuko shot Katara a look of clear warning.

Adrenaline now had Katara wide awake, her exhaustion forgotten as Azula led them out to the plaza in front of the palace. It was boiling in the afternoon sun, with no trees nearby for shade or to keep cool. Heat waves simmered above the stone. Except for the usual smattering of guards, it appeared empty. "Azula," said Zuko, warningly. "What is this?"

Azula just sighed. "Oh, do be patient if you can, Zuzu. I know it isn't one of your strongest qualities."

Zuko glared at her, but that only appeared to amuse Azula more.

It was probably only a few more minutes, even though the heat and the present company made it feel like much longer. But then Zuko nudged Katara and directed her attention to the sky. A massive, familiar shape was soaring downward toward the plaza.

Katara stared blankly at it for a minute, unable to properly register it. But as the shape drew nearer and nearer, and then as a loud, rumbling roar split through the air as the creature landed, Katara finally realized that it was real. It was not a trick. Appa had landed in the courtyard, the guards lining the perimeter eyeing him nervously but standing resolutely in place. Someone slid down Appa's side.

Katara's went weak at the familiarity of the blue clothing and the lithe, lean figure, as well as the boomerang strapped to his back. Her brother's dark hair was pulled into a top bun. His blue eyes scanned the courtyard and found her.

"Sokka?!"

Katara began to run. She forgot Azula and Zuko entirely. She only sprinted forward, her legs carrying her to Sokka of their own accord, and when she reached him she leaped on him so aggressively he staggered. He caught her, though, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a tight hug. "Sokka," she sobbed, tears already sliding down her cheeks as he gathered her close to his chest.

"Hey Katara," he said gently, and it was Sokka's voice, deep and slightly choked with emotion. He was real and he was here. He rubbed circles on her back. "It's okay. Everything is okay."

Appa let out a roar of dismay at being ignored, and Katara pulled back with a watery laugh, swiping at her eyes as she stepped forward to nuzzle against Appa's furry cheek. "Appa. I missed you, too." She patted him slowly. He nudged her back with so much weight that she stumbled, but Sokka was there to catch her. Sokka turned her by the shoulders and examined her carefully, his eyes tight at the corners.

"I'm fine," Katara assured him, before he could ask.

But he ignored her and kept looking at her with a frown, as if expecting to see an obvious injury. And then his gaze flicked over Katara's shoulder, and his body went rigid. Zuko and Azula had drawn closer, and when Katara turned she saw everyone observing each other with varying reactions. Azula seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself, Zuko looked nervous, and Sokka's dislike and rage were palpable.

"I see you received the letter," said Azula. "Welcome to the Fire Nation."

Sokka's jaw tightened. "Obviously I received it." His eyes swept between them. "I'm guessing it would be too much to ask that you give your new allies a few seconds alone so I can check on my sister?"

"That is not allowed," said Azula.

Sokka looked as though he would like to hurl his boomerang at her.

Katara, for her part, was wondering why Azula had asked for this at all, or why the Fire Lord had agreed to it. Zuko seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because he was watching Azula with narrowed eyes.

And then Appa let out a sudden, deafening roar and his head lurched forward toward Zuko. Katara saw Zuko's eyes widen in alarm.

But Appa just gave Zuko an affectionate and very messy lick from his toes all the way to his head.

There was a stunned silence.

"Why does Appa like you so much?" Sokka asked suspiciously.

Zuko was peering down at his sticky clothes in disgust.

But then he glanced briefly at Azula before he shrugged and said, "I don't know."

"Sokka, how are you here?" Katara asked, still clinging to him tight. She was afraid that if she let go, Sokka would suddenly disappear. "You said in your letter that you were told no."

"I was granted permission to come for a brief visit," said Sokka. "As long as I take Azula back with me."

Azula smirked. "I'd like to make sure things are running smoothly in the Northern Water Tribe."

Katara tried not to show her instinctive stab of panic.

She thought back to her first night here in the Fire Nation; what Zuko had told her.

Azula is up to something. She suspects that the Avatar is still alive.

And despite the heat, Katara felt an icy chill sweep over her. Now that Katara was securely married off to her brother, Azula was going to leave in pursuit of the Avatar. She was going to search for Aang.

What would happen if she found him?

Katara had to try and warn Sokka somehow. She could only hope he would be staying in a room with a window.

"Besides," Azula continued, "it's a much faster trip on that thing." She pointed at Appa, who growled fiercely at her. Azula took a pointed step back, though her expression remained calm. "And your brother also had two reasons for visiting, so we finally granted it in the spirit of our new partnership. Isn't that right, Sokka?"

"The Fire Nation has Suki," said Sokka to Katara. "I'm going to negotiate for her release."

Katara's heart sank.

"We'll see," said Azula condescendingly.

Sokka's fingers twitched, his lip curling in undisguised hatred.

"Where is Suki?" Katara asked her brother, but it was Azula that answered.

"The Boiling Rock. Our highest security prison."

Zuko blanched. He tried to cover it, glancing quickly at Katara again after, but she'd seen, and her heart sank even further. She took that to mean the conditions there were very, very bad. Unfortunately, Sokka saw as well. "If so much as one hair on Suki's head has been hurt—"

"She is the Fire Nation's prisoner," said Azula, sharper than before. "We do with our prisoners what we please, and we haven't broken the alliance by keeping her. She isn't even Water Tribe, correct?"

Sokka just made a sound very similar to a growl.

"Yes, that's what I thought," said Azula. She paused briefly, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Your girlfriend did have so much faith in you, you know. She kept thinking you would come for her. It was so sweet." She examined her fingernails. "But it took you quite some time to figure out where she was. Do you think she's given up hope, now that we are official allies and she still sits in a cell?"

Sokka started to lunge forward, but Katara quickly caught his arm.

"Sokka, no," she hissed, even as he struggled. "Don't let her get to you."

"Yes, Prince Sokka of the new colony," said Azula with a smirk. "Don't let me get to you."

"Azula," said Zuko sharply. "Stop it."

Sokka was staring at Azula with his teeth bared and his chest heaving.

"How long can you stay?" Katara asked her brother, trying to distract him.

"Just until tomorrow," he said, deflating a little and giving her a look of regret.

That was certainly disappointing, but it was better than nothing. Even being heavily monitored with Sokka the entire time was better than not seeing him at all. She scanned him just as he had done to her, but she saw no evidence of harm. No cuts or bruises, nothing that indicated any beatings or punishments. Still, the treatment of their people would be the first thing Katara asked about when she got him alone.

And she most certainly intended to speak with him alone somehow.

But as they made their way back to the palace to show Sokka his room after setting Appa up in a comfortable, shaded area near some komodo-rhino stables further down the road, Katara saw that it would be more difficult than she'd thought. They were not heading up, but down; to the rooms that she'd stayed in when she'd first arrived, where she presumed servants stayed. Busy and windowless.

Sokka was given time to wash up and then they set about going on a tour.

Though she couldn't talk with Sokka about any of the pressing matters, Katara tried to enjoy his presence, even if Zuko and Azula had joined them. She inquired about the health of the others, and Sokka made a few vague comments about new trade items, but it was clear there wasn't much to say in front of the royal siblings. Katara slipped her hand in his and walked so close to him that their shoulders brushed, bursting with both happiness and horrible sadness. Tomorrow, the pain of the loss would be nearly unbearable, bleeding fresh all over again when it had only just recently scabbed over. But she could not think of that now. She would enjoy the parts she had.

At least he was here. At least he was okay.

Azula did most of the talking, pointing out various areas of the palace as they moved through the grounds. When they came to the Fire Lord's throne room, Azula said, "My father will see you now."

For a moment, Katara gripped Sokka tighter. She didn't want to release him.

She didn't want Sokka going anywhere near Ozai.

But there was nothing she could do. Sokka's arm slipped through her fingers, and he gave her one last reassuring look and squeezed her shoulder before he went inside, following Azula and leaving Katara alone with Zuko once more.

"Would you like to wait here?" Zuko asked.

Katara couldn't speak, so she just nodded.

Not particularly caring if it was proper etiquette, she slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Judging by the way the guards glanced at her with distaste, it was not the right thing to do, but Katara didn't get up.

To her surprise, Zuko joined her. He touched her arm, lightly, as if he thought she would slap him away. "It will be fine," he said, scooting closer and keeping his voice very low so that the guards could not hear. He squeezed once.

Katara just nodded numbly again.

"Why did Appa like you?" she whispered finally, for something else to think about. If she sat here trying to listen for sounds of Sokka being harmed from inside the throne room, she would go crazy.

Zuko cleared his throat. "It must be because I freed him. In Ba Sing Se."

Katara glanced over at him, startled. "You did?"

Zuko made a small noise of affirmation, his eyes suddenly far away.

Sokka came out much earlier than Katara expected. Zuko stood first and turned to help her up just as Azula emerged as well.

Sokka was already frowning upon exiting, though she noticed it only deepened when he saw them. His blue eyes lingered on Zuko's hands, one of them in Katara's and the other on the small of her back to help her up. And though Zuko let go as soon as Katara was on her feet, Sokka's eyes narrowed, his face full of icy resentment as well as outright hatred and suspicion. A long, uncomfortable silence followed.

"I think it's about time for dinner," said Azula. "Let's take it in your quarters, shall we? We want Sokka here to see that his sister has nice accommodations. He sounded doubtful about her treatment."

"Do you two have your own rooms?" Sokka asked gruffly, pointing between her and Zuko.

"No," said Katara.

Sokka grimaced and then looked at Zuko with even more open hostility than before.

As they began to walk again, Katara asked, "Suki?"

"They'll release her." But Sokka looked grim, and Katara wondered what he'd had to give up for it.

"I'm so glad," was all Katara said, taking his hand again.

Dinner was awkward, to say the least.

The four of them obviously didn't have much in common to talk about, though at one point Katara did think to show Sokka her books. His eyes snagged on her architecture titles, so briefly she thought maybe she imagined it, but it was the fairy tales she focused on showing him. At some point, Ty Lee came in, and her eyes lit up when she saw Sokka. "Ohhh," she said, sauntering over and kneeling at the table beside him. "Katara's cute brother is here! I was hoping I would see you again." She batted her eyelashes.

Zuko rolled his eyes and Azula pursed her lips but surprisingly, she said nothing.

"I'm still with Suki," Sokka stuttered, clearly flustered.

"Ty Lee, this is Sokka," Katara said, trying not to laugh.

"Sokka," said Ty Lee, rolling the name so sensually in her mouth that the entire table squirmed.

"Enough, Ty Lee," Azula snapped. "You don't need to flirt with everything that moves."

Ty Lee just giggled. "I don't flirt with everyone."

Azula's expression only got more sour, though Katara couldn't imagine why the topic would bother her.

Ty Lee's warm attitude and easy chatter did infuse the air with something more calming, and when dinner was over the tension had lessened considerably. After dinner came dessert carried in on several trays, and throughout the time they ate, Katara caught Sokka examining the room with a hard set to his jaw.

Azula strode over to the door and spoke with the guards before returning to the table, and after dessert was over servants brought glasses full of something fizzy and bubbling to everyone but Katara.

Zuko, however, gave his glass back to the servant with a murmured rejection and a thank you.

"Do you regularly leave Katara out of things?" Sokka asked Azula, glaring at her.

"Oh, Princess Katara can't drink alcohol," said Azula. "Not when she is trying to conceive."

It took a second for the words to land.

When they did, Sokka went very still and his head slowly lifted to look at Katara, who wouldn't meet his eyes and wished she could melt into the floor; and finally at Zuko, who was likely not faring much better.

The silence that ensued was nearly as oppressive as the heat of the day.

"Cheers!" Ty Lee butt in quickly, raising her glass.

Azula copied her, still smiling, but Sokka shoved his away with a look of disgust. As it was, only Azula and Ty Lee drank, and the tension that Ty Lee had helped dissipate earlier was even higher than before.

The sad little get-together didn't last much longer after that. Azula insisted on showing Sokka back to his room, something that he clearly didn't have much right to refuse, and Katara watched him go with an ache making her chest tight. She still sat sadly at the table even after he'd gone. Only a few short hours with him, and for most of them he'd been provoked and angry and they'd had Azula ruining everything.

"She's going to try and hunt down the Avatar," said Zuko, as soon as they were alone again.

"Let her," said Katara, with faux confidence. "He's dead, and I wouldn't mind her absence in the palace."

Again, Zuko came to help her up. But this time he carefully turned her shoulders to face him and looked at her so seriously and intently that she had to stare determinedly at a fixed point on his cheek rather than into his eyes. "Katara," said Zuko softly.

He hesitated, his hands still on her shoulders.

"What?"

"The Fire Nation is wrong," Zuko blurted out desperately, and she blinked. And then words came spilling out of him like a burst dam. "I know that now. I've changed. I want to help make it right but I don't know how. I don't know what to do. And I'm sorry for everything. But if there's any chance that some resistance is building, that my father can be defeated, I want you to know that I—"

Katara wrenched away, feeling oddly panicked. "Zuko, stop it."

"You won't even hear me out?" His pleading eyes tried to meet hers, but she avoided them.

"There's no point." The ache in her chest grew to something physically painful.

Zuko ran his hands through his hair. "You really don't think someone can change? I know it will take time, but if you confide in me about things, I promise I can show you—"

"I've seen you in a state of moral flux before, Zuko," Katara said coldly. "Look where it got us."

His face twisted and he stared at her for a long time. "I know. I'm so sorry. This is different."

"So you say. But I don't trust it. And there is no resistance," said Katara. "No plan. Nothing. We lost, Zuko, so I signed a contract to come here and marry you and have your heirs. Why would I do something like that if Aang was still alive? Do you really think Aang would have let that happen? My family?"

Zuko's face flickered between hope and stubbornness and confusion.

The worst part was that he looked so earnest.

And yet…

"You've been good to me here," Katara said. "I appreciate that, I do. But you've shown over and over where your priorities lie."

"I know. I know I've messed up. I've made so many mistakes. But Katara, it's different now, I swear," Zuko said urgently.

Katara just shook her head and looked away, folding her arms tightly across her chest as if that could physically ward off this entire conversation. "Nothing you say is going to help, okay?" she said, tears pricking at her eyes. "Please just stop."

Spirits, she wanted to believe him. That had to be why she needed him to stop, why this conversation hurt so much. She wanted to see the best in him so very badly, because she'd seen the good side of Zuko often, and she liked it so much. Too much. It confused her and gave her hope.

But that almost made her even more terrified.

You've only been here a short time. His basic human decency has worn you down already, you soft little fool.

Zuko's eyes just got very bright with a mixture of determination and more stubbornness.

Then he took hold of her wrist and started pulling her to the door. "We're going to see your brother."

Katara blinked, but she let him lead her away. "Okay…?"

"He's worried about you. He'll want to talk to you and make sure you're okay, really talk to you. And I'm sure you want to ask him things too, about the tribes. You two should be able to speak freely. Alone."

Katara trotted after him into the corridor, stunned, and he took her arm more securely.

"If I can't say anything to convince you, then I'll show you that you can trust me more, Katara. You'll see." Zuko's jaw was set and he looked almost fierce as he moved them along into the depths of the palace, down toward Sokka's room.

Chapter 13: The Interception

Chapter Text

There were, predictably, guards standing outside Sokka's room.

But Zuko's presence deterred them from asking any questions, and they only shifted aside to let Zuko and Katara stand at the door and knock. It swung open after a few moments. Sokka's face softened when he saw Katara, though pulled into a scowl when he saw Zuko.

Zuko quickly dropped Katara's arm. "Come walk in the gardens with us," he said, and then seemed to realize how very commanding he sounded, for he added awkwardly, "Please?" Sokka's face scrunched together, but when Katara gave him a subtle nod, he stepped out of the room to follow them. "The gardens are beautiful this time of year," Zuko went on as they walked, and Katara suspected his words were more for the benefit of the listening guards than for Sokka. "It would be a shame if you didn't see more of them before you leave."

Zuko led them deeper into the gardens than Katara ever remembered going, and they finally came upon one that was a sprawling maze of hedges, as thick and imposing as small buildings and lined with sweet-smelling flowers. Cobblestones wove various pathways through the foliage. "I'm going up ahead," Zuko said pointedly, and then he was off, leaving Katara and Sokka standing alone among the hedges.

Soon the sound of his footsteps on the stones had faded, and only the chirping of birds as they tended to their nests could be heard.

"How is the North?" Katara whispered immediately, anxious to hear any news.

Sokka was watching the space where Zuko had walked off with suspicion. "He's listening."

"We heard him walk away," said Katara. "He isn't. He wanted to let me talk to you alone."

But Sokka's eyes only narrowed further. "You trust him."

It wasn't a question.

"No, I…" Katara hesitated. "Well…with a few small things I do, Sokka."

"Don't," said Sokka bluntly. "You know what he's like. He's just trying to butter you up."

Katara quelled a flicker of irritation, mostly because these fears were exactly what made it so difficult for her to be around Zuko.

"Sokka, the North?"

"Everyone is fine," said Sokka, lowering his voice. "Dad was beaten three times, but—" Katara gasped and covered her mouth, tears welling in her eyes, but Sokka continued quickly, "but he's fine, Katara, I promise. He was being defiant on purpose as a distraction. We've made escape plans in case the soldiers ever attack. It's difficult with them breathing down our necks the whole time, and it will probably only get worse when Azula checks in." His mouth tightened. "But we have a pretty solid plan to get the non-fighters out if the situation escalates."

Katara glanced around and leaned close to her brother to breathe into his ear. "Aang?"

"Smuggled out," said Sokka, equally quietly. "We sent Toph back to her parents and we managed to get him out with her. They didn't stay with the Beifongs, obviously. She's trying to gather allies, and Aang went to find that Guru again and get help with his bending."

"Was he progressing before he left?" Katara asked hopefully.

But she saw the answer on Sokka's face.

"No," he said grimly. "Honestly, and I hate to say this…but I had the feeling he was worse."

Katara's heart sank. That was very, very bad news.

"So…no changes to the plan," she said faintly.

"No changes," said Sokka, shaking his head. "Without Aang at full power, I think we'll lose. We might be able to drive them out of the Northern Water Tribe with luck and more allies, but the losses would be devastating. Attacking Fire Nation soil after that would be out of the question, even with Black Sun. We're outnumbered and overpowered, and it's still best to wait as long as we can."

Katara shoved down the part of her that had dared to hope she would leave the Fire Nation soon.

"Sokka, listen," Katara said, urgent now. She had no idea how long Zuko would leave them alone. "Azula suspects that Aang is still alive."

Sokka's lips parted as he stared at her. "How?" he asked hoarsely.

"I have no idea," said Katara. "But she told Zuko as much. She even gave Zuko full credit for killing the Avatar, and it must be because if Aang is found alive, it will discredit him. She can't get any hint that he might still be alive somewhere. She'll be looking."

Sokka looked very disturbed indeed. "Okay," he said finally. "That's good to know."

"There's something else," said Katara. She was itching to finally tell someone, someone she trusted. "I got a note asking me to meet on the full moon outside the palace. I already found a secret passage that might lead out there, but I don't know who sent it. I'm so tired of doing nothing, Sokka, but if you think the risk is too much…" She trailed off, but Sokka cut in quickly.

"No," he said. "I think you should go. It might be an ally, and gathering allies is the most important thing we can do right now. I don't think an enemy would send a note to meet you like that. Our enemies already have you. Just be smart, be careful, and don't get caught. The longer you can hold out here while we try and gather strength, the better." Sokka's mouth pressed into an even thinner line, and his eyes darted over toward Zuko's path through the hedges again. "How does he treat you?" he asked. "Be honest."

"Just fine," Katara said gently, taking his arm and squeezing.

He shut his eyes, swallowing hard. "Katara, you swear?"

"I swear." She hesitated. "What deal did you strike to release Suki?"

Sokka didn't open his eyes, but his face crumpled. "The Fire Nation heard that I was helping make inventions with the mechanist. They want…" Sokka choked over his next words, and it took him a second to recover and speak. "They want to send me off with a division from the Fire Nation and invent weapons for them while they're on campaign. In the Earth Kingdom."

Katara went numb with horror. "But…Sokka…"

"I have to," Sokka said. "I can try and make faulty inventions. I don't know. I'll think of something. But I can't leave Suki there, Katara. I saw Zuko's face when they mentioned that prison, and if even he knows how bad it is there…" He opened his eyes, and she saw his pain. "And anyway, Ozai made it pretty clear that they want my inventions. It wasn't a real choice."

That's why they let Sokka come here. Of course Ozai would want Sokka's strategically brilliant brain, and of course he would want him far away from the Northern Tribe. Katara could not help but think how exposed the Water Tribes would be now. Aang and Toph were both gone, and now Sokka was leaving too. "Oh, Sokka…" Katara reached out and took his hand, gripping fiercely.

"They're sending me to support a General that isn't a firebender," said Sokka, and the horror shot higher, into Katara's chest, until she couldn't breathe. Because that sounded like—

"His name is General Eza," said Sokka. "Have you heard of him?"

Katara swayed in place. "No," she whispered. "That's…you can't…"

"I take it you know him," said Sokka, looking grim again.

"He's awful," said Katara. "He's…" Fear for Sokka had clogged her throat, and she'd started to shake. "Sokka, you have to try and get out of it somehow. Negotiate with Azula on the way."

He grimaced. "You know that will only make her want to hold me to it even more."

"Try," Katara said. "Promise me, Sokka."

Sokka took hold of her shoulders. "I promise," he said, and then he yanked her into a hug.

Soon the rustling sound of Zuko returning drifted through the air, much louder than necessary, and Katara thought he might be purposefully knocking into the hedges to make noise before she heard his voice call out for them.

"This way," Zuko said, and Katara drew away from the hug, wiping her eyes.

She wanted more details. She wanted to ask Sokka if he'd heard about the attack on the harbor. She wished she had hours, days, weeks to talk to her brother. But their time was up. It had been enough of a risk to leave them alone in the gardens.

And so, full of bitter resignation, the Water Tribe siblings moved to catch up with Zuko, still clinging tightly to each other.

They lingered in the gardens, reluctant to end the walk even with the awkward tension in the air caused by Zuko's presence.

When they came back to the palace, Katara had a sudden idea to lengthen her time with Sokka.

"Oh!" said Katara. "Sokka, I want to show you the kitchens."

She wanted him to have some positive interaction with people that had been kind to her. Maybe then he wouldn't worry too much.

"The kitchens?" Sokka brightened a little. "I am hungry."

Katara couldn't help but smile. "Sokka, you just ate dinner not too long ago."

"Grown men need to eat, Katara." He patted his stomach and then shot Zuko a very nasty look. "Plus, my appetite was curiously failing me earlier. I think the company gave me indigestion."

Zuko's jaw clenched, but he miraculously refrained from making a retort.

The silence was stiff as Katara led the way down to the palace kitchens.

It was a bustle of activity as usual, though as it was after dinner the palace workers were focused on cleaning. Stacked trays that had been returned from various rooms were lined along the wall nearby as they entered, many of them still containing copious amounts of food.

Head Chef Rusai's face lit up. "Princess Katara!" He stopped chopping thick cuts of raw meat and wiped his bloody hands on a towel before rushing over to them and bowing; other servants waved a happy greeting and performed their bows as they went about their chores, curiosity evident on their faces when they saw Sokka. "And Prince Zuko," said Rusai, bowing. "What a pleasure." He glanced at Sokka and bowed one final time. "If I had to make a guess, I'd say that you're Princess Katara's brother. Are you Prince Sokka?"

Katara saw Sokka's clear discomfort with the titles, but he smiled and said easily, "That's me." His blue eyes darted around the kitchen. "Look at all this." His stomach growled loudly and servants rushed to bring him food, apparently possessing a sixth sense for hunger.

"Is this seal jerky?" Sokka perked up further at seeing the familiar food on one of the trays.

"It is, Prince Sokka," said Chef Rusai, beaming. "Princess Katara showed me how to make it."

"You really can just call me Sokka, you know," he said, between mouthfuls of food.

Some of the servants, including Rusai, stared at him in blatant disbelief and discomfort. Sokka was immune, too busy enjoying his meat.

A laugh bubbled up in Katara's throat, but she managed to stifle it.

Zuko took a piece as well, and Rusai looked thrilled. "You like it, Prince Zuko?"

"It's very good," he said sincerely, for Katara had shared some with him a few days ago.

"Try these, Prince Sokka," said one of the servants eagerly, pointing at a bowl of red flakes. "They're a Fire Nation favorite. We even have games to see who can eat the most."

"These tiny things?" Sokka said, with a little snort. Zuko opened his mouth, vague alarm stealing over his features, but it was too late; Sokka dumped a not insignificant handful into his mouth. Sokka chewed and swallowed.

For a second he just stood there, frowning slightly.

Then he let out a yell and opened his mouth, tongue hanging out and eyes watering, searching desperately for something to drink. Sweat beaded on Sokka's forehead and he was panting when Zuko shoved a cup of water at him, looking very suspiciously like he wanted to laugh. Sokka snatched it away and gulped as if his life depended on it; the servants looked on nervously.

"Those are Fire Flakes," said Zuko, then added rather cheekily, "They're a little hot."

"A little?" Sokka grumbled, though he was eyeing them again. "Well. They are pretty good." Then he shrugged and popped a few more in his mouth, armed with his cup of water.

"Princess Katara?" A servant gestured with the bowl of Fire Flakes at her.

"Oh, I couldn't," she said, shaking her head. "But thank you."

After that many people came rushing forward to ask Sokka to try various foods, but they didn't get far before Sokka took notice of something across the room. "Hey, what are you doing?" He pointed at a servant that was cleaning off a used tray.

Katara understood instantly. The servant was throwing out the food rather than preserving it.

"He's only cleaning up the trays, Prince Sokka," said Rusai. "Is something the matter?"

Katara and Sokka shared a look. Carefully storing and rationing food had been a large part of their lives in the scarce tundras and icy landscapes of the South Pole. Sometimes, after all, blizzards came, and they could not hunt or fish for some time. They had to be even more careful in the years after the men had left for the war, as their hunts had been their primary source of meat.

Throwing out food and wasting it was considered a repulsive and antisocial thing to do.

"That's perfectly good food," Sokka said slowly. "Why are you throwing it away?"

"That's what we are ordered to do, Prince Sokka," said Rusai. "We're not allowed to keep it."

"Not allowed?" Sokka rounded on Zuko, glaring viciously. "That big city of yours outside the palace walls surely has people that are hungry. The Fire Nation doesn't even know how to take care of their own? The palace would rather throw away food? What a waste."

Katara took a firm hold of Sokka's arm. It obviously wasn't that she disagreed, but now some of the servants—though clearly appalled at Sokka daring to openly criticize the crown's methods—were also looking disturbed as they stared at the food on the trays. A few of them were even glancing over at Zuko with a stifled but growing resentment flickering in their eyes. "I think it's time we should be going," she said, inclining her head at Rusai and all the servants. "Thank you for letting us visit, everyone." There was a chorus of parting words and bows, and Katara marched Sokka quickly into the corridor, Zuko trailing after them. A dull panic was spreading through her entire body.

She stopped and shook Sokka fiercely. "What are you doing? You can't talk like that, especially about the royal family."

Sokka stared at her for a long time, taken aback. "Normally the one speaking up would be you."

He said it with no accusation, no judgment; only a low, aching sadness. The kind of sadness that came from knowing that such a change was inevitable under the circumstances if she wanted to survive. Regardless, Katara flinched, because Sokka was looking at her as if part of her was a stranger to him; as if he'd lost something. Maybe he had. Yet again, Katara questioned who she would even be if she stayed in the Fire Nation for a large chunk of her life. If she would somehow become unrecognizable to even her family and friends. A slow, insidious process, unnoticeable to her until they saw each other again. A sense of distance newly apparent with each and every visit.

It was already happening. Something inside her crumpled at the thought, and her eyes pricked with hot tears.

"I didn't know about the food," said Zuko, also looking very upset. "I didn't even think that—"

"That's a surprise to no one," Sokka said, glaring at him. "Why are you even talking? We both know you don't think about anything besides yourself and your precious honor, Prince Zuko. You don't care about your people." He said the title as if he were flinging acid.

A very dangerous look suddenly crossed Zuko's face, and he drew himself up to full height. "That isn't true."

"Yeah? Have you ever once had an actual spine? Have you ever actually stood up for them?"

Zuko took a stitled step back, his eyes glazing over.

His hand twitched upward, his fingers unconsciously brushing the edges of his scar, and Katara's stomach dropped.

But before she could speak and try to diffuse the situation, Zuko's eyes cleared. His expression turned murderous. "You know nothing."

A servant suddenly came around the corner carrying linens. Katara was very thankful for the timing, because Zuko and Sokka's body language suggested they were seconds away from a physical brawl. The servant seemed to sense the tension in the air because their pace quickened, sending them scuttling around the nearest corner. But the interruption was enough to keep them from fighting.

Katara quickly took Sokka's arm and began moving them along again.

Once back in their quarters after dropping off Sokka, Katara began to pace the room frantically, her eyes drooping with sudden exhaustion but her heart racing from adrenaline; a deeply uncomfortable combination. Zuko closed the door, watching her warily. "Bad news?"

"They want to send him off with Eza," Katara said. Her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides. "They want him to help develop weapons for Eza's campaign in the Earth Kingdom."

Zuko opened his mouth and closed it. He glanced away, but she'd seen the horror on his face.

Katara moved right in front of him. "How did Eza become a General, Zuko?"

"Sheer brutality," said Zuko flatly. "I suspect my father appreciated it."

"Like what?"

Zuko hesitated. "I really don't think this will be helpful to hear."

"I'm not expecting it to be helpful," Katara said, voice hard. "But I need to know."

"Katara—"

"Zuko."

He scanned her unrelenting expression and then sighed, casting his eyes up to the ceiling. When he spoke, he still sounded flat and oddly detached, and his eyes began to flicker. "I didn't know General Eza until I came back home and heard stories, mostly his soldiers bragging at war meetings. Eza rose to power when he was part of a squadron in the Earth Kingdom, high in the mountains. Conditions were harsh and the Fire Nation soldiers didn't do well in the cold; they miscalculated the time they needed to get through the mountain pass, and they ran out of supplies. Their leader died. But Eza is a very skilled tracker. He located small villages and rallied the soldiers to take them. The villages were of no strategic importance and had no fighters." Zuko hesitated again, looking ill. Katara's skin began to prickle.

"Do you really want details?" Zuko asked tonelessly.

"I need to know," Katara repeated.

He pursed his lips. "They didn't give them the mercy of quick deaths. Under Eza's encouragement, his squadron made games out of killing and raping and mutilating people, or forcing the villagers to do it to each other. They flayed and boiled people alive and burned them and ate them. They cut them up slowly and pulled out organs. They tied each limb up to a different komodo rhino and had them run in separate directions. The women were—" He stopped and shut his eyes. "Do I need to keep going, or do you get the picture?"

"I get the picture," Katara whispered, feeling weak. She staggered to a chair and sat.

She did not understand, would never understand, such atrocities; how someone could enjoy inflicting such pain and suffering on others. To Eza's soldiers those villagers had been less than animals. There could be no meeting in the middle with people like that, people who saw others as less than human; no way to make them stop unless they were irrevocably defeated. Crushed.

"Sokka will never let any of those things happen in front of him without fighting it," said Katara.

Her voice had gotten very choked, and the room went blurry.

"Listen," Zuko said fiercely. "Your brother is smart. He'll survive." He shook her gently when she didn't respond or even indicate that she had heard him. "He will."

Katara stood on wobbly legs and brushed past him as if in a trance. "I need to talk to your father."

But Zuko reached out and caught her arm with such force that it startled her. "No."

She tried to wrench her arm away, but he held fast. "Let go."

"No. You're not speaking to my father." Zuko's face and grip was unyielding.

"How dare you give me commands," Katara said, voice shaking with rage. "It's my brother!"

"Be angry all you like, but I'm not letting you go. You're exhausted and now you're upset, and the chance that you'll directly insult him is high enough, even without the problem that my father may view the mere fact that you go to him at all as an insult. He'll see it as you questioning his decisions, and then what? It's not worth it. Getting yourself hurt will change nothing for Sokka."

Her head swam with grief and pain and indignation. "I have to try." She was certain if she had the energy she would be sobbing. She was less certain which part was the most upsetting. Sokka's insinuation that she'd already changed? The fact that he was leaving tomorrow with Azula and then being shipped off with Eza? The depressing news about Aang or her father? The details of Eza's war crimes?

"What if I do it? Will you promise to stay here?" Zuko finally asked, very gruffly.

Katara gaped up at him. "What? You…would do that?"

Zuko's face briefly spasmed with anxiety, but his eyes were hard. "Yes."

"But you just said he might view even going there as an insult."

"Yeah. I did say that."

Katara blinked very rapidly; several unidentifiable emotions were churning in her gut.

"No," she said after a moment, shaking her head, her voice turning rather shrill. "What if he burns you again?"

She blamed the slip on how tired she was. She didn't even realize that she'd said something strange until she saw Zuko's eyes widening. "You…I…" he stuttered uncomfortably, and Katara was overcome with a sudden, strong wave of shame. "Who told you?"

Katara inwardly cursed herself for her outburst. "No one, it…it was just a guess. I'm sorry," she said in a small voice. His anguished look cut at her, and the shame intensified. "I shouldn't have said...I'm sorry." She lowered her eyes, any remaining fight draining out of her instantly. Suddenly she wanted to curl up on the floor and never get up. "I won't go," Katara said quietly. "But I don't want you to go either."

She didn't miss the relief that relaxed his posture. Katara turned away, trying to ignore the bitter feeling of helplessness; of yet again doing nothing, because doing something only would make things worse. Zuko had been right. She shouldn't have prodded for details about Eza.

Now she was shaken; nauseated by what human beings were capable of doing to each other.

She remembered the necklace of teeth around Eza's neck and a full-body shudder raced through her.

Zuko released a rumbling sigh and then took hold of one of her wrists. "Come on."

She thought briefly of the passage that she meant to explore tonight. Her head swam again, more dangerously this time.

But Katara was too drained to protest as he led her, stumbling slightly, over to the bed.

"I can ask for some tea," Zuko offered.

"Okay." She chewed her bottom lip, pondering the problem of the passage and her depleted energy levels, and then saw that Zuko was still watching her rather suspiciously. "What?"

"You look like you're planning something."

"No," Katara said quickly.

He didn't look entirely convinced, and he waited until she'd clambered into the bed before he went to ask for tea. When he returned, Katara already sat under the covers despite the heat, pulling them all the way up to her chin and leaning back against the bed frame. She stared numbly at the intricate patterns on the sheets and tried not to think of what Zuko had told her. It didn't work.

— didn't give them the mercy of quick deaths—

—made games out of killing and raping and mutilating people—

—tied each limb to a different komodo rhino—

She was shivering violently, even though she was sweating under the sheets. She didn't move them away. Their weight was comforting.

Soon a knock sounded on the door. Zuko returned with a tray of herbal tea, and he poured it more carefully than she would have expected from him, with that little scrunch to his mouth that appeared whenever he concentrated deeply. It was almost mesmerizing to watch.

She really must be sleep addled.

When he handed her the cup he said quietly, "You guessed right. About my father."

Katara nearly dropped the tea in surprise, but managed to steady her hands.

She had a sudden image of young Zuko, scarless, just before his father pressed flames to his face. A flood of hot, vicious anger made her feel briefly more awake than she had all day, and her fingers twisted hard on her tea cup so she wouldn't accidentally slosh hot liquid down her front. She was seriously reconsidering her decision not to visit Ozai. "He's a monster," she said vehemently.

Zuko made a low sound of agreement, but said nothing more. Katara didn't press. She felt bad enough for bringing it up at all.

Something in Katara softened, perhaps permanently.

Be careful with him.

And yet her heart refused to harden, not even a little. Not now, when she was so sleep deprived, and he'd offered to face his father for her.

Zuko stood abruptly. "I think I'm going to bathe now. You promise you won't go anywhere?"

"Yes," Katara said, biting her lip. Zuko's body language still radiated discomfort. She tried to think of something more to say and found she didn't know what was best. She knew he wasn't looking for pity, and she feared anything she did say would only add to his unease.

"Thank you for telling me," she settled on saying as he walked away, then cringed.

Zuko stopped but didn't turn to look at her.

"And I'm sorry," she continued hastily, hoping she wasn't only making things worse. "For bringing it up. I wasn't...I just didn't want..."

She could barely form a sentence anymore. How mortifying.

Zuko slowly turned. His voice had suddenly become very soft. "Didn't want what?"

Her mouth moved before her tired brain could catch up. "I didn't want anything to happen to you." Katara blinked sluggishly.

But as soon as the words settled in the muggy air, she knew they were true.

Even from here, she saw the way Zuko's eyes shifted and changed; how they almost melted. They now resembled swirling, molten gold, two spots of warmth in the dimming light of the room. And Katara clutched her sheets closer to her chest, her throat very tight.

"I don't want anything to happen to you either," he murmured finally.

And then he turned and moved very quickly into the other room.

Katara fumbled for her book, hoping it might help keep her awake and distract her from everything else she'd experienced today. Her thoughts were swirling, her head steadily thudding in time with her heart. The story was not distracting enough from her many thoughts and emotions; her hatred for Ozai, for Eza, her helplessness, her fear for her brother, the sadness and confusion and righteous rage surrounding Zuko. The words on the page slid in and out of focus, and her eyes began to flutter closed for longer and longer stretches.

Just a brief second, Katara thought. Just resting my eyes…

But when she opened them again, sunlight was streaming into the room.

Katara flew to a sitting position, gasping and scrambling with the sheets. The air was the heaviest and wettest it had ever been, imposing and thick, the promise of a storm pulsing in the air. Her sweaty hair stuck to her forehead. She'd lost an entire night of exploration and preparation. The full moon was tonight, and she had no idea where the passage led.

Zuko must have been at his desk, because he was hurrying toward her side of the bed, already fully dressed and apparently long awake.

"Sokka," Katara mumbled dazedly, recalling that her brother had been in her dream. She shivered.

Whatever it was, she couldn't remember any of the images. But she felt sick, so they couldn't have been pleasant.

"He was already here with Azula asking for you, but he told me to let you sleep," Zuko said apologetically. "Should I call Ty Lee? She can get you ready and we can all have breakfast."

"I assume 'all' includes Azula?"

Zuko's lips pursed. "Yes. Sorry."

Katara sighed, already resigned to it. "Okay. Yes, please."

She was anxious to get as much time in with Sokka as possible before he left. Ty Lee seemed to pick up on her urgency because she was faster than usual, and when Katara was ready and emerged into the room, Sokka and Azula were both already there.

The air crackled with lingering hostility and anger during breakfast.

Ty Lee did her best to diffuse tensions, asking Sokka and Katara for stories about their travels and adding some of her own from her days at the circus. Azula was surprisingly quiet, but her sharp smirks from across the table made Katara long to give her a good, hard kick.

The dread of separation from her brother hovered over her, and Sokka only picked moodily at his food.

When it was over, Zuko and Katara accompanied Sokka and Azula down to Appa.

Katara pet Appa first for a very long time, hoping to postpone the inevitable. But finally, Azula said, "Well, we don't have all day. Come on, Sokka, I'd like to get to the coast of the Earth Kingdom by nightfall." Azula was dressed in intimidating military uniform, her arms crossed.

Katara was very glad to see the back of her, though she wished she wasn't sending her off with Sokka, and she certainly didn't like to think of Azula sniffing around looking for clues on Aang.

Sokka strode over and gathered her to him again, very tightly.

"You be careful," Katara whispered. She hadn't wanted to cry in front of Azula, but hot tears gathered in her eyes anyway. "Promise?"

"I promise. You too, okay? I'll try and visit again soon. Or maybe Dad can as well."

Katara didn't dare allow herself to hope that would happen. "Tell Suki I say hello."

"I will." Sokka's voice wavered. They still didn't let go. Finally, with great reluctance, they pulled back and looked at each other. Tears slid down Katara's cheeks, and a silent understanding passed between them; the knowledge that both would still resist in the ways they knew how, as much as possible. "I'll write to you as much as I can," Sokka promised.

"Me too," said Katara.

"And we'll see each other soon," said Sokka fiercely.

Katara just nodded, choking on a sob.

"Hurry up," Azula said, impatient, and Sokka shot her a look of pure venom.

He hugged Katara tightly one last time, and then he began climbing up on Appa. Azula followed on his heels, and Katara was briefly gratified at her nervous look when Appa growled low in his throat as she first set her boots in the straps of the saddle.

Katara touched Appa's face, stroking him. "Watch over him, Appa," she whispered. "Please?"

Appa made a rumbling sound in response.

"We'll see each other soon," called Sokka to Katara again, and then Appa rose into the air. Sokka turned in the saddle and waved down at her, and she watched until they were too small to see. She watched until Appa was a speck in the sky, and she kept watching even when he was gone. By now she was openly crying, and Zuko came over and gently took her by the shoulders.

"Come on," he said quietly.

He appealed to her need for distraction with the suggestion of Pai Sho, which was a game that Katara had never played before. It was difficult to focus on learning the rules and her subsequent moves, thinking of Sokka traveling with Azula and all the many things that could go wrong. After a few games she finally told Zuko rather bluntly that she wanted to be alone, so he left her in their quarters.

That afternoon Katara studied the palace map again, trying to determine where that passage could lead.

No luck, but she was able to successfully take a nap.

Zuko did not reappear until the sky was darkening, and already Katara could feel the effect of the full moon on her body. It was almost as though electricity was sizzling in her; a jittery, restless energy that had her pacing almost manically when he finally came into the room.

"Want some dinner?" he asked.

"No." She kept walking briskly and almost obsessively from one end of the room to another.

Zuko frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Just a lot of energy." Her legs ached. She wanted to run and jump. She wanted to bend.

"You want to go down to the cave?"

"No," Katara said, almost too quickly, because Zuko frowned deeper. She paused and forced herself to say calmly, "I don't want to bend at you when I'm like this, not when you don't have yours."

He watched her path across the room several times before he said, "Is it always like this on the full moon for you?"

"No. Today is really bad. I haven't been bending much and I feel like I have all this energy and all these problems and I can't even do anything, and I—" She stopped. The vibrating intensity wasn't just physical. She also had to restrain herself from babbling. It was probably much safer to get Zuko talking instead. "Is it not like this for you? In the sun?"

"Not quite," he said, watching her very carefully. Katara realized she'd begun to hop a little in place to relieve that strange ache in her muscles, the ache for movement. "Are you sure you don't want to go down to the cave?" he pressed. "This doesn't seem normal."

"I'm fine," Katara said tersely. "You really don't feel so energetic in the sun?"

"I definitely feel a difference, but it's not quite this intense." He gestured at the way she was wringing her hands over and over.

"I see a difference in you too," Katara said. "In the sun. You look more powerful and—"

She stopped again, heat creeping into her neck.

Her brain had unwittingly supplied the word beautiful.

She was very glad it hadn't slipped out.

"And?" Zuko prompted, looking curious.

"Nothing," Katara said hastily.

He watched her for another long moment. "Hand-to-hand, then?"

"No."

Suspicion filled his features, so Katara hurried to say, "Pai Sho?"

She could concentrate on the game even less than the day before. They played several rounds before Zuko unexpectedly announced he wanted to go to bed; it was a stroke of luck Katara hadn't expected. The fifth toll of the watchtower wasn't for some time, but she would need all the time she could get, as she didn't yet know anything about the passage she'd found.

After Zuko had bathed and settled in, Katara read by candlelight. The words jumbled together and made no sense.

Her focus was completely frayed, thinking only of her task ahead.

Zuko began breathing deeply after a while, and Katara waited until it had gone on for some time.

And then she slowly closed the book, blew out the candle, and slid out of bed.

She rummaged in the wardrobe for the darkest clothing she could find, the lightest and most movable fabric, though she ensured it was tight enough not to snag. She tied her hair back and slipped into the washroom, holding her breath as she pulled the latch.

The window swung open and Katara climbed onto the ledge as usual, heart pounding.

She was just about to swing out when a raspy, very irritable voice spoke from the door.

"Going somewhere?"

Chapter 14: The Lemon Grove

Chapter Text

Katara squeaked and nearly toppled backward into the washroom. She clung desperately to the wall and looked at the door. Zuko stood in his night robe, his mouth pursed in clear displeasure.

"I'm going to the roof," Katara said. She did not sound as casual as she'd like. "Stargazing."

Zuko prowled across the room, scanning her intently. "Interesting outfit for sitting on the roof."

"It makes it easier to climb," Katara said.

Zuko came to stand right below the window, the look on his face both knowing and distinctly challenging, and Katara's heart sped. "Then I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I joined you."

"Yes, actually," said Katara, temper flaring. "I do like having some alone time now and then."

"Where are you actually going?" He crossed his arms.

Her skin was tingling and she couldn't quite meet his eye. "I just told you."

"You're lying." Zuko's jaw tightened. "I can't believe this. You didn't want to risk lying about consummation, but the risk of sneaking around in the middle of the night alone is completely fine? What the fuck, Katara?"

Katara stared at him, stunned at the extent of his anger. She struggled to find words to defend herself, but she found there weren't many. "That's...different."

"You're right." Zuko spoke with a furious tinge of sarcasm that she didn't think she'd heard from him before. "This is even riskier."

Low stabs of guilt pulsed in her stomach. Katara stood by her decision that first night, but she also knew tonight held distinct risks. She knew Zuko had a point. Her only comfort was that Sokka had also endorsed her going, that possible allies mattered enough for the risk, but she also knew she probably would have gone anyway, without Sokka's blessing. She was becoming restless. Defensiveness roiled in her chest, mixing unpleasantly with the energy of the moon.

"You know I didn't want to either!" she said shrilly.

Zuko's face twisted. "That was the entire problem! You—" He stopped abruptly and turned away. His head was bowed low and his shoulders moved very fast.

"Zuko," Katara began, more subdued now, but he only sharply shook his head.

Zuko didn't turn to face her. His words were flat and toneless. "Are you meeting Mavang?"

"No," Katara said quietly.

"You're lying," Zuko said, rougher now.

"No, I'm not! I don't have anything planned with Mavang!"

He whipped around again. "Then what is it?"

Katara kept her voice calm with extreme difficulty. "Are you going to turn me in?"

"Of course not," Zuko snapped. "I said I'm on your side and I meant it. Just because I'm angry doesn't mean I'll turn you in." He glared defiantly and straightened. "But I am coming with you."

Katara blinked. "Wait. No," she protested. "You're not."

"You need more proof that I've changed," said Zuko. "So here it is. Let me help."

He seemed to mean what he was saying; a sincere offer, even though he was clearly still angry. He's trying to butter you up, Sokka's voice whispered in her head, and Katara hesitated.

Zuko sensed that she was wavering. He took a step forward. "Where are you going tonight?"

"I…" Katara looked away.

"Katara," he said. "Please."

She briefly thought about subduing him. Freezing him to something and leaving him here. But then she sighed, closed her eyes, and took one more risk.

"I got a note," she said. "A while ago. Someone wants to meet with me tonight."

"You don't know who?" Zuko's voice was rough with excitement and lingering irritation.

"No," said Katara. "But I can't bring you."

"Where?"

"The lemon grove," said Katara. "Outside the palace walls."

"Hold on. The one you asked me to take you to walk in? Were you—" Zuko paused, staring at her incredulously. "Were you staking it out? Back then?"

"Yes," Katara admitted.

He cursed under his breath and ran a hand through his hair. "You'll need help getting there," he said. "How exactly did you plan on getting out of the walls? There are guards everywhere."

"I found a secret passageway," Katara said, and his eyebrows shot up.

"Well, you've certainly been busy," he said darkly.

She ignored this. "I can't bring you," she insisted. "If it's…a friend," she said vaguely, "they probably won't think of you as one. It could ruin things if you're there."

Zuko frowned. "What if I stay nearby but let you meet alone? Then I'm not interfering." Katara gave him a very dubious look, and he said, glowering a little, "Yes, I will stay put and not interfere. Against my better judgment, by the way. Who knows what'll be waiting for you."

"It's the full moon," Katara said, with more confidence than she felt. "I'll be able to handle whoever it is. But Sokka also suspects that it's some sort of friend. He thinks I should go too."

"And if it's not a friend? And what if it's more than one person?" Zuko set his jaw stubbornly. "I'm coming with you until a certain point, at least. Don't you agree that's less risky?"

He laced a fair amount of venom into the last word.

Katara winced. "Fine," she said finally. "But I am in charge of this little adventure, not you."

"Fine." Zuko scowled. "Now come down from there. I have some stuff that we should probably take with us." He held out a grudging hand to help her without looking at her.

And Katara, though she still wasn't entirely sure this was the right course of action, took his hand When she'd hopped down from the windowsill he made to pull away, but she held tighter.

"Zuko," she said softly. "I didn't know you were so upset about…after the wedding."

He stiffly angled his shoulders and face away.

"I wish you would have communicated with me better. But I don't blame you," Zuko muttered finally. "I know we weren't…on good terms. And I understood your logic. I know you were afraid for your tribes. I just felt terrible. I still do. And now it seems like it was all pointless."

He finished his little speech in a low growl.

"It wasn't pointless," said Katara firmly. "There are too many servants. Someone else even bathes me, Zuko. Someone would have found out eventually."

Zuko's shoulders tensed until it appeared painful.

Finally, he only pulled his hand away from hers and muttered, "Come on."

She followed him back into the room, wishing he would at least meet her eye. But Zuko bent into the wardrobe and rummaged through for a few moments before pulling out a tiny pack. In it he stuffed two cloth masks, dark as night. "You seem well prepared for secret night excursions," Katara said lightly, hoping to lift the mood and ease the lingering tension in the air.

Zuko only let out a sound that was half a scoff and half a laugh. "I have some experience."

What did that mean? Katara eyed him with interest, but held her tongue. She could save that question for when he was in a better mood.

Zuko tossed the pack at her, which she automatically caught. "I'm supposed to carry this?"

"Yes," he said.

"Why?"

Zuko strode over to a corner of the room and pushed a table to the side. And then he yanked at one of the floorboards, and it easily sprung up; it had already been loose. Katara stared as Zuko pulled out a sword, its blade glinting in the moonlight that streamed through the window. But no—it was two swords. They fit together so snugly that she only realized there were two when Zuko pulled them apart, and a low slide of clanging steel rang through the air.

"Because I'm carrying these," he said. He turned to face her. "Do you have water?"

"I don't have pouches," Katara said, a little bitterly. "I could only find this."

She gestured to a tiny canteen attached to her hip.

Zuko stalked back over to the wardrobe. "And Uncle says I don't think things through," he muttered, half under his breath, searching through the many drawers once again. "Here." He tossed two waterskins at her. They were smaller than the ones she used to carry, but much better than the canteen.

She turned and moved to fill the pouches from the water basin beside the bed.

"So where is this passageway?" Zuko asked.

"In the sun room," said Katara, turning away from the basin and back to Zuko. "It's—" She froze.

Zuko had set the swords down and stripped to only his bottom wraps, and he was tugging on dark clothes very similar to hers. His back muscles rippled when he moved, distinctly mesmerizing in the moonlight. He was half bent over, putting on black trousers, and his thighs and arms were flexing. "Um," Katara said, hazily struggling to remember what she'd been talking about.

"What, you think I won't find out?" Zuko prompted, irritably. He still wasn't facing her, and he clearly was taking her sudden silence for a reluctance to share with him. "I'm coming with you."

He started sliding on a shirt. Katara moved her gaze to the floor. "It's behind a wall," she said. "A secret door."

"And where does it lead?"

"Oh, I…don't know."

Zuko whirled around. The clothes were very snug on his body but thankfully he was now fully dressed. "What?"

"I meant to find out last night," Katara admitted. "But I fell asleep."

His expression morphed into utter exasperation. "Awesome," he said, shaking his head. Then he picked up his swords and put them in a holster on his back before looking at her. "Ready?"

"Maybe we should just go out a different way now?" Katara suggested. "I mean, since you're with me, people won't ask many questions. We could just walk out of the palace walls, right?"

"Better that no one knows we're out and about so late," said Zuko. "Especially with weapons."

"Yes," Katara said. "I guess you're right."

"We just have to hope this passageway of yours is useful," said Zuko.

They clambered out of the window and dropped to the usual ledge, and Katara led the way as they stole silently across the rooftop. The moon was so bright tonight that vision was hardly reduced at all; the pale light of it was like fire to Katara's blood. Her heartbeat roared in her ears, and her fingers kept twitching with the desire to bend the water she could sense at her hip.

Just like last time, Katara peered carefully into the sun room to ensure it was empty before opening the window and swinging inside. Zuko followed her, landing in a perfectly silent crouch, more lithe and graceful than she'd expected. Katara strode across the room and pushed the tapestry aside, immediately spotting the Fire Lily etched into the stone. She pressed hard.

The wall moved with a loud crunch and they both waited, holding their breath.

No guards came to apprehend them, and Zuko brushed past her, squatting down at the circular opening in the wall and examining it.

"This is a very close fit," he said slowly.

"I'll go first," Katara said. "If it gets too narrow, you're more likely to get stuck."

Zuko sighed. "Fine."

Katara moved past him and began to crawl into the opening. She had to shuffle awkwardly on her hands and knees, and when she got far enough to let Zuko in as well she paused, waiting. There was barely any space; she hoped Zuko would actually fit. Then she heard the sounds of him crawling, so he seemed to have made it inside. "We need to close it," he said.

Katara didn't even have the space to turn back and look at him. "Can you see if there's something on the wall?"

"Not much. Fire would be really helpful to see more right now," Zuko muttered.

After several moments, however, Katara heard another telltale scraping of stone. The moonlight that had been spilling into the sun room from the glass ceiling vanished, and the passage fell into utter darkness. Despite knowing it was coming, Katara felt terror wash over her. The space was so cramped, and she couldn't see anything; she couldn't help but feel trapped.

Utterly enclosed.

Suddenly she was very glad that Zuko was with her.

She couldn't see him, but she could feel his body heat behind her, and hear his even breathing.

"Okay," said Katara, hoping her voice didn't shake. "I'm moving again."

"I'm right behind you."

Taking comfort from this, Katara pressed on. The walls of the passageway thankfully didn't get narrower, and she didn't have to hunch even further to keep going. In fact, she began to get the feeling that the passage was widening. Zuko seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Do you think we're getting more space?"

"Seems like it," Katara said, relief loosening her chest. The sides of the passage and the ceiling were no longer brushing against her shoulders and her back. If she were to stand, she thought she could probably now walk along bent over in half like an awkward monkey. Crawling still remained more comfortable, though, so she stuck with that. "I wonder if that means—"

Her hand suddenly swiped open air.

Her upper body tipped forward.

She screamed, and for a heartstopping second she thought she was going to pitch forward into the blackness. Zuko's hands seized her calves, and she was left half-dangling over a ledge that she couldn't even see. "Hold still," Zuko commanded, sounding very strained.

Katara stopped trying to struggle backward against all of her instincts, and one of Zuko's hands started fumbling up her leg, searching for her waist.

"Hurry," she pleaded. A cold draft swept up from below. It was not a short drop.

Finally, a strong arm wrapped around her middle and yanked. Katara collapsed back against his chest, shaking. "That…" she began hoarsely. "That was…"

"Too close." Zuko still had not let go of her. "Now are you glad I joined you?"

"No need to rub it in," Katara said, still breathless with fear.

He made a sound similar to a laugh, low and right in her ear. Then Zuko released her and scooted back, and she began hearing the telltale sign of weak sparks briefly igniting and sputtering. "Damn it," Zuko swore, trying to call flames again and again.

Katara lay flat and began wriggling cautiously along until she reached the ledge. Then she put an arm over the edge and began feeling along the side.

"There's rungs!" she announced.

"It's probably a long climb down," said Zuko. He was still unsuccessfully trying to firebend. "We're at the top of the palace, and I bet this goes all the way underground."

"Then we should get going." Katara turned around so her head was facing back the way they'd come, and she began feeling around with her feet for the first rung. "Zuko, stop. Come on."

She heard his frustrated growl in the dark, but he obeyed. Then he said, "I'll go first now."

"I'm already here," Katara said. "Just try not to kick too low and get me in the face."

"I'll do my best."

The climb down was long. Neither wanted to move too quickly in the dark, not when they had to feel around for the rungs with their hands and feet. Caution had to be more important than speed. Katara suspected that a firebender usually accompanied the journey through this passageway; she'd felt unlit candles on the walls. She did not voice this thought to Zuko.

As they descended the air grew cooler and cooler, and eventually so much colder than it was outside that Katara presumed Zuko was right: they were underground. Just when she was beginning to wonder if it would ever end, her foot scraped solid ground.

"We made it!"

Flooded with triumph, Katara leaped off the makeshift ladder built into the rock, then stepped back to let Zuko follow her. Though her eyes had adjusted a bit to the dark she still couldn't see very far in front of her. But she could sense that wherever they stood was much larger than the upper passageway; perhaps an underground cave of some sort. She took hold of Zuko's arm.

"We can't get separated," she said. "Ready?"

"Lead the way," Zuko said, sounding remarkably calm.

After some walking, Katara said, "What do you think this passageway is even for?"

"I saw that Fire Lily," said Zuko. "Probably for sneaking in courtesans."

"Oh." Katara blinked. "I guess that makes sense."

"I bet there are passageways leading directly into some of the royal and noble quarters too," said Zuko. "Making sure there aren't any public scandals about any of the mistresses."

The idea made Katara deeply uncomfortable. "Do you think there's one in your room?"

"If there is, I haven't found it," said Zuko.

That made Katara feel a little better, though only a little. Then again, Mavang had broken into her room by way of the guards and the door; if she had known about a secret passageway into the prince's quarters, surely she would have used it? That, too, made Katara feel a little more secure.

The air grew even colder. Unconsciously, she pressed herself closer to Zuko's side and his warmth. "Why were you hiding your swords under the floorboards?" Katara asked.

There was a pause. In the dark, Katara could see the faint outline of Zuko's jaw and of strands of hair falling forward into his face; and, of course, the amber color of his eyes. But she couldn't see his expression, and his voice was carefully neutral when he said, "I don't want to bring too much attention to the fact that I can wield dao swords."

"Why not?"

"It's a secret," said Zuko vaguely, and Katara scowled.

"And?"

"And we're already uneven when it comes to secrets," said Zuko, sounding a little amused now.

"I didn't know our secret sharing was transactional. Who are you, Mavang?"

"That's offensive, Katara."

"Please tell me?" She gently nudged him with her shoulder.

Zuko stopped, and Katara was forced to stop with him. "You know," he said quietly. "You aren't acting like someone who thinks they lost the war. You aren't acting like someone who has resigned herself to staying here."

Katara tugged on his arm, urging him to keep walking. They didn't have time to stop.

"Am I wrong?" Zuko asked finally.

"Yes," she said tersely.

"You signed that contract fully believing you were marrying me for life?"

"Yes," Katara lied.

"And yet here you are," said Zuko. "Sneaking out to try and find 'friends.'"

"Friends are always good to have," said Katara. "There's always a chance things will go sour with the alliance. Things I have no control over. Never bad to keep my options open."

"In case you need to escape, you mean."

Katara stiffened. "I never said that."

"You didn't need to."

"Stop changing the subject," Katara said briskly. "We were talking about you."

"But I've noticed that you're chattier than usual on the full moon. If I'm going to get any answers out of you, it's probably going to be tonight. Can you blame me for trying?"

"I'm not chatty," Katara said, frowning and knowing full well he was right.

"Yeah, you are." Zuko sounded like he was smiling now, just a little. "And you're also vibrating. Literally. I can feel it against my side. You're like a hyper little bomb waiting to go off."

"Anyway, so returning to the subject of your mysterious dao swords—" she began loudly. But Zuko shushed her and pulled her to a stop again. He pointed ahead; Katara's eyes were now well-adjusted enough to see that it was a solid expanse of rock. A very obvious dead end. "Well, super," Katara said.

But as they inspected it they found built-in grooves there too, more rungs.

"Looks like we're climbing out," said Zuko.

Katara took the lead. The climb up, though tiring, was much faster than the climb down. When they finally reached the top they were both panting. Zuko suddenly moved up higher, almost directly over her, and began shifting in the pack on her back. He handed her one of the masks. When they had both slid them on, leaving only their eyes and foreheads free, Katara tentatively pushed on the rock above her.

It moved; it was a trap door of some kind. She pushed again, just enough to get a sliver open and get a glimpse of the other side. Faint moonlight spilled down and into their passage, enough that Katara could see that the trap door opened into a room.

She watched for several tense moments, but it appeared deserted.

She closed it again. "I think it's clear," Katara whispered down to Zuko. "I'm going up." Anticipation and adrenaline coursed through her. She moved as quickly and quietly as possible, though still flinched at the inevitable scrape of rock as she pushed it open.

Katara launched herself up and smoothly rolled out across the floor of stone tiles before taking refuge behind a nearby stack of crates. She peeked her head over them, quickly surveying the room. It was empty and appeared mostly unused. There were no windows, and none of the candles in the wall sconces were lit, but there was no small amount of crates and boxes. It seemed to be a storeroom of some kind.

Katara rolled back and felt along the edges until she could successfully open the trap door. She urgently waved Zuko out.

His eyes darted around when they were back behind the crates, then he rose slightly to check inside one.

"Oh," said Zuko, sounding a little strangled.

She stood as well and looked in, and at first Katara was confused. Then her cheeks filled with heat. "Looks like you were right about that being a passageway for secret courtesans," said Katara finally, still staring at the various sex toys in the crate. "We must be in some sort of pleasure house. The Fire Lily…do you think it's Mavang's?" The irony of that was mildly funny. Katara had tried to get out of the palace without Mavang's help and succeeded, only to learn the passageway was still possibly used by Mavang anyway.

Zuko was now scanning the rather dismal room again. "I don't know," he said. "Even though there was a Fire Lily, it still doesn't seem classy or busy enough to be a place of Mavang's."

Katara unexpectedly felt herself bristle. "You seem awfully familiar with Mavang's places."

"I've been to visit Mavang on one of her barges once. Not for that," he added, sounding vaguely offended and a little flustered when he saw Katara looking at him. "I was visiting her for something else. Another sort of deal. It was when I was banished. It's really not important."

"Seems important," Katara muttered, but dropped the subject. Now wasn't the time.

They crept to the door. Zuko took the lead now, pressing himself against the frame and peering into the corridor.

Katara leaned out and looked around him. It was also deserted.

No candles, no lights, no sounds. Nothing.

"It seems abandoned," Katara whispered.

"Yeah," Zuko murmured. "We're probably somewhere in Caldera City."

"Then I'll follow you. You know the area better," said Katara.

"What was that?" Zuko said quietly, cupping his ear. Katara tensed, listening. But then Zuko only said, "I think you just admitted that I'm useful. So once again I think we've determined that me coming along was actually a really good idea? Did I hear that right?"

Katara smacked his shoulder. "Oh, shut up," she said, though she was trying not to laugh.

She couldn't see most of Zuko's face, but judging by his eyes she thought he might be smirking.

But then he crouched lower and waved her after him, swift and silent through the building.

Katara had never been to any part of Caldera City. She'd stayed almost exclusively within the palace walls.

But it became clear very quickly that they were in a poorer district. The buildings were crammed together and the alleyways were narrow, but that made it easier to move through them without being seen. Not that they had too much to worry about; the city was quite still. It wasn't like Ba Sing Se, which had been loud and teeming with life at all hours of the night. Maybe Fire Nation society naturally favored doing things by day, an inclination toward the sun and firebending.

Zuko seemed to know his surroundings, or at least he moved like he did. Katara had to hurry to keep up with him as they weaved through the city. Tonight, during the full moon, Katara was keenly aware of where the ocean was at all times, so she knew that he was heading toward it.

When they broke free of the buildings, they came to a patch of jungle. It wasn't wild jungle like the foliage that lined the road to the beach; it was greenery specifically to beautify the outskirts of the city. As soon as they were no longer under cover of the buildings, the wind began to pick up. At first the change was small enough to be almost imperceptible, but then the gusts became more steady. Zuko's hair ruffled in the wind as she followed him through trees and bushes, never straying far from the edge of Caldera City.

Now they weren't heading toward the sea, but back in the direction of the palace and the wealthier districts. The city somehow became even quieter as the buildings became more grandiose, and from here Katara could also see that the streets here were wider and more orderly, and that their cobblestones weren't as cracked or chipped. Large gardens and parks dominated these areas, too. Katara could make out the palace roof in the sky, drawing closer and closer.

Soon Zuko veered to the east, and Katara caught a whiff of citrus.

The shadows of the hundreds of citrus trees finally loomed before them, and Katara's heart began to pound.

They were almost there.

Suddenly, a loud gong began to ring through the air; it was the toll of the watchtower. She and Zuko froze, listening.

Katara counted four tolls. They were early.

"The meeting is at the fifth toll," Katara said to Zuko.

"Let's wait nearby," said Zuko. "Here?" He pointed at some shrubbery several paces away and Katara nodded. They settled in on the opposite side, sinking to sit in the dirt. They were unable to see the city any longer through the bush, but they had a decent view of the lemon grove.

The wind had picked up even more, and the air was cooling so rapidly that the gusts actually made Katara shiver.

Zuko glanced at the sky. "That tropical storm is slowly coming in," he said.

"Do you think we'll make it back beforehand?" Katara followed his gaze, but the sky was still clear enough to see countless stars, bright and twinkling, as well as the full moon in all its glory.

"We should," he said, but he still seemed troubled.

For a while they sat in a silence that wasn't entirely comfortable, and the only thing to be heard was the rustle of the wind whipping through branches and leaves. Zuko was still alert and watchful beside her, twitching at every little sound. Katara tried very hard not to let the full moon affect her too much and finally gave up; she pulled water from the pouches at her hips and began twirling it between her hands almost mindlessly, back and forth, back and forth.

Zuko was watching the water jump between her palms with a mixture of fascination and envy.

"I can't hold still," Katara said apologetically.

"I noticed."

The water swirled and danced, leaping between her hands faster and faster.

It felt so good to bend again. She never wanted to stop.

"So you're not planning on running away?" Zuko asked quietly.

The water dropped. Katara drew it back up from the ground and yanked it back inside her pouches, tightening the cap. And then she looked at him. "What do you think those Fire Nation soldiers stationed in the Northern Water Tribe will do if I run away? I can't leave, Zuko."

Zuko's brow furrowed and he stared down at the ground for a long time.

"Look, uhh…have you thought about pregnancy?" he muttered finally, without looking at her.

"I really try not to think about pregnancy," she said, voice hard.

Of course the idea had crossed her mind by now. Several times. But she always pushed it away as soon as it arrived.

Anytime it lingered too long, her chest began to grow horribly tight.

"The longer you're here, the more inevitable it becomes," said Zuko.

"You think I don't know that?" Katara snapped. "Why do you want to discuss this now?"

"Do you have something better to do?" He also sounded irritated, and again he'd angled his shoulders and face away from her, curling inward as if the conversation drained him even though he'd been the one to start it.

"No, but—but what's there to discuss?"

"Well, what happens if you get pregnant?"

"I've been wondering the same thing," Katara said stiffly. "Ask your sister. Clearly she has something in mind." Raw, real terror spiked through her at the thought. Would they even need her anymore after the baby? And what would they do with her child, if she had one?

Her airways were beginning to close, so Katara shoved these thoughts away again.

Part of her really wanted to smack Zuko. He'd picked a truly terrible time to talk about this.

"I don't get it either." Zuko's frustration had made his rasp very thick. "It's like I told you, if I have an heir and she doesn't, it only makes my claim stronger. There's no way she wants that. I mean, I guess she could dispute it if it turns out to be a waterbender, but then what's the…"

He trailed off, and made a funny choking noise that made Katara's gaze snap over to him.

Zuko was staring at her now without seeing her, his eyes glazed over and horror on his face.

"What?" Katara asked urgently. "What is it?"

"I think—" Zuko swallowed. "I think she—"

But he broke off, and Katara understood why. A twig had snapped behind them.

Everything happened in a blur, a flurry of action.

Figures leaped over the bush and darted around the sides.

Katara instantly recognized their attire. Fire Lilies.

She and Zuko sprang to their feet. Zuko pulled his swords with a loud clang and Katara drew her water, encircling them both. The Fire Lilies surrounded them, at least twenty; they were heavily outnumbered. Still, they crouched in a fighting position beside each other, calculating. And then Mavang stepped through her circle of Lilies. "Why, hello," she said. "Glorious night, isn't it? Especially if you're a waterbender."

"Mavang," Zuko said furiously. "What is this?"

"Kindly put those swords away, Prince Zuko. They look very sharp and I do value my extremities. I'm not here to hurt anyone, I assure you." But Zuko looked the opposite of reassured. He glared at her and raised his swords higher, but Mavang, thoroughly unconcerned, turned toward Katara and smiled, raising her voice over the rising wind. "Master Katara. I see you made it here without my help. But you brought your husband instead. How charming. If not a bit surprising."

"What?" Zuko looked stricken. "Did you…Katara, did Mavang know about this?"

Katara inwardly cursed herself.

She had no excuse for this. None at all.

"Of course I knew, Prince Zuko," said Mavang, shaking her head. "But if it's any consolation, I had suspicions long before Master Katara told me anything. I've been intrigued about the movements of Master Katara's new friend for a while. I already knew full well she would want to meet your wife, and I also guessed it might be during the full moon. So really," said Mavang, looking at Katara with an almost pitying look, "the information you gave me at the party was nearly useless, darling. I only didn't know the location, so for that I do thank you deeply."

Zuko let out an exasperated groan. "Katara, I told you to be careful with her!"

"She's perfectly at liberty to have transactions with me, Prince Zuko," said Mavang. "Let your poor wife have at least some freedoms. And she got a secret in return. Didn't you, Master Katara? I know it wasn't what you wanted, but now you know to pay more careful attention to the wording of contracts, yes? And it was such a good one. Did you already tell Prince Zuko?"

Katara's throat closed as she felt Zuko's gaze move to her. "Not yet."

Mavang smiled broadly. "Not yet? So it seems you do understand that information imbalances always serve the people who have them. Oh, I knew I liked you for a reason, Master Katara."

"That's not why," Katara insisted desperately. "I wasn't…holding it over him, or anything—"

"Katara, what is she talking about?" Zuko looked very tense.

Mavang was still grinning. "You know I don't give secrets away for free, Prince Zuko."

"Mavang, shut up! Katara, what is she talking about?"

Katara's stomach churned at the bewildered and anxious look on his face. "It's nothing bad," she said, voice shaking. "She told me that…well, she implied that your mother is still alive. And that she knows where she is." She watched, heart sinking, as Zuko's expression shifted through surprise and fury and ended on shocked betrayal. "I had no way of knowing if it was true," said Katara quickly. "I didn't want to get your hopes up, and I didn't want you to go to Mavang and give away secrets of yours. I knew how you felt about her, so I was going to—"

"When?" Zuko's voice was hoarse. The stunned hurt on his face cut at her.

"As soon as Mavang sailed," Katara said, almost pleading now. "I swear it, Zuko."

"But then I couldn't ask her for more details if I wanted them! I thought you of all people would understand…" Zuko was stepping back and away from her, shaking his head almost numbly. Katara's eyes burned with tears at the shock and utter anguish flashing across his face. "You would have taken that opportunity away from me! Right after you made a stupid deal with her!"

"The opportunity is still here," said Madame Mavang quietly, watching them with glittering eyes.

Zuko rounded on her, brandishing his swords. The Lilies tensed as one, ready to pounce.

"Careful, Prince Zuko," said Mavang warningly. "Or I will have my Lilies defend me."

"Tell me where my mother is!" Zuko almost shouted. He sounded choked, and Katara saw that his amber eyes had become blurred. "She must know I'm here, her son, she must…she must be locked up somewhere. That's why she hasn't…that's why I haven't heard from her…"

His voice died in his throat. And Katara saw the horrible, unthinkable idea flicker in his eyes.

What if his mother was alive and well and still hadn't come to him?

Katara stepped toward him, reaching for him.

"Zuko," said Katara urgently. "Zuko, of course there's an explanation. We don't even know if Mavang is telling the truth. But this is clearly what she wants, she wanted you to find out now so she could try and get more payment from you. You were right, please, just take a second and—"

But Zuko swatted her hand away and glared at her so ferociously that Katara shrank back. "Don't," he hissed.

"How do you know where she is?" Zuko demanded, turning back to Mavang. His entire body was shaking.

Mavang idly examined her nails. "That's a big secret, Prince Zuko. I require payment."

Zuko's face scrunched up as if he were in physical pain. "You know I haven't forgotten the last time that I made a deal with you, Mavang. It nearly got me killed."

"I only gave you information," said Mavang. "You decided to act rashly with it."

"You tipped them off!" Zuko shouted. "They knew I would be there!"

"Any fool would have realized that," said Mavang. "And I have little sympathy for the idiocy of men."

Zuko's expression became utterly murderous. He took a slow step toward her.

The Lilies drew closer, stepping in front of Mavang.

"Zuko!" Katara said, very sharply. "Zuko, please—"

But her words were drowned out by a loud gong ringing through the air once more. Several birds were frightened out of their places in the bushes and took off with loud rustles. It rang clearly, five times, and Mavang's face suddenly tightened. "We need to go," she said. "Keep watch over him," she told her Lilies, gesturing toward Zuko. "Master Katara, you'll come with me."

"What? No, I'm not coming with you!"

"Darling, I only want to exchange a few words with your new friend," said Madame Mavang. "And it is a friend waiting for you. Your presence might convince her to listen to me; I've been wanting to meet her for a long time. I have an offer for her. It will only be me and you. I won't bring my Lilies. They'll stay here with your prince. I'll be outnumbered and at your mercy." She bowed.

"I'm not staying here while you go off with Katara," Zuko snarled.

Mavang sighed. "Prince Zuko, this can go two ways. My Lilies can restrain you and Master Katara both, or you can both comply. There are waterbenders in their midst; their power is just as amplified as Master Katara's tonight. You are both outnumbered here, and I don't want a useless fight. But I will get what I want. And your presence in that lemon grove will only make things worse, and even endanger you. Master Katara's new friend won't take kindly to the Fire Prince, I assure you."

Zuko and Katara looked at each other and then around at the Lilies.

"If you attack and it comes to a struggle," said Mavang, as if knowing that they were still thinking about fighting back, "two of my Lilies have also been instructed to break away and alert the guards stationed at the wall. Do you really want anyone else to know that the two of you have been roaming around at night? The Fire Lord would surely have questions, don't you think?"

There was a long, horrible pause as her threat settled.

"We're wasting time," said Mavang. "Prince Zuko, put your swords away and wait politely."

His eyes darted with anxious desperation between Katara and Mavang.

Still, he didn't comply.

But Katara was far less worried for her safety than she was for his.

"And why should I leave Zuko all alone with them?" Katara asked, gesturing at the Lilies.

Mavang just shook her head. Then she walked forward and thrust out her hands. "Bind me," Mavang said. "Take me to her. Convince her to hear me out. Return me safely to my Lilies, and your husband will be here waiting for you. Unharmed. You return me to my Lilies, I return Prince Zuko to you."

Katara looked at Zuko. He gave her a short, furious nod.

Seeing little choice, Katara wove water around Mavang's wrists and froze them together tightly. Zuko's face was very pale and he grimaced before sheathing his swords, but he finally did it. Then he looked at her again, and there was such hurt on his face Katara couldn't stand it.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"Just hurry up and come back," Zuko said, very bitterly.

Trying to swallow over the thick lump in her throat, Katara took Mavang roughly by the arm and led her toward the lemon grove.

She moved quickly; they were already late. The trees were almost eerie when they came upon them, shadows towering into the sky in the dark, and around each trunk Katara imagined she saw movement. She drew water with one hand and prowled forward.

Mavang was silent, which was good. If she started being smug, Katara thought she might actually consider killing her. But Mavang's sharp, excited eyes only slid eagerly through the trees.

And then a figure melted out of the dark, several rows over. Katara stopped, pulse jumping.

The figure didn't come closer either. From here, Katara could make out long, wavy hair. They weren't very tall, and the slightly stooped way they stood made Katara think they were older.

This was confirmed when they spoke. It was an old woman.

"Why have you brought someone else?" She didn't sound angry or worried. Only mildly wary.

Katara tried to control the shaking in her hands, but she knew Mavang probably felt it. If this woman hurt Mavang, it would compromise Zuko's safety. She had no choice but to vouch for her. "She's bound and she is no threat. I brought her because she said she has an offer for you."

"An offer, hmm?" The woman began to slowly move forward. As she walked, Katara saw her sweep an arm almost casually around her. Katara knew that move; the fluidity of it was shockingly familiar. She knew it because it was a waterbending move. And sure enough, in the moonlight, Katara could see that the grass around the woman's feet died. It turned to water that swirled around her waist.

It rushed around her, a bright, glittering, miniature stream that reflected the moon's light.

As she drew closer, Katara saw that her face was wrinkled and sharp, her eyes calculating. And they were blue.

Katara gasped. "Are you…?"

"Yes," said the woman. Her eyes slid to Mavang. "And who is this?"

Mavang seemed to be waiting for Katara to introduce her, for she said nothing.

"This is Madame Mavang," said Katara reluctantly. "She agreed to be restrained because she means you no harm."

The elderly waterbender observed Mavang in a way that was almost detached.

Then, in a flash, her arm shot out. A tendril of water leaped from her waist. The water scooped under Mavang's chin and tilted her face upward, and the waterbender prowled forward to examine her closer. Mavang, to her credit, showed no sign of fear; she only waited quietly.

"Are you Fire Nation?" asked the waterbender, very sharply.

"No," said Mavang, still calm. "My mother came from the Fire Nation, but my father was from the Earth Kingdom, and that is where we lived when they were alive. Not that I remember much. Both died when I was a child. Most of my life has been spent on the sea. I serve no nation."

The waterbender appraised Mavang for another moment, her expression unreadable. Then she said, "Very well. I'll hear the offer. If nothing else, you'll also be excellent for a little practice."

"Practice?" Katara's head swam. "Who are you?"

"My name is Hama," she said. "And I have been waiting so impatiently to meet you, Katara. The last free Southern waterbender. Until the Fire Nation took you as well." Anger flashed through her eyes, like the churning of waves. She gestured over herself. "I was imprisoned too, though mine was quite different from yours. But you're not as alone as you think you are." Her eyes grew brighter. "And now I can teach you everything, Katara. We have much to do. I will help you survive. I will set all of us free."

She held out a mottled, ancient hand. Water twisted around her arm and fingers like snakes.

Hama's face held a distinct ache, a yearning like Katara had never seen.

In her eyes, Katara saw generations of loss and separation and hatred.

"Come here, child," Hama said, very softly. "I want to take a closer look at another member of my tribe."

Chapter 15: The Incendiary

Chapter Text

Hama's wrinkled hands were soft as she cupped Katara's face.

"How did you escape?" Katara whispered, as Hama examined her.

"I will show you, Katara." Hama pulled away and stepped back after a moment, turning to Mavang. "But first, let us hear this offer of yours, Madame Mavang. How do you know who I am and what is it you want from me?"

Mavang smiled. "I have a network of spies more extensive than you could possibly imagine. We have a lot in common. We're both cunning and will do anything to survive. I've heard whispers, you see. A prison break, a little more than a decade ago. Villagers disappearing under the full moon, in a small village on another island with a reclusive innkeeper, though reports of that stopped a long time ago."

"I admit I was short-sighted in my pain," said Hama. "The practice was beneficial, but my plans have grown." And then she yanked water up toward her palm and froze it in one fluid motion; the water became a dagger and she lunged, holding it at Mavang's throat. Mavang didn't flinch. "Since you seem to know so many of my secrets, give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you."

"Don't kill her!" Katara gasped, thinking of Zuko, but the two women ignored her.

They were staring each other down, and Mavang still wore that calm, calculating expression that Katara knew well by now.

She'd worn it when she'd first met Katara.

She was sizing Hama up. Mavang was reading a mark.

"Because we both want the same thing," said Mavang finally. "We want Fire Lord Ozai dead. Besides, I'm not so foolish as to let your secrets die with me. Kill me tonight, and I have ensured they will spread."

Hama blinked. And then she smiled.

But she did not lower the dagger.

Mavang continued, "But Ozai's defeat isn't all you want, is it? You want to take the Fire Nation apart."

"Piece by piece," said Hama softly. She lowered her ice dagger, and then she gestured around. "Look at this place. The abundance of water. The oceans and rivers, the water in the air, the heavy rains in the summers. What better place for a new Water Tribe? The Fire Nation believes fire to be the superior element, but what is a lit torch in the rain? Water always snuffs out flame in the end."

Katara's heart began to pound.

"What…what are you saying?" she said, voice shaking. "You want to get rid of the Fire Nation completely?"

"Only then can the world heal." Hama was still looking at Mavang. "Your offer?"

"Ships," said Mavang promptly. "Secrets and information are not my only area of expertise. As I said, much of my life has been spent on the sea. What better alliance than between waterbenders and sailors? We will be unstoppable. Once Ozai is gone, let me help you handle your trade. I only ask for a modest cut. Together, we can bask in unimagined riches."

Katara watched with a helpless sense of rising panic as Hama considered Mavang's words.

If Hama made a bold move against the Fire Nation, the war would begin again before Aang was ready to fight.

It was likely the other Water Tribes would be slaughtered in retaliation; the Fire Nation would not know to distinguish that this was a separate faction acting alone, nor would they care. The alliance would break.

But Katara could not warn Hama that Aang was still alive, not in front of Mavang.

She wasn't even sure Hama would care.

Instead she said quickly, "Hama, I'm here on a contract between the existing Water Tribes and the Fire Nation. There are soldiers guarding the Tribes. If the Fire Nation is attacked and they're suspected, the war will start again. Many people from the Tribes will be killed. We have to wait to take any action."

"For what?" asked Hama, her tone turning rather icy. "For the Northerners to realize that they would be far more powerful if they let their women fight, and if they did not remain huddled up behind their protective walls like cowards, even while their Sister Tribe was purged? For someone to come along and save us? You have not been here long enough, Katara. You have not seen what I have seen. No one will come to save you. You cannot rely on them. The Fire Nation is a stain upon the world. We must clean it, and I have waited long enough."

Katara felt herself growing desperate. The way Hama spoke made her skin prickle.

"Madame Mavang is not the only one with contacts in the palace," continued Hama. "And besides, we are not marching with an army. I have collected some allies over the years, but first we will strike from the inside." Her eyes gleamed. "For that I also need you, Katara."

Katara swallowed. "There are good people here. Innocent people. I don't want to hurt them."

Hama threw back her head and laughed. "Innocent?" Her voice shook. "When I was imprisoned, they strung us up by our wrists to ensure we could not bend when they gave us water, or when we urinated. They beat us and whipped us. They fed us only enough to keep us alive, until we wasted away into skin stretched over bones. Forty years I lived in that hell, Katara, before I devised a method to escape. Several others joined me in my plan that night, but I was the only one to make it out alive. The ones that refused to join me still rot in their prisons, except those with healing abilities. The Fire Nation allows those benders to work in their hospitals and heal their soldiers, though not before cutting out their tongues to ensure that they can't speak to anyone else. We are enslaved, Katara."

The wind whipped Hama's gray hair into a frenzy around her head. Every line of her face was unyielding. "But I am finally going to free them. Free you. Do not speak to me of innocence. There is no right and wrong in war, child. You do what you must to survive, or you die."

Her words made Katara stagger back a few steps, stunned. She wanted to shake her head fiercely, as if it could make her unhear them.

Katara had a sudden memory of another set of blue eyes, a pair of hands tight in hers.

"Kuenni?" she whispered, and Hama smiled grimly.

"Ah yes, you met Kuenni. It took a great many years for her to get a position inside the palace."

"Did she help deliver your note?"

"She did," said Hama. "Do not let them soften you, Katara. Don't trust anyone from the Fire Nation, and don't be a fool. I will need your help, and the only thing I ask on the day that we strike is that you leave Ozai to me." Hama bared her teeth. "The Fire Lord's life is mine."

And then Hama turned to Mavang. "I accept your offer. We can meet to work out details later. Tonight is the full moon, and I must use it to show Katara my most treasured trick of all. Surely you don't mind assisting?"

For the first time, a flicker of fear crossed Mavang's face. Hama didn't wait for an answer. She waved a hand and the ice around Mavang's wrists melted. And then she began to circle her while Katara watched, her limbs turning curiously numb.

"There were many rats in our prison," said Hama conversationally, as if she were speaking about what she'd eaten for breakfast that morning. "I still have several toes without feeling. They would nibble at fingers and toes at night when we slept, you see. A few of them chewed low enough to ruin my nerves."

Bile shot up into Katara's throat. "Hama…" she began, tears stinging her eyes.

"Don't pity me, child," said Hama gently. "The rats were my salvation. As you know, waterbenders are bursting with power at the full moon. I began experimenting on some of them." She whirled and raised her arms. She bent her wrists at a strange angle.

Hama's fingers twitched, curling stiffly. This was not the fluid waterbending that Katara knew.

Abruptly, Mavang let out a choking noise. Her arms began to twist and she sank to her knees trembling, but slowly.

"Don't fight it," said Hama to Mavang, amused. "There's no point, Madame. You are mine now."

"Stop," Katara gasped. "Hama, please—"

The panic in Mavang's eyes was horrible to see; the way she desperately tried to regain control of herself. But she could not. Hama was manipulating the very blood inside her body, making her a puppet.

Hama's veins bulged. Her eyes were now wild and almost feverish.

"Don't be soft." Hama spoke very sharply now. "You will be crushed if you are soft, Katara. See the way she operates under my will? I could have her pick up a knife and stab herself, and she would have to listen." She continued bending Mavang and twisting her almost as if it was a game, watching with a sort of detachment as Katara watched in horror. "I practiced on the rats, first," continued Hama casually. "Every full moon. Then, finally, we forced the guards to our will. They opened our cells and we escaped. I made it out, but the others didn't. I hid for years, practicing my abilities on Fire Nation villagers."

"This isn't right," said Katara. "Please, this much control, Hama, it isn't—"

"Don't speak like that!"

Hama stopped bloodbending and left Mavang on her knees on the soft grass, gasping and shaking.

Even old and stooped as she was, she seemed to loom over Katara then. "I can form water into an ice dagger and put it into someone's heart. I could use it to slash their wrists. How is this different than that? Bending can already control life and death. Now our bloodbending controls limbs. It set me free. There is no right and wrong. There is only usefulness." Hama pointed at Mavang. "Bloodbend her."

Katara swallowed. "But…"

"Katara, I am teaching you a harsh lesson. You will never survive if you do not harden. You are with me, or you are against me. Bloodbend her, or I will make you. Tap into your anger. Now."

Hama, Katara realized with a sinking heart, had no space left for shades of gray.

She's been captive for too long. Those spaces had been violently chiseled out and filled with too much hatred.

But Hama wanted to save her. And she wanted to save waterbenders still held captive. It was tantalizing, the prospect of doing something.

What if she could somehow reign Hama in? Make sure people like Rusai had protection?

And what if Aang never got his powers back? Hama and Mavang could be keys to overthrowing the Fire Lord, the best chance they had. Was it better, then, to align with questionable methods? What was the alternative? Wasting away here? Becoming like her?

Passively letting the Fire Nation pillage the entire world?

Katara's head spun. She didn't know the answers.

What she did know was that she had to endure. And tonight, if she didn't play along, she wasn't sure if Hama would allow her to leave and return to the palace. So she would play along. Setting her jaw, Katara curled her hands as she'd seen Hama do.

She thought of Eza and Ozai and Azula and Yon Rha.

She thought of the way the Fire Nation controlled her, repressed and restrained her.

Hatred burst through her like a flare in the night. Her veins strained against her skin.

Mavang shuddered again. At first her movements were stilted and minimal, and Katara could feel the resistance Mavang offered. It was an odd feeling, tapping into the blood rushing through someone's veins, far different than manipulating water. Katara could sense Mavang's beating heart and her lungs and her organs. Katara felt her life fluttering like a little bird under her palms.

Bloodbending was visceral, hot, a thudding heart.

Other waterbending was cool and steady, a rushing stream. Katara had always felt powerful when she bent water.

It was nothing compared to this.

She was invincible. She was burning. Was this how firebenders felt? She was like a god.

She could rule the whole world, bend them all to her will, make sure that no one hurt her or her loved ones ever again.

If they tried, they would writhe and twist under her. They would suffer—

"Enough."

Katara jerked, clarity rushing back to her as she released her hold on Mavang's blood.

Mavang was on her hands and knees on the ground, pale as a sheet.

As soon as Katara no longer controlled her, Mavang vomited right into the grass, the sharp smell of it mixing with the citrus and dirt of the grove. And then she looked up and gave Katara a dazed smile. "That," said Mavang, "is obscenely useful."

Katara stared at her. Mavang didn't appear angry; there was only a light in her eyes, that calculating light.

This was a new secret, a new factor in Mavang's plans.

She'd made a choice to throw her lot in with Hama. Now she knew for sure it was the right choice.

"I did not come this far to be subservient to someone else," said Hama to Mavang. "I am in charge."

"I only provide the ships and help boost your coffers for a cut," Mavang agreed, smoother than Katara had expected for someone that had just been violently sick all over the ground. "My trade has long been restricted under Ozai, and he has also long wanted me dead. I consider this mutually beneficial."

Hama nodded tersely, then turned to Katara.

"Katara," said Hama. "Kuenni cannot seek you out personally, for fear of raising suspicion. The other waterbending healers are not allowed to leave the hospital where they work. But don't forget that you are not alone. And it is Kuenni that has to check with her waterbending whether you are pregnant, or so she tells me, so if there is any message you need to get to me, slip it to her then. Await further instructions and keep your ears open."

Katara could only nod. She was shaking violently.

Her limbs felt ripped open, exhausted. They were burning.

But they also craved that sweet feeling of exhilaration again; that iron taste of control.

"Do not forget. Do not be soft," said Hama. "Now, more practice. Bloodbend her again."

Sickened with herself at the little thrill she received at the instruction, Katara raised her hands.

Katara's grip on Mavang's arm tightened as she rushed back to the place where the Lilies waited with Zuko, moving so fast she was almost stumbling. She was still jittery with the feeling of raw power coursing through her veins, the light of the full moon dancing on her skin.

But it had not satiated her.

The usage of her bending under the full moon and learning to manipulate blood hadn't drained her.

She only wanted more. An endless pit of want, pulling and pounding at her, blazing like an inferno.

She'd liked being in control. She'd liked the power.

Katara tried not to shudder, especially when she glanced at Mavang and saw how pale she still was.

All she wanted was to get back to the palace and think, for the adrenaline to fade.

Allying with Hama and Mavang was dangerous, but yet another area in which Katara didn't seem to have much choice. Hama was going through with whatever she was planning whether Katara liked it or not.

You are with me, or you are against me.

Do not be soft.

The Fire Nation is a stain upon the world.

They are all complicit.

There is no right or wrong in war, child.

I am going to free them. Free you.

The thoughts melted away when she saw the cluster of Lilies waiting. The wind was howling fiercely by now, and Katara brushed her whipping hair out of the way and searched anxiously for Zuko. She found him sitting in the middle of the circle of Lilies, shoulders hunched and still staring at the ground, as if he hadn't moved at all in the time they'd been gone. The only sign that he was awake were his hands, which were clenched together around his legs and twisting over and over. But he heard their footsteps, because his head shot up.

"Katara," Zuko exclaimed hoarsely, immediately scrambling to his feet.

All signs of his earlier anger were gone.

All Katara saw etched onto his face right now was blatant and desperate relief.

She felt the relief she saw on his face equally. Her entire body seemed to relax at seeing him here, with no apparent harm done to him. The Lilies threateningly shifted at Zuko's movements, but Katara drew herself up and said sharply, "Let him move. Then I'll release her."

The Lilies looked as one to Mavang, who only nodded faintly. They diverged, stepping back, and Zuko broke out of their circle and quickly strode over. As soon as he had drawn near enough for Katara to feel secure, she promptly melted the ice around Mavang's wrists, newly formed when they left the grove. She turned quickly to Zuko. "Are you okay?" She didn't see any signs of injury.

Zuko nodded, scanning her just as intently she was him. "Are you?"

"Just fine," she assured him.

Zuko's attention moved after a while to Mavang, who was noticeably worse for the wear, still pale and trembling. Zuko's face flickered, but he didn't ask, though he did check over Katara again. The Lilies, drifting over to form a protective shield behind their Madame, seemed to see Mavang's weakened state as well; they were beginning to give Katara looks of clear suspicion and anger. She avoided their eyes.

Their accusatory stares hit too close to home.

Mavang was certainly frustrating, but Katara had not necessarily enjoyed making her squirm and suffer.

She'd liked the power, but not directed at Mavang. Katara wouldn't go out of her way to perform it on just anyone for a thrill, even when the call still roared in her veins to bloodbend again, to taste that power. That semblance of control, at least, made Katara feel a little better.

"Well, Prince Zuko?" Mavang drawled. "It's getting late. Shall we finish our deal?"

Zuko's eyes darted between Mavang and Katara a few times before he looked down at the ground. His body was very tense and his face was all furrowed up when he said, very low, "No deal, Mavang."

Katara's eyes widened.

Mavang tilted her head. "Oh? Did you change your mind?"

"For now," Zuko said roughly, still not looking up.

Mavang smiled. "Very well. I'm sure we'll see each other again. The offer will still remain." And then she looked at Katara and winked.

And with that she waved a hand, and her Lilies followed her away.

The sky was beginning to darken with clouds, and the wind was rising higher and higher. The moon's light was therefore dimmed, and Katara and Zuko watched until Mavang and her Lilies became shadows, and then until they fully disappeared into the night. Tiny raindrops were beginning to fall, and Katara knew they had to get going and at least get back to the cover of the passageway. There wasn't time to discuss anything yet too deeply if they wanted to avoid the beginning of the storm and return safely to their quarters.

But the question burned at her; she had to know one thing before they set off.

Katara touched Zuko's wrist. "Why?"

Zuko finally looked up and right at her. "I think I get why you didn't tell me now," he said quietly. He looked utterly hollow; every inch of his face lined with pain. "You knew I would get angry and rush off to confront Mavang. But giving away my secrets weakens me." He dipped his chin. "So it also weakens you. It's like you told me. If something happens to me, they'll probably give you to someone else." His fists curled and uncurled at his sides. "And even assuming Mavang is telling the truth," he muttered, "I wouldn't be able to leave and go find my mother right now anyway." He was still staring at the ground, but Katara saw his eyes turn hard with determination. "So…I can wait."

A warmth flooded into Katara's chest, and hot, prickling tears burned at her eyes.

All the frayed emotions she'd felt over the course of the night crashed over her.

Before she knew what she was doing, she'd flung herself at Zuko and wrapped her arms around his neck.

She couldn't speak yet; she didn't quite know what to say anyway. Zuko did not seem to know how to react to her affection. It took him a very long time to loosely return the hug, and he never relaxed into it.

Eventually Katara noticed that she was clearly making him uncomfortable and drew away.

She swiped at a few stray tears. "There's an explanation, Zuko. She wants to find you. I know it."

This only seemed to make Zuko's body stiffen even further. Confusion and pain, rage and betrayal, shifted around on his face and in his eyes. He looked hurt and lost and scared. A boy that just wanted his mother and now wasn't even sure she wanted him back. "You don't know that at all," he said flatly.

Katara reached tentatively for his wrist again. "Zuko…"

But he only cut her off and said firmly, "We should hurry up and get back. The storm is coming."

Katara accepted the change of topic with a graceful nod, despite the heavy pang in her chest.

Zuko had never exactly shied away from sharing things about his mother with her. And he'd shared his emotions and his weaknesses and his confusion at being home, or about Mai; sometimes with some reluctance, but he'd never brushed her off quite like this.

Now Katara sensed an emotional barricade being erected. He was withdrawing.

They didn't speak again until they'd found their way back to the passageway, too concentrated on getting through Caldera City without being detected and with the additional obstacle of the growing weather. The rain had picked up enough that Katara was deeply relieved when they slipped into the abandoned pleasure house. Zuko went in first, and she followed him down into the trapdoor and the long climb underground. When she landed after him, she took his arm so they would be able to stick together in the dark.

"Are you really all right?" Zuko asked after a few moments.

Katara nodded, remembered he probably couldn't see it, and then said out loud, "Yes."

It wasn't exactly true. She felt both overexerted and yet a desperate need to bend again.

She also found herself wondering what the blood in Zuko's veins would feel like.

Nausea swirled tight in her stomach.

"You're shaking," he pointed out.

"Just the full moon," Katara said faintly.

Zuko's disapproving silence didn't feel like he was entirely convinced.

Then he said, carefully contained, "What happened to you?"

"I, um…learned a new bending trick. I think it was a little intense."

"A new bending trick?" She heard the rough curiosity in Zuko's voice. "How?"

Until this point Katara had inwardly debated just how much to share with Zuko. She was undecided about the bloodbending, and she thought the vaguest of details about Hama and Mavang were probably best at the moment. So she said, "Well, I…met another waterbender tonight." Zuko kept quiet, though she could almost feel physical tension rolling off him in waves. He was trying not pester her with questions. Instead he was waiting for her to volunteer more information.

Zuko, usually so impatient, was showing remarkable restraint tonight.

Affection and hope squeezed at her chest, laced with bitter confusion.

Katara hesitated before she said, "It was a member of the Southern Water Tribe. I'm not the last waterbender after all."

"That's good, right? How is she here?"

"She's here because the Fire Nation captured all the waterbenders before I was born. She was imprisoned for forty years before she figured out a way to escape. She was the only one who did." Katara had a sudden image of Mavang, twitching and contorting under the moonlight, and she pursed her lips, trying to ignore the surge of excitement that made her fingertips tingle. That part of her that wanted to do it all over again.

Especially when she thought of the other members of her tribe, still imprisoned or used for healing.

She pushed that fact down, let it feed the blackest part of her rage.

Zuko was quiet for a moment. "What did she want with you?" he asked finally.

Katara hesitated again.

You have not seen what I have seen. You cannot rely on them.

He's trying to butter you up.

"She wanted to show me that new waterbending trick," said Katara finally, settling on being truthful but withholding plenty of vital information. "Make sure I could survive. It was…" She trailed off. She didn't know where to start. Her complicated muddle of emotions didn't feel entirely explainable. Horror, fear, want, power. "I don't know if I want to talk about it," she said finally.

"Well, what about Mavang? What did she want?"

"Um…the advantage of waterbending for her ships, I think," said Katara. "Something about trade."

She heard how flimsy and evasive it sounded. So did Zuko.

He didn't say anything, but she felt his arm tense under her hand.

"What did you realize?" Katara asked, quickly changing the subject. "About the heir?"

Zuko's voice now shifted to something much darker. "I think Azula wants the Avatar in the royal family. I think she's hoping the Avatar is still alive as she suspects, and she's going to find him and capture him. And then she's going to kill him at the right moment and try to increase the chance that our baby is the Avatar."

Katara stopped in her tracks, aghast.

She had a sudden mental image of Azula killing Aang over her birthing bed.

"That's…no," she said hoarsely. That can't be…"

"Yes, it can," said Zuko grimly. "The alliance stays in place but it would discredit me, because I didn't properly kill the previous Avatar. And then the new Avatar will be royalty. She manages it in one move. And if my father doesn't execute me for that failure, then Azula will probably find some way to get rid of me."

"And me," said Katara. "She won't need either of us anymore."

"No," said Zuko. "I think she would keep you. You're a waterbending master, and you already live here. You'd also be easy to control, because the child would be under their thumb. They would probably put more restrictions on you, but they would allow you to stay and train the new Avatar in waterbending."

Katara was clutching Zuko's arm so hard that her nails dug in.

"But at least it isn't an issue," said Zuko. "Since you keep saying the Avatar is dead. Right?"

He sounded very knowing. Too knowing.

Katara didn't answer. She started walking briskly again.

Zuko, for his part, didn't press.

Silence fell again for the rest of the way back. Katara was trying to process her revulsion and alarm in a way that wouldn't be too obvious, especially once they finally made it out of the passage and into the sun room. Though the moon's light was dimmed by the clouds rolling in from the storm, Zuko would still be able to see her better, so she carefully arranged her face to neutrality as they crawled out.

Katara half expected someone to be waiting to pounce on them, but there wasn't.

She expected the same once they'd crossed the roof and returned to their room.

But it was quiet and empty, and the sky was beginning to lighten.

They took turns using the washroom to change, and Zuko stuffed their clothes and his swords under the loose floorboard. And then he looked at her, his eyes drooping with exhaustion. "We should try and get at least some sleep," he muttered.

Katara nodded, following him to bed and sliding in, but Zuko fell asleep long before she did.

Katara's skin and her blood were still buzzing. She could not stop thinking of Hama, and her relentless push for revenge. The light she'd seen in Hama's eyes made Katara wonder if Hama was willing to drown the entire world if it meant that the Fire Nation would fall.

It was nearly dawn when Katara finally drifted off, into restless, twitching sleep.

When Katara woke she had no idea what time it was, because there was no sun.

Rain beat against the windows so loudly and the wind roared with such furor that Katara was surprised she had slept at all. When she looked outside she only saw a solid sheet of water and gray. She couldn't see the courtyard below, even when she pressed her face almost right against the window. A rumble of thunder made her stumble back, and a crack of lightning followed that briefly lit up the room.

It all seemed so very close.

Katara moved back to the edge of the bed and sat.

Last night's energy surge finally seemed to have pulled everything from her.

She didn't know what to do, really, without the ability to go outside, and Zuko was not there to offer suggestions. The storm raged for days, though after the first day or two Katara relaxed, just a little; she'd been on edge about their outing being discovered, about Mavang tipping off Ozai, about something going wrong.

But nothing happened. She was, in fact, left mostly to her own devices, even from Zuko.

At one point several tiles were ripped off the roof of the palace, a loud scraping in the night.

Ty Lee once commented that it was the worst storm they'd seen in a long time.

And so Katara spent her time inside, bored and vaguely lonely.

Zuko didn't seem angry with her, but he was distant, and something about his demeanor had changed; a permanent slump to his shoulders, a distinct light gone out in his eyes. Katara no longer caught him trying to firebend. He picked at his food during meals they shared but left most of it uneaten. He didn't start conversation, and their previous banter, whether good-natured or irritable, was replaced with long silences, and Katara found herself wishing he would at least argue with her. He didn't seem to have meetings and it wasn't as though he could go outside in the storm, and yet still he spent his time elsewhere. He didn't ask her to join him for hand-to-hand training. His eyes were always tight around the edges. When she'd first arrived, Zuko had kept a distinct distance from her, similar to this.

But unlike when she'd first arrived, Katara was now rather hurt by this avoidance.

She longed to speak to him about it, because she saw the melancholy and knew this was about his mother, but also she knew how important space could be; and any tentative attempts on her part to bring the conversation close to the subject had resulted in a little scowl on his part and a quick change of topic.

Katara took to seeking out Ty Lee for company instead. Her bubbly mood was naturally uplifting, and it briefly took Katara's mind off her worry for the new situation with Hama and Mavang; for Zuko; a possible pregnancy; and the whole looming activities of conception week. The day the storm finally broke, Katara was roused early in the morning by Zuko gently shaking her shoulder. His lips were pursed.

"Sorry. Healer Shoshu is at the door," he muttered, and Katara's stomach plummeted.

Today marked the first day they were to try for pregnancy.

Katara sat up. "You can let her in," she said quietly.

Delaying it was utterly pointless.

Zuko crossed to the door in stiff movements and opened it, and then Healer Shoshu was filing in after him. "Good morning, Prince Zuko and Princess Katara." She bowed to each of them. Neither answered. Katara's voice felt stuck in her throat.

Healer Shoshu did not seem to take offense to this. Zuko sat slowly on the edge of Katara's side of the bed with an air of distinct dread. Shoshu took the chair from behind Zuko's desk, pulled it over, and set it right before them. And then she spread her arms wide and smiled radiantly. "Fertile time is upon us, and the Sages will arrive soon to bless the room and send their prayers for a healthy heir."

Katara's nose tingled with the phantom smell from the memory of all that incense, and she barely contained a grimace, though she did wrinkle her nose. Zuko's hands curled into slow fists beside him. Still, neither of them said anything.

"Now," said Healer Shoshu, clasping her hands primly in her lap, "as I've mentioned before, I believe daytime is best to conceive if we take Prince Zuko into account." She frowned. "Though I have considered the possibility that you are more fertile at night, Princess Katara, being a waterbender. I don't have nearly enough information on that. Not enough intermixing with waterbenders, of course. I only hope the…opposing elements won't cause a problem." A light had entered her eyes, the fervor of medical research, and it put a sour taste in Katara's mouth. They were like an experiment to her. "Too much daily activity may actually lower chances of conception," continued Shoshu, "so for now we will remain with the established practice of once during the daytime. We can always monitor for adjustments."

Katara realized she was gripping her sheets very tightly and tried to relax. Nighttime would have been far, far better. At least then it could all happen under the cover of darkness. She'd seen the way that the light streamed into the room and beamed across the bed.

She automatically glanced at the curtains. But as if possessing the ability to read Katara's mind, Shoshu added, "The curtains should remain open. Sunlight makes Prince Zuko more potent."

Katara could not help but squirm. She did not particularly enjoy hearing about concepts like potency and Zuko in the same sentence, especially when being discussed in relation to her own womb.

"There is still obviously the offer of aphrodisiacs—" Shoshu began, but Zuko caught her off.

"No."

There was a momentary pause, surprise rippling on her face at his fierce adamancy.

"They aren't harmful in any way, Prince Zuko," said Shoshu, in a soothing tone.

"I'm not taking those," he said roughly.

Shoshu blinked, frowned, and then looked to Katara. "Princess?"

Katara shook her head. She still wasn't sure she could speak properly. Her throat felt clogged.

Shoshu's frown only deepened. "Very well. I hope this means there are no intimacy issues?"

There was a very long silence, only broken by the shuffle of Zuko's feet on the floor. He and Katara determinedly avoided looking at each other and at Healer Shoshu, who suddenly sounded very wary. "Have you been intimate?"

Another dreadful pause.

"Yes," Zuko bit out finally.

"How often?"

This was truly too much to bear. Katara forgot her nerves and her fear and the sensation that her airways were closing, and she found her voice again. "How often are you intimate, Healer Shoshu?" she snapped.

Zuko made a strangled noise that might have been the beginning of a laugh, mixed with dismay.

Healer Shoshu, on the other hand, didn't react to Katara's outburst right away. Her face was still calm as she tilted her head and observed the two of them for a long moment. And then she sighed. "Please understand, Prince Zuko and Princess Katara," she said gently. "I know this is not a comfortable topic, especially in arranged marriages like this one. But you both belong to the royal family. This marriage is not about you. It is about politics. Heirs are not a private matter, they are a public one. A matter of the state. The royal family receives many extravagant luxuries—as they should," she added hurriedly. "But the luxury of privacy in sexual matters is not one of them. I am sorry."

She truly looked it.

Neither responded. Zuko's expression had turned murderous.

"So I will ask again," said Healer Shoshu, very patiently. "How often?"

Even from where she sat, Katara could see that Zuko was shaking with such suppressed rage that she doubted he was capable of speaking. So Katara reluctantly answered, "Once."

Healer Shoshu pursed her lips. "Only once? To consummate the marriage?"

"Yes."

"Was it a negative experience?"

Zuko uttered several very strong swear words under his breath. He looked ready to combust.

Shoshu sighed again. "I see. Well, this only makes my suggestion of an aphrodisiac more urgent."

"Your suggestion has been heard. Twice," said Zuko, a distinct warning in his tone.

Healer Shoshu inclined her head in a miniature bow. "I apologize, Prince Zuko. I only want to assist you and make everything easier, I assure you. Now, as I've also mentioned, Princess Katara must lie on her back with her legs tucked to her chest afterward. Fertility massages will be made on the abdomen that will hopefully aid in conception. If they are done incorrectly, it can have the opposite effect, so I must perform them. After you are finished, while Princess Katara lies on her back, you will summon me for this."

Katara gaped at her. Even the actual sex felt far less intrusive than that.

Lying there, splayed out, while Shoshu prodded around at her. And would Zuko still be in the room?

Katara longed to slide under the covers and hide for weeks. Months.

Years, even.

The Fire Nation was making sure they couldn't slither out of the obligation.

"Is that not optional?" Zuko asked, very gruffly.

"No, Prince Zuko," said Healer Shoshu lightly. "I have been told to do everything in my power to get Princess Katara pregnant, so that is what I must do." She stood and bowed very deeply, one final time. "I will send the Sages here, as well as Princess Katara's lady-in-waiting. Please don't hesitate to call for me if you need anything. Besides the aphrodisiacs we have various toys and other offerings that we can—"

"Out," said Zuko tightly, having apparently reached the very end of his patience.

He sat slightly hunched over on the edge of the bed, his fingers tight on the bridge of his nose.

"Well," said Shoshu, finally a little ruffled by his demeanor. "I am available at any time, if you need me."

And with that she left, leaving them alone and sitting in a horrifically awkward silence.

Chapter 16: The Fool

Chapter Text

Zuko continued sitting very still long after Healer Shoshu left, fingers tight on the bridge of his nose. Katara shifted under the bed sheets, resisting the urge to throw them off in the growing temperature. After the storm, the heat was on the rise again. Katara suspected it would rise and rise until it became as unbearable as before, muggier and heavier with each passing day until it broke with more rain or a storm.

A repeated pattern over Fire Nation summers.

Katara opened her mouth and closed it again several times, but nothing came out.

She had no idea what to say.

Zuko still hadn't moved a muscle.

Finally Zuko got up, swept over to his bookshelf, and poured himself a very sizeable cup of liquor.

"I'd offer you some now, but probably better to wait until the Sages are gone," Zuko muttered. And then he slammed it back in one go and set the cup down very firmly on his desk before pouring another. When that one was gone, he set the bottle down and began to pace.

Katara was reminded inexplicably of that caged tigerdillo; it grated horribly on her frayed nerves. "Would you stop that?" she snapped.

His steps faltered and he looked at her in vague surprise. Then he narrowed his eyes. "Is my walking bothering you?"

"No, your nervous energy is bothering me!"

Zuko threw up his hands. "Huh, I wonder why I might have nervous energy!"

"You don't have a monopoly on nervous energy, Zuko!" Katara said loudly. "You don't even need to have a 'fertility massage', whatever that entails—" A knock sounded on the door, and her voice dissolved into tense silence.

"Come in," said Zuko, very roughly.

Ty Lee walked in, saw them both glaring at each other, and let out a nervous laugh. "Oh, umm…I can come back if you're…talking, or whatever..."

"No, I'd like to get ready now," Katara said, very firm and still much louder than necessary. She swung out of the bed and stalked over to the washroom. Ty Lee closed the door behind them with a quiet click. She opened her mouth for a second, looking uncertain, but then closed it again after a little sigh, and she began filling Katara's tub.

Katara was scrubbed much more thoroughly today than usual. She sat there glowering at the far wall while Ty Lee used a rough brush on her skin, washed her hair, and afterward, began the process of stripping Katara's body hair all over again. Katara had rather forgotten this part, and the heat of pain with each of Ty Lee's rapid yanks somewhat lulled Katara's seething energy.

Then she was slathered in sweet-smelling lotion from head to toe before Ty Lee held up a yellow sundress.

"Do you want your wraps?" Ty Lee asked, and Katara understood what she was really asking.

Are you going to do your duty right away today?

"Just the top ones," Katara said. She wanted it over with.

Ty Lee accepted this without a change to her facial expression and came over to start dressing Katara, who held out her hands rather numbly, feeling like a doll all over again. "Make-up?" Ty Lee asked, and Katara shook her head.

She dried her own hair and Ty Lee came forward to run her fingers through it.

"You have such lovely curls," Ty Lee said kindly.

Katara only gave her a wan smile.

When they emerged, the room was already choked with incense, but there were no Sages to be seen. They'd already done the blessing, so at the very least Katara didn't have to stand there and watch that all over again.

There was only Zuko, looking distinctly more hazy around the eyes than before due to the drinks settling in. His eyes barely flicked over her before he half turned away, his expression pulling into a little scowl.

"Well, Zuko," Ty Lee ventured hopefully. "Don't you think Katara looks—"

"Get out, Ty Lee."

His tone was sharp and left no room for argument. Ty Lee winced but gave Katara one last shoulder squeeze before she left, and then they were alone again. Katara put her hands on her hips. "That was very rude, Zuko."

"I'm sure she'll survive."

"You know," Katara said, her voice slowly getting shriller, "I was wishing you would start talking to me normally again, but right now you're kind of starting to make me change my mind!"

This finally made Zuko look properly at her. His scowl melted into stunned confusion.

Katara couldn't help but compare this back to the first night, when he'd hovered across the room from her in a very similar way. But everything else had changed. She'd been so terrified. She'd hated him so much. And yet somehow today felt worse, at least in other ways. And not just because of the fertility massage and grappling with the idea of actual pregnancy. Now that she and Zuko knew each other better it was all just so terribly awkward. Katara didn't want to look at Zuko anymore; her stomach twisted with nerves.

She stared at the floor. "Should we get this over with?" she asked finally.

There was a long silence.

"No," said Zuko.

Katara looked up. "What?"

"No," repeated Zuko, firmly. "We need to discuss something first."

Her throat drew tight. "I'm sorry about Mavang's secret," Katara said. "I am. I really was going to—"

"Not that."

Katara stopped, confused. "Oh?" she finally prompted, a little tremulously.

"I have a strange feeling you still don't communicate with me," said Zuko. "This is a problem."

Katara frowned. "I know you realize I didn't tell you all the details from the lemon grove, but—"

"I'm not talking about your war secrets and plans, Katara," said Zuko roughly. "And yeah, I know you have them. I'm not stupid. I'm talking about how you purposefully changed your body language and stifled your discomfort on the wedding night. I tried to make you as comfortable as possible." He set his jaw. "And you misled me."

The air in the room felt much thinner than before, and ashamed heat crept into her face.

Katara didn't have an argument. What would she even say? She had been trying to mislead him.

"That was back then," she managed finally, over the lump in her throat. "It will be different now."

"Yeah?" Zuko challenged. "Remember when I pinned you during hand-to-hand and you tried to insist it was fine?"

Katara blinked several times and then looked down, cheeks now burning.

Zuko let the silence sit for a long time before he spoke again, and his voice shook. "Exactly. I am not okay with that. I will not do this again only to be blindsided by you bursting into tears because I thought everything was fine. No."

He was breathing very hard and was flushed with anger by the time Katara could meet his gaze again.

"Well then?" Zuko pressed. "Were you afraid? When I pinned you?"

"Zuko—"

"Katara."

Katara pressed her lips together for a moment. "Yes," she said. "But it isn't anything about you personally. And afraid isn't even the right word. I know you're not going to hurt me, it was just a…an unconscious reaction to an unpleasant memory. It's really not a big deal."

"Not a big—?" Zuko gaped at her. "You don't think that might be a relevant thing for me to know this week?"

"There's nothing you can really do about it," said Katara. "It would only make you feel worse."

Zuko threw up his hands in exasperation. "Yes, there is! I can at least be aware that it could possibly be a problem! Anything is better than being shut out completely!" He pinched the bridge of his nose again and said, very tightly, "You want it over with as quickly as possible. I'm willing to do anything you want. Whatever you feel makes it easier. Okay? But I'm not willing to be shut out. Not with this."

"Of course." Katara stared hard at the floor again, her eyes pricking. "It will be different. I promise."

"Good," Zuko said, still rather stiffly.

A thick silence fell.

Katara gathered all her bravery and took several small steps toward him. She reached out to lightly grasp Zuko's wrist, and took it as a good sign when he didn't wrench away. "I never thanked you properly," she said softly. "For coming with me. On the full moon."

She chanced a glance up. Zuko was watching her a little warily, but some of the tension in his face and shoulders eased.

"This is hard for me," she continued. "I do trust you much more already, but it's still really hard. And it's also hard to think clearly a lot of the time, with everything going on. But I...I do see that you're helping. You were going to talk to your father for Sokka, and you always side with me when nobles are rude to me, and you teach me to fight…" Zuko's eyes were softening around the edges. Katara scrambled for her train of thought. "I mean," she said, "I would have fallen off that ledge in the passageway without you. I'm glad you were there."

Zuko exhaled slowly, and it was like watching the anger physically leech out of him. He closed his eyes for just a brief second. "I'm glad, too," he said finally, much gentler now. He reached out with his other hand and took hold of her wrist, imitating her gesture, and Katara felt something in her chest loosen and then mend. "Do you want a drink?" Zuko asked, after they'd let go and stood there hovering awkwardly.

Katara only shook her head.

"We have all day. We don't have to try now."

"I think we should just…um, get it over with," mumbled Katara.

Zuko's face flickered, very briefly. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay. How do you want to, uh…proceed?"

Katara was struck with the most bizarre urge to laugh, but managed to contain herself. "The normal way?"

"I meant," said Zuko, with a little grimace and a dull flush now creeping slowly up his neck as he determinedly watched a point over her shoulder, "do you want to be left alone now, or should I be…um, with you, or…?"

Katara's face burst into flame as she caught his meaning. "Maybe leave me alone," she managed. "Like last time."

"Right," he said quickly. "Right, obviously that's what you…yeah."

Zuko hurried off to the washroom and brought her back the carrageenan without any further discussion.

His entire face was flushed and he wouldn't look at her. "Ten minutes?"

"Fine," said Katara, utterly mortified.

She slid into the bed when he was gone and stared up at the ceiling, trying to gather her scattered emotions.

Katara had slowly become used to the lack of privacy that was her life now; sharing her room, her bed, and her space with Zuko, being washed and groomed by Ty Lee, servants going in and out. So of course she hadn't even been able to consider taking care of her own…needs. She didn't even really remember having those sorts of feelings lately. No ache between her legs, no little twinges of want. The stress of everything else had taken over entirely. And this was embarrassing, knowing Zuko was on the other side of that door.

But the idea of having Zuko prepare her was even worse. She had to let him be inside her. She did not have to actually…let go.

Stubborn and illogical as it may be, treating this as duty only was the last bit of vulnerability she could keep, some of the very last shreds of it she had, especially in regards to Zuko; and somehow that emotional vulnerability was far more daunting than the actual physical sex act.

She meant to cling to it as long as possible.

She dutifully dipped her fingers in the carrageenan and then between her legs.

The sensation of starting slow circles where she usually liked it was odd. Almost foreign.

As if she'd been separated from her body entirely and she was feeling it only with detached disinterest. A sadness, choking in its intensity, washed over her. But she pushed that away and tried to focus. Things could be worse. Much, much worse.

Katara emptied her mind. She disappeared. It was the only way this would get done without some sort of drug, and the idea of taking something that would make her unlike herself was distasteful and frightening. She did not want to give up that control, either.

It took a long time until the motions started to provoke a tingle in her spine and a tightening in her belly.

Even though the sensations were familiar, they somehow felt all wrong.

It was even longer before her body began to react and produce its own wetness. She eased a carrageenan-coated finger inside her. Stretching. Preparing. Methodical and mechanical, with only brief and limited flashes of something resembling pleasure. A faint mockery.

Maybe I'm broken, she thought, vaguely.

Even this depressing thought made her feel nothing. She'd successfully made herself numb, desensitized. Her body only needed to function as it should and that was it; her mind did not need to be involved.

A knock from the door made her hand fly away. She hadn't realized it had taken so long to finally get to this point. Her chest was moving more rapidly, and she knew she probably looked frazzled. The sunlight was weaker today than usual, but it still spilled into the room. She could not hide from him. Zuko would see all the signs.

Katara squeezed her eyes shut and resigned herself to a week of this. "Come in."

She stared at the ceiling again as Zuko crossed the room and slid into the bed with her.

She hoped he couldn't hear her heart beating, but it was hard to imagine otherwise. It roared in her ears, loud and insistent, drowning out everything else. Her entire body felt jittery and too light.

Katara forced herself to speak. "I…would like to keep my robe on again."

"Of course." Zuko sounded hoarse. He cleared his throat. "Do you want to, uhh…be on top?"

Katara froze, looking sideways at him, eyes wide like a cornered animal.

"It's just a suggestion," stammered Zuko quickly. "You know, so I don't have to be over you."

Katara returned her gaze upward, considering it. Sitting on him? With him staring up at her?

"You don't have to sit up," Zuko offered, as if he'd guessed her train of thought.

Katara deliberated.

Did that mean she would have to guide him inside her? She wasn't sure she had the confidence for that. That would involve touching him, and maybe seeing him, and not to mention that it might offer more of a view for Zuko. She would be fumbling and stupid about it, and the angle would probably feel different. At least with the other one she knew what to expect. No; this new variable created too many unknowns, too many opportunities to make an idiot of herself. She hadn't outright told him her lack of experience, but even though he must know, she somehow didn't want to advertise it quite so loudly. So Katara jerkily shook her head.

"No, thank you," she said, pleased that she only sounded calm and distantly polite. "Normal, please."

She still wasn't looking at him, but she felt his hesitation. "Okay," Zuko said. "But…"

"Yes, I already said I'll tell you if it's a problem," Katara said, rather testily.

Zuko still didn't move.

"Are you waiting for something?" It was easier to fall, yet again, into familiar irritation. Anger. She wasn't sure she knew how to be in this situation with him without it. Softening was the other option, and she'd already done that with him enough in other areas. Probably too much. The fact of the matter was that Zuko made her feel muddled, and she feared that this aspect of their relationship would cloud her judgment further.

With a quiet sigh, Zuko began shifting over her. He kept his robe on this time, open at the front, and he once again waited to unravel his bottom wraps until he was over her and had pulled the blankets over them. Despite the warmth, Katara was grateful. They gave her a meager sense of security and false privacy, even though she could see Zuko much more clearly this time. The muscles on his chest. The slope of his shoulder and his neck, where his scent was strongest. Smoke. Musk. Sweet, earthy wood…

Katara fixed her gaze on a specific point on his sharp jaw and let her vision blur and slide out of focus.

Like actors in a play, they rehearsed the same exact steps as before.

Zuko propping slightly on his elbows. His face dropping into her neck, knuckles tapping her thigh as he stroked himself with lubricant and she tried not to think about the fact that this time she was much more curious about it. Then one of his hands, bunching her robes up over her hips. His thighs, hot against hers.

Some of the unpleasant sensations returned too. The feeling that the room was shrinking. The tightness of her stomach and the pounding of her heart, wild and insistent, like it was thrashing in her chest instead of beating. But it was all heavily dulled this time by grim resignation, numbness, and basic familiarity.

Even so, when he began pushing inside her, her entire body went so rigid that her stomach ached. Her muscles were trying to reject the act. He was on her and her body anticipated pain, even though he was sliding in easier and it did not actually hurt.

Her fingers twisted in the sheets again. She was trapped.

"Z-Zuko," she managed.

He froze. "Stop?"

"No. Just wait. Please."

One of Zuko's hands carefully cupped the side of her neck. "Relax," he whispered into her skin.

Katara tried to do so, one muscle at a time. Slowly, the ache in her stomach began to ease.

"Okay," she said.

He started to sink in slowly again, though not far enough for his hips to touch hers. This part was nothing like last time. It was a stretch, but not painful. His hand on her neck slid upward, his palm now beneath her ear and his fingers weaving into her hair right where her neck met the back of her head. Katara heard a hard, rough sound beside her ear that she realized was Zuko clenching his jaw so hard that his teeth ground together. He was so warm. Almost suffocating.

The sudden urge to thrash and struggle swept over her again.

Zuko will not hurt me. This is much better than last time. It will be over soon.

"Relax," he whispered again, very hoarsely.

Something very faint stirred in her stomach at the undertone of desperation in his voice.

"Sorry." Her voice wavered, and a flush of embarrassment stole over her. "I'm trying."

"Please don't apologize." His rasp was very soft.

When she nodded to continue, Zuko released a low, grumbling sigh. He pushed his face further into her neck, and after a moment he moved his hips back and rocked slowly in again.

This was…fine. Still a bit strange, the sensation of something sliding in and out of her.

And once again Katara had the feeling that this was happening to someone else, as if she was feeling it through someone else's body. It was easier to focus outside of herself, and Zuko was right there. He surrounded her. The familiar scents of him. The hard, heavy set of his body along hers, her inner thighs brushing his hips. His hair tickling her cheek, and the sound of his breathing. The steady, repeated roll of his hips. The tense of his shoulder muscles or ripple of his arms each time he moved. An imperceptible tightening of his hands in her hair.

A small ache began to incrementally build between Katara's legs, and her chest fluttered.

She tensed automatically, trying to resist the feeling, but it only made it worse.

He sped up, quicker but still gentle, and that little churning of want steadily grew.

Zuko suddenly wrapped both arms underneath her back and drew her closer. His thrusts changed character, to something more erratic. This felt much shorter than last time. Invigorated by this, Katara reached up with both hands and pushed her fingers through his hair. He'd seemed to like having his hair touched during sex last time. And she would be lying if she said she didn't like Zuko's hair. It was very soft, the strands sliding easily through her fingers. And when it was down and on the rare occasion he actually smiled it softened him.

She knew she'd done the right thing when Zuko made a gravelly sound in his throat, his lips grazing the spot just below her ear.

She shivered, both at the soft tickle of his mouth and the sound of his voice.

Acting on instinct, Katara made a circular motion with her hips and tried to tighten around him.

It pushed Zuko over almost instantly. His breath caught on a choked gasp. He only managed three more sharp, stuttered thrusts before he came with quiet groans that did nothing to dissipate the dull heat between her legs. Katara's fingers dug into his scalp and she held on tightly. He shuddered against her, and warmth spurted into her as his hips rocked in automatic repetitions, until he finally slumped.

Katara lay very still and quiet as his breathing slowed.

"Are you okay?" he muttered, muffled into her neck.

Katara waited until she was certain she would sound normal before she spoke. "Yes. Perfectly fine."

Zuko's body relaxed a little against hers. "Good."

She could feel his heart thudding against her own chest, through her thin dress. With a sense of dismay, she noted a lingering, miniscule ache in her. She'd known she would probably react again. It was just what the body did. It was why she'd wanted him to get it over with as quickly as possible. But she'd hoped, probably fruitlessly, that those feelings would be just as limited and scarce as last time. Instead they had gotten worse. Her cheeks flamed as he slid out and rolled off.

Zuko only lay flat on his back and stared at the ceiling for a while. Katara didn't dare look over, but she saw his chest rising and falling out of the corner of her eye, and saw one of his hands move up to push through his hair. Distress, she thought, automatically. Reading him was easier and easier. He's upset.

The reason why was less certain. She'd kept her promise. And it had been so much better than last time.

He started shifting awkwardly around to slip on wraps and close his robe, and still he didn't speak. Katara only yanked the blankets over her again and drew her knees up to her chest with a sigh. She was uncomfortably aware of the sticky feeling of body fluids.

She felt utterly ridiculous in this position.

Zuko sat on the edge of the other side of the bed, facing away from her. The line of his shoulders was very, very tense.

Part of her wanted to ask if something was wrong, but she knew it was a stupid question. Many things were obviously wrong with this situation. But she'd thought that Zuko would be more relaxed afterward, at least for a little while. He had…finished, after all. And Katara really thought it had gone well, all things considered. But he still appeared just as tense as before, if not more so.

"I would ask for Healer Shoshu now," Zuko said finally.

"Okay."

An emptiness settled into her chest as Zuko asked the guards to summon Shoshu and disappeared into the washroom without looking at her.

When Healer Shoshu arrived, she settled gentle hands on Katara's abdomen. "Just relax," she said. "This shouldn't hurt at all. If it does, please let me know."

Katara just nodded, trying once again to exit her body.

Healer Shoshu's hands kneaded in slow circles around Katara's belly. The actions were light and soothing, and would have been relaxing; but as it was, Katara only felt intruded upon, touched when she didn't want to be. "Is there pain during intercourse?" Shoshu asked lightly.

Katara shook her head. Thankfully that was the only question the healer asked her.

After the fertility massage that seemed to last ages, Healer Shoshu stood. "That is all, Princess Katara. Please go and urinate. Frequent sexual activity could lead to an infection if you do not urinate after intercourse. And of course it is best to wash up as soon as possible."

Katara just gave one final wooden nod, but Healer Shoshu did not leave. She was waiting for Katara to follow her to the washroom.

With a stifled sigh, Katara put down her now vaguely sore legs and moved to stand, wrapping her robe tighter and awkwardly squeezing her legs together when she felt something warm sliding down her upper thigh. Zuko emerged just as they came to the door, and the brief eye contact she made with him was physically uncomfortable. Ty Lee joined her in the washroom soon after, presumably summoned by Zuko, and when Katara was finished being washed and groomed all over again, never once getting to leave Healer Shoshu's watchful eye, she was finally free for the day.

Ty Lee put her in a red sundress and smiled at her. "Want to go down to the beach?" she asked Katara.

"Sure," said Katara, brightening at the suggestion.

Zuko wasn't in the room when they came out. Katara wasn't sure whether she was relieved or not.

Katara took Ty Lee down to the kitchens first to pack a basket of snacks; the kitchen staff were thrilled as always to see her, and they pushed fruit and grains at her with such vigor that if Katara accepted everything, she knew they would have to lug around several baskets to carry it all. She politely refused all but the necessities and then helped cut some vegetables to ease the strain of the upcoming midday rush while Rusai desperately tried to get her to sit down and not help.

"Nonsense," Katara said kindly, when he kept stammering things about her rank. "I like helping."

A flurry of bows and bright smiles preceded their exit when they finally left.

Ty Lee practically pranced along in the corridor beside Katara with the little basket. They took the familiar cart down to the beach, and on the way Katara watched the jungle. Seeing all the trees and vines and greenery lining the road made her think of Hama, pulling water from the grass at her feet. It made Katara sad, to think of ruining something like that.

She hoped she never had to resort to it, but she had to admit that knowing there were more sources of water was vastly comforting.

This time they walked another direction along the beach; Katara was unfamiliar with it.

A boardwalk appeared on the horizon after some time trudging through the sand—Ty Lee occasionally setting down the basket to do several cartwheels, and Katara bending water from the tides as they went. The sand was rife with seashells and other objects from the ocean floor, more than usual, and Ty Lee even picked up several dark, triangular objects that were as smooth as glass to show them to her.

"Squid-shark teeth," she explained, beaming. "They always wash up after storms."

Katara tucked them in the basket for safekeeping and glanced around, noticing just how high the various items had washed up into the sand. The waves must have roared up and onto the beach during the storm. As they drew closer to the boardwalk, Katara saw that half of it seemed to be missing, though several people still mingled about, selling their goods. There was a village off the beach, nestled along the treeline of the jungle. Roofs from many of the houses were missing and walls were torn down. Katara saw several rows of tents pitched outside and a large group of people around a communal cooking pot, and plenty of others were pushing wheelbarrows of rock and stone and wood, trying to rebuild their lives.

"Oh," she murmured to Ty Lee, her heart wrenching. "Their homes were ruined in the storm."

She led Ty Lee over to the village; they seemed to recognize her, because they fell to their knees and bowed, pressing their foreheads to the ground. "There's really no need for that," Katara tried to say, hastily, but they looked so gleeful to see her that she didn't argue further.

"We are so honored to receive a visit from you, Princess Katara," said one of the elders, clearly an authority figure in the village. She wore a necklace of colorful shells and introduced herself as Nosun.

"Thank you," said Katara. "This is Ty Lee."

"Hello!" said Ty Lee.

"Would you like some help?" Katara offered, gesturing to the way they were transporting materials around to the various huts and trying to patch temporary roofs of thatch together.

Nosun did not seem to think such labor was beneath Katara; at the very least, she made no objection or comment about work properly befitting a princess, though she did say, "I think it's best if you don't do any climbing up to the roofs, Princess Katara. That would be unsafe, and I don't want to endanger you."

"Well, I know how to weave," Katara said, and so she found herself sitting in a circle of villagers, braiding together thatch. They all wove with quick, nimble fingers, and children climbed around on the shoulders and laps of their parents, laughing and giggling and staring at Katara with wide eyes but never daring to approach her. The sun moved across the sky and it was late afternoon by the time Katara remembered their snacks, and now she wished she had indeed brought more from the kitchens; but she passed around as much as she could and listened to the stories that the people told her of their lives. Ty Lee had gone over to help move materials and do some of the labor that required climbing, and every once in a while Katara glanced over and smiled at seeing her flirting shamelessly with someone.

They stayed until dusk, until they were grimy with dirt and sand and their bodies ached.

But there was still much to be done.

"I'll come back tomorrow," Katara promised.

She didn't remember all the villagers' names yet, but the pleased gratitude she saw in each face filled her, finally, with a sense of purpose she hadn't felt in a very long time. She hadn't thought of her problems all day when she'd been helping others. Nosun bowed to her at least four times as they made to leave, and then Katara and Ty Lee were staggering back, exhausted but satisfied with the day's work.

"You know," said Ty Lee, "I was planning to swim and laze around, but that was also fun, somehow."

"That was really nice of you to join in, Ty Lee," Katara said sincerely. "You didn't have to."

"Oh, I wanted to! Besides, I met some very interesting people." She grinned.

"I saw that," Katara teased. "Do you always meet interesting people wherever you go?"

"I keep my eyes out for them," said Ty Lee, with faux innocence, and Katara laughed.

Zuko was there when they returned to their quarters, and he looked up from his desk as they entered. He stood, staring at their disheveled appearance.

Then he cleared his throat. "Ty Lee," he started awkwardly, "Uh, hey, listen…"

"Don't worry about it, Zuko," said Ty Lee, waving a dismissive hand before he could even apologize.

Relief swept over his features. "Thank you. I'm still sorry, Ty Lee." His eyes flicked between them, lingering a moment longer on Katara, who found her face warming. "Where were you two?"

"The beach," said Ty Lee.

"You look like you were in a mine," said Zuko bluntly.

There was dirt all over both of them. Ty Lee and Katara smiled at each other. "We found a village in need of some help," explained Katara. The heat and exhaustion finally was catching up with her, and she already felt her eyelids drooping. "I need a bath and sleep. Immediately."

"Me too," said Ty Lee.

"No need to stay, Ty Lee. You get some rest," said Katara.

Ty Lee squeezed her shoulder. "Thanks. See you tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow?" Zuko prompted, when she was gone.

"Oh, well, we still have a lot of huts to repair," said Katara.

There was a look on Zuko's face she couldn't quite place, but it made her even warmer.

Then he asked, rather carefully, "Would you mind if I joined you tomorrow?"

"Of course you can," said Katara. She gave him a small smile.

She went off rather quickly to the washroom to avoid the possibility of too-long silences in Zuko's presence.

Just like the first time, it was strange to be around him again, and looking at him gave her a funny feeling in her stomach.

A mixture of nerves and lingering uncertainty.

She found herself almost nodding off in the bath if she sat still for too long, so she washed off as quickly as possible before slipping on her night robe. Zuko was already in bed and the room was dark when Katara crawled into her side.

She could tell he was awake, but he didn't speak to her.

Taking his cue, she didn't start a conversation either, and tonight she easily drifted into unconsciousness.

Golden eyes hovered over her.

"Push," instructed a cold, heartless voice. "Push. Hurry up."

Katara tried. She pushed and pushed through blinding pain. Everything hurt. Her legs were sprawled wide, knees splayed out to each side, and a whole crowd of blurry, faceless people sat before her, watching. The pain in her body was too great to care about how exposed she was, but they all murmured together excitedly, observing. Waiting. Delighting in the spectacle.

She heard a faint rattle. "Delicious," said a smooth voice.

"Push," snarled the first.

"I'm trying," Katara sobbed. "Please, I don't want—"

"No one cares what you want. Your cunt has a job. Push, you little bitch."

"I—"

A hand wrapped around her throat. Ozai bared his teeth at her. "Push."

"Where is Zuko?" Katara asked, feeling suddenly wild with fear. "Where is he?"

Ozai only laughed, his hand tightening and scorching on her throat. Behind him, in the crowd, Madame Mavang sadly shook her head. "A glorified little whore," she whispered. "Forced into pregnancy. Ah. Is that the head?"

Katara's vision blurred with agony, and she screamed.

When she opened her eyes again, Azula stood to her right, clutching Aang.

Aang's light eyes were wide and scared. "Katara! Katara, no!"

Azula drew a dagger. Quicker than lightning, she opened a jagged red smile across Aang's throat. The light died from his eyes, and Katara howled, trying to reach for him. But her arms and legs were strapped down. Trapped. The crowd murmured in disapproval, hissing at her to shut up and push. Aang's blood spurted out and onto her body, cascading out of the slice in his throat. All she saw was red. Scarlet.

The iron smell of it made her stomach roll.

Eza suddenly strolled forward, yanked Aang from the ground, and sank his teeth into his neck. Eza tore into his throat like a starving animal. Tendons and chunks of flesh and gore flew everywhere. Eza's eyes never left Katara as he chewed, gleaming with vicious delight, reveling in her horror. His tongue slid out and slowly licked his bloody lips. Katara's vision went black.

When it returned, golden eyes were hovering over hers again, alight with triumph.

And then blue ones, disdainful and disapproving.

Hama's face was streaked with blood. Her hands were covered with it.

She slapped Katara hard across the face. Hot blood sprayed on Katara's cheek, dripped into her mouth.

Katara gagged on blood and bile. She struggled but could not move.

"I told you that no one would come for you," Hama hissed furiously. "I tried to tell you, you little fool."

When Katara finally jerked out of the nightmare, she was thrashing and screaming.

Chapter 17: The Wave

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The sheets twisted in Katara's legs as her limbs flailed.

Her hands flew to her hips, her stomach, her throat; checking for hands, for things strapping her down. Making sure she was intact.

Katara wheezed, trying to breathe, eyes darting wildly about to try and reconcile what she was seeing now with the images still burned behind her eyelids. She didn't know where she was. She still tasted blood. A faint noise. A warm hand touched her shoulder.

She wrenched away, pulling water from the basin beside the bed and launching it blindly in the direction of the hand.

"Don't!" she screamed, crawling backward, vision still blurred. "No—"

She crashed to the floor and landed hard on her backside. Pain shot up her spine.

"Katara!"

A shape was on their feet, moving toward her. She barely found the presence of mind to melt an ice dagger and hurl it as she kept scrambling backward on the floor. The shape dodged it and then halted in their tracks, putting their arms up in a non-menacing gesture.

Katara reached desperately out with her senses, searching for more water and coating her hands.

"It's just me, Katara," said a very soft rasp. "It's just me. You're safe."

"Zuko?" Katara asked in a small voice, feeling rather dizzy. Zuko had been gone. She'd asked where he'd gone. Either they'd hurt him or he'd left her. But Katara was beginning to get her bearings. The dream was fading and the shape of the room was filling in.

"Yes." The shape crouched down lower to the ground.

"Zuko?" she repeated, hopefully.

"Yes," he said again.

Katara dropped her water with a dull splash and inched forward, slowly reaching out. He tensed, but held very still. Katara's fingers found damaged skin, slightly rough and rubbery, and she let out a shuddering, relieved exhale. His scar. It was Zuko.

"You're here," she whispered, blinking rapidly.

Zuko moved a little closer. "I wouldn't leave you," he said.

Katara started to cry.

Her breath kept catching, and drawing enough air was a difficult task. She now knew what she'd seen wasn't real, but the images kept flashing in her mind. "I can't…I can't…" she gasped, unable to form real words. She reached out blindly and clung to the front of his robes with shaking hands. His clothes were soaked, but she barely noticed. She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed.

Tentative arms wrapped around her.

"It's okay," murmured Zuko. "It was just a dream. Just a dream." One hand began to rub careful circles on her back.

Katara began to frantically shake her head.

"I can't have a baby," she wheezed. He had to understand. "I can't have a baby. They'll hurt it. They'll take it from me. And if they really try and get rid of you I don't know what I—I—" Her head swam. She squeezed her eyes shut and clutched even more desperately to his robes.

Zuko's arms tightened. "Breathe, Katara," he said, very low. "Relax first. We'll figure it out."

She tried. After a while, the panic began to ebb.

Inhales no longer came too short or burned her chest. She settled into low, sniffling sobs, and all the energy drained out of her body. Katara slumped against Zuko, eyelids fluttering. The sound of his heartbeat lulled her. He smelled like earthy wood. Smoke. Something herbal. Right now, there were hints of cinnamon and bergamot. Katara took a long, deep breath, a little unsteady but finally calm.

"Do you want some tea?" Zuko asked.

Katara shook her head.

"Are you hurt? You fell down."

"I'm okay," she said, then drew the water out of his robes. "Sorry for drenching you."

Zuko shifted under her; it was only then that Katara realized that she'd essentially crawled into his lap and latched to him like a barnacle. Trying to remember the dream now was already much murkier, but even just the vague pieces she could recall made her start to tremble. "In the dream," she whispered finally, "all of these people were watching me have a baby and telling me to push. I was strapped down. You were gone. I tried to ask where you were..." Katara hesitated. "Azula came. She had Aang and she killed him. Then Eza came and he..."

Her voice died but she tried again. "He came and he..."

Zuko's arms tightened even more. "I can fill in the gaps," he said gruffly.

And then he said carefully, "Why are you here if the Avatar is still alive?"

Katara stiffened. "I didn't say he—"

"Katara, please." Zuko didn't sound angry. Just tired.

She took a deep breath and leaned back to look at him. He only tilted his head and examined her carefully.

"Are you really afraid that I'm going to tell?" Zuko asked, very quietly. "I've already basically known for a while."

"I'm afraid that it will come to some sort of fight or choice like in Ba Sing Se," said Katara. "And you'll choose to side with Azula again."

The clarity that came with saying it out loud was almost stunning; as was the unwelcome knowledge that it was already too late. Despite her best efforts to keep herself and her feelings untangled from Zuko and his choices, Katara knew that if he made an active decision that he knew would harm her, it would devastate her. In Ba Sing Se Zuko had made no promises. They had not known each other.

Now things were very different.

"I understand," said Zuko. "But I promise that won't happen."

He was looking at her very intently. Katara glanced down and scooted away to sit across from him on the floor. She stared at the wood for a while. "I'm here because Aang lost the Avatar State and his ability to bend the other elements," she said finally. "We're buying time while he recovers enough to beat the Fire Lord."

"What?" Zuko's voice had grown rather sharp, and when Katara looked up in surprise, she saw that his mouth had tightened. "You mean you're just here to act as some sort of decoy?"

"No," said Katara, rather defensively. "I'm also making sure the Fire Nation doesn't attack the Water Tribes."

Zuko only looked more displeased. "How long do you think it will be? Until he's ready?"

Katara bit her lip, hesitating.

"You don't have to tell me," said Zuko.

"It's okay," said Katara. "I just don't really know. I think it might be a while." She fought to control the waver in her voice. "I mean, I was trying to teach him waterbending again before I left and it wasn't like the first time he learned it at all." The memories of traveling with Aang and Sokka now felt almost bittersweet; Katara smiled a little wistfully. "I was so angry about it, too," she said, shaking her head. "I tried to teach him the only things I knew at first, really simple moves that had taken me months to learn on my own. Aang picked them up in seconds back then. But this time he was still struggling to just hold a stream of water." She met Zuko's eyes; it was nice to tell someone this so openly. She had not discussed her fears about Aang's abilities to Sokka or Toph; like an unspoken agreement between the three of them that maybe if they didn't say it too directly, it could keep it from getting worse. "And he was so different," said Katara. "After."

"Different how?"

"He wasn't himself," Katara said. "Something was wrong. He barely smiled anymore, or he liked to go off and be alone all the time. I felt like I had to be so careful with everything I said. Almost like he was a new person. And maybe he was. I mean, he died. He was dead for several minutes. I felt it when I was administering the spirit water. His heart wasn't beating."

She shuddered and tried not to think about the memory of the blood in her mouth in the dream.

The jagged line opened across Aang's throat. The light leaving his eyes.

To her surprise, Zuko reached out and took her hand. "I'm sorry," he said, voice low.

Katara just shrugged and blinked very rapidly against the burn of tears in her eyes.

"Is there a chance Azula can find him?" Zuko asked.

"Yes, knowing Azula," said Katara bluntly. "I did warn Sokka about that when he was here, but I don't know what else the two of us can really do about it except hope she doesn't manage it."

There was an uncomfortable, helpless pause.

"Come on," Zuko said finally, shifting to stand, and Katara let him guide her back to bed. He got into his side as well but did not lie down. Instead he turned to face her with a very serious expression. "What do you think the chances are that you'll get pregnant this month?" he asked. "I think most people don't have a baby in the first month of trying, right?"

"Not usually," said Katara, easing back against her pillows. "But what if we're not so lucky? I think there are things I could drink," she said. "Herbal concoctions. You know, to…end a pregnancy. But those can be dangerous and they don't always work. And we'd have to get our hands on some, which means someone else would have to know about it. A risk."

"I'm sure Mavang would love to provide something for a little leverage," said Zuko darkly.

"Maybe there's another way. We could try researching other methods," suggested Katara.

"If we go to the library and poke around on that subject it might be a little obvious," said Zuko.

"Yes. But there must be some other way to safely…" Katara's lips suddenly parted and her mind went hazy.

"Katara?"

"I might…have an idea," she ventured very cautiously. "Um…well, you know that new waterbending trick I mentioned?"

"Yes," said Zuko slowly.

Katara shifted. "It's…well, I um…can bend blood."

There was a brief silence. Zuko's face was still as stone and unreadable. "You mean inside someone's body?" he asked finally.

"Yes," she said, shivering at the memory of that feeling of raw power and control.

Even now, just thinking about it, craving for it flooded her all over again. Her fingers even twitched.

Comprehension lit Zuko's eyes. "Is that why Mavang looked so sick that night?"

Katara searched hard for traces of disgust on his face or in his voice. It was a relief to hear and see only vague curiosity.

"Yes," she admitted, voice low with shame regardless. "I didn't really want to." And then I did. "But Hama isn't exactly someone you can say no to."

"Hama is that waterbender you met?"

"Yes." Katara fidgeted with the blankets. "And the problem is, she could only ever do it on the full moon. It requires a lot of power. Hama did it for decades and still only managed on the full moon. And I don't even know what I would do with it. I could…jostle things around, I guess, and hope it disturbs something, but there's no guarantee it would work. And it may just make something end up wrong with the baby, not end a pregnancy. Especially if I can only try on the full moon. The development would be a little further along and that might make it harder. And by then I might also already be checked and confirmed pregnant. They might assume I tampered with it."

There was a long, thoughtful silence as they pondered.

Then Zuko said, rubbing his neck, "I mean…uh…Katara, if you can bend bodily fluids…"

He trailed off, but she understood immediately.

"Healer Shoshu has definitely thought of that," Katara said regretfully. This conversation was odd and awkward, but it was easier considering that they were planning together. There was a layer of distance to it. "She hovers for a really long time."

Zuko swore under his breath.

Katara sighed. "Yeah. Well," she said, rather miserably. "It's not many options."

Trapped, both of them. Katara's wrists and ankles began to itch, a dull prickle at the memory of the restraints in her dream.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to will the feeling away.

"What about the waterbender?" Zuko pressed. "Hama? Maybe we could ally with her."

A fierce, protective feeling surged up in Katara's chest. "You aren't going anywhere near Hama," said Katara, very vehemently.

Katara did not know what Hama was planning, exactly, but she did not see room in Hama's world or ideology for people like Zuko and Iroh, for Ty Lee or people like Rusai and the servants. She was beginning to realize that she would have to try and contain Hama at some point, unless she wanted to see innocents die. But maybe she could try and do that only after Hama had helped get rid of Ozai. It was awful to think about, playing along only to deceive Hama like that; and then Katara would certainly make an enemy of both her and Mavang.

But letting Hama wipe out the Fire Nation wasn't an option either.

And then there was also Azula to deal with. If they weren't able to take out or at least contain both Ozai and Azula when or if they made a move, factions of the country would certainly rally behind them, even with someone else on the throne.

And then what? A civil war?

And even with Ozai and Azula gone, there would be war against Hama and Mavang.

Either way she looked, there was more war. More fighting and more death.

Katara's head spun.

"Katara." Zuko's voice was still very quiet, but it was so urgent that it pulled her sharply from her thoughts. "Even in the worst case scenario," he said, leaning suddenly forward, "if you do get pregnant before we can change something, we'll still figure it out. You don't have to worry about that all by yourself. It's my problem too. Okay?"

"And what if we can't find a solution?" Katara whispered, clinging tighter to the blankets. "What if I actually have a baby?"

"Then I wouldn't let them hurt it or take it," Zuko said, very fiercely. "We'll work it out together. Right? We're a team?"

Her throat tightened. "Right." She nodded stiffly and tried to forget the cruel echoes of 'push' from her dream. "We're a team."

"And I think you should maybe try bending blood," said Zuko. "Since that's the best option right now."

Katara blinked. "You mean now?"

"If you're up for it," Zuko said. He held out a hand. It quivered a little, but he set his jaw and looked at her. "You can try it on me. Go on."

"I don't know if I'm up for it," Katara said, feeling a sudden wave of anxiety.

"Too tired?"

Katara bit her lip. Her spiral of panic had exhausted her, but that wasn't why she was wavering. She stared down at his hand, pale in the moonlight, still offered out to her. "I am tired," she admitted. "But that's not it. Bloodbending just makes me…feel very strange."

Zuko withdrew his hand. "Strange like how?"

"Strange like it's too easy to lose control," Katara confessed. "It feels too powerful. It's almost…addictive. I hated performing it on Mavang, but I loved it, too. And afterward, when you and I were heading back…" The shame intensified, but she wanted him to understand the risks of his offer. It was only fair. "I wanted to bloodbend you. Not actively, exactly, but it was the full moon, and I had all that energy, and I just remember wondering what your blood might feel like, almost like some sort of craving, and—" Katara stopped, suddenly and painfully aware how twisted she must sound. And Zuko's face had twitched, a minuscule little burst of fear. But she'd seen it.

She swallowed hard. "So you see," she mumbled, face warm, "it might not be a good idea."

Zuko set his jaw again and scooted a little closer.

Then he pointedly put out his hand again.

"But it's not the full moon," he said. "And even then, I don't think you'd hurt me."

"Of course I'm not going to try and hurt you, but…Zuko, I don't know…"

"Right now this might be the best way to deal with the baby problem," said Zuko firmly.

The truth of that couldn't be ignored. So after another moment of deliberation, Katara relented with a nervous nod. She looked at him, amber eyes meeting blue, her gaze questioning and his encouraging. Then she stared down at his hand and concentrated.

She raised both her hands and tried to reach into his body, just like in the grove.

In the lemon grove it had been almost shockingly easy. Delving into Mavang had been like picking up marionette strings, yanking on them almost at a whim. Now, even only a short time after the full moon, it was like pushing her way through thick patches of brambles. Like wading through mud. She could not find Zuko's strings. She grit her teeth and tried to reach deeper.

There.

A flicker of something, a miniature rushing stream, warm and pulsing. Burning.

She didn't have dominion over his blood, but she could feel it. And she thought maybe he could feel her presence, too, because his heartbeat sped. It was a fact she was only dimly aware of, like something happening rooms away in a large house. Most of what she felt was contained to his hand only, just the blood flowing in his palm and fingers. Familiar excitement burst through her.

She tried to push it down and focus on moving his fingers, but still nothing happened.

"Do you feel anything?" Her voice came out hoarser than expected. Her pulse jumped.

"I…don't know," said Zuko uncertainly. "Do you?"

"Yes." The excitement bubbled higher, even though it was just a little taste. She wanted more. "But I can only sense your blood. I can't do anything with it, and what I can sense is mostly only concentrated to your hand. With Mavang that night, I could feel all of it."

Zuko was staring at her, but she was still looking at his hand, too entranced by the feeling beneath her palms.

And maybe a little afraid of what she might see on his face.

"You're so warm," she blurted out, full of awe. Zuko's veins were like fire.

And then she was mortified. Katara withdrew immediately, breathing hard.

"Wouldn't everyone be warm?" Zuko sounded strange too. A little strangled.

"You're much warmer than she was. I think it's because you're a firebender." Katara carefully examined his face; she couldn't quite place his expression. The amber color of his eyes had diminished; his pupils were much wider than before, his eyes dark. "Are you okay? You seem a little funny. Did I hurt you?" She shook off the lingering part of her that wanted to try and reach into his hand again.

It was a pesky little want, easy to flick off tonight, unlike on the full moon.

She had much more control of herself now, but she also had barely any of the power.

Zuko cleared his throat. "I'm fine. But you're sure I'm warmer?"

"Very sure," said Katara.

His hand fluttered unconsciously to his chest. "I feel like I'm getting colder," Zuko said quietly, looking down at the bed. "Ever since I lost my bending. Every day a little more." His eyes met hers again, desperate now. "What if it gets colder and colder and goes out? What if waiting too long to fix it means that I never get it back? I was always weaker. My firebending was always—"

"Zuko," Katara cut in, aghast. Zuko's eyes were becoming almost wild, the look on his face tortured. "Stop saying things like that. I know it's hard, but you have to try and stay positive. You will get it back." Zuko just dropped his face into his hands with a low groan. "Listen," said Katara encouragingly, reaching to shake his arm, "I do think maybe you should try and talk with your uncle, Zuko."

Zuko's shoulders slumped. "He won't talk to me, Katara."

"I think he will if you tell him about your bending," said Katara. "That's serious. That endangers you."

"Azula already said that visiting is—"

"Azula isn't here," Katara cut in. "And I'm sure the guards could be distracted."

A pinprick of hope appeared on Zuko's face. "How?"

Katara thought for a moment. "Feminine wiles," she said finally.

Zuko made a funny little snorting sound and Katara narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"

"Nothing," said Zuko, mouth twitching a little.

"Really? Because it seems like you find the idea of that funny, for some reason."

"It is funny."

"The idea of me having feminine wiles is funny to you?"

"The idea of you using that method instead of just using threats is funny," Zuko said.

"Well, I wasn't talking about me," Katara sniffed. "I was thinking of Ty Lee."

Zuko's expression shifted. "Ty Lee?"

"Yes. Then you and I can both go see your uncle. Maybe I could try and talk to him, too."

Zuko's face only became more uncertain. "Katara, Ty Lee is…" He hesitated. "I'm really glad you're getting along with her, I am, but…you know why Ty Lee was assigned to you, right?"

"Of course I do," said Katara sharply. "It's not that I trust her entirely. But I don't think she'll just mindlessly obey Azula with every single thing. And she actually seems to have a conscience. And anyway, this isn't really about me. This is about you, and Ty Lee is your friend. I think she would help you if you told her that you want to talk to your uncle. I think she would understand that."

"She's Azula's friend, not mine," Zuko said, shaking his head. "We get along, but—"

"No, Zuko, I think Ty Lee actually cares about you," said Katara gently. "Obviously you know her better than I do, so you should make the final call. Just think about it."

Zuko stared thoughtfully down at the bed. "I will," he said finally.

"And I can try bloodbending again tomorrow night," said Katara, still trying to fight her disappointment that it hadn't worked, not even just moving Zuko's hand. "Might as well. Like you said, it seems like the best option for now, so I should at least try to make it work."

"I'm sure you'll be able to get it," said Zuko.

After a moment he said gently, "Are you okay?"

"No," she said. "Are you?"

He let out a dismal little laugh. "No." He leaned forward again. "But I'm glad you talked to me, Katara. Thank you. I won't let you down."

She gave him a small, wary smile. They looked at each other for so long that Katara began to feel a little warm.

"Are you going to be able to sleep?" Zuko asked finally.

"I hope so," said Katara.

They both settled in, though after a moment Katara scooted just a little closer to the middle of the bed and reached out until her hand could rest lightly on Zuko's forearm, just below his elbow. He didn't pull away. "Let me know if you need anything," Zuko said.

"Thank you," said Katara quietly.

When she closed her eyes, the reminder that he was there—his skin under her fingers—calmed her.

The next morning, Katara slept in.

It was already much hotter when she woke than the day before.

She was only able to pick at her breakfast before she summoned Ty Lee to get her ready.

This time there was no further discussion about the mechanics of duty. Everything was almost exactly the same. Katara was bathed by Ty Lee, and Zuko went into the washroom after. He stayed there to have a turn with bathing while she slid into bed and tried to warm up. This time Katara thought that part was just a tiny bit quicker and easier. Robes were still kept on. Katara stayed on her back.

This time when Zuko climbed over her, she also felt no urge to thrash or push him away. Her chest did not tighten. She did not have to ask him to pause or stop. It was almost robotic, the way they went through the motions. Already they'd fallen into a practiced sort of efficiency.

Today when Zuko came he held her hip tightly, and Katara felt that familiar little flutter of excitement in her chest and between her legs.

It faded away, though not until Healer Shoshu arrived and began the fertility massage.

Zuko was still distant afterward, almost to the point of coldness.

Katara was beginning to think it was because he missed Mai. She certainly did not want to ask and confirm this.

When Ty Lee dressed Katara for the day after her second bath, she put swimwear on under her sundress. "In case we need to cool off," said Ty Lee brightly, though then she sombered a little and said, "But…well, Katara…if you do hard labor today and word of that gets back to the palace, I could get in big trouble, you know…"

"Don't worry," Katara assured her. "I understand. I'll take it easy."

"Thank you," Ty Lee said, clearly relieved. She squeezed Katara's shoulder and led her out into the room.

Zuko's hair was up in a top knot and he wore his crown piece. He was still shirtless and getting dressed, his swimming shorts slung low on his hips and with a golden band around the waist. Katara averted her eyes as Zuko rustled through the wardrobe to find robes to wear. Still, seeing Zuko after sex was yet another detail that was marginally easier today; the lingering awkwardness faded quicker with a shared goal in mind for the day and with Ty Lee present and happily chattering away. They all made their way down to the kitchens first, this time with several baskets. They packed as much food as they could carry and set off to the village.

Zuko stared off rather dully as the wagon rattled down the road, and he was still quiet as they trudged in the sand down the beach.

The villagers were surprised to see him when they arrived.

And though they smiled brilliantly and bowed at his arrival, Katara could sense a distinct wariness about them.

She sat in the shade that day and continued to help weave thatch until her fingers ached, while Ty Lee and Zuko went off to do things that were far more labor intensive. At one point Katara glanced over, saw Zuko had removed his robe as he climbed around on top of one of the huts, and found herself watching much longer than would be considered normal.

One of the women across the circle even gave her a knowing little smirk.

They again worked most of the day, stopping only for food and water.

By the end, Ty Lee and Zuko were covered in sweat and their eyes were drooping, so they stopped off at the edge of the ocean on the way back to the palace and they all waded out into the gentle waves, basking in the water that was now becoming somewhat cooler in the evening air.

They fell into a routine of sorts over the next two days.

In the morning Katara and Zuko went about their duty.

The rest of the day was spent out at the village. After they returned, Katara would practice bloodbending on Zuko for only a little while—to no avail—before she had to quit. Partially Katara stopped so quickly because of exhaustion, but the other part was that the bloodbending attempts put a strange tension in the air and filled her with something she could only describe as a restless craving.

On day four of that week, the huts had finally been repaired enough to make the village fully livable and functional again, so that afternoon there was a bustle of activity as the villagers began lugging large amounts of food outside to cook and prepare it.

"A little celebration," said Nosun. "We know it isn't much, compared to the palace, but it's what we can do."

"It's wonderful," Katara promised her.

Ty Lee and Zuko had come to flop down beside Katara in the sand. They'd spent the morning checking the doors to the huts, most of which had been blown off during the storm, and had tried to make them as secure as possible. Now work was slowing. Instruments were even being brought out, tsungi horns and drums being set up nearby, squeezed among the many people crowding along the beach. A group of teenagers was dragging a large, shabby net out further toward the water and setting it up. They also had one medium-sized ball.

"What's that?" Katara asked Ty Lee with interest, nodding in the direction of the net.

Ty Lee's eyes lit up. "Oh, that's kaui ball!" She nudged Zuko in the ribs. "Wanna play?"

Zuko glanced uneasily at Katara, but she just shrugged. "Go ahead. I wouldn't be very good anyway. I don't know the game. I'll stay here and help Nosun."

"Then we need two more people for our team," Ty Lee announced, and she stood to prance off and join the growing group.

Zuko hesitated, still lingering beside Katara. "Are you sure?"

"Of course. Go have fun," Katara urged.

Zuko gave her a small smile and removed his crown piece.

Moving very slowly and almost deliberately, he scooted closer and held it up. "Keep this safe for me?"

Katara stared at the golden crown; there was no real reason for him to give it to her for safekeeping. He'd always worn it while working around the village. She almost asked why, but something about his expression made her falter. She wore a top knot today, too, to combat the heat; it had become messy, with curls falling out of the updo and framing her face. But she dipped her head and allowed him to nestle it into her hair. He observed her with it for a moment, eyes roaming her face, and then he was jogging off to join the kuai ball court.

For some reason, Katara's heart was beating very fast. She slowly turned back to prepare food.

But Nosun spoke, her eyes glittering. "Have you ever seen a kaui ball game, Princess Katara?"

"No," said Katara, smiling at her. "I'm sure it's very interesting."

"I would love for you to come sit by me, Princess," said Nosun. "It's a much better view over here. I'm sure you'll find it a sight to behold."

Katara stood, smoothed her dress, and settled in beside the old matriarch. The game seemed fairly straightforward. The ball couldn't touch the ground. It could be volleyed with hands and feet, and could only be hit several times before it had to go over the net.

Ty Lee and Zuko clearly had played before, and their team won so thoroughly that they had to be split up onto different teams for the next game. Ty Lee flew through the air almost as if she were an airbender; Katara's eyes burned briefly as she thought of Aang, but the look of pure elation on Ty Lee's face as she played was enough to keep full-blown melancholy away.

Zuko was a force of nature.

Katara couldn't take her eyes off him. The hard lines of muscle, the broad sweep of his back. The glisten of sweat on his torso in the afternoon sun. The pinch of his mouth when he concentrated.

The way his body moved, coiled with tension when he crouched, commanding and decisive.

The power behind his strikes sometimes sent smoke furling out of his palms.

Sometimes, when his team made a particularly good play, he even smiled with teeth.

Katara squirmed in place and fumbled quickly for the knife to cut more vegetables.

"Is the game not to your liking, Princess Katara?" Nosun prodded.

"It's exciting," said Katara politely, trying to ignore the little ache between her legs and her pulse rocketing along in her neck.

That little ache had taken longer and longer to fade after each consecutive morning this week.

It had appeared here in the Fire Nation before, but never outside of sex, and not with quite so much intensity either.

She kept her head down and cut vegetables very fiercely, hoping to force it away.

When Zuko and Ty Lee returned, Zuko didn't take the crown back. Katara avoided his eyes and threw herself into making food.

After everyone ate to the calming lull of tsungi horns, people broke off into little groups to talk and laugh and share stories. Zuko leaned back and stared up at the sky with a little frown; Ty Lee was giggling with a woman Katara didn't know on the opposite side of the circle.

And then a little boy ran up to where they sat. His eyes, like most people in the Fire Nation, were amber. They were full of bright, shy eagerness. He couldn't have been any older than six. He tucked a fist to his palm and made a clumsy little bow, grinning toothily at them.

"Prince Zuko," he said, almost breathlessly. "Princess Katara."

Despite greeting them both, he seemed to only have eyes for Katara. He thrust out a hand to her, blushing furiously. There was a deep blue seashell in his grimy little palm. "It's blue," he announced proudly. "Like water. I want you to have it, Princess Katara."

She took it gently from his hand. "I love it," she said, smiling warmly. "I think it's beautiful. Thank you so much." Before she could ask for his name, the little boy had scampered away, looking almost awed by his daring. Katara tucked the seashell carefully in her basket.

And then she noticed Zuko was staring at her with a strange expression. He looked almost stunned. Thoughtful, too.

And then a half smile slowly lifted one corner of his mouth.

"What?" Katara asked, suddenly very self-conscious. "What's so funny? I know it's just a seashell, but he thought of me, didn't he? It was sweet. And anyway, it is a very pretty color."

Zuko's eyes only warmed to liquid gold, softening at the edges.

Katara squirmed in place again. "Zuko?"

He blinked. "Huh?"

"Are you okay?" Katara asked.

A bit of a flush crept into his neck. "Oh. Uh, yeah. I'm fine."

"What did you think of kuai ball, Katara?" Ty Lee had come to settle in beside them again. "It's all over the beaches in the summer. It gets intense."

"I noticed," said Katara, smiling.

Ty Lee launched into a story about the time she showed her friends at the circus the Fire Nation sport, and how they began playing kuai ball games every night when she'd been traveling with them. When Ty Lee talked about the circus, Katara saw her palpable joy.

Katara had little doubt that if it were up to Ty Lee, she would still be off with the circus rather than here.

Zuko had not yet broached the subject of Ty Lee and a visit to Iroh. Katara's eyes drifted to him as Ty Lee was speaking only to see that he was already looking at her; but his eyes flicked quickly away and he stared down at where he drew patterns in the sand with his finger instead. She thought of the look on Zuko's face when he'd said he was feeling colder every day.

It was time, she thought, that Zuko finally spoke with Iroh.

The next morning, on day five, Katara woke late.

They'd arrived rather late the night before from the makeshift little party at the village. She'd still unsuccessfully tried bloodbending, and afterward she'd easily drifted off to sleep. She had no idea what she would fill her afternoon with now. It was a strangely empty feeling, but also happy. The pleased and relieved faces of the villagers had soothed something in her.

Today, when it came to duty, the routine changed.

When Katara lay in the bed and dipped her fingers into the carrageenan and between her thighs, her mind almost immediately stuttered on images from the games the evening before. Images of Zuko. Tingles trickled down her spine.

She nudged her knees wider. One finger slid in with distinct ease—

Katara immediately drew her hand out and away, breathing hard.

She shifted under the blanket, willing her thoughts elsewhere.

And they did travel elsewhere, but it was somewhere much worse.

Now she was thinking of the way Zuko buried his head into her neck and held very still every time he slid into her, as if composing himself. How warm and careful he was. The soft, rasping groans that he tried to silence into her skin when he stilled and came inside her.

Surely he wasn't always this reserved.

What was he like with a normal partner? A partner he actually wanted?

When Zuko finally knocked and came in, Katara's gaze snapped over.

Her breath caught. He had his robe on but not tied, as always, and the sun streaming in the window seemed to glow on his skin.

Katara stared at the ceiling and tried to breathe normally as Zuko came into bed and moved on top of her.

As usual, he took carageenan and stroked himself, his face tucked into her neck. Each brush of his knuckles on her thighs sent a jolt through her skin. For the first time, Katara was tempted to look down and watch him, to see what he looked like. They'd studiously avoided looking at each other, and she'd never even been fully undressed with him before. And she was hyper aware of him today. She felt his warm breath against her neck, the way it increased in speed and heaviness. A dull throb rose between her legs. Her hips wanted to move.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to lose her mind entirely.

When she felt the tip of him prodding her, Katara bit her bottom lip so hard it hurt.

Zuko pushed forward, much easier than usual. This time the long, slow drag of him inside her set her aflame.

Hot desire pulsed in her stomach. Katara bit her lip even harder to avoid making a sound of desperate relief. It felt perfect. Better than perfect. Warm and hard. Her head swam and her heart beat roughly, in time with the throbs between her thighs.

Zuko began to move in the same way he always did, slowly and carefully, never settling fully inside her.

It wasn't enough. She wanted more. She wanted him to be sheathed all the way inside. Her legs shook vaguely each time he rolled his hips back and slid forward again. If he noticed her predicament, he didn't show it. He kept going slowly, and so shallow. So careful.

Today this made Katara so desperate she wanted to sob.

Zuko rotated his hips on his next thrust. It rubbed him against her just right, hitting the sensitive spot at the front of her pelvis.

Bliss erupted out and through every nerve, and it finally broke Katara's fragile composure. The throaty, desperate moan tumbled over her lips without permission. Her hands flew to his upper back, gripping for support and unconsciously trying to pull him closer.

Then she froze, her entire body going flush.

There was no doubt Zuko noticed, because he also went very still.

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked directly down at her.

His good eye was wide, his lips parted. She watched, chest heaving, as Zuko raised a hand to her jaw. He cupped it, keeping it tilted upward, his amber eyes dark and intent on her face. And then he very deliberately made the exact same movement.

Katara couldn't hide her reaction. The hot lash of pleasure was too powerful.

She felt her insides clamp around him and her thighs quake.

Her eyelids fluttered and her breath caught on another moan.

Zuko made a low, frantic noise. He dropped his head to her collarbone and his other hand slid to her leg, trailing very slowly along the outside of her thigh. His touch was like flame. He lifted her leg, carefully hooking her knee around his hip. It opened her up wider.

When he rolled forward again, a careful downward slide, he sank into her all the way to the hilt.

Katara's mouth fell open with a breathy gasp at the same time that Zuko let out a strangled moan, barely muffled into her robe.

It was so achingly good. Wonderfully full. She hadn't known something could feel this good.

Zuko's entire body vibrated against hers, as if he was using all of his restraint not to move.

The tip of his nose slid slowly along the side of her neck. He spoke into her ear, low and husky. "Do you want to come?"

Katara dissolved, her mind finally going fully blank. She clung tighter to him and managed a nod.

"Say it," Zuko said. His breathing was ragged. "Say yes."

White-hot liquid pooled in her belly, then blazed out across her skin.

"Yes," she whispered, her fingers pressing into him tight.

The rumbling sound from deep in his chest made her insides clamp again in excited anticipation.

His hand on her jaw wove up and into her hair to grip tightly. She gasped again when his tongue dragged, slow and leisurely, up her neck.

He set a rhythm that was steady but gentle. His hand curled around her leg that was wrapped around him. He pulled on it slightly with each movement, urging her to rock up and meet him. With each stroke an exquisite feeling spread through every one of Katara's limbs, pulling soft moans from her throat. One of Zuko's hands tentatively slid up along her side and splayed wide on her ribs, though he did not attempt to remove her robe. His mouth was still on her neck, hot and soothing, kissing and licking and sometimes even nibbling very gently.

Katara felt as if she was hovering in madness. She no longer cared what sounds she was making, and that they were rapidly approaching whimpers. Between his ministrations on her neck, Zuko was emitting masculine little sounds that made her entire body coil tighter.

"Faster," Katara finally pleaded, unable to take it anymore. "Harder."

Zuko made a low growl in his throat in response and obliged immediately.

He surged into her with such precision and power that all she could do was hold tightly and take it.

He slid her up the bed with him with each snap of his hips. She wrapped her other leg around him and he went even deeper. Her jaw dropped. Her vision started to blur as the hard ball of pressure in her kept tightening. Katara's hands began to roam. Fisting at his hair. Touching his shoulders and neck and chest. All the things she'd secretly admired, hard under her fingers.

Katara began to roll her hips instinctually up to his. They met each other with quick, frenzied movements. Their breathing turned to staggered panting. Zuko's cheek and jaw nuzzled against hers and he drove into her with long, hard, fast strokes.

Katara could feel her climax approaching with the speed and force of a falling boulder.

But she was rising, not falling. Floating, drawing up tight. Walls fluttering, breath hitching.

She arched her back. Up and up, into the heat of him, the sturdiness, pressing as close as possible, so close—

"Fuck," Zuko rasped, sounding dazed. He wrapped both arms around her. "Yes—"

Everything seized.

There was a millisecond of utter stillness as Katara hovered on the edge, every single one of her limbs locked.

And then, with a dizzying crash, the wave finally broke.

Notes:

Zutara and Duty (slightly NSFW*) by juune-moon

Zuko, Katara, and the seashell by .rosie

Chapter 18: The Counsel

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

When she came, all of Katara's pent-up stress and frustration burst.

She was overtaken with ripples of bliss so powerful it was like being shattered. She only had a dim awareness of the low cries she stifled into his shoulder, and how Zuko's body went briefly still, and then how he broke with a groan. It seemed to go on and on; convulsions drawn out, intensified by the other. Her fingers gripped the front of his robe, twisting up in the soft fabric as she gasped. Zuko's arms encircled her and crushed her to his chest. His warm breaths were ragged into the crook of her neck. All of Katara's limbs were light. Her nerves were aflame.

The wave slowly receded. The ripples in Katara's body quieted to faint, occasional shudders.

When it was finally over they both went limp, panting hard.

Katara's eyelids fluttered. This was like being tipsy. She was warm and at ease, more relaxed than she remembered being for a very, very long time. She wanted to curl up and nap. The afterhaze of euphoria meant that it took several very long moments before Katara recovered her mental faculties enough to fully realize what had just happened.

Awareness seeped in, as did several other emotions. Not regret, exactly; more like a dulled anxiety and sense of confusion.

Zuko's weight on her was still warm and comforting.

She wanted to push him away. She wanted him to keep holding her.

Thankfully she did not have to make any sort of decision on the matter now. She still had duty to think of. She had to lie on her back and put her legs up, and she was almost grateful for the excuse. For the reminder. Heart still beating very fast, Katara began to shift her legs down from around Zuko's hips. Zuko appropriately took this as a cue to move, because he slid out and off her as usual.

Katara heard the rustling of Zuko tying his robe. She took the opportunity to hurriedly and fully cover herself again—the blankets had become haphazardly strewn about and tangled from their vigorous activities. Her cheeks began to burn as she stared up at the ceiling, still partially in a state of both shock and a satisfied stupor. Her body felt like a puddle. It was incredible how much of her tension had melted away.

For a moment they both just lay there, still catching their breath.

Then the air began growing heavy, and she was well aware that Zuko was sneaking little glances over at her. She waited with a sense of trepidation. She knew him well enough by now to recognize he was working up to saying something.

Finally, Zuko cleared his throat. "So. So, uh, are you…okay?"

Katara nodded. She was more than okay; her body felt delightful. All wrung out and relaxed.

The burn in her cheeks crept all the way to her neck and her heart did not seem to want to slow down.

"It wasn't…too much?"

This immediately prompted a distinct recall of the very end, when Zuko had been a bit more aggressive. The way he'd surrounded her, had almost pounded into her, sliding her up the bed. The fullness, the warmth. His smells. His sounds. A low warmth flared in her belly again, faint but undeniable.

Unbelievable.

Katara only mutely shook her head, well aware that she should probably say something else. Anything.

She squeezed her eyes shut. The actual sex had been so natural with him once she'd let go. So easy. Almost frighteningly so. But this, now, after, was mortifying. It wasn't supposed to happen like that at all, and this felt like such a fundamental shift. Too open, too vulnerable.

Zuko scooted a little closer. "Are you sure?"

He sounded so uncertain that Katara was finally forced to look over.

Zuko's cheeks still held a dull flush of exertion. His robe was covering him but slightly askew, showing part of his chest. His hair was all mussed, and there was a relaxed set to his features and a haze in his eyes that Katara had never seen there before, even with the vague sense of concern she saw in them, too. He looked roguish and attractive, and her traitorous stomach fluttered again.

"Yes," Katara said. "I'm sure. I promised I would tell you."

Zuko gave her a small, lopsided smile. "Okay. Good. That's…that's good."

There was another brief silence, just as thick and heavy as before.

Katara had no idea what came next. It seemed Zuko didn't either, because he opened his mouth once, twice, and closed it again.

"I should…you know," said Katara finally, gesturing toward her legs.

She pulled her knees up under the blankets with a grimace, feeling utterly foolish.

"Right. Yes." Zuko cleared his throat again. "Should I ask for Healer Shoshu?"

"Yes, please."

She watched the ceiling again while Zuko went to the door and requested the healer, and then he disappeared into the washroom as usual.

The massage felt much longer, even though Katara was significantly distracted today.

When it was over and Ty Lee arrived, Katara traded places with Zuko and they took her to the bath. Healer Shoshu only left after Ty Lee had dressed Katara again, today in a shimmering dress, its fabric white and made of soft, thin silk. The heat today was unbearable, and Ty Lee commented hopefully that it seemed like it might rain tomorrow. Katara dried her own hair and Ty Lee insisted on doing an intricate hairstyle.

She led Katara out to the vanity. Katara's stomach was already twisting into knots, but when Zuko looked up from his desk it clenched up like a fist. He'd been writing something, and Katara found herself suddenly curious about what he wrote when he sat there. Letters to Mai, perhaps?

Who else would he be writing? Iroh was in prison. He wouldn't want to write Azula.

Her stomach clenched tighter.

Zuko blinked rapidly as they passed, his brush hanging somewhat loosely in his fingers.

When Ty Lee sat her down at the vanity, Katara caught a glimpse of her smirking in the mirror. She began expertly weaving Katara's hair into little braids and pulled it back in an updo. She left two curls hanging over her temples. Katara heard the sounds of Zuko rolling up the scroll and putting it in a drawer. Ty Lee was finishing the mascara on Katara's lashes after putting a glittering white on her eyelids when a knock came on the door. Katara jumped, nearly forcing Ty Lee to poke her in the eye, and she spun to face the door.

Zuko had also looked up from the desk, his shoulders now a familiar, stiff line of tension.

He answered it, and it was only Meinga.

"Prince Zuko," she said rather breathlessly, and with a low bow. "I'm supposed to deliver this for you and Princess Katara. From the Fire Lord." She passed him a colorful sheet of paper; Zuko stared down at it with his brow furrowed while Meinga bowed low to Katara. "I have this for you, Princess Katara." She held up a scroll with a blue seal. Katara launched to her feet and hurried to take the letter from her.

"Thank you, Meinga," she barely remembered to say, though now that it was in her hands all she could do was stare at it. She was rather afraid to open it and read what was inside. She wanted to go just one day without bad news. Meinga bowed and left.

Already, Ty Lee was beside them, heading toward the door. "Well, Katara is ready, so…"

"Ty Lee. Wait."

Surprise crossed Ty Lee's face at the firmness in Zuko's voice, and she stopped.

Zuko cast Katara a quick glance of uncertainty. She already knew what question he was silently asking, and she only gave him an encouraging little nod. Zuko straightened up taller, resolute, and said to Ty Lee, "I want your help."

Ty Lee tilted her head. "Is this a prince request or a Zuko request?"

"Zuko request," he said. "And it would need to stay between the three of us only."

The words and their unspoken implication lingered in the humid air.

"Is it treason?" Ty Lee asked finally. Her face was perfectly neutral.

"Of course not," said Zuko. Thankfully he had the wits to sound vaguely offended at the suggestion, as though he and Katara had not been secretly discussing incredibly treasonous things just the night before.

Ty Lee's posture loosened a little. "Okay. Then what is it?"

"I need your word, Ty Lee," said Zuko, a little sharper now. "No one else can hear about it."

There was a long silence as Ty Lee contemplated this without a change to her expression.

Her bubbly, lighthearted demeanor was gone; now she was serious and contemplative. Katara could not tell what she was feeling at all. A mask had come up, though perhaps this was merely another of Ty Lee's masks. Perhaps the excessive cheerfulness was only her main mask.

Katara began to grow uneasy. Perhaps she'd made a mistake encouraging Zuko to consider enlisting Ty Lee for help. Perhaps Ty Lee just had many faces and chose the one that suited her. Perhaps she would run to Azula with news of this prison visit after all.

Ty Lee, Katara was certain, was a survivor above all. She was a dangerous fighter.

Any friendly affection she had for Zuko may not be enough.

"I promise," Ty Lee said finally.

Zuko exchanged another look with Katara before he said, "I want to visit my Uncle Iroh in prison. It's nothing important, I just…miss him." Ty Lee frowned a little, but she said nothing. Katara, for her part, kept her face very still and withdrawn so as not to react to what she knew was Zuko outright lying. "I wanted to do this without the guards noticing," he continued. "People might get the wrong idea. Katara thought you could help distract them."

Ty Lee slowly began to smile again. "Sure! I'll help you."

"There's a change to the guards at midday for lunch," said Zuko. "Can we do it then?"

That was quite soon. Once Zuko made a decision he certainly did not hesitate.

Ty Lee glanced out the window, at the way the sun streamed brilliantly into the room. "I'll meet you both in the courtyard?"

"One hour," said Zuko. "Does that work?"

She nodded. "See you then."

And then she was gone.

Katara clutched the scroll in her hand tighter, the nerves returning now that they were alone again.

"What's that?" she asked, gesturing to what Meinga had delivered to Zuko.

"We have a social obligation," said Zuko, looking suddenly very displeased. "Tomorrow night."

"Social obligation?"

Zuko pursed his lips and thrust the colorful paper at her.

It was a promotional flier for a play from the Ember Island Players, and memories of sitting on Zuko's lap for hours on end while allowing themselves to be painted for a play washed over her. The play's purpose, Katara knew, was to demonize her friends, elevate the esteem of the Fire Nation, and distract the public with mindless entertainment. Included in this entertainment, she also knew, would be a manufactured romance between herself and Prince Zuko.

It would not, to say the least, be a pleasant play to watch.

On this flier was not an image of her and Zuko, thankfully. It was Fire Lord Ozai, his arms spread wide in a position of power and glory.

It announced that the play would take place on several nights this week at the Golden Theater in Caldera City, as part of the Ember Island Player's tour around the Fire Nation. Attached to the flier was a note informing them that special seats had been saved for the royal family and guests tomorrow night.

"Oh," was all Katara could think to say, in a rather strangled voice.

"Yeah," said Zuko. "So that'll be super fun."

"Well," said Katara, resisting the sudden urge to rip the thing very violently into little pieces, "I suppose there are worse things than having to watch a play." She was quite certain that the worst part by far was going to be Ozai's presence, not the play.

"The Ember Island Players are terrible," said Zuko. "They always ruined Love Amongst the Dragons."

Katara perked up. "Wait, what?"

"My mother's favorite play," said Zuko. "She took us to see it every year."

She started to smile. "And you liked it?"

"Yes," said Zuko, then saw the look on her face. "What?" he asked, rather self-consciously.

"Nothing," said Katara, her smile growing. "I just didn't think you were the type to get so intense about plays."

"It's a good play!" Zuko insisted. "You'd be upset that they butchered it, too."

"What's it about?"

"The Dragon Emperor," said Zuko. "He's cursed by the Dark Water Spirit to take human form."

"Can we go see it?"

Zuko blinked. "You want to see it?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"That's why I asked."

"Oh. Well, uh…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, you'll probably just think it's a silly Fire Nation play."

"Zuko, you were just saying it's a good play. I'm sure your interests aren't silly," said Katara. And then she suddenly wondered if she was somehow intruding on a tradition between him and his mother only, and he didn't want to say so. "It's really fine if you don't want—"

"I do," he cut in quickly. "Yeah, I'll look into it. See if somewhere good is putting it on."

"Okay." She brightened. "And it's probably good for publicity too. Right?"

Zuko's face briefly froze. "Oh. Yeah." Then he blinked again and pointed at her letter. "Are you going to open that?"

She'd been putting it off, just a little.

But now she turned her attention to the scroll in her hands, ripping it open and scanning the lines with apprehension that only increased as she read. This letter was written by both her father and Sokka. Her father wrote of Gran-Gran's health and the well-being of the members of the Water Tribes. At the very least, this had the effect that Katara didn't feel that everything she was doing here was for nothing; she had the evidence right here that they were still alive because of her sacrifice. He made references to a recent feast, and wrote that perhaps soon, arrangements could be made for her to come visit them. It sounded hopeful. Sokka's paragraph had a pointedly more hollow tone. He wrote that Princess Azula had spent some time at the Northern Water Tribe checking things over but would be departing shortly. It mentioned that Suki had joined them in the Northern Water Tribe, though she didn't plan on staying permanently. She wanted to return home to her family.

Yeah right. She's going to leave and fight, Katara thought. There's no way Suki will sit still and do nothing.

And, confirming Katara's worst fears, Sokka wrote that he would be shipped out to the Earth Kingdom in five days. He would be expected to assist in weapons technology for General Eza's squadron. Sokka reported everything not with vague optimism as her father did, and as close to insolence as possible; he didn't even bother to express gratitude for Suki's release in a letter that he knew the Fire Lord would read.

Katara crumpled the scroll up very tightly and tucked her chin down. Her eyes began to burn.

"What is it?" Zuko's voice was very quiet.

"Sokka is going to be joining Eza. In a few days." She sounded as hollow and empty as the letter had felt. Perhaps it would have simply been better not to get a letter at all. "Azula is going to leave soon. Everyone else is still fine. My dad mentioned me coming to visit over the summer, but I don't think that's going to happen. He was trying to be cheerful." Katara stared blankly at a point on the floor until it became blurred.

"Sokka will be fine," she heard Zuko say as if from very far away, even though he had stepped closer.

Her lips quivered. "I know you're just saying that."

"No. I have a feeling that resilience runs in your family," said Zuko. "If he's anything like you, he'll be fine."

Katara bit her tongue hard and tried to force her emotions down. If they were about to attempt to visit Iroh, she needed to stay calm and logical. She had to acknowledge her helplessness; and then she had to push it away.

She was becoming better at this sort of compartmentalization the longer she was here.

After all, what other choice did she have?

"Hey," said Zuko gently, reaching for her wrist. "Want to go see the turtleducklings before we meet Ty Lee?"

Katara gave him a shaky smile. "Okay."

Zuko didn't hold out his arm. Instead he said, "And you should probably change your dress if we'll be going to the prison. It's very, uh, eye-catching. The color," he clarified quickly. "Not that you don't look…I mean, it's pretty." His eyes drifted over it.

"I'll change," she stammered, and she quickly hurried over to the wardrobe.

She picked something less flimsy, a simple black dress that actually covered her chest and shoulders.

It would be warmer, but it was far more practical in every other way.

The path through the corridors of the palace was even more familiar by now, as was the feel of Zuko's arm under hers. They inclined their heads in brief bows to anyone they passed, and as the heat of the day climbed and midday approached, people retreated indoors; to put their feet in buckets of cool water, throw open the windows in the hopes of a breeze, and probably have servants fan them vigorously. Once outside, there were hardly any people at all. Zuko led her straight to the shores of the turtleduck pond, settling in at the bank near the bushes.

Katara took the time to observe their surroundings. Several people were milling about the courtyard in typical formal wear and with sun umbrellas, chatting with each other, though none that Katara recognized. She tried to focus on appearing natural.

Interestingly, despite the upcoming visit to the prison, Katara still felt far more relaxed than usual.

She knew exactly why that was, but was still having trouble reconciling that it had happened.

Zuko nudged her and pointed at the bush. "Look," he said. "They're already much bigger."

They were. The little turtleducklings were steady on their feet, hobbling along on the pond bank. They had begun heading their direction, quaking incessantly and led by their mother, who seemed just as fond of Zuko as the babies were. They all began crowding around his legs, and the squawking grew even louder. "I'm not feeding you every single time," said Zuko, amused. "You need some survival instincts."

Katara reached out to pet a turtleduckling that was gazing up at her with interest.

She moved slowly, trying to show that she meant it no harm, but the mother still let out a shrill quack and lunged for Katara's hand, snapping at her fingers. Katara let out a high-pitched yelp, yanking her hand back. Zuko gently took it, warm fingers cupping hers, and guided it back down to the turtleduckling. "Don't come up over the top of the head like that. It looks threatening," he instructed, showing her how to approach from the side and scratch along the edge of their bill. The turtleduckling closed its eyes and let out a content sound.

The mother watched Katara with an intent wariness, but did not interfere.

Katara let out an awed little laugh. "It likes me!"

"Of course it does." Zuko was already watching her when she looked over, his golden eyes warm and molten, his face open.

There was a beat that stretched out, the glance lingering long enough to make her breath catch.

Zuko turned his attention to the mother duck. "That wasn't very nice, you know," he chastised. "Katara wouldn't hurt your baby."

"Have you always regularly come out here and spoken to the animals?" she teased, as several more babies tentatively came to her.

Zuko was holding one, and he now had several crawling about in his lap. He gave her a half smile. "Maybe."

The turtleducklings were so desperate for Zuko's attention that several were trying to crawl into his palms at once, and he was hurriedly shuffling them around, trying not to drop any of them. "You're actually juggling turtleducklings," Katara said, grinning at the sight. "Why do they like you so much? Is it just because they know you better?"

"It's only because I bring them bread," said Zuko, rescuing yet another from plunging into his lap. "And because they're greedy. Believe me, they don't want me for my stellar personality. Ow. Hey!" He glared down at one that had successfully achieved the prime spot in one of Zuko's hands, and then promptly used it to nip hopefully at his fingers. "I told you that I'm not bringing you food," he said to it, shaking his head. It titled its head and quacked loudly at him and Zuko puffed out a sigh, though there was undeniable affection on his face as he stared down at it. Katara giggled. There were three turtleducklings lining his shoulders, two in his hands, and even one sitting on his head.

He looked ridiculous. He looked adorable.

For the second time that day, instinct took over.

She leaned over and pressed her lips very quickly to Zuko's cheek. Right on his scar.

Zuko dropped the turtleducklings he was holding. They went tumbling to his lap with undignified squawks of dismay, but he didn't appear to notice. He stared at her almost blankly, so long that Katara began cursing her impulsiveness. An apology was on the tip of her tongue when Zuko glanced away, at the others in the courtyard. His shoulders slumped, just a little, and then he moved closer and put an arm around her.

Katara saw what Zuko had been looking at; the others in the courtyard were throwing repeated, excited glances over at their royal couple.

"What are you always writing?" she asked after a moment.

For some reason, this made Zuko jolt a little. He'd been staring almost forlornly at the pond, where the turtleducklings had begun convening to start a swim, clearly having given up on getting food from them. "What?"

"At your desk," said Katara. "Are you writing letters?"

The turtleducklings filed out into the water with low splashes and began to swim behind their mother.

"Oh," said Zuko. He fidgeted a little. "It's nothing important."

He avoided looking directly at her, and she could feel that he'd gone tenser. Katara accepted the evasion of her question and didn't ask further, though it did not help her rising curiosity. "It's hot," she said, because the silence felt too thick, and because it was true. The sun was beating on them. Even her scalp was on fire. "They're lucky." She pointed at the turtleducklings, preening and diving happily in the cool water.

"You're a waterbender near a pond," said Zuko, with a teasing little nudge to her ribs. "Cool yourself off."

"I don't feel comfortable bending here," Katara admitted, voice low. "Not after the fiasco with the guards."

"Come put your feet in," said Zuko. "They won't bite."

She obeyed, kicking off her shoes and scooting closer to the water. The coolness did feel good, and she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. When Ty Lee arrived not much later, her eyes got brighter upon seeing them. She looked almost smug.

She made a big show about carrying an umbrella for Katara, as if that was the reason she was meeting them in the courtyard.

And then they proceeded toward the prison. Both Zuko and Ty Lee walked with purpose, knowing the way, and all Katara could do was follow along and try to keep a keen eye on their surroundings. But the few people they passed only seemed interested in exchanging basic courtesies, quick bows and greetings to their prince and princess and mostly ignoring Ty Lee as they returned to the palace.

And then Katara saw it: a large, drab building rising up in the near distance.

The design was so depressing and the windows so small and dirty that it could only be the prison.

They did not enter through the front doors. There was a walkway of smooth stone that stretched up along the side, and they climbed it for quite a while. It curved and circled along the building, and Katara assumed that Iroh was kept in a special area of the prison. They slipped inside a door at the top. Inside was cool and damp, a labyrinth of confusing passageways. It was a welcome respite from the heat, but the smell made Katara's eyes water.

Zuko took the lead now. Having visited Iroh already before, he seemed to know precisely where to go. Each time that they heard footsteps approaching they slipped into the nearest corridor and waited in the shadows for the guards to pass, until eventually they reached a door that must be Iroh's cell. Zuko led them to a nook around the corner. They peered out to see two guards posted outside the door.

Ty Lee whispered, "Should I go?"

"Not yet," Zuko muttered. "We should wait for—"

A loud, shrill bell rang, drowning out his words and causing them all to jump.

There was a flurry of movement in the corridors as the guards began to prepare to leave their posts.

"That. Katara," said Zuko quickly, still watching the door. "We'll have to hurry and slip in while they're changing guards. We'll have seconds. Ty Lee, make sure no one comes in. Then you'll have to distract them to get us out."

"Five minutes?" Ty Lee asked brightly, as though they were discussing exciting dinner plans.

"Probably the best we can hope for," said Zuko, and then went tense, his eyes narrowing.

The guards were moving off down the corridor. Zuko snatched Katara's wrist and pulled her down the corridor and toward the door. They sprinted and yanked on the handle, slipping inside just as the new guards appeared around the corner. Their voices could still be heard on the other side of the door, casually greeting each other. Katara and Zuko waited, listening intently—it was difficult for Katara to hear properly, over the sound of her own pounding heart—but they had not seemed to notice the intrusion. Now they had to trust that Ty Lee would do her part.

Katara immediately saw the reason for the unlocked door. There was a large cell inside the room itself.

Zuko's eyes were already fixed nervously on the figure inside the cell. Iroh sat upright on a mat; his back was to the door, his long gray hair matted, his robe tattered and dirty. He did not react to the door being opened at all.

A curious expression had twisted up Zuko's face, a mixture of pain and affection. He seemed frozen.

Katara took his hand and gently pulled him closer to the cell. There was no time to waste.

"Iroh?" Katara said tentatively, making sure to speak as quietly as possible.

Still, Iroh jolted almost as if that shrill bell had gone off again, and turned at the sound of her voice.

His face was tired, but as kind as Katara remembered. His eyes were a slightly darker shade of gold than Zuko's, and they widened as he looked slowly between them."Katara," he said, his calm, gentle voice and easy demeanor unchanged by prison. "I heard that you came to the Fire Nation to be Zuko's wife." A deep sorrow filled his face. "Zuko," he greeted, very softly.

So much history was laced in that one word, in Zuko's name.

Zuko all but flung himself at the bars, gripping them tight. "Uncle," he choked out, his rasp very thick, and Katara realized with dim surprise that Zuko was crying. She suddenly wished that she had not come; not because of the displays of emotion, but because she felt as though she was intruding upon something important, something almost untouchable. "Uncle, I'm so sorry," he continued, tears still streaming down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry for what I did. I understand now what you meant about destiny and following my own path. I see now about the Fire Nation. But I'm afraid it's too late. I don't know how to fix it. I know you're angry with me, Uncle, and I know I deserve it, but please, help me. I need your advice. I can't get Katara out of here and I don't know what else I can do to—"

Iroh stood and swept over to the bars with more speed than Katara would have anticipated.

Zuko flinched momentarily when Iroh reached for him, but Iroh only grabbed Zuko's shoulders very fiercely.

Zuko grabbed his in return, making use of the best sort of hug they could manage under the circumstances.

"I was never angry," Iroh said firmly. He cupped Zuko's cheek. "I was only sad that you had lost your way."

Zuko's whole body was shaking. "You—you forgive me? Just like that?" His voice cracked.

Iroh smiled gently. "Yes, Zuko." He did not let go of Zuko's shoulders and addressed them both calmly. "Time is scarce. What are your plans?"

"To get you out," said Zuko immediately. "To avoid Katara getting pregnant and to keep war from breaking out with the tribes. Those are the most pressing problems right now. Uncle, there's a big focus on Katara having a baby—"

"I've heard," said Iroh.

"What?" Zuko faltered momentarily. "How?"

Iroh hesitated, glancing quickly at Katara, but then he said, "Some of the guards have mentioned it."

Zuko's face darkened. "What are they saying, exactly?"

"Not the time, Zuko," Katara cut in quickly. "Iroh, if we did leave, they'll attack the tribes. And we think Azula might be trying to make my baby the next Avatar. Aang is still alive, and if she finds him, we're all in very deep trouble. But fighting the Fire Lord and Azula when they're surrounded by guards in the palace is probably not a good idea either, unless we have help. There's a very low chance of winning, and then my tribes would be attacked anyway." She paused. "There's a solar eclipse coming up. The Fire Nation will be powerless. Do you—"

"Yes. I'm aware of the solar eclipse," said Iroh. "I'll be using it to break out."

They both stared incredulously at him, and he only gave them a jovial little smile.

"Uncle, you won't have your firebending during the eclipse," Zuko told him slowly, as if afraid Iroh had forgotten.

"I'm aware of that too, Zuko," said Iroh. "I have a plan. Don't worry about me. I'll manage my own way out. You two need to focus on getting things in order for yourselves."

"There's something else," said Katara, fully aware how quickly time was running out. "Zuko's bending."

"Your bending?" The first hint of concern flashed through Iroh's usually placid expression. "What about it?"

"It's gone," said Zuko hoarsely.

"There's nothing physically wrong with him," Katara added. "Not that I can tell."

Iroh stroked his beard. "No," he said slowly. "It's psychological. When did this happen?"

"Some time ago," said Zuko. "Right about when…well, when I officially switched sides."

Iroh watched Zuko for a long moment.

And then he said, "Prince Zuko, you have never been one to stew in helplessness. Even when something seems hopeless, you have always relentlessly driven forward—sometimes to the point of extreme recklessness," Iroh said, giving him a pointed look. "Right now you have no real plan. Your only drive is survival, where before it was hunting the Avatar. You have not replaced your drive properly. Remember when I once said to never give in to despair? You need to find something more productive. You need to remember why you fight."

Zuko only looked very desperate at this. "Any move I make would result in someone being hurt, Uncle. How are we supposed to make plans when Katara's tribes hang over us like this? One wrong move and they all die."

"Listen carefully," said Iroh, leaning forward and grasping the bars again. "There is a village several miles inland called Uzao. There you must find the woman known as Nira. Her hut is southeast of the village, in the jungle. She is a member of the White Lotus. Do you remember the words, Zuko? The password, when they helped hide us?"

Zuko frowned. "One who has…eaten the fruit…?"

"And tasted its mysteries," Iroh finished for him, nodding. He fished a Pai Sho tile out of his robe. "I don't need this anymore. Show this to her. You are having a spiritual crisis, but she will be able to help you find your way out."

"How?" Zuko demanded, taking the tile from him.

Katara's ears pricked. Footsteps sounded outside, and she heard a low murmur of voices.

Ty Lee and the guards, no doubt. They were running out of time.

"I never did tell you about my trip to the spirit world, did I?" said Iroh, a little wistfully.

"The spirit world?" Katara asked. "But I thought only the Avatar could go to the spirit world."

Iroh smiled. "Not only, Katara," he said, inclining his head in a humble little bow. "With plenty of spiritual training, meditation, and usually some…ah, extra help, others can enter it for a time as well. It changed my life."

"You think I should try and get to the spirit world?" Zuko asked, clearly dubious.

"Oh, I doubt you'll get there," said Iroh. "It took me many years of practice. But Nira's tea will still help you see."

"Her tea?" Zuko looked suddenly very exasperated, though even this particular bout of prickliness was still laced with blatant affection. "Uncle, I know you think tea solves everything, but I really don't think this is the time to—"

"It's special tea," Iroh clarified, with a little wink.

Katara understood before Zuko did, and she couldn't help it. She started to giggle.

"What?" Zuko's eyes swiveled between them.

"He's suggesting you have a trip," said Katara, and Iroh chuckled.

Zuko gaped at both of them, mouth hanging comically open.

Iroh leaned forward further. "After I escape, I will rendezvous with the White Lotus. I will move them to action regarding the situation of the Water Tribes and see what can be done. Our numbers aren't large, but they aren't small either; maybe we can do something to help, even if helping only means slowly smuggling people out in the night."

Katara's heart began to swell. It was dangerous, perhaps, the little flicker of hope she was feeling.

But nevertheless it had begun to burn, warm and bright in her chest.

"Oh, no, I have to show it to you over here!" Ty Lee's voice and then her exaggerated giggle drifted through the door. She was speaking extra loudly, and Zuko met Katara's eyes with a grimace. That was a cue to leave.

Zuko whirled back to Iroh. "Uncle…" he began, voice thick all over again and wavering faintly.

"I know," said Iroh. "But one more thing. The passageways in the palace. Find them. They're everywhere. They're probably your best hope of escape if the day comes when that is possible. I know of one in the baths—"

"Come over here!" Ty Lee called out very clearly to the guards, with another giggle, and Zuko set his jaw.

"We need to go. Uncle, be careful," he said, taking Katara's arm again and hurrying to the door.

"Goodbye, Iroh," Katara called, still quietly, over her shoulder. "Thank you."

Iroh's eyes were shimmering. "You too, Zuko. And Katara. Take care of each other. We'll meet again soon."

He could only watch as they took a deep breath and yanked open the door, hoping for luck. And indeed, Ty Lee and the guards were gone, but Katara knew they wouldn't leave their posts for more than a moment. Zuko seemed to know this too, because his grip on her tightened and he began to run so quickly that Katara had a difficult time keeping up. They zigzagged through corridors, avoiding the sounds of clinking armor. They burst into the warm air outside and only slowed down once they were a safe distance from the prison. Even then, Katara's breathing and heart rate did not slow, and she kept glancing over her shoulder. They forced themselves to walk normally until they were in the room.

"Well. I'd say that was a success." Zuko's eyes were bright again, with tentative triumph.

Katara's mind whirred with questions.

Ty Lee arrived before she could ask them.

"So it all worked out?" she prompted.

"Yes," said Zuko. "Thank you. And Ty Lee…"

"Not a word," she said, miming locking up her mouth and throwing away the key.

Zuko gave her a wary smile. "Thanks."

"I'll ask for lunch to be sent to your room?"

"Thank you," Katara told her, and Ty Lee squeezed her hand with a smile before leaving again.

As soon as the door closed, Zuko began pacing, his face scrunched up in thought. And then he strode to his desk and stared intently down at a map of the Fire Nation. Creases appeared on his forehead as he took it in.

"Do you know the village your uncle was talking about?" Katara asked.

"Uzao? Yes," said Zuko. "I'm just trying to come up with a plausible reason for us going there if we're seen." He hesitated, and then he looked up at her. "I'm also sort of wondering if he lost it a little in prison. Is that bad?"

"Why?" Katara asked, startled. "He seemed perfectly fine to me."

Privately she thought Iroh seemed to have things together more than she and Zuko both did.

"Because his suggestion was that I drink a psychedelic tea, Katara," said Zuko.

"And you don't want to try it?"

"No," said Zuko bluntly. "Of course not."

"It seemed like he did it himself, once," said Katara, trying to ease his nerves. "To get into the spirit world."

"I bet he was doing it to try and see Lu Ten again," Zuko mused.

"Lu Ten?"

Zuko's eyes met hers. "His son. My cousin. He died when I was a kid. That's when my uncle stopped the siege at Ba Sing Se and came home."

There was a long silence as Katara processed this. "Oh," she said finally, very quietly. "I'm sorry."

Zuko's knuckles were white where he gripped the desk. Katara walked over and stood on the other side. "He wouldn't suggest something that would hurt you, Zuko," she said softly. "And I'll be there to look after you. I even have experience with this particular thing."

"You have experience watching over someone who's tripping?"

"Yes. Sokka."

"Oh. Is this, uh, a cultural thing?" He flushed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to insult the practice if it's important to you. I understand why people do it, I just…don't know how comfortable I am with doing it myself. Especially not..." His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Here. In this palace."

"I understand that," said Katara. "And it wasn't a cultural thing. Sokka was just an idiot and drank cactus juice in the desert."

Zuko's mouth tilted up in vague amusement. "How long did it last?"

"Long enough," said Katara, not particularly enjoying thinking of that horrible trek through the desert, where she'd felt so responsible for everyone else and so alone. The only one making plans, the only one still fighting. "But he was just fine. Honestly, I think he really liked it. And you'll be fine too. I'll be there the whole time. I think it's worth a try."

Zuko suddenly put out a palm and tried to call fire. This time there weren't just sparks that petered out and died; a miniscule little flame appeared in his hand. It didn't last long, but it was there, burning merrily before it flickered out. "It's better!" Zuko almost shouted.

He laughed, a hoarse, relieved sort of laugh, and stared down at his palm almost in awe.

"Reconciling with your uncle probably helped," suggested Katara. "That can't have been feeling good."

Zuko looked up.

After a long moment he said, "I think a few things have gotten better lately."

Something about the expression on his face made her look away.

She was perfectly fine not to discuss what had happened that morning any further, was perfectly at ease with the way they'd fallen back into the pattern of their natural interactions. She still didn't really know what she thought about it and for now she was fine with that, too. So far today there had been plenty of other distractions, important ones. And no matter what, she would have to face it tomorrow morning anyway.

"What's the White Lotus?" she asked, pretending to have a sudden interest in the map on his desk.

"A secret society," said Zuko. "I don't know too much, but they helped my uncle and I once. They snuck us out of this desert oasis town from men that were hunting us, and toward Ba Sing Se as refugees. My uncle is a member. I think they transcend nations and help people, but it's pretty exclusive and secretive." He pulled out the Pai Sho tile. But a knock came on the door, and he stuffed it back in his robes again.

"Come in," he said, and a line of servants filed in carrying trays of food.

As soon as the servants were gone, they ate relatively quickly. Zuko wanted to go to the town that very afternoon, and Katara was more than happy to oblige. "What's the cover story?" she asked, as they prepared to leave. She changed her dress to a shirt and trousers; if they were to be trekking through the jungle, exposed skin would not do. Zuko eyed the loose floorboard containing his Dao swords rather wistfully, but he did not retrieve them. He did, however, grab two small packs to carry on their backs and put food and water in them.

"Fire Lilies only grow in the summer," said Zuko, also slipping on more hardy clothing behind the room divider. "They grow in that area."

He said it as if she should know what that implied.

"Okay," Katara said. "And?"

"Oh," said Zuko, surprised. "Sorry, I figured you'd come across it in the fairy tales you read. Fire Lilies are very special in the Fire Nation. If anyone asks, I can just say that we're going there so I can try and find one for you."

"Oh," she said, face heating a little. "Okay then."

She took his arm and let him lead her to the road. This time they took the rickety wagon deeper into the island, where the foliage grew thicker and more oppressive, and the sounds of buzzes and chirps grew louder and louder. Multiple times, Katara had to swat something away from her neck or her arms.

Uzao was a tiny village nestled right on the border of the jungle, a human settlement seemingly always at war with the encroaching treeline. Katara could see several traps scattered about the town to catch hungry, thieving critters. Several people worked in their gardens, flushed in the heat, but didn't look up and see them pass. A modest but functioning fountain in the shape of a deity trickled water, in a town plaza lined with stone. The rest of the roads in the village were dust.

Soon enough they were pressing into the jungle in a southeastern direction, packs on their back and eyes sharp as they peered into the trees.

They went so far into the jungle that Katara was beginning to fear they were going the wrong direction.

The further they went from the village, the more uneasy she became. It was both too quiet and too loud.

Zuko did not seem concerned. He seemed, in fact, to know exactly what he was doing. He used a pocket knife to make little marks on the trees they passed, and every once in a while he stopped and peered up through the canopy at the sun before varying their direction by a few degrees and pressing onward. Katara supposed she should not be suprised that Zuko knew how to track or move easily through terrain.

Suddenly, Zuko caught her arm. "Look," he murmured, jutting his chin out and ahead.

Behind a mass of low-hanging vines and several trees, Katara could make out what was clearly a little structure.

They crept closer, careful to be as quiet as possible, and saw that around the little hut, a garden had been carved into the wilderness. Not that it was any more organized than the foliage around them; it was the most chaotic garden Katara had ever seen. It was full of colorful flowers and bushes and herbs and small trees. A woman with bright white hair was yanking weeds out of the beds, branches brushing her face and body as she moved. In this garden, she was utterly surrounded by plants, swallowed by them. She carried a basket of shockingly blue petals.

Despite their attempts at silence, she immediately straightened up and turned sharply to face them.

And Katara was quite certain she was looking at the oldest woman in the world.

She had hundreds of wrinkles, her face like worn leather. Her long straight hair, so shockingly white, fell to her waist in mats and tangles, as though she hadn't brushed it for years. Her limbs were knotted, her shoulders hunched.

Zuko took a small step forward when she did not move or speak. "Are you Nira?"

The old woman spat onto the ground. "More or less. Are you the prince?"

"Uh…yes," said Zuko, now with a vaguely disconcerted look.

"Hmph," she said. "Well, I don't think much of royalty."

Zuko's lips parted in clear surprise. Katara doubted that anyone had ever openly expressed disdain for the royal family like this, but Nira didn't appear to fear his reaction. She only folded her arms and watched them impatiently.

Zuko cleared his throat and seemed to try and recover himself. "My name is—"

"Names!" shouted Nira, with even more disgust. "I don't care for your names! What are names, except for sounds in the mouth? Names are an illusion. There is no true self to name. Names." She spat on the ground again.

Zuko blinked. "Uhhh…"

"What do you want?" Nira demanded. When Zuko just stared at her, unsure how to proceed, she exclaimed, "Well, spit it out! Aren't you supposed to be a ruler and a leader? Primed to be bold and commanding? Cat got your tongue, prince?"

Scowling a little, Zuko plunged his hand into his robes and pulled out the Pai Sho tile.

The sunlight that managed to filter through the trees here only came in little slivers, but the tile found one, glinting.

Nira immediately began walking over, much quicker than Katara would have expected of her, lean and spry for her age. She snatched it out of Zuko's hand and examined it very carefully. When she looked up, Katara almost recoiled.

Nira's eyes were completely pale, though not with a milky blindness, like Toph's.

It was as though two full moons hung in the place where Nira's eyes should be.

"Who knocks at the guarded gate?" she asked, very shrewdly.

"One who has eaten the fruit and tasted its mysteries," said Zuko.

Nira smiled in clear satisfaction and gave back the tile.

And then she immediately grabbed Zuko by the jaw and began tilting his face in every direction. Zuko's fingers twitched and his eyes blew wide in alarm, but he didn't do anything to stop her. "What are you doing?"

Nira didn't answer. She tugged on his earlobes and opened his mouth to examine his teeth.

It was only when she traced the edges of his scar that Zuko jerked back. "Don't," he snapped.

Again, Nira ignored him, though she didn't touch his scar again. She flattened her palms and ran them over his shoulders and his chest.

"Very fine specimen," she said. "Healthy bones. Nice teeth." She squeezed lightly on one of his arms. "Muscle. Hmm, yes. You've trained a lot in your life, have you not? So very much. Lots and lots of muscle. Relentless. Impatience. Oh, but you have such a deep capacity for affection, don't you? All hard here, where people can see." She smacked one of his pectoral muscles firmly, and Zuko made a low sound of irritation, glaring at her. "But so soft in here." She placed a hand over his heart and closed her eyes. "Yes. A good heart. Passion. Pain. Drive. You poor child. Loss. Resilience. Fear. A deep sense of unworthiness. Oh, yes. But where is your bending, boy? I can't smell it."

Zuko exchanged a brief look of alarm with Katara that clearly was meant to question Nira's sanity.

Nira slapped his chest again. "Well? Answer me!"

"Smell it?" was all Zuko seemed able to say, nonplussed.

"Like smoke. Firebenders smell like smoke. It's all over their toes, and especially their warm fingers. Yes."

"But Zuko does smell like smoke, just like always," Katara said, without thinking.

Nira turned her luminous gaze on Katara and stared at her so long that Katara longed to run away.

And then Nira was swooping upon her like a bird of prey, her face so close that their noses brushed. Despite the fact that Nira was hunched with age, she was the same height as Katara. Her pale eyes probed relentlessly into hers.

"His is old smoke now," said Nira. "Faded smoke. Ashy. Not right. And you, waterbender, smell like the sea. My plants both fear and love you, did you know? You can nourish them, but you can also rip their life away so easily with your fingers. They are being so loud about it." She began the same thorough examination of Katara that she had done with Zuko. "Also a very fine specimen," she said. "I sense a glow. You can heal? Lucky girl." She dragged her fingers over Katara's up-do. "Thick. Lovely. Very healthy." She squeezed Katara's biceps. "Lean muscle. A combat fighter? Ah, but not for very long. You did not fight until recently. Lots of chores, oh yes." Her touch flitted across Katara's face, then rested on her heart. "Loss. Fear of abandonment. Passion. Bravery. Resilience. Loneliness. Oh. Such rage. Such desperation for control."

A trickling sense of fear was pressing at Katara's chest, and she wanted to shove the woman violently away.

Nira suddenly reached over and yanked Zuko closer. She kept a tight grip on both their arms.

"Guilt. Wariness. Affection. Oh. Interesting lovers you make."

Zuko wrenched his arm away, his jaw tight, eyes flashing with panic and anger. "What the fuck is this?"

"I must know the people that enter my hut, prince," said Nira. "Some energies I will never allow inside."

Without a hint of apology on her face for poking around at them, she turned on her heel and waved them brusquely after her. She still moved with quick, fierce strides, wholly at odds with her ancient appearance. Katara and Zuko exchanged one more wary glance before slowly following her; Katara was half wondering if she was even real.

Nira was already bustling around in the hut, rummaging through jars sitting on hundreds of cramped shelves.

The inside of the hut smelled like a gigantic herbal infusion.

There was a pot cooking over the fire. Baskets of herbs and flowers littered the floor and every surface, as did several ingredients that Katara thought with vague unease had definitely come from something living. She saw jars that looked horribly like eyeballs, and another that looked like it contained hearts from some small animal. A pile of steaming dung sat on the table, too, and Katara sincerely hoped that Nira did not eat where she also performed her little experiments. Vines and flowers hung from the ceiling; tufts of grass and moss even grew through the floor.

A large, dead snake, dried up, was sprawled on the ground. They stepped gingerly over it to follow Nira to the pot hanging over the flames. Beads of sweat formed on Katara's forehead. The hut was roasting in the afternoon heat.

In the pot was only water. Nira began tossing in various leaves and roots.

"I can fix you, prince," she said, deftly stirring the brew she was preparing.

Zuko looked very dubious about this. "How, exactly?"

"You will drink this tea. In one hour, you will feel the effects."

"Which are?" Zuko demanded, fists clenching at his sides.

"Don't get impatient with me. There is always time. Oh, yes." Nira began to stir more vigorously.

Zuko cast Katara another look, this one of helpless irritation. Katara only returned it with a little grimace and a shrug, though she moved closer to him and whispered, "Your uncle sent us to her. You trust him, don't you?"

Zuko nodded, though he still watched Nira's curved back with pursed lips.

Katara made up her mind. She said, "Nira? Are you able to make something that prevents a pregnancy?"

Nira whirled around. "Pregnancy!" she barked. "Yes, yes, of course! What do you need? Are you already pregnant? That's much harder. I can make you something, but it's possible you'll get very sick. Very, very sick. If you're not already pregnant, that's much easier. But nothing is guaranteed! Oh, yes. It helps the odds, but it can always fail."

Katara already knew birth control wasn't always reliable. It was far better than nothing.

"I…don't know if I am," said Katara. She hesitated. "Can you not, um, tell?"

The woman seemed to be able to tell almost everything else in a way that was eerily superhuman.

"That depends on how early it is," said Nira, already moving to other shelves. "Very early? Then no. I cannot."

"Can you make me both?"

Nira's pale eyes shot over to her. "I will give you one herbal mix that will end a pregnancy. Only one! You cannot do that more than once! It is very dangerous. Only for emergencies. Better not to do it at all. It is very harsh on your body, oh yes. It works, but it can ruin your fertility. I will give you much more herbal mix to prevent pregnancy. This will not harm you. Use this. Drink it as a tea every evening except when you bleed. A pinch of the leaves will do." She began stuffing things into cloth bags, muttering quickly under her breath all the while.

The pot on the fire boiled harder.

After a few minutes, Nira snatched a ladle, poured some in a cup, and thrust it at Zuko. "Drink," she said.

He took it from her and only stared at it very skeptically. "Uh…"

"Drink!" Nira insisted. "You need a spiritual vision to unblock your fire. There it is."

"What are the effects?" Katara asked quickly, because Zuko was turning quite pale.

Nira waved an arm. "It will be intense. In one hour, the effects will settle. Bring him to a comfortable place. He will see things that are not there. He will understand things he did not before. He will be very happy, and sometimes he will be very sad or very scared. He will lose his sense of self and find it again. He will see the universe as it is. Many people see a guide. Many people see domes and bright shapes. Pretty shapes. They go under the earth or to the stars. It is a purge, so not all of it will be pleasant. Sometimes people must vomit or shake or cry to get it all out. But the bad has to get out. Oh, yes. Afterward, he will feel so much better. Yes." She snapped her fingers. "Euphoria. Visions. Heightened senses. Thirst. Full effects will be gone in four hours. Small effects will last through the night. Drink lots of water."

Zuko now looked as though he wanted to drink it far less than before.

"I'll help you," Katara said, taking his arm and squeezing. "I'll help you through, Zuko."

"Drink!" snapped Nira, pointing a gnarled finger at Zuko. "Do not offend me by making requests and shunning me!"

Then she thrust the finished cloth bags toward Katara's hands. She wagged the fatter one. "Prevention." And then she wiggled the other, much thinner one. "Purge. Do not use this if you can avoid it, waterbender. Too dangerous. It would be a shame if you could not have babies in the future, yes? Only for big emergencies. Yes? You understand?"

Katara nodded helplessly.

Zuko, for his part, heaved a great sigh and drank the entire cup that Nira had given him.

He made a face of disgust; apparently her special tea did not taste very good.

"One more thing," he said, after giving her back the cup. "Do you have a Fire Lily?"

"What for?" Nira demanded. "Laziness! Prince, if you love her, you go and find it yourself! It is an act of service. Oh, yes."

Zuko flushed. "It's just for a cover story," he said flatly. "This is a secret visit."

"Oh, yes. Oh, yes. All visits to Nira's hut are secret," said the old woman with a snort. She walked over to one of her baskets and rummaged around. And then she held out a bright red flower. "Your alibi," she said. "Now, get out of my hut. Visitors make me antsy and I don't like them. You are a little like your mother, prince. So gentle, she was."

"Wait," Zuko sputtered, trying to stop in his tracks as Nira herded them to the door. "Wait, my mother…what?"

"Out!" Nira shouted. "I'm too busy for you. I make concoctions for good hearts, only good hearts in need. For the Lotus. Come back if you need more, but I don't like idle chit-chat. Get out!" And with this abrupt dismissal, she gave them both a hard shove.

They stumbled over the threshold and back into her garden, and Nira slammed the door right behind them.

"Come on," said Katara, after they stood in stunned silence for a few moments. "We should get you back to our room as quickly as possible."

As they began their trek through the jungle, their pace much quicker now that they knew the way, Zuko said, "Look, I'm going to say something that might sound a little out there."

Katara gave him a sidelong glance. "I consider myself warned."

Zuko looked almost embarrassed. "Do you think she was…you know, human?"

"I…" At first the question did sound absurd, but she could also understand why he was asking it. "She's a member of the White Lotus," said Katara finally. "You'd think that would mean she's human." And then she shot him a sly little smile. "But interesting that you're the one bringing this up."

"What does that mean?" Zuko asked, a little indignantly.

"Oh, nothing. I just remember someone being very skeptical and haughty about fortune telling, but here you are, convinced that the old woman living in the jungle is something supernatural." She nudged him playfully. "Have you finally come around to the realm of wonder?"

"Fortune telling is someone trying to make vague statements that people can latch onto. It's nothing like that. Katara, she psychoanalyzed us through touch! She said she could smell bending, and her flowers had thoughts about you! Do you call that anywhere near normal?"

"No," Katara admitted. "No, I know. I was also wondering if she was real. And her eyes...I've seen someone before that didn't have eye or skin color at all, when I was traveling through the Earth Kingdom. But hers weren't like that. It wasn't blindness either. They were more like…"

"Moons," finished Zuko. "Yeah." He paused, then added, "Maybe I shouldn't have drank her tea."

"It will be just fine," said Katara, trying to soothe. He was beginning to look almost wild with anxiety.

"What if she was some sort of spirit?" His voice was getting rougher and more distressed. "What if she—"

Katara stopped and pulled on his wrist to get him to face her.

"Zuko," she said firmly. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise. We're going to go back, and you'll lie down and we'll put a cool rag over your eyes, and I will be right there with you the whole time while you have your grand visions of the universe. Okay?"

Zuko swallowed hard.

Katara shook his wrist again. "Okay?"

"Okay," he relented, softening a little as he looked down at her. And then he took the Fire Lily he was carrying and very carefully tucked it behind her ear. His eyes were intent and his fingers brushed her hairline; she fought a shiver. She couldn't look away.

"You should have this now," he said. "For when we get back. It's..."

The words seemed to get caught in his throat; he shuffled his feet. "It's pretty," he said. "You...look pretty."

A rush of breathlessness kept her from immediately speaking. Her body was light and airy.

She managed to give him a small, shy smile. "Thank you."

"And you're smart," Zuko added quickly, staring now at the ground instead of meeting her eyes, color slowly rising to his cheeks and neck. "And brave. Thank you for helping me. I...I really..." He faltered, his jaw working. Then he took a deep breath, deflating.

"Anyway. Just. Thank you. We should hurry back." He turned away so abruptly that Katara blinked in shock.

He began walking, still very quickly so as to make it back within the hour, and she fell into step beside him, stomach fluttering again.

Notes:

Zutara and the Turtleducks by juune-moon

Chapter 19: The Microcosm

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

They made it back to their room in the palace without interference.

This was a great relief, seeing as the hour was almost up by the time they pushed on the wooden door.

"Where are your swords hidden?" Katara asked, before Zuko's mind left the room. He showed her the correct floorboard and Katara tucked the pouches of herbs Nira had given her into the open space. It was the best hiding place in this room; it had to be enough.

They pulled a small table back over the spot on the floor and Katara guided Zuko over to the bed by the elbow. "Lay down." Katara began dipping a washcloth in the water basin and wringing it out, and then she sat on the edge of the bed. "Close your eyes." Despite clear wariness, Zuko obeyed, and she spread the washcloth over the top half of his face and then pressed her fingers into his neck.

"I just want to take note of your resting heart rate so I can keep an eye on it," she told him.

Zuko's hands spasmed at his sides. "That sounds ominous."

"Zuko, it's going to be just fine." Katara took his hand in hers as she counted his pulse, which she noted was considerably easier to do when his eyes were hidden beneath a washcloth.

When she'd drawn away from his neck he said, "What if I try and do something stupid? Jump out a window, or leave, or—"

"Do you really think I can't stop you? I can always freeze you to something."

A small bit of tension in Zuko's body eased. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I'm kind of freaking out."

"I'll be here the whole time. Please just try and relax." Her gaze snagged on the book of fairy tales beside her bed; she hadn't actually thought about reading them for a while now. It was strange to think back on her first nights here, bored and alone and with nothing better to do than read. "I can read to you if you want," Katara said. "Which fairy tale do you want to hear?"

Zuko's face tilted toward hers, even though he couldn't see her. "You pick."

Katara flipped to a story she didn't know and started to read.

It had not been long, perhaps ten minutes, before Zuko's fingers began to curl and uncurl at his sides. Katara continued to read out loud, but she kept shooting him careful glances over the book. But other than occasionally pressing his hands into fists he lay very still and quiet.

All of the sudden, Zuko burst into loud laughter. Katara jumped and let the book fall to her lap, staring at him.

He just kept laughing, more than Katara had ever heard him laugh. The sound was bright and happy and she couldn't help but smile. Zuko's laughter eventually died down to something quieter, but it didn't fade completely. She took his hand again. "Zuko," she whispered, but he didn't respond. He kept up a stream of low chuckles until they gradually faded and died. Eventually he grew somber and still again.

Then, abruptly, Zuko sat up. The washcloth fell from his eyes.

He was doing strange things with his body; leaning slowly forward like he was hovering over a precipice, his arms spreading out to his sides for balance. He rotated his torso in circles and tipped carefully to each side. It was almost as if he was testing his body weight. Eventually he straightened up again, but still he kept twitching, or shifting. He began patting his legs almost desperately until he stopped, lifting his arms and repeatedly curling his fingers. Katara was just wondering if it would be better to have him lay back down and how to best go about doing that when he thankfully shifted back down on his own. He covered his eyes and forehead with his palms and went still again.

Katara checked his pulse and found it quick but normal. He didn't react to her touch at all.

She suspected he no longer had any idea she was beside him.

Intermittently, Zuko would smile or laugh.

This went on for a long while, until Zuko's entire body tensed and the grip on his face tightened. "Oh." He said it in a low moan, and a wave of intense shakes rippled through him. Katara scooted forward, trying not to be too alarmed. It's normal, she told herself, arguing inwardly with a small, but growing anxiety. It's fine. Nira said he might have to purge.

It did not make it any easier when Zuko let out a long, low cry. At first it sounded like a hum, a drawn-out chant like those attempting to sink into deep meditation. Then it sounded agonized. It went on and on, and he started to shake harder. Tremors seizing his hands. He pressed his palms into his face, breathing harshly. "Not you. Go away. Leave me alone."

Zuko's hands fell to his chest and he began touching it; then he moved up to his own face and began examining that with his fingers too. They lingered for a long time on his scar before they clutched at his hair. "No. No, no, no. Go away. I don't like you. Please, no. Go away."

He sounded so frightened and vulnerable that Katara's heart squeezed.

"What are you?" Zuko moaned, still shaking. "No, no—"

Katara was beginning to fervently regret not asking Nira more questions on how to care for him during a purge.

She was also beginning to think she would go maim Nira personally if this went on for four hours and it didn't get better.

Zuko bolted up and moved out of the bed so fast that he almost bowled her over. He collapsed to the ground in a heap, pressing his forehead to the floor. He didn't speak. He stayed there, trembling, but every once in a while he made another long, low whimper of pure terror. Katara knelt beside him, itching to touch him or hug him, but she was afraid it would frighten him more.

She watched his back heave and release as he panted heavily.

Then, oddly, he started to laugh. Hoarse, broken little chuckles.

He swung between these two wildly different states for a long time.

"Red," he mumbled finally. "The red one. Go away, blue dragon. Go… oh."

Zuko sat up. His eyes were open.

"Zuko?" Katara prompted, very tentatively, but he didn't seem to hear her.

He only leaned forward again, very slowly, staring very intensely. His eyes were focused, but he wasn't seeing anything in the room. His mouth hung open and he stared and stared; his eyes were a little bloodshot, but wide and round, though he didn't look afraid. His face contorted sometimes, eyebrows furrowing or blinking very slow, leaning forward to look harder at whatever invisible thing he was seeing.

He lifted his hands up to his eyes and stared at them with the same sense of pure awe.

He wiggled his fingers, moved them back and forth, toward his face and away. He began patting his chest again. His eyes darted around as if trying to solve a mystery, as if he was walking through magical corridors and was peeking around the corner to see what he might find.

Every once in a while, he lifted a shaking hand as if to touch something in front of him.

Eventually, he started to settle back. Katara quickly snatched a pillow and coaxed him back onto it.

For the first time his eyes found her. They were far away, hazy, but warm. "Are you a goddess?"

Katara bit her lip hard to keep from giggling. "Definitely."

"I've been looking for you."

She tucked a blanket carefully around him. The chances that Zuko was actually seeing her in front of him were fairly low, but she couldn't meet his eyes. His expression was one of pure adoration. "Well, here I am," said Katara briskly.

"You're beautiful. You're in a beam of light." He shielded his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"The light doesn't hurt," she said, smiling.

"I'll defeat the dragon," he babbled. "Not the red one. The blue one."

"Sounds very exciting," she said. She pushed his hair gently back from his eyes, which were wide and staring up at the ceiling.

His hands came to grip the side of his head and he laughed.

"Wow. Wow." He lifted his hands and stared at them for a very long time again, with a soft 'wow' every few moments. Katara took the opportunity to check his pulse, relieved to find it was still in normal range. This next phase was easily the longest. Whatever Zuko was seeing seemed to be very pleasant, for he shut his eyes and just lay there, with frequent sounds of utter delight. This alternated with another phase where he sat up and seemed to be afraid of his own extremities, because he would breathe deeply and twitch, and kept touching his legs and arms with his hands. Then he would lie back down again, start laughing, and see something beautiful.

After that came another purge.

This one scared Katara much more than the first.

Zuko's sounds of fear were sharper, and though he didn't try to sit up again, he writhed and twisted on the floor. Katara tried to keep him calm. She smoothed his hair and dabbed water on his wrists to keep him cool and tried to fan him; even put some of the bath flowers under his nose, but she guessed that his awareness was too far away to really register it. Zuko panted and begged and pleaded with some unknown entity to help him, and then with another one to leave him alone. It seemed to go on forever; so long Katara was close to tears.

When it finally settled, Zuko's breath was hitching.

Katara put a careful hand on his chest and rubbed circles.

"She left," he mumbled. "She left me."

Katara swallowed hard. "I'm here, though," she said softly, pushing his hair back from his face again.

But Zuko didn't seem to hear her. His eyes were closed and he was clearly seeing something uncomfortable, because his face kept contorting in expressions of anguish. "I don't want to," he whispered. "Don't make me. I'm sorry. Please, I can't, I can't." He gasped and shuddered and his chin tucked down lower toward his chest. He shook violently for several long minutes, flinching back at random intervals.

Then he turned his face up again and his body relaxed under Katara's hand. Zuko let out a long, steady exhale. "Oh."

Whatever he saw then, it was so overwhelming he barely moved for a long time. He didn't make a sound.

Then he opened his eyes and smiled. It lit up every bit of his face. "It's beautiful."

Katara ran her fingers through his hair and his eyes drifted lazily over to her.

"Hello, goddess," Zuko said. "I did what you asked."

"Thank you," Katara replied, a little cautiously. He was staring at her very intently, and if it weren't for the clouded eyes and the nonsense he was spewing she would have thought he was lucid. At least two hours must have passed by now, maybe more. At some point she assumed the effects would slowly weaken before they stopped. "Please drink some water?"

He obediently opened his mouth and let her prop him up to drink.

"Under the ocean," said Zuko absently, "everything glitters."

She smiled. "Is that so?"

"I need to fly to the sun. I'm not afraid." He closed his eyes again with a little sigh.

There were no more purges, only brief flashes of indecision or confusion on his features. The rest of the time he was perfectly calm, or even smiling. Katara made him intermittently drink water. A thin, cold sheen of sweat broke out across his neck, but his vitals were normal.

Exactly one hour later, Zuko's eyes fluttered open and he pushed abruptly up to his elbows.

Katara was right at his side and brought a supporting arm around his back. Zuko's eyes found hers.

Looking into them, Katara knew he was back in the room, though not quite fully himself.

"I understand," he said, rasp thick with emotion. He reached for her.

His hand curled around the back of her neck and pulled her close until her forehead was pressed against his. He looked exhausted, as though he'd run a race, but also deliriously, achingly happy. "Holy shit," Zuko said hoarsely, his grip on her tightening. Katara reached out and grasped him in the same way, very firmly, and they stared into each other's eyes. He looked reverent, worshipful.

He looked like he was seeing infinity, or everything for the first time, with eyes of unadulterated wonder.

"What do you understand?" Katara whispered.

Zuko started to cry, and Katara immediately wrapped her arms around him and hugged him to her.

"The love—can't describe—so much—" Zuko choked into her shoulder. But he didn't sound upset. He sounded happy. Awed. Katara stroked his back and he clung to her. "Katara...never felt—weight off my heart—all that matters—"

Tears slid down her cheeks, too. "It's okay, Zuko," she soothed.

"I know," he breathed. "I know. Everything is how it's supposed to be. I know. I see now. I understand."

After a while, he started to vibrate, faster and faster.

And then he said, quickly and very urgently, "Get back."

Katara barely had scrambled back and out of the way when Zuko's entire body burst into flame.

He lit up like a beacon. Katara wanted to scream, until she saw that he was laughing.

He spread his palms and laughed and laughed, and he looked so joyous, so transcendent, that all she could do was stare. When the burst of fire subsided, Katara rushed to douse the blanket and pillow with water. Zuko pulled fire into his palms with ease and stared down at it.

"Without the sun," he murmured, "we die."

He smiled. The flames grew higher, brighter, and he let them lick slowly up his arms.

Then he stopped, and seemed to remember Katara was there and staring at him. He still didn't seem all the way lucid yet; she was half afraid he would set fire to the entire room in his excitement at having his bending back. Before she could caution him, Zuko grabbed her and yanked her into a bone-crushing hug, laughing with relief and rocking her from side to side. "I'm back!"

"Zuko," Katara gasped. "Can't breathe—"

He eased up but kept hugging her. His voice was raw and open. "I thought I would be there forever. It was beautiful. But I wanted to come back. I'm so happy to be here. I've never been so happy to be here."

"You should rest and drink some more water, Zuko," she said gently.

"I am thirsty…" He sounded thoughtful. "But I don't want to let go of you."

Her heart skipped and she opened her mouth to try and persuade him back to bed, but nothing came out.

Zuko's arms tightened and he sighed contentedly.

But eventually he finally allowed her to pull him over to sit on the bed. She propped pillows up behind him and gave him water, and he drank the whole cup and then another before he leaned back with his eyes closed, lips curved into a little smile. Katara had never seen someone look so peaceful. He took slow, steady breaths.

"How do you feel?" Katara asked tentatively, after he was quiet for a very long time.

"I feel like I'm full of electricity," Zuko said calmly. "Good electricity."

Zuko fumbled blindly for her arm. "Come back here." He'd taken her into his lap before she could protest, which approximately half of her wanted to do. But the protests quickly died away when he wrapped his arms around her and the smells of him washed over her; herbs and spices, smoke. She relented, gave in, resting her head on his shoulder. "You don't need to be afraid," Zuko murmured into her ear.

A lump, surprising in its ferocity, rose to her throat so fast that it hurt. She had not expected such affection.

His hands traced her spine and he cradled her closer. Somehow he held her so tightly and so carefully at the same time. She felt his heart pounding against her palms, flat on his chest. She felt warm. She felt safe. She wasn't sure how long they sat like that.

Long enough for the night to stretch on and for her to start growing sleepy.

She shifted away from where they were curled together and stood. She needed to drink her tea. It was too important to forget.

"I need a firebender to warm this up for me," she said, after getting herself a cup of water. Zuko cracked open an eye. "Know of one?"

His mouth quirked up and he took the cup from her. Zuko set to work heating it as Katara fished out a pinch of the herbs from under their secret floorboard. She put them in the water, now boiling from the heat of Zuko's palms against the cup, and reached to take it.

"It'll burn you," he chastised, holding it out of reach.

He sat up straighter and gestured the cup toward her. Katara sat and reluctantly let him tilt the cup to her lips.

She drank it in two long swallows, and then choked, her face scrunching up with dismay. "Oh. Gross. I was really hoping for better."

Zuko's eyes flickered with amusement. He stood and set the cup down, and then he began to pace.

"Everything okay?" Katara asked, surprised at the sudden turn of activity.

"Yeah. But I think I might know how you felt on the full moon." His strides were quick and efficient, and his eyes were much clearer than before. He was, Katara assumed, almost back to fully normal Zuko. He suddenly whipped around to face her, his face bright with energy. "Want to go to the beach?" But Katara had just stifled a yawn, and his eyes softened. "No. It's already late and you're tired." He waved a hand, and the candles snuffed out. Then, as if he couldn't help it, he let flames engulf his arms and closed his eyes in relief.

"I'll stay up with you," she offered. She was not entirely convinced she could leave him on his own.

"I won't be sleeping for a long time, Katara."

He said it with such certainty that she frowned. "That doesn't seem normal."

"I feel great. Seriously, don't worry about me. I can wake you if I need something."

Katara shifted over to her side of the bed but sat up against the pillows, watching his silhouette in the dark.

"What did you see?" She was dying of curiosity.

"So many things. I…don't even think I can properly explain." He sounded dazed.

He paced in a rhythm; five long strides across the room, five long strides back. Every once in a while, Katara heard the blaze of fire and it would stream along his arms and sometimes his legs, making him glow in the darkened room. It illuminated the angles of his face. Half shadow, half dark. He looked fierce and unyielding, his golden eyes bright.

"Everything was bright and swirling and pulsing," he said finally. "There were all these colors. Things were glowing and glittering and—and I saw all these different things. I saw fruit on a tree which morphed into a snake. The scales rippled in front of my eyes and then behind them. I remember my body feeling very…tingly. I remember feeling like I didn't have a body at all. Everything was swirling and spinning and I saw a jungle, but it was so much more beautiful than a regular jungle. It was brighter and more colorful. I went under the ocean and I met a guardian of some kind, I think. Her hair was made of seaweed and at one point she wrapped me up and trapped me in it. I thought I was going to stop breathing. She was always there, in my consciousness, judging me. Until I faced her. Then—"

Zuko seemed to become suddenly aware of how much and how quickly he was talking and he fell into a self-conscious silence.

"Don't stop," Katara encouraged. "I want to hear it. What about the two dragons?"

Zuko's pacing paused, but only for a second. "You know about…so I spoke to you? During?"

"Yes," said Katara. "Well, not really me, I think. I'm pretty sure you didn't know it was me."

"No," he agreed. "I felt myself leave the room. I went to the stars, too. I saw the sun. Right up close. I thought it was going to burn me, but by then I wasn't afraid at all. I put my arms out and it just filled me with this warmth. I can't explain the feeling. It was just like…the love of the universe. There was so much of it. It was in everything, all the time. I still feel it, even now. The two dragons…" He hesitated. "It isn't the first time I've seen them. They were a little different than in my other vision, but they were there. The blue one wanted to kill me. I didn't want to face it, but as soon as I did, everything got better. It's when I started seeing all the really good things."

"So you've had another vision before this?"

"Yes. I was sick once," said Zuko. "In Ba Sing Se. Feverish. My uncle told me it was a spiritual sickness. I saw the dragons when I wasn't lucid. In this one they didn't speak, but in that one they talked to me as my sister and my uncle." He faltered. "Back then I also saw myself on the throne, without a scar."

"Wow." Katara fell into a stunned silence.

"I feel like a new person," said Zuko hoarsely. "I swear, there's nothing like it."

"I'm so happy it worked." Katara's chest expanded with happiness for him, and with powerful relief.

"What did I say to you?"

"Oh. Well. You thought you were speaking to some sort of goddess. You said something about the ocean glittering, and flying to the sun."

"That's all?"

"Mostly," said Katara. "When you were scared of something, you were saying 'no' and 'go away' a lot. I knew you were seeing things, but not what. The second purge was…I was pretty scared with that one. You were twitching around and you seemed so afraid. I wanted to help but didn't know how." Her voice wavered, just a little.

Zuko's footsteps carried him over to her side of the bed and he sat on the edge. "Thank you," he said.

His hand extended and cupped her cheek and her heart stuttered.

She felt the energy of new bending exposure still running through his arm like aftershocks; his eyes were twin flames in the dark. Zuko's thumb very lightly brushed her cheekbone and her chest tightened. "I was so glad to see you," he said softly. "When I came back."

"I was glad to have you back," she whispered.

He stared at her for a long, drawn out moment before he withdrew and quickly stood.

Zuko's silhouette paced as she settled in, and continued in the long length of time it took for her to finally fall asleep.

The next morning she woke to two things that were distinctly different from normal.

The first was the light, rhythmic pattering of raindrops on the window.

The sound was calming, and the rain was a welcome respite from the heat. For once, Katara didn't wake up sweating.

The second was Zuko curled against her. One arm was draped over her waist, and the other arm tucked underneath her head. His slow, even exhales tickled her neck, and tingles spread through her chest, her stomach, and all the way to her toes. And—

Her stomach clenched.

He was hard. She felt the entire length of him, firm and pressed against her backside.

Zuko chose that very moment to make an appealing, sleepy groan and push his hips into her.

Logically, Katara had known that sex had to happen today anyway. But it was not logic or even a conscious choice that made her wriggle back against him, still only half-awake. It was the low heat rising between her legs and the drowsy desire for closeness.

Zuko mumbled something incoherent, the span of his fingers widening on her hip. He nuzzled at the soft skin behind her ear. They shifted and moved against each other, hovering in the blissful in-between state of waking and sleeping. The rain tapped on the window, a lulling symphony. She relished in the refuge of silk soft sheets, heat and hardness, large hands and strong arms, herbs and spices and smoke.

Her brain became foggy not from sleep, but from an aching want.

She wasn't quite sure of the exact moment they both woke up fully, but it was probably around the time that his hand stopped its gentle, explorative rubbing over her hip and side and stomach and he froze, as if finally fully realizing what they were doing.

It made Katara hesitate too. But the long, slow minutes of touches and rolling against each other had already created a desperate throb between Katara's legs. So she took his hand and guided it up to her breast, arching back into him as the heat of his palm bled through the thin fabric of her robe. Zuko's jaw went slack against her shoulder, and he let out a shaky exhale before he very gently squeezed.

Katara squirmed in his arms with a low sound of encouragement and he did it again.

He brought his other hand up to caress the other. His hands were so firm, but so careful. He rocked his hips and his fingers moved so delicately; he kneaded over the slopes of her breasts and around in circles, sweeping along the underside, and then finally traced his thumbs back and forth over her pebbled nipples before doing the whole thing over again. He was meticulous and maddeningly slow. If he was trying to tease, it was working. Katara had to keep choking back breathy little moans, even with all the layers of fabric between them.

Liquid heat flooded through her at the sudden image of his hot hands on her bare skin.

Any control she had was slipping away rapidly, like water draining through cupped hands.

Katara could feel an acute power coiling in him. His muscles rippled with it. But Zuko's hands remained slow and reverent; they slid over the span of her ribs, the expanse of her stomach, and the curves of her breasts with careful diligence, as though mapping her.

Katara's heart pounded in her ears, loud and heavy. Desire dulled everything else.

Zuko's hands dipped to span her waist. In one quick, powerful movement, he had her on her back and had rolled on top of her, pressing her into the bed. He wedged himself between her legs, and a hot, rigid pressure bore down right where she needed it. "Okay?" he rasped into her ear. Katara wrapped her arms around his neck and arched her back upward as an answer, seeking friction.

Zuko's head fell to her shoulder with a ragged groan.

He ground firmly back into her, rolling his hips over and over, slow at first, then faster.

One of his hands tangled in her hair. Each rocking motion of his hips into hers sent a jolt into her core and all along her spine.

Katara's hands spanned his shoulders and flattened against his chest. She loosened the sash of his robe and slipped underneath the fabric, marveling at soft, warm skin over hard muscle. She let her fingers wander lower, as far as she dared, brushing his abdomen. His stomach muscles tightened under her hands.

She was throbbing almost painfully. Arousal was pooling between her legs, warm and wet and ready. Only now, at the height of desperation, could she hazily recognize that ever since yesterday, she'd wanted to feel good like this again.

"We can—start," she managed to gasp. "Zuko—start."

Zuko made a noise similar to a growl and her stomach started doing little flips.

One of his hands came to her knee and she let him nudge her further apart. His forehead rested against hers and he started to bunch her robes up at the hips, his knuckles grazing her thighs. Katara shivered, her heart leaping high in her throat. Zuko yanked off his bottom wraps and then hers with a sense of restless, desperate impatience. His body heat was burning brighter, hotter. After, he paused.

Katara dared to look up at him under her lashes and her breath caught. Zuko's eyes were fixed on her, almost full black, heated and intense. They trailed over her hair, sprawled out over his pillow, and over her face. They lingered on her mouth before he pressed close.

He wrapped her up in his arms and slid into her, slow and deliberate. There was a second, a brief moment, where Katara had to remind herself to relax as he worked her open, pushing into her just a little deeper with each motion of his hips.

When he was finally buried in her fully, a low, needy moan tore from Katara's throat. She could feel the stretch, how she fluttered around him and accommodated him. She was almost lightheaded from the feeling. So full. So good.

Zuko's body shook with raw, restrained energy and a deep, rumbling sound came from his chest.

But he didn't move right away. A hand came very gently to hold her chin. Warm fingers splayed out under her jaw.

Zuko tilted her head back to expose her throat to him. Katara's chest heaved as he traced a slow, caressing path all the way down her throat. His fingertips barely grazed her, but her skin buzzed, her toes curling. He followed the trail his hand had taken with his mouth. He pushed her hair aside and cupped her neck with one hand, bending and peppering kisses under her jaw. He kissed and licked and nipped all the way down and along her neck, lower and lower. By the time he reached the collar of her robe, Katara was shaking all over.

Zuko slowly made his way back up again and sucked lightly on her fluttering pulse.

Katara went slack, letting out a low whimper. If he didn't start moving she thought she might go mad.

Only then did Zuko rock his hips back and slide back in.

They moaned in unison; her hands wrapped around the broad expanse of his upper back and clung tight.

He took her with long, slow strokes. She gasped and writhed under him as he thrust slow and steady but deep, again and again.

"So good." Zuko's words were low and strangled into her ear. "No idea—"

Katara's entire body ignited at the praise.

She was on fire. He surrounded her, wrapping her up in an inferno. She even imagined she smelled smoke. Katara began fumbling desperately with her robe, trying to push it off her shoulders. She wanted to feel some of her chest against his, just like she felt the hot skin of his upper thighs against hers, flexing powerfully each time he moved. She wanted to burn hotter.

Zuko all but ripped the fabric down for her, with another growl.

Her top wraps were intact but when he pressed tighter she felt skin just as she'd wanted. His cheek aligned with hers.

Katara blindly turned her head, seeking him.

It could barely be called a kiss; just a brief, clumsy bump of the corner of her mouth with his. Zuko's movements faltered.

Through the haze of lust came a sudden and powerful twinge of self-consciousness. "Oh," Katara stuttered, pulling back. "S-Sorry—"

She was cut off by Zuko's mouth. He took her jaw firmly in one hand, tilted it up, and kissed her.

Katara melted into him, every thought and worry sliding away as she easily parted her lips for him. His mouth was hot and soft. Their tongues touched and then caressed, first tentative and then with a quickening, desperate abandon. Hands roamed and Zuko drove into her with mounting urgency. It was even more frantic and fast and hard than he'd had her the day before.

She hurtled toward climax so fast she barely had time to register it. One moment she was ascending toward the edge, her vision blurring and her sounds becoming increasingly more high-pitched; the next she was finishing around him so hard her mouth dropped open.

The snapping of Zuko's hips instantly became abbreviated and erratic. "Fuck—"

He stiffened and then pulsed in her with a shuddering, husky moan.

For a few moments the world was only throbbing and heat, and blinding, white-hot euphoria.

A hand found the top of her head and held it firmly down, briefly pinning it to his chest; only dimly, she felt his head jerk back and away, and heard the unmistakable sound of the roar of fire. He let go and they rocked against each other, stilted and gasping.

Slowly everything went still.

The sound of raindrops grew louder again, creeping back into Katara's senses.

As their breathing slowed, something warm pressed into her neck.

Katara was faintly aware that a nagging anxiety about this latest iteration of their duty was rising, now that the haze of craving had passed.

But right now she was too warm and relaxed to give it any real thought or let it take over. The floating, sated part of her simply acted of its own accord, letting out a content little sigh and tilting her head. Zuko's hand cupped her neck and his fingers traced patterns over her jaw as he kept gently kissing her throat. The smell of smoke intensified. Zuko moved higher, along her jaw, closer to her mouth.

Katara closed her eyes, wishing she could doze off here.

But the smell of smoke kept growing stronger, so she cracked a sluggish eye open. Something orange flickered somewhere above her.

It took her a few moments longer than it usually would have to realize what it was.

"Zuko," she gasped, pushing on his chest. "The bed hangings are on fire!"

The flame was rapidly growing as it merrily ate at the flowing fabrics tied to the bedside.

Zuko pulled out and away so quickly it was jarring, rushing to tie his robe and get to his feet, cursing under his breath.

But Katara was quicker. She sat up, keeping her legs squeezed tight, and yanked water from one of the basins beside the bed. She launched it up to douse the fire, leaving only a small part of the hangings smoldering and shriveled up, but undeniably ruined. The blankets had fallen away, and she quickly adjusted her robe and the blankets to make sure her bottom half was covered again. Before she could start fixing the top half of her robe, where it hung off her shoulders and haphazardly askew, Zuko said, "Shit."

He was back in the bed in an instant, coming up beside her and reaching almost frantically for her robe.

Katara's first instinct was to try and jerk away in surprise. "What—?"

"Did I burn you?" His voice was rough with distress.

"What are you talking about?" She followed his gaze with a frown and her eyes widened. Where his hand had been on her hip, her robe was black and shriveled. It was also still smoking faintly. His palm had been so hot he'd singed the fabric. She hadn't even noticed.

"I'm so sorry," Zuko was stuttering, staring down at the scorch mark in horror. "I'm so sorry. I just got my bending back and I…" He flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. "I guess I was a little out of control, I—"

Katara started to giggle, quiet and subdued at first. Then she flopped down on her back and laughed.

"You're laughing about this?" she heard Zuko say, both incredulous and indignant. "I could have hurt you!"

"But you didn't," said Katara, closing her eyes again.

"Do you want me to go get Healer Shoshu?" Zuko asked after a moment, a little awkwardly.

"What I really want to do is take a nap," Katara said. Her body was still deliciously limp. When Zuko didn't answer, she opened one eye and saw that he was staring at her with the barest hint of smug pride. Her eyes snapped shut, cheeks heating. "Yes, fine," she mumbled quickly.

The anxiety that had been lurking under the surface earlier was threatening to emerge again.

She really, really didn't want to feel it right now.

Katara pulled her legs up as Zuko notified the guards and went to the washroom, though not without a lingering glance at her.

Much as she tried to contain it, the anxiety rose so sharply through her post-climax stupor that Healer Shoshu had to implore her to relax. There was less and less of the efficient, mechanical routine they'd built up, a routine that felt infinitely safer. Too many new variables.

There'd been the lazy, easy transition from waking up in his arms to falling apart in them. The unrestricted want she'd felt. Kissing.

That part was easily the most nerve-inducing. They'd never kissed before.

Her heart rate staggered unevenly upward as she thought about it. What had she been thinking? She'd been the one to start it. This part of their relationship was starting to rapidly feel like sitting on a cart speeding downhill. It was too new, too fast. She could barely process it.

Katara's fears were screaming at her to leap out and away, before the cart could crash and she would be irreparably hurt.

At least there was only one more day. One more day, and she could jump out.

And maybe for a while, at least for a month, things wouldn't seem so complicated.

The thought calmed her.

Admittedly the orgasm had calmed her as well. She still felt as though her mind was warm and dozing as she was trotted off to the bath. Ty Lee arrived midway through to begin preparations for the evening at the play—they'd woken so late that it was already time to begin her lengthy prepping of Katara for an outing as a member of the royal family. Even worse, Ty Lee was grinning so widely that Katara instantly became self-conscious. She was only able to ask her about it when Healer Shoshu finally left and Ty Lee was helping her out of the tub.

"What?" Katara asked, nervously.

"You should know," she said, "once servants see that Zuko destroyed the hangings on the bed, the whole palace is going to find out. You should prepare for some extra stares for a few days. And maybe some giggling and general excitement. Especially with this play out."

Katara's first reaction was a blank brain.

Then she felt a trickling, creeping sense of horror. "Oh," she whispered. "Oh no."

"Oh yes." Ty Lee patted Katara's shoulder. She looked sympathetic, but she also looked like she was fighting a huge smile. "Sorry. I'm just trying to help you mentally prepare. But don't worry. Gossip always fades. And there's much worse gossip to be in the middle of."

Katara couldn't speak. Her legs suddenly felt like lead.

As if it wasn't enough to have all of this be part of her own private fears and anxieties. But she didn't have privacy, did she?

The entire palace whispering gleefully about their sex life while she struggled with the concept was almost more than she could bear.

Ty Lee seemed to have sensed Katara's shift in mood, because she suddenly reached out and hugged her. "I know you hate sitting for hours while I pamper you," said Ty Lee, hugging her tighter. "But think of the make-up like war paint tonight, okay? You can put on your face for the world and come back and be fully yourself again. Okay? It's going to go fine tonight, I promise." Ty Lee began guiding her gently to the door. "I have a few dresses I want to try out on you."

Zuko was at his desk again, though he peeked up when they emerged.

His eyes lingered, hesitant, but only for a second before Ty Lee ushered Katara behind the divider and threw over the first dress. "Okay," she called out cheerfully. "All of these would be appropriate for tonight, so now we're just finding out which one you like best. Your pick."

Katara went through the motions with a grim sense of obedience.

Each time she changed, Ty Lee came back around and examined her for a moment.

Then she would parade her out to the mirror and let Katara have a look. Katara was well aware of Zuko still in the room as she stumbled about in her formal dresses, but each time she caught a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye, he wasn't watching them.

"Well?" Ty Lee asked, after the third. "Which one should it be?"

"This one is easiest to move in," said Katara, indicating the one she had on.

Ty Lee gave her a bright smile. "Perfect. Now come on. I'm going to make you glow." She yanked Katara after her to the vanity so quickly in her eagerness that Katara nearly tripped.

Ty Lee's make-up session took ages.

She started with creams and powders and moved to colors for the cheeks and eyes. Katara was bored out of her mind until Ty Lee started talking, her happy voice weaving pleasantly with the continued patter of steady raindrops.

Once, Zuko disappeared for nearly an hour; when he returned his hair was wet and sticking to his neck and Katara was still being pampered, with the marked difference that she was fidgeting far more than when he'd left. She watched him rummage through the wardrobe and go into the washroom with his outfit.

When Ty Lee was finally through, Katara's legs were restless. Her eyes were smoky at the edges and lit up with deep red. Ty Lee had put something on her cheeks that made her look glossy and shimmering. Her lashes were longer and her hair was left down, the curls tighter than usual with Ty Lee's coaxing and various sprays. And then, just when Katara was celebrating her freedom, Ty Lee started pulling out supplies and decorating her nails. She painted them black and put a Fire Lily on each thumb.

"There," said Ty Lee, straightening up from where she'd been leaning over Katara's fingers.

Katara glanced at herself in the mirror and blinked.

She wasn't as unrecognizable as on her wedding day, which was a relief.

She still looked like herself, but Ty Lee had made her look more…provocative.

The effect of the coloring around the eyes, in particular, seemed to serve this purpose. Her dress only showed a small portion of her chest, covered from the collarbone downward, though her back had a circular opening along the middle of her spine. The straps of her dress pushed wide and rested over the outside of her shoulders; her skirts cascaded to her ankles.

Ty Lee put the shimmering powder on all of her exposed skin. Katara had to stand and slowly turn like meat on a cooking spit.

Finally it was over.

"Let's hope the Fire Lord always gives me at least a half day of warning," said Katara crossly.

She would be sitting in a darkened theater most of the time. She didn't see the point of all this.

Ty Lee just squeezed her arm and then said, "Oh! One more thing." Katara groaned loudly, and Ty Lee laughed. "It won't take long, silly. I just want to find something shiny. Zuko!"

"I'm right here," he murmured, and they both jumped and turned.

Katara hadn't even heard him come out of the washroom. He wore his most formal robes, the ones with deep red and intricate golden stitching. His crown piece was in his top knot. His eyes fixed on Katara's face and he blinked very rapidly, his lips parting.

She gave him a weak smile.

"Jewelry?" said Ty Lee.

Zuko finally looked at her. "Flattering, but we don't have time for you to pierce my ears."

"Jewelry for Katara," said Ty Lee, poking him. "I know you have that one box…" She swept over to one of the few wardrobes in the room, a short, long one, and began rummaging.

"Excuse me," said Zuko.

She ignored him, pushing around. "I know you were keeping a jewelry box."

"Some of my mother's old stuff," muttered Zuko, at Katara's questioning look.

"Oh," said Katara, actually stepping back and shaking her head. "Oh, no, no—"

"I don't mind you wearing it," said Zuko. "What I do sort of mind," he continued, raising his voice, "is Ty Lee rifling through my shit." He folded his arms but said it without any real malice.

Ty Lee just rolled her eyes at him in such a gesture of affectionate irritation that Katara was forcibly reminded of Sokka. This in turn reminded her of Eza, and that Sokka was probably on his way to the Earth Kingdom that very moment, all while she wasted her day having sex and dressing up and going to a play. She had to stare at the floor for a very long moment until the prickling heat behind her eyes receded. If she started to cry now she would end up looking like a racoon-raven. Again, she made herself force her emotions down, with an almost alarming ease. She had to swallow everything she would see and hear tonight with particular grace.

She might as well start practicing now.

"Oh!" Ty Lee yanked a box out of a drawer and bounded back over.

She flicked it open and Katara saw a surprising array of black-colored jewelry. Beside her, Zuko visibly stiffened.

"I was hoping for something blue," said Ty Lee, pushing the jewelry around.

"Ty Lee," said Zuko quietly.

"But I suppose another color would do. I think yellow would really pop on—"

"Ty Lee," Zuko said, more firmly this time. "That's Mai's."

There was a long silence in which Katara became uncomfortably aware that her stomach was making strange, writhing contortions. They all stared at the box for a moment until Ty Lee said, in a valiant attempt to be casual, "Oh! I guess that's why I felt like it was all so familiar."

"She must have forgotten it," Zuko muttered, staring at the floor. "When she took her things."

What Katara heard in this statement was that Mai had spent enough time in Zuko's room to leave belongings in it.

She wished, with an abrupt urgency, that she could run to the door and flee.

"I could send it to her," offered Ty Lee.

"Yes, please," said Zuko, rather mechanically.

"Well," said Ty Lee with a nervous laugh, "um, maybe you can keep looking, Zuko, and I can show Katara which shoes she should wear. They're a bit high, Katara, but they'll look great."

The idea of walking like an idiot all night and her feet being in pain was not a welcome one. She scowled as Ty Lee led her away, still clutching the box. "I don't really feel like being around the Fire Lord with his wife's jewelry," Katara said flatly.

"Oh." Ty Lee bit her lip. "I didn't think he would even notice."

"Well, I'm not risking it," Katara snapped. "So just show me the stupid shoes."

Ty Lee fell into silence with a worried pull to her brow and led Katara over to the wardrobe, pulling out a pair of white shoes. "They have wedges," said Ty Lee, looking at her hopefully. "So they're high, but it makes it easier to walk. Try them. I promise they're not so bad."

Katara had to admit they were much better than the thin heels she'd worn at the wedding. "They'll be fine," she said grudgingly.

"Then my work is done." Ty Lee beamed again.

"Thank you, Ty Lee," Katara mumbled, already feeling guilty for lashing out.

And then she walked a little unsteadily over to the door. The unsteadiness had less to do with the shoes and more to do with the fact that her legs were weak from...earlier. There was even a weak twinge of soreness between her thighs. It really wasn't optimal timing.

She heaved an irritable sigh, trying to mentally fortify herself for a deeply unpleasant evening.

Zuko approached her side and cautiously put an arm up.

Ty Lee came and made a few final adjustments to Katara's hair. And then she just said, "Well…have fun?"

Zuko snorted and yanked open the door. "Thanks. It will be a delight, I'm sure."

And with that, he led Katara out of the room and into the corridor.

Notes:

Zutara curled up together after Zuko's trip by beanaroony

Katara's dress for the play by cynical-mystic

Chapter 20: The Stage

Notes:

Hello, friends.

I wanted to take a brief pause to provide a list of links for all the wonderful creations others have made for this story.

Links have been added in the chapters as well.

First, dylanaz and stardust148 over on Tumblr create regular Incendiary memes.

A chapter-by-chapter list of artwork:

Zutara posing for the play (Chapter Seven) by dylanaz

Zutara in the cave after Zuko loses his bending (Chapter 11) by beanaroony

Zutara and Duty (slightly NSFW; arguably any of the duty chapters; included in Chapter Seventeen) by juune-moon

Zutara and the Turtleducks (Chapter Eighteen), by juune-moon

Zutara curled up together after Zuko's trip (Chapter Nineteen) by beanaroony

Katara's dress for the play (Chapter Nineteen) by cynical-mystic

I am so, so grateful that you have taken the time to create something for this fic. Thank you.

I also wanted to take a second to deeply thank everyone following along and reading so far (with a particularly special thank you to regular commenters).

xoxo,
Ros

Chapter Text

There was a group of servants bustling through the corridor when they emerged from their quarters, the towering stacks of linens they carried wobbling precariously as they performed hasty, reverent bows to their prince and princess.

Zuko did not speak until they were away and out of earshot, in the next corridor.

"You…" He cleared his throat; despite this, he still sounded husky. "You look beautiful."

Heat crept into Katara's neck. "Has Ty Lee lectured you about compliments again?"

"No," said Zuko, a little defensively.

"Well, I feel like I look like an idiot," said Katara. "Walking in these things."

"You don't."

"They're better than the wedding shoes, at least."

"Those did look lethal."

"I definitely could have easily put them through someone's throat."

Zuko's raspy chuckle seemed to warm the whole corridor. "Oddly specific."

Katara did not want to banter with Zuko right now. There was no real reason to feel irritable toward him, but here she was. She didn't answer or even smile; she simply didn't have the energy. It was best, she thought, to conserve it for all the fake smiling to come.

She felt Zuko's eyes on her every now and then as they turned a corner and then another, and finally slowed down to take a flight of majestic, carpeted stairs. They had just reached the bottom when a rich, cold voice rang out from behind them.

"Ah, Prince Zuko." It was Fire Lord Ozai, and though Katara could count on one hand the amount of times she'd been in his presence so far, she didn't think it would ever get easier. She could live here for decades, see him hundreds of times, and that instinctive fear would tighten her muscles and knock the breath from her chest, always momentarily freezing her in place. Ozai began sweeping down the stairs, long robes flowing out behind him, his hair only half pulled back into a top knot while the rest sat sleek and shining on his chest.

He appraised them both carefully, unsmiling.

"Father." Zuko dipped into the proper greeting bow and Katara followed him, murmuring Ozai's title low, her heart pounding painfully.

"Come along," was all Ozai said. "We have palanquins waiting for us."

The silence was stiff and horrible as they moved through the palace. Ozai was walking quickly, expecting them to keep up. Katara nearly twisted an ankle twice and her grip on Zuko's arm had to remain vice-like so she wouldn't fall. Servants fell to their knees as they passed.

When they reached the front doors there was a crowd of servants and a dizzying flurry of activity. Several servants dashed behind them to lift up Ozai's robes as he walked outside. Others crowded around with little umbrellas, holding them over their heads to keep off the still-pouring rain during the few steps that would lead them to the palanquins. Emerging onto the plaza outside, guards were everywhere.

They stood between the two palanquins and along the length of the rug that had been set down to walk to them, and even more swarmed around the royal family like flies. The courtyard was misty due to all the rain, and the sky was steadily darkening.

Ozai claimed his own palanquin. She and Zuko settled in another.

Katara leaned back, struggling to stay calm.

She told herself in four or five hours, it would be over. It was just watching a play.

It'll be okay," said Zuko, clearly noticing the look on her face. "Most of the time we won't be talking, not during the play. Just be sure to sit at the very end of a row and I'll sit on your other side. You won't have to communicate with him very much."

Katara tried to smile but it probably looked more like a toothache.

The palanquin gave a great, swaying lurch and began to move.

Katara had not eaten dinner, but was almost glad for it when she felt vague nausea rolling in. She tried to ignore it by peeking out the curtains as they were carried out of the courtyard and down the long, laborious steps that trailed into Caldera City.

Katara had seen a bit of the city before, but she'd only been running through, concentrating on getting to and from the lemon grove with Zuko. Now they were carried through wide cobblestone streets flanked by grand buildings and sloping roofs; the homes of the upper classes looming up in the fading light. But it wasn't the buildings or fountains or parks that drew her attention tonight. Citizens had flocked to the streets, somehow having heard that the royal family was attending a play, and they were watching the procession eagerly.

They waved lanterns and cheered and called out, and lights flickered across Katara's face as she took it all in, wide-eyed. She saw children, dripping wet, giggling and running out of range of the guards marching alongside the palanquin. Women waved embroidered handkerchiefs with a yin and yang sign of fire and water. It was surreal to see hordes of people, standing in the pouring rain just to catch a glimpse.

Disorienting.

It was easy to see why the royal family was so convinced of their own importance, and thought themselves the center of the universe.

"Is this all because of the play?" she asked Zuko.

"I don't think so," said Zuko. "You'd be surprised how fast word can spread through a city even of this size. You're kind to people."

"I haven't done much of anything," said Katara, frowning.

"Yes, you have. Especially considering that the royal family doesn't usually do anything," said Zuko.

Despite this, many of the people were worshiping Ozai's palanquin, prostrating themselves into puddles on the side of the road. Some of the people in the crowd, many of them, were clearly from wealthier families and lived in this district. But there were citizens in dirtier clothes too, some in mere rags and running barefoot over the stone street. They'd come all the way from their homes to watch. The guards treated these people with much more brutality if they came too close. They were so excited to see her, and some of them were so thin.

A sudden and very loud burst of cheering and yells made Katara jolt. But there was no danger; the citizens were only tossing flowers and trinkets into the road. They spotted her looking out. "Princess!" they called joyfully. "Princess Katara, over here!"

Make them love you.

Even though it was the last thing she wanted to do, Katara ripped the curtain open wide. Rain began to blow into the palanquin on the light breeze, but she bent it into a thin sheen of water, sealing the entrance and keeping the interior dry.

Through the shimmering wall of water, she beamed and began to wave.

"Pretend to look happy," she said to Zuko out of the corner of her mouth.

Zuko grimaced first, but he did. He leaned forward into the crowd's view with a smile, and raised a hand in greeting.

The elation rippled through the people like a wave. They screamed and chanted and threw more flowers into the rainy street. Katara kept waving until she could hold her face in a smile no longer. Then she shut the curtains and slumped back in her seat, feeling a rising sense of dismay. She should have done more, worked harder at this, and not just because of Sokka's advice. She could have helped more.

Already she was beginning to wonder if there was some way to collect all that leftover food from Rusai in the kitchen and preserve it enough to hand it out somewhere in the poorer parts of Caldera City. If Ozai would even allow that.

She chanced a glance over at Zuko. He was watching her with a slight frown, fidgeting with his hands.

"What?"

"Are you okay?" Zuko asked tentatively.

"Oh yes, I'm really looking forward to this," Katara muttered.

"I…" Zuko hesitated. "I meant after earlier."

She glanced away. "Because of Mai's jewelry? Why should I care about that?"

Katara shoved hair impatiently out of her eyes, but then, at Zuko's long silence, she looked up. His face was scrunched in confusion, and Katara, with dawning mortification, realized her mistake. He hadn't been talking about the jewelry box.

"No," said Zuko slowly. "I was talking about how I almost set you on fire."

"Oh. Well, I already told you that was fine," Katara said, cheeks hot again. "Anyway—"

"Wait." Zuko's frown had deepened. "Did that upset you? I know it was, um, awkward—"

"No," said Katara quickly. "No, like I said, why would that—no. I was just surprised."

"Surprised," Zuko repeated.

"Well, yes, I mean, when you talked to me about her it just didn't seem so serious." Katara was desperate to talk about anything else at this point. Even the play.

His brow furrowed. "But it wasn't that serious."

Katara really should have accepted the answer and moved on so she could stop embarrassing herself. Instead, her mouth decided to act entirely on its own. "Oh, come on, Zuko," she said, scoffing. "She seemed to basically live in your room."

"That wasn't…" Zuko seemed to struggle helplessly for words. "We, um—"

"It really doesn't matter," Katara insisted, suddenly desperate not to hear whatever was about to come out of his mouth. "So, will there be food at the theater?"

Zuko blinked rapidly at the change in subject. "Uh…yes."

"Good," said Katara. "I'm hungry."

The palanquin began to slow, and then swayed heavily as the carriers set it down. When they emerged, the palanquin carriers were lined up beside the exit, soaking wet and clearly exhausted and miserable, but they bowed low. "Thank you," Katara said to them. "I don't have any money, but if I did, I would give you some."

They gaped at her like she was a ghost.

Zuko's hand came to grip hers. "Come on," he urged, and Katara frowned up at him as he led her away; his eyes were tight with stress, though it decreased when he saw that his father was still descending from his palanquin. As they stood, waiting, Zuko leaned down and muttered, "If you had offered money in front of my father, he might see that as questioning his authority. Please don't do that."

Zuko straightened again, just in time for Fire Lord Ozai to emerge so that everyone in the immediate vicinity could drop into a bow. The citizens were kept a distance back, away from the entrance, and they fell to their knees on the wet ground with gasps and excited exclamations. More than a few of them seemed ready to pass out with joy at the presence of their Fire Lord.

Katara fought a wave of revulsion. Ozai, she thought grimly as she stared down at the street, still hovering in her own low bow, really does love his dramatic entrances. Everything in this world is designed to boost his ego.

She felt the familiar, all-consuming rage tugging at her gut, pounding behind her eyes. She tried to shove it away.

The theater was one of the largest buildings Katara had ever seen, besides the royal palace. It was stately and white, made of marble, and unlike the royal palace with its curves and turrets, the theater was a square, with only the edges of the roof sloped upward. A cluster of pillars stood before the entry, glass doors two stories high, and Fire Nation flags drooped down from an overhang at the front of the building. Red lanterns with Fire Nation symbols perched on top of the columns in a neat row. Gold glittered in patterns along the marble.

The guards formed a careful shield around the royal family and led them inside.

Indoors the walls were a polished, dark wood, and the floors were carpeted with plush red. Pillars and columns and potted plants filled the floor space, and banners hung from the walls. Some of them contained the painting of her and Zuko, and Katara averted her eyes, fighting an outward wince. Scarlet lanterns with black insignias stretched low from the ceiling, hundreds of them. The theater was also, to Katara's surprise, completely empty. The royal family had been allowed in before anyone else, perhaps for security reasons.

Zuko spoke before they could leave the entrance hall, his voice echoing in the too-large room. "Fire Lord."

Ozai turned and raised an impatient brow.

Zuko inclined his neck downward. "I would like to bring Katara to get some snacks."

"You know where our seats are," said Ozai dismissively, and turned his back.

Zuko took her by the hand and began leading her in the opposite direction. The guards followed Ozai, but they left Zuko and Katara to their devices in the empty theater. Katara recognized many things on the menu at the food stand—she'd been in the Fire Nation long enough by now—but most of the snack items were new to her. The man behind the counter vibrated with excitement when he saw them. "Prince Zuko and Princess Katara! Welcome!"

They gave him polite smiles. "What would you like?" Zuko asked Katara.

"You pick," Katara said.

He ended up ordering fire gummies, steamed buns, and tea sandwiches. The only thing new to Katara were the gummies; the others she'd had back at the palace. "I think you'll like the gummies," Zuko told her hopefully. "They have red bean paste inside."

They'd been waiting several minutes when they heard a smooth, familiar voice.

"Prince Zuko," it drawled. "And Princess Katara. A pleasure to see you."

A cold sweat broke out on the back of Katara's neck. The walls began to shrink.

What was he doing here? Surely he should be in the Earth Kingdom by now.

They both slowly turned. Katara had seen General Eza out of military uniform only once before. His robes were luxurious blood-red, with a large, stiff collar. The necklace of teeth was still there, white and gleaming against his clothing. He flashed a smile.

"Good evening." His eyes slid to Katara and he bowed low.

She barely managed to paste a weak and hopefully somewhat welcoming smile on her face.

"General Eza," said Zuko very stiffly, as Eza straightened and observed them, eyes glinting. "I thought you were on campaign."

"This is my last night in the Fire Nation," said Eza. "I've had, ah…business to attend to here." His eyes flicked briefly to Katara again, and something in them made her cold all over. "I depart tomorrow by airship, and I daresay I'll arrive for the Earth Kingdom campaign about the same time as your brother, Princess." He gave her a snake-like smile. "I'm looking forward to meeting him. I'm sure he will be…useful."

It took Katara a few beats to speak. "Sokka is very clever," she finally managed.

Eza's smile turned indulgent. "I'm sure."

Katara pressed closer to Zuko's side and tried to keep her expression polite.

"I hear that we may know if a royal pregnancy has been successful soon," Eza continued, raising an eyebrow. "How very exciting that would be. Allow me to offer premature congratulations now, since I may not be able to give them personally."

"Yes," Zuko said, his words forced. "Thank you."

Their food was ready and now sat on the counter.

"Well, I'll order. I can't go very long without some good meat." Eza flashed another grin and Katara's stomach rolled, a sour taste entering her mouth. Suddenly her own food no longer smelled so appealing. "The Fire Lord was kind enough to invite several of his Generals and highest advisors to the royal box with you. Isn't that wonderful? So I'll be seeing you up there shortly, Prince Zuko and Princess Katara."

He swept into a long, graceful bow, his necklace of teeth rattling.

Katara and Zuko jerked their heads in quick acknowledgement and hurried away.

Zuko looked pale and didn't seem to know what to say. Katara didn't either.

They climbed and climbed to the top box, balancing their baskets of food. When they finally arrived, several more members of what Katara assumed was Ozai's royal council or military were there, three men and two women. Those that were sitting rose to their feet and bowed. She and Zuko bowed back, and their company stared blatantly at her as she slid into the very end of the row and Zuko sat beside her. On Zuko's other side was Fire Lord Ozai; Zuko was in the greatest place of honor on his right.

Despite their gawking, Ozai's guests didn't seem interested in actually speaking with her. They were too busy trying to curry favor with Ozai. During regular meetings, Katara suspected there was far more competition for the Fire Lord's attention, if Ozai even joined them at the war table at all. Likely he sat on his throne, unapproachable and useless.

The lack of communcation obviously suited Katara just fine, but she still only picked at the basket of steamed buns that they'd brought, unable to even consider eating very much. She felt ill and uneasy, especially when General Eza arrived with a clay bowl of komodo sausage and came into the same row, only two places away from Fire Lord Ozai's other side.

Zuko's hands kept twitching on the bench if they weren't busy with food.

Several more people arrived in their box and the whole theater slowly began to fill.

The place was massive. There had to be thousands of seats, rows and rows of benches with that same polished wood on the walls, lined with scarlet cushions. All along the sides were top boxes, but they were closed off and unseen from the boxes right beside them.

Katara tried to tune out the low hum of conversation from the crowd, relieved when no one addressed her. The same could not be said for Zuko. He was asked how he was, how his food tasted, or if he'd heard certain pieces of news. He answered as shortly as possible, and only got a reprieve when the lights dimmed.

The curtain rose, and Katara frowned. The set looked like home. There was a backdrop of ice and water, and fake cut-out waves swept over the stage.

In the middle was a boat containing what should be her and Sokka.

The actress portraying her stood tall, thrusting one arm out dramatically and draping the other across her forehead. "Sokka, my only brother! We constantly roam these icy South Pole seas, and yet never do we find anything fulfilling!"

The way she spoke already grated on Katara's nerves, and she bristled.

And what was that clothing? She was wearing a blue dress lined with fur, but the chest area was dipped so low that there was a very ample view of cleavage.

"All I want is a full feeling in my stomach! I'm starving!" said actor-Sokka.

He was horrible. They were both horrible.

But an eruption of laughter swept through the theater.

It took only a single minute longer to confirm Katara's suspicions from there. Actor-Sokka delivered horrible jokes, and actress-Katara delivered excessive bawling intermixed with dramatic speeches about hope. When actress-Katara stood to get Aang out of the iceberg, it also revealed that her dress had a long slit all the way up the leg. They were going to show her as overly-emotional and lovestruck.

Sokka would only be an idiot with terrible jokes.

Katara bit viciously into a steamed bun.

She'd known it would probably be something like this. It didn't make it any better.

After the curtain swept across for the next change of scene, Zuko's ship was sailing the South Pole instead. The actor wore an approximation of his scar, a half mask, but on the wrong side. Katara peeked up at Zuko, who grimaced right back at her.

He leaned over to mutter in her ear. "I told you they were awful."

That scene consisted of Iroh being portrayed as lazy and eternally eating, and Zuko as angry and impatient, determined to find the Avatar to restore his honor.

The play was agony. Katara hadn't expected it to follow her friends' journey quite so closely. It was strange, watching the events play out on the stage and remembering them as they were; seeing people laugh and revel in the ridiculous portrayals of what had been her life and her traumas, her fears and experiences. Actress-Katara sobbed and cried and flailed her arms around every chance she got. Sokka was a bumbling fool, and Aang was played by a woman. She watched the play move through their visit to the Southern Air Temple and Kyoshi Island and King Bumi.

But the thing Katara was most anxious for was the fabricated relationship between her and Zuko, and it started when she stole the waterbending scroll and ran from the pirates. Actor-Zuko snatched her wrists and held her just as he had in real life.

Real Zuko went rigid beside her, his hands flexing in his lap.

"Untie me!" shouted actress-Katara once she was bound to the tree, thrusting out her chest provocatively. Actor-Zuko stepped closer. The two actors gazed at each other for an unbearably uncomfortable amount of time as if utterly mesmerized.

Actor-Zuko finally said, "I can't harm you! You are far too lovely."

Actress-Katara let out a dramatic little gasp of surprise.

The people in the theater let out an appreciative hum.

The real Katara scowled.

"Please, Prince Zuko," breathed actress-Katara, batting her eyelashes so rapidly that it looked almost deranged, "please, let me go! I would be in your debt."

"No!" Actor-Zuko strode away with apparent difficulty. "You may be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, but you won't bewitch me from serving my nation!"

Actress-Katara, predictably, started to cry.

After that came an awful version of a fight with the pirates.

Then, the capture of Aang and the arrival of the Blue Spirit to save him. The Blue Spirit in the play was a huge, bumbling full-body mask with legs poking out the bottom and dual swords, and they slashed and twirled, and…and…hold on…

I don't want to bring too much attention to the fact that I can wield dao swords.

Why not?

It's a secret.

Katara's eyes widened but she didn't dare look at Zuko, didn't want to draw any attention to her suspicions with Ozai so close. Zuko already seemed oddly tense. Katara hastily reached over and took his hand, trying to stop him from twisting them together in his lap.

She tugged him a little and he leaned down and over. "Relax," Katara whispered into his ear, squeezing his hand.

She saw Zuko close his eyes briefly and his shoulders ease, just a fraction.

Upon the next stage change, there was a background of trees and an approximation of a village. Two actors stood on a platform, and they were being slowly lowered down on a rope. One of them was her, and the other…

Oh. Oh no.

Katara's shoulders hunched up toward her ears and she sank low into her seat.

The theater actually started to boo at the sight of her wrapped up with Jet.

"Don't cry, baby," exclaimed actor-Jet. "Jet will wipe out that nasty town for you!"

"Oh, Jet! You're so bad!"

Katara bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood and stared unseeingly forward. She should have seen this coming. The fact that Jet had come into this at all was bad enough, but the way they portrayed her filled her with such fury she swayed a little in place. Zuko's grip tightened on her hand and she felt him looking sideways at her, but she couldn't stand the thought of meeting his eyes.

She barely saw the rest of the play before the intermission; only knew it ended with the battle of the Northern Water Tribe, and there was another scene between actress-Katara and actress-Zuko sparring together while fighting mutual attraction.

"I can't betray my nation!" Actor-Zuko cried, sounding torn. "Not for a peasant!"

Actress-Katara froze him into a wall under the light of the moon. It was objectively the coolest thing she'd done on stage so far, but of course she was still crying. "Prince Zuko!" she sobbed. "Why can't I stop thinking about you!"

Katara heard General Eza's soft chuckle from down the row, clear as day.

She longed to leap toward him and strangle him senseless with his necklace.

When actor-Zuko freed himself from the ice with the rising of the sun and they fought, with plenty of pinning and heavy breathing and long looks, the theater made ooh and aah sounds and watched in rapt suspense. Katara couldn't watch.

When the curtain dropped for intermission, everyone stood to stretch their legs.

Zuko still had her hand, and he mumbled, "Come on." He tugged her after him quickly, out into the corridor and away.

They emerged onto a balcony, and the fresh air and slight mist of the rain blowing onto Katara's face cooled her heated cheeks. She strode over to the railing and gripped it, fuming. "That stupid dress," she snapped. "I'm wearing furs but I have a slit up the leg and half my chest hanging out. And the crying. Are you kidding me?"

Her body felt shaky and she wanted to throw something.

"This is the most ridiculous—as if I would ever ask anyone to wipe out a village—" Her throat closed.

"I guessed that," said Zuko quietly. He'd come to hover beside her.

The balcony overlooked the sprawling city, and Katara stood there, panting harshly and holding the railing so hard her fingers hurt. The view was objectively beautiful. Glowing lanterns hung from rooftops and the sloping shapes were an intricate little maze, but she barely saw any of it. Her rage blinded her to everything else.

"It's all ridiculous," muttered Zuko. "Don't let it get to you, Katara."

"That's easy for you to say," Katara said bitterly. "You know you're going to be portrayed as the honorable prince who saw the light and came home. A hero."

"We both know I wasn't. I'm sorry."

Katara squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ground herself.

The curtains behind them flapped. They turned to see that General Eza had joined them on the spacious balcony. He stepped into the lights of the strung-up lanterns, his face half in shadow. "Ah," said Eza. "Prince and Princess. I didn't mean to intrude."

He certainly had. Katara saw it in the smugness on his face.

"What do you want, Eza?" Zuko's knuckles were already smoking.

"General Eza, Prince Zuko," Eza corrected, in his easy drawl. "My, one would think regular orgasms with a pretty wife would soothe some of your temper. I guess not."

Zuko stiffened, his face filling with cold, murderous rage.

"I'm riveted by the play so far," continued Eza. His eyes danced with amusement. "What a thrilling tale of forbidden love and the eventual triumph of the Fire Nation."

Zuko and Katara said nothing.

"Well, since I have you here…there's a matter I need to discuss with Princess Katara."

Katara stepped out from behind Zuko. He'd partially moved in front of her, as if Eza would forget she was there if she was half-hidden behind him. But she was not about to let Eza scare her again. He'd done it at the dance, and she was determined not to let him do it tonight. She would stay polite, and send him on his way, and give him no further reason to hurt Sokka.

She gathered the final, remaining dregs of her patience and said, as pleasantly as she could manage, "I'm listening, General Eza."

Eza stepped forward until he stood right before them. Zuko wrapped an arm around Katara's waist, heat blazing from his skin. Eza straightened his shoulders and said, "Princess Katara, I'm sure you remember that I had an interest in the attack that occurred at a Fire Nation harbor not too long ago."

There was a horrible pause.

"Yes," said Katara, hoping she sounded calm. "I remember."

"My sons and I have been investigating the matter during my stay at the palace, you see. The Fire Lord has hopes that we'll find the culprit for him. I've never disappointed the Fire Lord, and I don't intend to start now, so we've been working very diligently."

He smiled wider, as though he knew Katara's blood was beginning to turn to ice in her veins. "It's a strange situation, princess, I must say. The timing for the busiest hour, the clear inside knowledge of the Fire Nation, the fact that the owners of the stalls must have known that their fish were filled with blasting jelly..." Eza paused, raising an eyebrow. "Some time ago, two Yuyan archers went missing from their village while on leave. For some reason, I couldn't stop wondering if the two incidents were connected. After all, it was fiery arrows that destroyed the harbor. When I looked into their disappearance, it got even stranger."

Katara waited. Her heart was beating very fast. It would have been nice to have something to do with her hands.

"They both disappeared on the full moon," said General Eza. "Reports from other villagers say that they saw the two men walking off in a very peculiar manner." His golden eyes glinted brighter; he was finally approaching what he had come here to say. "I dug deeper. I realized that disappearances on the full moon is something of a pattern in the Fire Nation. For years it's been happening, always in villages near the coast, a person or two each time. Isn't that interesting, princess?"

Katara prayed her face was blank and unreadable. "What does this have to do with me?" she asked finally.

"I think," said Eza softly, "our culprit is a waterbender."

"Why would you think that?" Zuko cut in, narrowing his eyes.

"The full moon, Prince Zuko, is the height of a waterbender's power."

Eza took another step forward, until they both had to lean back. Katara had thought Eza only a cruel, vicious brute; just another opportunistic, bloodthirsty warlord. But she'd underestimated him. He was also a tracker. A hunter.

He'd said he didn't need evidence when he went to the Fire Lord, but he'd been meticulously gathering it.

Despite his assertion, he wanted to be absolutely sure before he went to Ozai.

"You're accusing Katara?" Zuko said. "You just said it's been happening for years!"

"I'm not accusing anyone," said Eza. "I'm just here to say that if there's anything you might know, Princess, it might be a good idea to share it with me now. I said it back when we danced together and I'll say it again: I would so very hate to see you executed over a simple misunderstanding. If it's a waterbender, you know, suspicions could be raised about your involvement." He leaned forward further; Katara stiffened. "But help me, and I'll be sure to put in a good word for you when the Fire Lord has his questions."

Katara met Eza's gaze directly.

"I'm afraid I don't have information for you, General," she said. "But good luck. I'll be sure to send word to your sons if I hear anything. I fully support your investigation."

Eza's face twisted into a monstrous sneer, the carefully controlled veneer finally slipping away. "I know you know more than you're letting on, you devious little bitch," he growled, looming over her. "The next time you see me, you'll be begging me for a bargain, I promise you, and I have so many very good ideas—"

Zuko stepped away from Katara. Fire sprang to life on his palms and spread up his arms. "How would you like it," Zuko said, surprisingly soft, but in a dark and dangerous tone that Katara had never heard from him before, "if I poured flames down your throat?"

"Zuko," Katara said sharply. The last thing they needed was for this to escalate.

Eza's face suddenly smoothed out again, his eyes glittering. Composed once more.

"Prince Zuko, we both know you've always been a weakling. It's inevitable you'll lose your standing again one day." Eza tilted his head. "And when you do, burned throat or not, at least my cock will still be intact. I'll need it for my visits to your poor, lonely wife."

Zuko lunged.

Katara threw herself between them, pushing at his chest. "Zuko, no!"

Immediately Zuko's flames snuffed out with Katara so close. He snatched her closer, exhaling a sharp, angry shower of sparks.

Eza was already backing away toward the curtain. He even winked one last time. "I'll be sure to say hello to your brother, Princess Katara."

He turned and strode up the stairs, through the curtain, and out of sight.

Katara was too stunned to move, except for the violent shaking.

Zuko's knuckles still smoked. Katara swatted him away. "You should have kept your temper," she hissed.

She saw his face flicker. "I—"

"You told me to be careful with him even though you could never do it yourself!" Her self-control was teetering on the edge. The careful rage she kept tucked inside was rising and rising, mixing with the awful sense of panic at Eza's discoveries.

She struggled to breathe, vision blurring.

Zuko looked incredulous, and then slowly rather angry. "What? Are you seriously telling me I should just accept his little comments? He threatened you!"

"Yes, Zuko! Yes, that's what you should have done! I had it fully under control, and he's leaving tomorrow anyway! Who cares what he says? He was trying to goad you into doing something stupid and you walked right into it! The only thing you did was make me worry about you, and probably make things worse for Sokka! But you don't care about Sokka, do you?" Zuko's face changed from irritation to stunned disbelief. But Katara wasn't finished. Her voice kept getting shriller, that black, hopeless rage clawing its way out. "You don't even know Sokka! You have no idea how any of this feels!"

Zuko opened his mouth.

"No!" She pushed on his chest again and folded her arms tightly. "No, shut up!" She took several deep breaths, until she was calm enough to speak in a trembling, furious whisper. "This is all just—I can't. I don't want to hear it from you. I was ripped away from everyone I loved to marry you! I endure insults and disrespect, I can't bend! I have no privacy! My life and personality is a joke on that stage! I've been reduced to a womb and some...forced replacement for Mai! I don't even feel like a person anymore." She pressed her shaking lips together.

Not a person. Nothing important. Powerless, a pawn, a distraction.

A pawn to the Fire Nation, a pawn for her own people, a pawn for Aang's power.

A pawn to Hama and Mavang and all the others.

Zuko stared at her, eyes wide. He had turned very pale.

"Katara," he began, very strangled now, but she shook her head.

"Go away! I want…just a single minute to myself."

Zuko opened and closed his mouth a few times before he swallowed hard. "I'll…wait for you inside," he mumbled.

When he was gone, Katara turned back to face the city again, breathing hard. Her chest was too tight and each breath was painful, too rapid. Black spots danced in front of her eyes. She concentrated on filling her lungs slowly. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

It didn't matter. The anger didn't fade, not this time.

She needed to bend.

She needed blood.

She needed Eza's blood singing under her fingertips, wanted him twisting and writhing and pleading for mercy that she would never, ever grant. The world would be a better place without Eza in it; she'd always known it. Maybe she should do something about it. Before he could hurt even more people. Before he went to Sokka. Eza was here one more night, and Katara was finished being a pawn.

Eza had made a move. It was time to make hers.

Katara counted to one hundred and then went back inside. An eerie, determined calm had settled over her.

Zuko was right in the doorway. She almost slammed into his back.

He whirled around and watched her warily; he looked both miserable and irritated.

"Let's just get through this play," Katara said before he could speak, refusing to meet his eyes. "Please."

Zuko pursed his lips and lowered his eyes, but led her back without comment.

Katara hoped she appeared normal when they slid back into their places. Her head was buzzing.

No more, she thought. No more, no more, no more—

The advantage of her distraction was that when the play started up again, it only affected her in bits and pieces, most of it a blur.

The events played out similarly to their group's adventures.

Azula's character arrived and began hunting them, with plenty of emphasis on her talents.

They met Toph.

They made their way to Ba Sing Se to search for Appa.

A marked difference was actor-Zuko's long, confused monologues about falling for a peasant and not knowing what to do about it, and actress-Katara's monologues where she slowly began to muse that perhaps the Fire Nation wasn't so bad, after all; that maybe she should be grateful that they were spreading progress to the world.

Katara sat on her hands to keep from clenching them into fists.

Jet's death was played as a joke, and Katara turned her face away into the aisle.

Jet's death had been one of those things that she'd compartmentalized. The group had been so busy after, and then everyone else had been hurting about other things, and Katara had kept the ache to herself. It rose up with a vengeance, seeing it play out on stage. But no tears threatened; she was too numb to cry or feel too deeply.

From the catacombs of Ba Sing Se, events took a much sharper turn into fictional. The stage versions of her and Zuko kissed and professed love as the crowd clapped. When they fought against each other again after Azula showed up, framing it as though Katara had chosen the wrong side by helping the Avatar, the crowd sighed in dismay. On the stage, actor-Zuko finally thrust the terrible ribbons of fake fire toward Aang, and the Avatar fell. Still, Katara did not relive that horrible moment when she'd held Aang and he was dead. She felt empty.

The crowd cheered as actress-Azula ran to actor-Zuko's side. "Brother! You've done it!"

Actor-Zuko was still gazing dramatically at the spot where the others had escaped.

Aang's body remained on the floor.

"I have my honor," he cried, dramatically. "But not my love! Katara! Why did you have to choose the wrong side! You ran, but we could have finally been together!"

Actor-Zuko was led reluctantly off-stage by actress-Azula.

In the next scene, Zuko deposited the Avatar's body on the floor in front of Ozai's throne. "My son!" actor-Ozai boomed, raising his hands. "Prince Zuko, you've restored your honor and come home. I am proud of your accomplishment of slaying the Avatar."

"Your pride and my honor is all I ever wanted, father!"

"Father," said actress-Azula. "The next Avatar will be born into the Water Tribes. Prince Zuko can marry Princess Katara to secure an alliance! The future Avatar would be ours!"

Actor-Ozai stroked his beard. "Yes…Princess Azula, clever girl. With this alliance, the Fire Nation will be stronger than ever. Go and fetch Princess Katara!"

In the final scene of the play, actress-Zuko and actress-Katara joyfully reunited as Actor-Ozai looked on. The Fire Lord was the last visual the crowd had, arms raised powerfully, exclaiming that the royal family was at their greatest and could not fall, and that the Fire Nation was secure for centuries to come. The noise of the crowd was deafening as they cheered and stamped their feet.

It was the worst thing Katara had ever seen and they ate it up.

The curtain closed, and Katara thought they would finally be free.

But Ozai murmured something to Zuko, who then nudged Katara to her feet.

She didn't dare ask what was happening as they followed the Fire Lord out of the top box, down the stairs, trailed by guards. Katara only realized with horror what was about to happen when Ozai led them backstage. Everyone fell to their knees upon seeing them, as usual; a man was on the other side of the curtain, shouting at the crowd.

"Ladies and gentleman! Tonight we have very special guests! The Fire Lord himself!"

Ozai pushed his way out of the curtains to screams and chants.

Katara barely heard Ozai's voice addressing the crowd. Her legs were numb and she had to go out there.

"And our very special lovers!"

Zuko fumbled for her hand. "Come on," he whispered to her hoarsely, leading her onto the stage.

For a few seconds, Katara was completely blind in the spotlight. Even when she regained a sense of where she was, she could only see the first two rows of people. Everyone else was drowned out by the bright light, but she could still hear them. She pasted a smile on her face, smiling and waving, curving close to Zuko.

"Ah, I love happy endings!" sighed the man that had announced them, playing to the furor of the crowd.

"KISS HER!" someone shouted, and there was a ripple of laughter in the theater.

And then, horribly, the crowd began to chant. "Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!"

Zuko stood frozen for a long second, and then slowly turned toward her.

He took her face in his hands and looked down at her very seriously. Katara tried to stare up at him like he was the center of her universe.

She hated them. She pitied them. She had to give them what they wanted.

Make them love you.

Zuko's thumbs brushed her cheekbones and he tilted her chin higher.

Over the sound of the crowd came a subtle, sudden whistle.

There was less than a second between that sound and a hot, terrible pain of something burying in her side, just above her hip. Katara gasped, swaying in place. She saw Zuko's eyes travel down to the knife in her side and his face twist in horror.

Katara staggered forward onto Zuko's chest.

There was a full second of utter silence and shock in the entire theater, and then the screams started.

Chapter 21: The Vial

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Ozai raised his arms.

Flames burst to life along the front of the stage, blocking them from view, and Ozai leaped through them toward the crowd.

Through a haze of pain Katara heard footsteps and crying and screams; the clinks of armor as the guards moved to barricade the doors; and the sound of Ozai shouting something. Katara clutched at Zuko's robes, but she couldn't hold up her own body weight. A terrible sensation was spreading out from the hilt of the knife, and it wasn't just the agony of the deep puncture wound. It was something numb and paralyzing.

Zuko had already shouted for water.

"Katara," Zuko was saying, low and frantic. He sounded distant, as if she was hearing him through water. "Katara, can you heal yourself?"

The sensation had already begun spreading down her legs. She couldn't lift her arms.

"Zuko," Katara whispered.

"Just a little," he urged, "only to stabilize you until we get back—"

A blurry shape appeared over Zuko's shoulder. They thrust out something and then Zuko was holding a cup of water before her, his eyes wild. Katara longed for the coolness, wished she could seep it into the wound to stop the horrible, burning pain in her side, but her arms wouldn't move. She shook her head again. "Poison," she managed to gasp.

Zuko's face turned an ashen color, but he didn't hesitate.

From beyond the flames came the sounds of shouts and screams and chaos. The orange flickered in her vision in bright, nauseating bursts,and Zuko's sharp features slid in and out of focus as he scooped her up and began to run. Katara could barely register anything except for the pain. Even though Zuko cradled her as close to his chest as possible, Katara felt every single movement. Each jostle was followed by a sharp, agonizing stabbing sensation; her chest was closing, and she couldn't breathe except for pained wheezes. Blurry shapes surrounded them.

"Find a wagon," said Zuko to them. "I don't care who it belongs to. Hurry up."

Some of the footsteps raced ahead, but some of them stayed, ensuring Zuko's path out was clear.

"Katara," said Zuko, as they burst into the entrance hall. "Stay with me. Look at me."

She tried. Her heartbeat was too fast. Or was it too slow? She was sluggish. Cold.

"I've got you," Zuko told her. "Just hang on. Don't close your eyes."

Katara could only let out a low sob. The light suddenly changed—terrifyingly bright to disorientingly dark—and cool air and something wet swept across her face. Nothing made sense. Everything was too loud and too quiet and a blur. She barely knew where she was.

More jostling. More agony. A hushed voice trying to soothe her.

She had to tell Zuko something. Her mouth struggled to form his name. "Zu…ko."

"It's okay." His arms tightened. "You two, with me. The rest of you go help the Fire Lord." Zuko's voice suddenly distorted, to something dark and barely recognizable. "You will find the person who did this and you will bring them back alive."

A brief pause. "Of course, Prince Zuko."

Hastened clambering sounds. A loud crack, a roar, and the rattle of wheels.

Katara tried again. "Zu…"

"I'm here." A hand pushed a strand of wet hair that clung to her face. "Just relax and breathe."

"I…" She couldn't remember what she wanted to say. It was important, she knew that. But black was creeping into everything, utter darkness, and she struggled to keep seeing him.

A forehead pressed to hers and fingers fumbled for her pulse. "Katara. Katara."

Her eyes fluttered and rolled. She wanted to try harder for Zuko's sake, but closing them and giving into darkness would be so much easier.

"It's too fast," a voice said. "I think she's going into shock."

The voices turned low and heated, distorted. A hand rhythmically stroked her forehead and hair. A raspy voice began desperately saying her name. She wanted to listen and answer. But eventually the darkness won, and Katara knew no more.

When she woke again, her entire body was very heavy.

A sharp, throbbing sting in her side nearly made her whimper out loud.

Katara finally wrenched her eyes open. She blinked a few times, eyes watering. Bright sunlight was pouring into the room, but everything was blurry and disorienting. A warm pressure on her hand suddenly squeezed harder. "Katara."

Zuko's rasp was thick, but she recognized it immediately. She searched for his face as the room spun and flickered sporadically, but when it all finally sharpened enough to see more clearly, he was there, right over her, golden eyes exhausted and filled with desperate relief.

"Katara? Can you hear me?"

"Zuko…?" she mumbled.

He made a very hoarse sound, almost like a laugh, cupping her cheek with another warm hand and leaning forward to press his forehead to hers. "Yeah. It's okay. You're okay."

Katara wanted to reach up and touch him. He looked terrible, and she wasn't sure he was real, but her body ached so badly she couldn't even lift a finger. "Where…am I?" She noted vaguely that she was lying in a bed, and only dressed in top wraps and light, flowing trousers.

Zuko's thumb swept across her cheekbone. "Our quarters. You're safe. Don't worry."

"Zuko," she said again.

"Yeah." His thumb rubbed soothing patterns on her cheek for a moment and then he stood up. Katara automatically tried to reach for him. Her arms did actually move this time, but sharp pain shot through her side and she yelped. Zuko hurriedly placed her arms at her sides. "Careful."

"Don't go," Katara pleaded, still only half-awake and panic gripping at her chest.

"I'm only asking for Healer Shoshu," said Zuko gently. "I'm not leaving you."

She blinked rapidly, trying to make the room sharper than it was. "Okay," she whispered.

Zuko carefully brushed some hair from her eyes before he hurried over to the door. The outline of him swam in and out of her vision as she waited, nervously listening to the low sound of his voice as he spoke with the guards. And then he was back.

He took her hand and sat in the same chair pulled up beside the bed.

Katara stared up at him, groggily taking in his face as she woke, trying to concentrate on him and not the terrible pain in her side. Zuko had dark circles under his eyes, and if the knife would have done its intended job their very last conversation would have been a fight. It was beginning to settle in that someone had really tried to kill her, and had almost succeeded.

She did not want to ask about the details yet. She didn't want to think about any of it. The horrible, sharp ache in her side was throbbing, she was so dizzy that the room swayed and tilted, and she had a headache, too, a steady pound behind the eyes. Her arm stung, and when Katara glanced down she saw a bandage wrapped around it. Katara didn't remember receiving the injury.

"How do you feel?" Zuko asked tentatively.

Katara was almost afraid to open her mouth for fear of throwing up. "Hurts," she managed.

Zuko's eyes flickered and he squeezed her hand. "Can I do something?"

She could only shake her head and try to ignore the bitter taste creeping into her mouth.

A warm hand came to her forehead, and then Zuko was running his fingers through her hair. "That poison," began Zuko, voice hollow. "It paralyzes you until you can't breathe. By the time we finally got to the palace you were…" He stopped, his hand tightening around hers. "You'd stopped breathing. Shoshu's waterbender cut your arm open and started trying to pull poison out, and Healer Shoshu shoved these herbs down your throat and pressed on your chest and I—I really thought—it took so long. I thought you were gone." He bowed his head. His hand was shaking in hers.

"Can't…get rid of me that…easily," said Katara, trying to give him a weak smile. Pulling out each word was a colossal effort. The frustrating part was that the full sentence was in her head, on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't make it come out normally.

Zuko looked up. Her attempt to lighten the mood clearly hadn't worked; he looked agonized. "I should have known," he burst out. "You were already attacked once, right here in this room. I should have known not to take you on the stage. I could have seen the knife and tried to—"

"Zuko," said Katara, with a little more power than before. "Don't…do this."

"I'm sorry," Zuko continued desperately, eyes wild. "Everything is so messed up. It's all my fault. I should have—"

"Not…your fault," Katara cut in, as firmly as she could. She closed her eyes. "Don't...do this right now. Please. My head…hurts."

"Okay," said Zuko quietly. A warm hand settled over her forehead again, and fingers gently rubbed circles on her temples.

Katara sighed and nearly melted into the pillow; the heat and light pressure helped.

A knock sounded on the door only several minutes later, and then came quiet footsteps. Soft hands found the pulse on her wrist, and Katara peeked one eye open to see that Healer Shoshu was hovering over her, examining her. "Hello, Princess Katara," she said.

"Hello," said Katara faintly.

"Eyes are still very dilated. But her heartbeat is back in a normal range," she said briefly to Zuko before turning back to Katara. "Princess Katara, follow my finger, if you can." She waved a slow finger in front of Katara's eyes, and Katara sluggishly tried to track it. "Good. Reflexes are still a little slow, but that's to be expected. You've been quite lucky, Princess. But you're going to recover just fine. We're going to change the bandages and Kuenni will give you another healing session."

The name came sharply through the thick fog that was Katara's mind. Her eyes stuttered over to find the other waterbender's. Katara desperately wished that they could speak alone. She knew there was something she had to tell Kuenni. Something important. Even if she couldn't remember what it was right now. It was as though her brain was in scattered little pieces.

Shoshu motioned for Zuko to help her sit Katara up fully. Katara was still too dazed and stiff to be of any help with even these simplest of movements. Zuko had to slip a careful arm around her lower back and help Shoshu slowly lift her limp body up, then ease her back against a stack of pillows. Katara clutched at Zuko's arm and hissed at the sharp, piercing stabs of pain with each little shift of her body. By the time she was sitting up, everything hurt much worse than before and her hands shook so badly that she nearly dropped the cup of water that Shoshu handed to her. Shoshu had to coax the cup up to her lips as if she was a child. Katara drank obediently and settled back into the pillows, thoroughly miserable.

Zuko held her hand tightly while the healers began their work. Healer Shoshu shifted around with the bandages wrapped around Katara's abdomen and Kuenni stepped forward, glowing water coating her palms. The bandages Shoshu pulled away were drenched in scarlet blood.

"It already looks much better," Shoshu said encouragingly.

Kuenni's waterbending helped immensely. First she healed Katara's side for a long time, and that pain ebbed to a manageable throb. Then Zuko asked Kuenni to soothe the headache, and after that it was much easier for Katara to keep her eyes open properly. She ran her palms over Katara's muscles as Shoshu began wrapping new bandages. "There will be a scar," Shoshu told her gently. "I'm sorry, princess."

Katara swallowed. "That's…okay."

And how are you feeling now, Princess Katara?" Shoshu asked, when they'd finished.

"Better," said Katara truthfully.

Healer Shoshu sat on the edge of Katara's bed, watching her seriously for a long moment.

"Princess Katara," said Healer Shoshu finally. "The tip of the knife that embedded in your side contained a powerful poison that is often used in hunting. It works by slowly freezing the body. Eventually the respiratory system can't work and the target dies of asphyxiation." She said this all in a cool, detached way, filling Katara with a sense of sudden dread. This was the voice, she was certain, that Shoshu used to deliver unpleasant news. She glanced at Zuko fearfully; the expression she saw was not reassuring. Katara's heart started to pound.

"By the time you reached me, you were not breathing," said Shoshu.

Zuko's fingers twitched and then tightened in hers.

"Your heart was still beating, but it was weak. I administered the antidote as quickly as possible and Kuenni opened your arm to try and manually draw as much of the poison out as possible with her bending." She pointed at the bandage on Katara's arm. "I believe that is what saved you, princess. From the combined effects of the poison and antidote, you should prepare for some lingering side effects. Fatigue, nausea, difficulty keeping down food, dizziness, fever."

So far, those could be much worse. Katara gave a stiff nod.

"Prince Zuko tells me that you had only stopped breathing less than a minute before reaching me. That is good news, but there was still a period of time when there wasn't enough oxygen in your blood. So far you seem to be doing well, but we need to be aware of possible long-term effects. You must summon me immediately if you have shortness of breath or chest pain, Princess Katara. We'll monitor your heart rate closely over the next few days. You may also experience confusion, headaches, attention difficulties, weakness or mobility issues, restlessness, and anxiety. I'm sorry that I don't know how long-lasting those would be."

There was a long silence.

"Oh," choked Katara. "Is that…is that all?"

"No," said Healer Shoshu. For the first time, she looked down before speaking, her cool demeanor flickering into a small frown.

But when she met Katara's eyes again, she was detached once more. "It does not matter if you and Prince Zuko were successful in conception this week. Any potential pregnancy will have been terminated after such an injury, and the substances." She paused. "The knife was buried very deep in your side, just in the right spot to hit your ovary. Kuenni believes it was grazed, and that she fixed it. But as you heal, we will have an easier time determining whether or not your fertility has been affected."

A pressure, hot and sharp, began building behind Katara's eyes.

"You…you mean I wouldn't be able to…have kids?" she asked, her voice wobbling.

Zuko's hand twitched in hers again.

"No. You have two ovaries, princess," said Shoshu. "And only one side would be affected, if at all. The worst-case scenario here is that it may just be harder for you to get pregnant."

Katara realized that she was shaking.

Obviously she didn't want a child now. Ironically, this even made the situation here with Zuko much easier. But…

But what about when she did? She'd always wanted kids, someday. Abstractly.

Maybe when everything was over. If everything was over.

How much harder would it be?

"We'll know more in the coming days," said Shoshu quickly, seeing the look on her face. "I just wanted you to be informed to the best of our knowledge. But you seem to be recovering normally and quickly, so do try not to worry, Princess Katara."

Katara had to bite back bitter, scathing retorts that sprung to her lips. "What…now?"

Last night she'd been so ready to fight back. Now she just felt exhausted and defeated.

Simple survival felt like an insurmountable mountain that she could no longer climb.

"Now you will rest. You must do no strenuous activity for at least a week. Possibly longer. We'll be here often to monitor you, take your heartbeat, and give healing sessions. No submerging in water for the next two days. Stay in bed until tomorrow."

The door to the room suddenly swung open without a knock.

It took Katara less than a second to realize what that meant before she saw Ozai sweeping in, wearing golden robes today, his eyes scanning the room with cold efficiency. They locked briefly on Katara in the bed. They traveled to Zuko, and passed over Shoshu. Kuenni may as well have been a piece of furniture. Shoshu and Kuenni instantly fell to their knees on the ground; Zuko stood but bowed low and hovered in that position. Katara had to make do with craning her head forward until her neck ached.

"Rise, Prince Zuko," said Ozai, walking briskly in and towering over the bed.

Shoshu and Kuenni stayed on the ground, their heads bowed. Ozai stared down at Katara with a frown.

"Princess Katara," he said finally. "I hear that you will recover."

Katara had difficulty speaking over her constricting chest. "Yes, Fire Lord."

"I'm sure you will be happy to hear that we caught the culprit that attacked you."

Katara glanced at Zuko; his face had darkened and he'd gone tense, but he didn't look surprised. "Who was it, Fire Lord?" Katara asked carefully, pleased that the healing session made the words come smoother now and she could speak without pauses, albeit still much slower than usual. "Why did they do it?"

"This attack was carried out by a commoner. A nobody. It was clearly meant as an insult to the royal family and a protest against my decision to allow you to marry Prince Zuko," said Ozai, his eyes flashing. "We will question him to see if he acted alone. Healer Shoshu has already informed me about the knife's placement. It seems likely that the goal was to disturb any pregnancy. Rest assured he will burn slowly on the stake as soon as we are done extracting anything he has to tell us." His cold gaze swept down to the women on the floor, eyebrows raised. "Will this affect Princess Katara's ability to carry my son's heir, Shoshu?"

Cold horror trickled up Katara's spine. Her chest drew tighter, until she could barely breathe, and Zuko's hand became vice-like.

Healer Shoshu hesitated only a beat, speaking directly to the floor. "No, Fire Lord. Not at all."

"You're sure?"

"As sure as I can be."

"Perhaps," said Ozai softly, "your tongueless little creature is lying to you in order to protect Princess Katara. After all, a wife that cannot give my son his heirs is not very useful to him anymore, and they are of the same tribe. Are you certain, Shoshu?"

"Kuenni has been my assistant for many years," said Shoshu, voice shaking only slightly. "She has my trust, Fire Lord. I've mentioned to you that pregnancy can take a few months, so I cannot guarantee success in the very next cycle. But I can promise you, Fire Lord, that Princess Katara will be pregnant sometime in autumn. If we are lucky, next month or before summer's end."

"Good," said Ozai. "Because it is your head if she is not. You and your assistant."

"Of course, Fire Lord," Shoshu folded even lower to press her forehead to the ground.

Ozai turned away with a dramatic flourish. "Keep me informed, Shoshu," he said over his shoulder. "Prince Zuko, we'll let him sit for today, but we'll pay him a little visit tomorrow."

Zuko nodded curtly. "Yes, Fire Lord."

As soon as the door closed, Shoshu and Kuenni stood again. They both glanced at each other nervously and appeared visibly shaken. Zuko stared at them, and the silence stretched on until he spoke. "You lied to him," he said, hoarse and incredulous.

Shoshu raised her chin a little defiantly. "Are you going to turn me in, Prince Zuko?"

"No," said Zuko. He paused, swallowing hard. "I was going to thank you."

"You can thank me by getting Princess Katara pregnant as quickly as possible, Prince Zuko," said Shoshu dryly. She dipped into a low bow and Kuenni copied her. And then, with one last assurance that they would check in again later that evening, they left.

Zuko staggered back to his chair and sat at the edge of the bed. He looked almost dazed, his eyes glassy and red and exhausted, and Katara saw that his hands were shaking again. She tried, with great difficulty, to move her arms and reach out to him. But he moved in her direction before she could get far, weaving his fingers in hers.

"You should get some sleep," said Katara quietly.

Zuko pushed his other hand through his hair; he'd taken out his top knot and now it fell in a dark, shaggy mop down to his shoulders, hanging in his tired eyes. He did not move from the chair, and acted like he hadn't heard her. "Are you in pain?"

"I'm fine," said Katara, which was mostly true. Her body faintly ached, but it was nothing like the agony from earlier. Zuko just squinted at her in response, seemingly appraising whether or not she was being truthful. "Zuko, please," continued Katara. "You look exhausted."

His golden eyes darted to the windows and to the door. His fingers tapped a nervous rhythm on his thigh and his jaw tightened. The set of his shoulders and his torso was tense and unyielding; he was still on high alert despite bloodshot eyes. "Later."

Katara bit back the impulse to argue and slumped a little, staring unseeingly down at the bed.

She searched for the drive to fight she'd felt the night before. She searched for the always reliable anger.

She felt nothing. Like an empty shell.

"Katara," said Zuko softly. He was gently playing with her fingers and watching her again.

She glanced over at him with dull eyes.

"Do you really think you're just a replacement?" he asked.

Katara let out a weak laugh. "That's what you want to talk about right now?"

"We can choose something else from the long list of things we should probably talk about. But I thought this might be easier for you at first rather than, you know...war stuff." Zuko paused, his mouth twitching a little. "And you can't really avoid me this time."

"I wasn't avoiding anything," said Katara, glaring at him and privately wondering if war discussion was, in fact, easier.

Zuko just raised his eyebrows at her in clear disagreement. "You brought up Mai twice yesterday."

Katara sighed and tried for a casual shrug, which sent a sharp pain through her side. "Well, practically speaking, that's what I am," she said. Zuko's brow scrunched up and he opened his mouth, but she shook her head fiercely. "Don't argue. I am a forced replacement for your...real relationship." She looked away, stomach clenching. "That's okay. It's not a big deal."

"We don't have a real relationship?" Zuko said, very quietly.

"You know what I mean," Katara said, sharper now. "Our marriage is arranged."

"I'm not talking about the marriage," said Zuko. "I'm talking about us."

In the long, thick silence that followed, Katara swore each of her heartbeats was louder than a drum, steadily filling the entire space of the room so that Zuko could easily hear them. Her mouth was too dry and she had difficulty meeting his eyes.

"Are you afraid I would betray you to get Mai back or something?" Zuko pressed. "Is that it?"

Katara blinked. That possibility truly hadn't occurred to her.

"Because I wouldn't do anything that would risk you," added Zuko roughly. "Ever."

Katara's stomach fluttered faintly. "That wasn't what I thought."

Zuko frowned, clearly confused. "Then do…do you think I'll leave for her, or…?"

Katara stared hard down at the bed. "No."

Zuko was quiet for a long time, and when she chanced a glance over at him he was staring down at their entwined hands with a vaguely frustrated look on his face, his thumb still tracing careful, mindless patterns on the back of her hand. "Then I don't understand," he said finally, looking back up. "Katara, please, would you just tell me what's bothering you? I can't do anything about most of the stuff that's making you miserable, but this might be one thing that I can actually—"

"I don't know!" Katara snapped. "It's probably just that I'm tired of feeling like some...replaceable spare!"

Zuko gaped at her. "Replaceable spare?"

"Yes," said Katara irritably. "Yes, a spare! I was sent over here as some sort of pawn just to stall for time, and now I'm here, married to someone who prefers someone else. I guess this isn't how I saw my life or my eventual marriage panning out, okay?"

Zuko opened and closed his mouth a few times, seemingly lost for words. "You're not a pawn," he said finally, almost angrily. "How could you say that? Katara, you're keeping everything together for your tribes and for the Avatar. Without you—"

"Without me, Azula just would have found some other Water Tribe woman to drag over here and marry you," said Katara tiredly.

Zuko faltered. "But—"

"You know it's true," said Katara, bitterness twisting her words.

"But it isn't someone else, it's you! You are keeping the peace right now and giving the Avatar time to get his strength back." Zuko leaned forward and gently took hold of her shoulders. "Katara. You can't seriously think you're replaceable. To your family and friends. To me."

Katara stared at a point over his shoulder. "Wouldn't you be happier? With Mai back?"

"No."

Katara let out a disbelieving scoff. "Right."

"I'm telling you the truth!" Zuko sighed and reached out, taking her hands in his again. "Katara," he said seriously. "Last night was one of the worst nights of my life. I talk to you about lots of things I don't normally talk about. Not even with Uncle. Trust me, you are...the furthest thing from replaceable to me." Hesitantly, he raised their hands and placed a quick kiss on her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers. Katara's stomach dropped, and not unpleasantly; her neck grew hot and she had to look away. "And I'm glad you said all that stuff," Zuko continued, huskier than before. "At the play. I want you to feel like you can talk to me, too."

That hot pressure was pushing at Katara's eyes again, and she automatically began to blink very rapidly. "I don't blame you. For everything I said. It's all just been so much and sometimes I just can't—it's all so—so much and I can't—"

Before she knew what was happening, Zuko was sliding into the bed and wrapping her up very carefully in his arms. She let out a quiet sob into his shoulder. "I know," said Zuko, rasp thick again. He started to stroke her hair. "I'm sorry, Katara. I'm sorry."

"Me too." Her words came out muffled into his shoulder. "I'm sorry, too."

His arms tightened. "You don't need to be sorry for anything. I'm sorry for losing my temper with Eza."

"It's okay." She carefully slid her arms around his torso and hugged him tighter.

After a few moments like that Zuko asked, "Did you already know about that waterbender? That she was here in the palace?"

Katara blinked. "Did you not?"

"No," said Zuko. "I've never seen her before. You were the first waterbender I ever saw."

"But," said Katara, frowning, "but you're the prince. Surely if Kuenni was used to heal anyone, it would be in the royal family?"

Zuko's laugh was humorless. "I wasn't allowed healing sessions, Katara. Injuries were always an important lesson in failure."

A sick feeling crept into Katara's stomach. "Oh, Zuko," she sighed sadly, pulling back again to look at him.

It was rare that they were this close outside of sex. His skin was pale and he needed sleep so badly. His eyes were still their usual pretty gold, but rimmed with red, bloodshot and exhausted, one of them trapped in a permanent squint. As though partially in a trance, Katara slowly raised her aching arm and touched his cheek. Zuko tensed, just slightly, but he didn't move away. Her fingertips traced the edge of his scar.

She thought of the brand new scar on her hip. She wondered if it would be large. She wondered if it would be noticeable.

"Does it ever hurt?" she whispered.

"No," murmured Zuko. "Not anymore."

Katara's fingers traveled higher. The skin of the scar was rough and rubbery. Familiar.

Comforting.

"I don't usually let anyone touch it," said Zuko. Immediately Katara's eyes widened and she started to withdraw, mumbling a mortified apology. But Zuko was faster. He caught her wrist and carefully guided her hand back to where it was. "Other people," he said. "Not you."

Katara's mouth was very dry again. "Who else?"

"Only you," said Zuko softly.

Katara let her fingers trace the edges, and then sweep across his brow, where an eyebrow should be. Her eyes followed the shape of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth. It was an unfairly nice mouth. Too late, she realized she was staring, and when she quickly ripped her gaze away she saw that his eyes had turned darker, more intense. Katara jerked quickly back, and immediately regretted it when it sent pain shooting up her side. She gasped, doubling over from agony, and Zuko reached out to steady her.

"Easy," he said, guiding her to sit back against the pillows. "Don't move so fast, Katara."

"Sorry," she mumbled.

Zuko fussed excessively over the pillows before he insisted on giving her more water. Then he asked, "Are you hungry?"

Katara nodded.

"I'll get you something," said Zuko.

He read to her as she ate slowly, so as not to trigger more nausea, and he kept reading even as she finished. As evening approached, Zuko's eyes began drooping, but every time Katara tried to suggest that he should sleep, he waved her off and kept reading. By the time Kuenni and Shoshu appeared for another healing session, Katara was fighting tears. The pain had crept back in during the hours in between.

"I can give you something for pain," Healer Shoshu offered, before she started unwrapping the bandages. "It's powerful stuff, and it will make you loopy, Princess. Then it will make you drowsy. But it should help you sleep through the night without another healing session. You need the rest, and now that you're more stable I feel safe giving it to you. Would you like it?"

"Yes, please," Katara gasped, wincing as they pulled the bandages free.

Kuenni's healing had helped again, but everything still hurt tremendously, and she wanted to sleep properly.

This time she was both aware and brave enough to look down at the wound when it was out in the open. It didn't appear that she'd been stabbed less than a day ago. The wound was closed, and healing with waterbending always sped up that process. But it was still raw and pink and mottled, and she could already clearly see the scar that would always slice across her hip. They helped her sit up and drink the pain concoction before beginning the session, and by the time they were finished, Katara was already feeling whatever they'd given her. The world had started turning fuzzy, Katara's body was feeling lighter, and the pain in her side was ebbing until there was nothing left at all.

Katara blinked several times, very slowly, a lazy smile spreading across her face.

"Princess?" Healer Shoshu prompted, as they wrapped her bandages and Katara made no sounds of pain or protest.

"Hmm?"

"How do you feel?"

"Really good," Katara slurred. "But laying here for days...will be boring."

Zuko's eyes widened a little before he glanced at Shoshu.

"It's normal," said Shoshu to him, clearly fighting a smile. "Princess? Does anything hurt?"

Katara gave a happy little sigh. Everything felt marvelous. "No."

"Excellent. Prince Zuko, call at any time if you need something," said Healer Shoshu. "Otherwise, I think we all desperately need to rest."

"Water," Zuko said right away, after they'd left.

Katara nodded and drank from the cup he offered her. Even her lingering misery and helplessness were gone.

She felt light and happy. Euphoric.

Zuko cupped her face with his palm. "You're really not hurting at all?"

"No." Katara nuzzled into his palm like a pleased cat. "You're so warm. And I feel all floaty."

"Floaty, huh?" Zuko ran his fingers gently through her hair, eyes crinkling with amusement.

"Mhm." Katara closed her eyes. "Please make sure I don't float away."

"I'll do my best."

"I think you have to hold me down. Come here." She sluggishly patted the bed beside her. Zuko hesitated but slid into the bed. He wrapped a loose arm around her and Katara tucked her head on his shoulder. "You'll stay...with me?"

"Always," said Zuko.

"Promise?"

"Yes. I promise."

"You're so warm."

His hand wove carefully through her hair. "You've mentioned that."

"You feel so nice." She burrowed closer, toward the hollow of his throat. His pulse was racing.

"Thank you." He sounded a little strangled.

"Do I feel nice?"

"You feel very nice."

"Really?"

Zuko stifled a small laugh into her temple. "Really."

"I want to take a bath. With flowers."

"You can't submerge into water with your wound right now, Katara. Not yet." She tried to sit up and angle herself at him so she could pout directly and dramatically into his face, but Zuko's hands held her still. "And just because you aren't feeling the pain doesn't mean you can move around."

"That's not fair."

"I'm trying to take care of you."

"Then bring me to the bath."

"No." Zuko sounded both exasperated and like he wanted to laugh.

"Is it because I'd be naked?"

Zuko's fingers had begun rubbing soothing patterns on her shoulder, but they froze briefly.

"Because we haven't seen each other naked," Katara clarified. "Even though we...you know." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Have sex."

"You are high as a kite," Zuko muttered, after a long moment.

"A kite?"

"You've never flown a kite? I think you'd like it. I'll show you as soon as you're better."

"Okay." She paused. "But I'm a princess and I demand a bath."

"I'm a prince and I'm telling you no bath. For your health."

"You're mean."

"You might float away in the bath. I have to hold you here, remember?"

Katara shuddered. "Okay. Yes. I don't want to float. The clouds can be so cold sometimes. Up on Almond." She frowned. "Wait. Apple. Apricot. The hairy thing. Roars and stuff. Ap…Ap…"

"Appa," Zuko supplied.

Katara let out a gleeful laugh. "That's it. I really miss Apple."

"Appa."

"That's what I said. Apricot."

"Appa."

"Excuse me," Katara slurred, very haughtily, "but I think I know Apricot better than you."

Zuko shifted a little to smile down at her. "Of course. You're right."

"You're smiling," Katara observed, lifting her head and tilting it. "I like when you smile."

Zuko's eyes turned to liquid gold again. "I like when you smile, too."

Katara contorted her face in an exaggerated, horrific grimace. "Like this?"

"No. That," said Zuko, mouth twitching, "is terrifying."

Katara let out a shriek of laughter and smacked him lightly on the chest, then gasped in pain.

"Hey! I said no moving. Should I read to you again?"

"No. You should...sleep," Katara slurred, leaning back and curling against him again.

"I'm fine."

"You have to."

"I don't trust anyone in this palace," said Zuko darkly. "And I don't think it was one random citizen that tried to hurt you."

"But you won't be...much help to me half-dead," mumbled Katara. She clumsily patted his jaw. "Sleep. Please?"

"Fine," Zuko muttered. "I'll try."

"Thank you." She patted his jaw again with a dazed smile. "You're so very...warm."

He chuckled softly into her ear. "Oh yeah? Haven't heard that before."

"Mmm." Katara snuggled even closer, the world beginning to fade. "Please don't...go."

Zuko whispered something to her, but she didn't quite catch it. The drowsiness had already pulled her under.

Katara woke before dawn, when the room was lit only by the dimmest of light.

Zuko was still asleep, his arms wrapped loosely around her middle and his head tipped over to rest on top of hers. Katara lay there for a long time, unwilling to move. The end of the previous night was fuzzy, but her mind was clear. And she'd processed what had happened enough to seriously begin considering her host of problems.

Hama needed to be warned about Eza and his sons.

Something needed to be done about Eza in general.

And yet she was confined to her bed with limited ability to move.

It was maddening.

Katara lay there quietly for a long time, listening to Zuko's deep breathing, letting the beginnings of a plan form in her mind.

The first step was obviously to start trying to become more mobile. Nature was beginning to call, and she did not want to wake up Zuko for something like that. Plus, Healer Shoshu had said she should stay in bed yesterday; but today was a new day. So despite the pain it brought her, Katara began extracting herself from Zuko and shifting to stand up. She ground her teeth hard to avoid making any sounds of pain, and felt a burst of triumph when she finally made it to her feet.

Hesitantly, she took a step. And then another.

Her chest began to constrict, and her legs wobbled. On the third step, Katara staggered and crashed into the bedside table.

She cried out and tried to catch it to steady herself, but that bit of flailing only made it worse. Her knee jammed hard into the side and she toppled to the ground just as Zuko woke and sprung out of the bed, rushing over to her. "What are you doing?"

"I have to pee," mumbled Katara, wincing. "I didn't want to wake you up. And Healer Shoshu said I can walk today."

Zuko puffed out a sigh and scooped her up off the ground with ease. "Yeah, but she didn't say you should get up immediately and try and prance around on your own. You should have woken me." He set off toward the washroom with her in his arms, pressed against his chest.

"I can do it!" Katara insisted. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," said Zuko, giving her a stern look.

Katara gave him her best scowl, but he ignored her. He set her down in the washroom and watched as she swayed on her feet.

"I've got it from here," said Katara.

"You sure about that?"

"I'm not going with you standing right here!"

Zuko suddenly threw her an unjustly attractive little smirk. "Last night when you were all doped up, you were practically begging me to take you to the bath."

"I...what?" Katara gaped at him, horrified, and struggled to remember. "That's not true!"

"Yes, it is." He pressed his lips together like he was trying to keep from laughing. "You even tried to invoke your title."

"Well, I'm not doped up anymore," Katara snapped. "And I'd like to relieve myself alone, thanks."

"What if you fall in?" Zuko's eyes were dancing.

Katara made a noise of frustration that was very similar to a growl. "I am not enough of a morning person for this, Zuko."

He grinned. "Are you sure I shouldn't go and get Ty Lee?"

"No," said Katara. "Don't wake her up for something so stupid!"

Zuko sighed. "Okay, look, I'll wait right outside the door, but don't try and walk. Call me back when you're done and I'll help you move. Got it?"

"Fine," she muttered, and Zuko gave her one more uncertain look before stepping out. She very nearly couldn't stand up again afterward, but she managed it out of pure willpower and her utter aversion at the thought of having to ask Zuko to come help her to her feet.

Then she blatantly ignored his instructions and began trying to walk to the door.

This time she made it without incident even though her body was screaming at her. Zuko frowned when she pushed open the door.

"Seriously?" Zuko said.

"I'm not completely helpless," said Katara, setting her jaw. She reached out and clutched to him. "Help me back to bed."

Zuko grumbled something under his breath but let her lean heavily on him as he slowly walked her back to the bed and helped her climb in, guiding her back against the pillows. He'd just ordered an early breakfast and had come back to sit with her when someone knocked on the door. "Come in," said Zuko, and two guards entered.

"Prince Zuko, the arrival you mentioned last night—"

"Yes. Thank you. Escort him here."

"Arrival?" Katara asked, when the guards had hurried out.

Zuko smiled, a real smile with teeth, and brushed some hair from her face. "It's a surprise. Here, eat that." He pushed some fruit at her.

She ignored the fruit. "But...but what sort of surprise...?"

"If I tell you, that will spoil it," said Zuko. "Eat."

Katara grudgingly took a few bites, watching curiously as Zuko rushed to go change into robes for the day.

His eyes kept darting to the door, and when another knock came, they turned very bright and he rushed over to open it.

Over Zuko's shoulder, Katara saw a flash of blue. A familiar head of thick, brown hair with braids. The friendly face that had never been quite the same since her mother had died. He looked very real, and he looked solid, but Katara wasn't so sure.

"Dad?" she breathed, hoarsely. She'd begun to sit up in bed without meaning to, ignoring the pain it brought her. "Dad?"

Chief Hakoda barely looked at Zuko as he pushed past him. "Katara!"

The usually dignified Chief of the Southern Water Tribe sprinted to her bedside and gathered her up. Already Katara was wracked with sobs. It hurt so badly to cry, but she couldn't stop. "It's okay, sweetheart," murmured Hakoda. Being in his arms was like being a child all over again. He smelled like smoked meat and something sharp and metallic. Like home. "I'm here now."

"Dad," was all Katara could say, over and over.

The door to the room suddenly burst open so hard that it banged on the opposite wall.

Fire Lord Ozai stormed in.

The first rays of dawn were starting to creep into the room, and he blazed with power and rage. Zuko bowed but then straightened almost immediately after, his jaw clenched and his posture rigid. Hakoda also sprang up, positioning himself protectively in front of Katara.

Ozai stalked over and backhanded Zuko so hard across the face that Zuko staggered several paces back.

Katara cried out and shrank back into the pillows.

Zuko straightened up slowly, clutching at his already bleeding cheek. Ozai wore sharp rings, and they'd sliced at him.

"How dare you make that decision without consulting me?" Ozai was looming over his son, his eyes blazing.

Zuko was shaking violently, but he straightened up and looked his father right in the eye. "The contract said she would be treated like a member of the royal family. We're responsible for her safety here, and she almost died. They have a right—"

"I decide whether they have the right!" Ozai advanced a few steps.

"Fire Lord Ozai," Hakoda began, a disturbed look flitting across his face.

"Silence, Chief Hakoda," said Ozai. "My son and I are talking."

Zuko's eyes had begun turning glassy, but still he lifted his chin and said, "She needed to see him."

Flames sprung to Ozai's palms. "Perhaps your first lesson in respect wasn't enough," he said, dangerously soft.

"Wait," choked Katara, scrambling to push the blankets aside and get back to her feet. "Wait, please!"

"Katara, stay out of this," Zuko said, very roughly.

Her father turned and held her back, even as she struggled to stand. Her side throbbed so badly that her vision swam.

Ozai ignored her, and the flames on his palms grew higher. "You have overstepped, Prince Zuko."

Zuko dipped into a desperate bow. All Katara could see was the exposed back of his neck, his vulnerability. She felt the skin of his scar under her fingertips and saw Ozai's rage. When Zuko spoke it was clear and almost eerily calm. "It was a decision made for us," said Zuko. "The happier my wife is, the more likely she will get pregnant. Healer Shoshu told us herself. And if you want this alliance to stay in place, Father, we needed to invite him here. He would have found out eventually, and if we didn't tell him ourselves and allow a visit, he would have grown suspicious and angry. I did this for the Fire Nation and for your alliance. For you."

Even Ozai seemed to see the truth in these words, for he paused, considering. "You should have consulted me first, Prince Zuko," he said.

Zuko bowed even lower. "I'm sorry. I was just eager to show you I can also make decisions on my own. Decisions that benefit us."

The room fell silent, and the only thing Katara could hear were the sounds of her own harsh, panicked breathing.

Ozai regarded Zuko for a moment, his face still cold, but the rage in his eyes flickering out. He appeared almost gratified.

"Chief Hakoda," Ozai said finally, turning away from Zuko. "You are to stay two days and no longer."

Hakoda inclined his head. It was stiff but still passably polite. "Yes, Fire Lord."

"The guards will show you to your room soon. We will have lunch together later today."

"Thank you for the invitation," said Hakoda, with just the barest hint of sarcasm.

Katara's chest tightened and tightened, even as Ozai turned to leave. By the time the door closed behind him, she was clutching at her side and each breath was a painful wheeze. Zuko took several steps toward the bed but seemed afraid to come nearer to Hakoda than he already was. He stayed hovering awkwardly a short distance away. "Katara? Are you okay?"

Hakoda was glancing between them with a very strange look on his face.

Weakness or mobility issues. Restlessness. Anxiety.

Summon me immediately if you have shortness of breath or chest pain.

Katara shook her head. "I think I need...Healer Shoshu."

Zuko went to summon her immediately as her father came to her bedside.

Hakoda reached out to hold her again, though not before he flashed her a quick, secretive view of a vial; a vial of stunningly blue and familiar water hanging under his tunic.

Notes:

Zuko kissing Katara's knuckles by thechromepaladin

Chapter 22: The Plans

Notes:

I have more links to amazing artwork!

Katara and Zuko at the party, interrupted by Mai (Chapter Nine) by thechromepaladin

Zuko kissing Katara's knuckles (Chapter Twenty-One) by thechromepaladin

Ty Lee presenting Katara to a very flustered Zuko by juune-moon (Not a direct scene from this fic, but inspired by it).

Once again, thank you so much for the creations for this fic! I can't ever express how much I love seeing them.

xoxo,
Ros

Chapter Text

Kuenni's waterbending healing helped, as it always did. The pain that had built up overnight and from overexerting herself since she had woken began to fade to a manageable twinge, and her chest loosened. Katara released a quiet sigh.

"Better?" Her father leaned closer, his eyebrows knit together.

Katara nodded, her hand tightening around Hakoda's rough, calloused one. Even when she was a child—when he'd been around, when she'd actually felt as if she knew him, without those years apart—his palms were those of a man that hunted and fished, sharpened spears and wielded weapons. They were the same calloused hands they'd always been. It was a strange comfort, and at the same time a choking sort of sadness. It still felt like a dream that he was here at all, as if at any moment she would wake up and he would be gone.

"Zuko," Katara said, waving him over. He'd been hovering a safe distance over her father's shoulder, every now and again taking several steps forward before he seemed to lose his nerve and backed away. As Zuko drew closer, the gashes in his cheek were more obvious, and they were deep. "Come here." She patted the bed. "Kuenni, please heal him?"

"It's really not a big deal," Zuko muttered, but Katara threw him a stern look and he somewhat reluctantly sat and allowed Kuenni to hold her healing water to his face."Thank you," Zuko told Kuenni quietly when she'd finished. It was now as if the cuts hadn't been there at all, and the blood on his cheek had come from nowhere. Kuenni gave him a perfunctory little bow.

Once the healers were gone, Katara requested a damp towel. Then she began gently cleaning the blood from Zuko's cheek.

"Katara, sit back," Zuko said, trying to take the towel from her.

She stubbornly swatted him away. "I'm not so much an invalid that I can't move my arms."

Zuko just fixed her with a look that was a mixture of exasperation and something very soft.

"Prince Zuko." Hakoda stood behind them, watching the interaction with a little frown. "I wasn't aware that you didn't ask for the Fire Lord's permission to invite me here."

Zuko stood and inclined his head. "Chief Hakoda," he said carefully. "I'm sorry for the strange circumstances. I thought that inviting you myself was easier, given the…situation." He glanced at Katara. "When I wrote to you, Katara had just been stabilized. I…probably wasn't thinking so clearly."

Hakoda appraised him for a long moment, sizing him up. Zuko kept his head still partially inclined in a gesture of respect, and his expression was calm as he stared downward, but Katara saw his hands twitching at his sides.

"I understand that you're showing me respect in the way you're accustomed, Prince Zuko, but in the Water Tribes, it's considered the highest respect not to bow, but to look a man in the eyes," said Hakoda firmly, but not unkindly. "We see that as more honest and open, to always let someone see our faces. And given that you're married to my daughter, I'm sure you can understand why I would prefer to see your face over the back of your neck."

Zuko straightened up, flushing. "I didn't know, Chief Hakoda. I apologize."

"No need," said Hakoda. "Am I able to speak with Katara alone?"

Zuko hesitated. "I can go into the washroom."

"Is that even allowed, according to the Fire Lord?"

"No," said Zuko. "You aren't supposed to be alone with her."

Zuko sounded deeply apologetic, and he did not seem to know where to look. Hakoda walked over and reached out, and Zuko instinctively stiffened. But Hakoda's hand just settled on Zuko's shoulder. "Did you know?" Hakoda asked finally. "That your father would be so displeased with you?" When Zuko just jerked his head in a nod, Hakoda lightly clapped Zuko's shoulder. "Thank you, Prince Zuko."

Zuko stepped quickly back and away. "It was nothing. I'll let you catch up."

Golden eyes met hers, briefly, before Zuko turned and swept out of the room.

Her father came back to sit on the edge of the bed and held her hand again. "Katara, I'm so sorry. Are you in less pain now? Was that waterbender…?" Hakoda trailed off. "I guess I have a lot of questions," he said, with a strained smile. "But I don't want to overwhelm you."

"I feel better now, Dad. I'm just so glad you're here. And I have a lot of questions, too."

"I'll start with the most important." Hakoda lowered his voice. "Are you being hurt?"

"No," said Katara, deciding it was probably wise for the alliance's sake to leave out the incident where Ozai had wrapped his hands around her throat and threatened her.

Her father's eyes darted toward the washroom. "The prince is good to you?"

Katara nodded. "Zuko is…" She stopped, and found she didn't know what to say. There were a lot of words she could use to describe Zuko, though none of them felt quite like enough. "He's an ally to us," Katara decided on saying. "He's been very helpful to me here."

That was safe and neutral, and described Zuko in the most practical and important sense.

Hakoka seemed to relax. "I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear that."

Katara stared at him. "You believe it? Just like that?"

"I wouldn't say that. But you've always been a clever girl, Katara." He sighed and affectionately pinched her cheek. "And now you're a clever woman. If you say he's trustworthy, I'll give him a chance to prove it." Hakoda quickly pulled the vial from around his neck."I was able to get this in a hurry before I left. The Fire Nation knows about the spirit oasis, but they don't know the water has healing properties. And I figure we don't need to let them in on it. What they don't know can't hurt them." He flashed her a mischievous smile. "Here."

Katara took the vial with shaking hands.

"I'm sorry I couldn't bring more," Hakoda added ruefully. "It was hard enough to get that without drawing attention. And I wanted to get here as soon as I could."

"Did you come here on Appa?"

"Yes. It's much quicker than sailing, that's for sure."

Katara held the vial of spirit water a little higher, watching it sparkle. "It would be really suspicious if I instantly healed."

"That's true," Hakoda said. "Maybe if you administer a drop or so every day, it wouldn't be anything too miraculous."

"Maybe." Katara was still staring at the vial. It was exactly like the one she'd had. She curled it up in her palm and asked, "Did Azula already leave? How are the others?"

"Just fine. Gran-Gran sends her love and wants me to tell you how very brave you are. Aang hasn't returned yet from the temple he was visiting, to try and unlock his chakras. He left us Appa," said Hakoda quickly, seeing the alarmed look on Katara's face. "It's not surprising that he's been gone so long. He continued growing his hair and stowed away on a boat. Getting him out of there undetected was one of my greatest mastermind accomplishments." He nudged Katara, and she tried to force an unconcerned smile. "The princess left the Northern Water Tribe right around the time Sokka did," continued Hakoda, and then he frowned again. "She's not back yet?"

"No," said Katara, feeling another burst of anxiety, another tightening of the chest.

Where was Azula?

"Fine by me," muttered her father. "She's a nasty piece of work, that one. And very clever."

"Believe me, I know," said Katara. "So are there any new plans?"

"Until we hear from Aang, I don't know if we have a chance of winning. I hope he'll return before summer's end, and with the use of the Avatar State. Everything is too uncertain right now. Is there anything I should know? Maybe you can tell me everything that's been happening here."

Katara hesitated, but then said tentatively, "Maybe Zuko can help me fill in all the gaps? Like I said, he's been helpful and...involved." After what Zuko had done for her and her father, she wanted to include him. And, more importantly, she feared that Ozai might burst into the room again and see that Zuko was not with them. Zuko looked vaguely confused and a little nervous by their summons, but he settled into a chair near the bed after ordering tea, and breakfast for her father.

"Prince Zuko," said Hakoda, studying him carefully. "Katara tells me that you're an ally."

Zuko blinked and sat up a little straighter, with a quick look at Katara. "Uh, yes. Yes, I am."

"Well then," said Hakoda. "Why don't you two catch me up?"

Katara began to tell him everything, only pausing when briefly interrupted by the arrival of her father's breakfast and the tea. She told Hakoda about their suspicions that the purpose of Katara's pregnancy was to have an Avatar in the royal family. She told him about General Eza and Madame Mavang, and that Iroh planned to break out of prison and offer help to the Northern Water Tribe. This, Hakoda seemed to find particularly interesting; he appeared very thoughtful indeed at the mention of the White Lotus organization, but he didn't interrupt. And then Katara told him about Kuenni, and about Hama and her plans. That was when her father began to have more questions.

"So this Hama plans to attack the Fire Nation? With a pirate queen?" Hakoda leaned away from his empty plate with a frown that had only grown more pronounced over the course of Katara's entire report.

"Yes," said Katara. "And they want my help. I'm supposed to wait for more instructions. To be honest it didn't really feel like I had the option to say no. I think I'll hear what to do next from Kuenni. And I need a way to talk to her alone, anyway. Without Healer Shoshu. I need to warn Hama that General Eza and his sons are on her trail. They…" Katara briefly met Zuko's eyes. "They found out someone has been abducting people on the full moon, and I have reason to believe it's Hama."

"How would she be able to abduct so many people, and so easily?"

Katara bit her lip. "She can bend the blood in people's bodies. She has full control. They're like puppets."

To her relief, her father didn't comment on the ability of bloodbending at all.

Hakoda leaned forward. "Do you think allying with her gives us a chance?"

"Maybe," said Katara. "But she'll want to keep the power. And then all of the Fire Nation citizens would be in danger."

Hakoda pursed his lips in thought. "And you said she mentioned other waterbenders?"

"Yes," said Katara. "They're the ones that didn't escape like she did. They're probably tongueless and older, like Kuenni, and Hama said something about the ones with healing abilities being put to work in hospitals and made to heal the soldiers. I haven't seen any so far."

"They're probably in the military hospitals or barracks," said Zuko. "There's one hospital not too far from the capital, and a few of them spread out across the islands. And there are barracks everywhere. I doubt the Fire Nation would waste such precious healers on average citizens, and the military facilities are probably considered secure enough to hold them. But if there are waterbenders there, it's a big secret. I didn't know."

"Hmm," said Hakoda. "I wish there was a way to confirm this. To infiltrate them somehow."

"Toph?" Katara suggested. "Where is she, anyway? She left the Northern Tribe, right?"

"Yes," said Hakoda. "But she's in the Earth Kingdom."

"With her parents?"

"She planned on discreetly leaving. She had a big project for the war she was hoping to work on. Along the coast of the Earth Kingdom."

"What sort of project?" Katara asked curiously.

At this, Hakoda cast a wary look at Zuko.

"It's okay," said Zuko, also immediately sensing the reluctance. "I understand."

A knock on the door broke the awkward moment.

Several guards entered, ready to escort Hakoda to his room. They told him they would provide him with robes that were fit to wear in the presence of the Fire Lord for lunch and that he was expected in less than an hour. Hakoda stood and looked at Katara, and his grim expression at the prospect of the upcoming lunch turned softer. "I'll see you after, Katara. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Prince Zuko and Princess Katara are both requested to join as well," one of the guards said.

Zuko rounded on him, visibly bristling. "What? Katara needs to rest."

"The Fire Lord says that kneeling is a form of resting, so Princess Katara can manage."

Zuko's eyes flashed, and the guard actually drew back in alarm. Hakoda also angrily opened his mouth, but Katara, who did not want tensions any higher than they needed to be today over something like this, said quickly, "I feel much better. I'm perfectly capable of kneeling at a table." She was more worried about the walk to the Fire Lord's dining quarters, but didn't voice this. And though disgruntled, Hakoda and Zuko didn't argue further, and Hakoda finally let the guards lead him away. In the doorway, he turned and discreetly tapped his collarbone at Katara before leaving, and she understood immediately: apply the spirit water. And then he was stepping out the door, and Katara had to bite back the instinctual fear at seeing him turn away and leave. That horrible, nagging feeling that he would disappear; that invasive feeling of being a child all over again and watching him get onto a ship and sail away.

When the door closed Zuko came back over to the bed and sat, scowling furiously. "I can't believe we have to go eat with him. He knows you need to rest." Katara suspected that was exactly the reason she was being invited, but said nothing. After a moment, Zuko said very softly, "Thank you. For including me like that." Before Katara could say that she was the one who should be thanking him for the whole visit, Zuko's eyes snagged on her right hand, where the spirit water vial was securely nestled in her palm. "What's that?"

Katara opened her fingers, and Zuko's eyes widened. "Is that…?"

"Yes," said Katara. "My dad brought it. He suggested trying a drop a day so I don't heal so quickly that it's suspicious. I suppose I could try, and save the rest for something else."

"Do you want to try it now?"

Katara nodded. "It might make lunch easier. I just have to remember to look injured if it works a little too well."

Healer Shoshu, thankfully, had left spare bandages in the room, so as Zuko went to fetch them, Katara began unraveling her current ones. They came away with some blood, but already Katara could see the effects of the healing on the wound. The skin around the scar was less raw, less pink, even if the scar itself was still raised and rough. When Zuko came back with the bandages, Katara said, "Open the vial."

Zuko obeyed, carefully uncapping the vial and holding it out toward her.

He watched intently as Katara concentrated, holding out her hand over the opening to try and draw the spirit water out. It was hard enough to bend as it was, but pulling out only a drop or two was even more difficult. She kept accidentally bringing out too much water, and to make matters worse, she couldn't stop thinking about the last time she'd had to use this. Katara shoved away invasive memories and images of Aang's limp body and tried only to feel the water around her fingers. When she'd finally pulled out a drop, she guided it over to her side and dropped it on the injury, fumbling and clumsy, but it seemed to do the trick. It glowed briefly and then faded.

The effects were instantaneous.

"Oh," Katara breathed, sitting up taller.

Though it didn't affect how the injury looked—the scar was indeed permanent—there was much less pain than before.

She leaned to one side and stretched her arms over her head. She leaned the other way.

It barely hurt at all.

The pain was nearly gone, but she did notice that her movements were still not very fluid.

"How does it feel?" Zuko asked.

"Much better," said Katara. She twisted her torso, delighted. "Wow. That's powerful. I do still feel a little uncoordinated. And my muscles feel tired and slow, even if they don't really hurt."

"Healer Shoshu mentioned weakness and problems moving properly," said Zuko. "Maybe the spirit water just can't reverse some things. I mean, you did..." He swallowed hard. "You did stop breathing. Maybe the side effects that come from that are harder to heal. Especially with only one drop. You used the whole vial all at once on the Avatar, right?"

"Yes. I'm sure I just need a few more drops and a little time. It brought Aang back from the dead." But not without differences, thought Katara, fear gripping her as she thought of Aang's clumsy waterbending, his change of personality. Not without lasting damage.

Zuko's eyes drifted downward, lingering on her hip. "It didn't affect the scar," Zuko said softly.

She knew exactly what he was thinking about. Ba Sing Se was on her mind, too.

"Probably for the best," said Katara, forcing a smile. "Shoshu definitely would have had some questions."

Slowly, Zuko reached out. He gave her plenty of time to stop him. When she did not, he touched her scar, tracing it with gentle, warm fingers, and a low buzz ignited right under Katara's skin, her stomach automatically tensing at the contact. "It looks like it's weeks into healing, not just a day," Zuko murmured, after a few moments. "This really doesn't hurt at all?" He traced along it once, and then again.

"No." The word came out different, too breathless.

Zuko looked up. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, rather helplessly. Sun was shining in through the windows, falling on half his body. His golden eyes were brighter, fiercer, and he radiated that typical daylight power. But he looked somehow gentle, too; as he began wrapping her in the new bandages, his large hands were careful and nimble, brushing against her abdomen and lower back as he worked. His mouth pinched the way it always did when he was concentrating. Katara was grateful for the distraction when he spoke. "You probably won't have to wear these much longer."

"You don't think so?"

"Not if you keep healing at this rate." He paused, wrapping a careful sweep around her lower back. "I wore my bandages for a long time."

"How long?" His scar would have blistered and itched. It was around his eye, already a very sensitive area.

It must have been so painful.

"Months," said Zuko. "But I could have taken them off earlier. Maybe after just one month."

"Why didn't you?"

He paused again before he began tucking the bandages together, securing them. Then he said, very low, "I was afraid to look."

The sudden swell of emotion and affection that pulsed through her was almost dizzying. "Zuko—"

"Done," he said, quite a bit louder and quicker than necessary, pointedly cutting off any further conversation on the matter. He stood, avoiding her eye, and strode away to tuck the vial in their hiding spot, his back to her. "I'll call for Ty Lee. If you're still feeling slow it will take you a while to get ready, so it's better to start sooner. And she'll be glad to see you. She stopped by when you weren't awake yet, and she was really worried." The brief view of the dao swords under the floorboard, glinting in the sun, reminded Katara of something.

When Zuko had asked for Ty Lee and begun to help her out of bed and to her feet, Katara said slyly, "You know, I think I realized I have a favorite character. From the play." She clutched his arm harder, focusing on keeping her footsteps straight. But even walking like this did not hurt. "I think that Blue Spirit was very…interesting."

Zuko's mouth quirked up. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," said Katara, nudging her elbow into his side. "And he seemed awfully familiar."

"Who said it's a he?"

She swatted him. "Oh, come on. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Maybe I wanted to see how long it would take you to figure it out," he said, with a faint smirk.

Katara nearly stuck her tongue out at him. "Wow."

"I also learned some details today that I didn't know," Zuko said lightly. "Like about Hama's coup. And Mavang's, apparently."

"Back at the full moon I didn't...know how much to tell you," Katara admitted. "But now you know everything."

"Well, I think I understand now why Mavang has such an interest in you," said Zuko.

"What do you mean?"

"She knows you're one of the best waterbenders in the world. She wants you for her ships."

Heat bloomed across Katara's cheeks at the compliment. She nearly stumbled as they came to a stop outside the washroom, her feet still feeling strange and heavy, and her grip on Zuko's arm tightened as she faced him. "You might be right," she said finally. "She offered me passage once."

"Passage? From the Fire Nation?"

"Yes. But she can't possibly think I would agree to be one of her pirates."

"She might not use very pleasant means to try and convince you," Zuko said gruffly. "She might find a way to back you in. She knows how to manipulate." He paused, an expression of deep unease filling his face. "And you're another powerful waterbender, and younger," added Zuko. "You would be a huge threat to Hama's authority. Competition. Especially because many of the common people in the Fire Nation already like you. Hama would probably love Mavang to take you out of the way. They've probably already been scheming about the best way to make sure that Mavang can collect you after you've helped them get what they want."

A pawn, that pesky little voice in her whispered.

Maybe Zuko was wrong, but a cold, trickling feeling told Katara that he wasn't. And he certainly would know about things like ascension politics. But it wasn't even Katara's own fate that was worrying her so much right now. Once at full-strength, she was confident she could deal with both Mavang and Hama once she needed to.

If Aang took too long, or if something went wrong with his training, they would have to push ahead and try to defeat the Fire Lord—and probably Azula—without the help of the Avatar State anyway. And if they waited too long, Katara would be expected to be pregnant. The only way out of that she could see was by allying with Hama, then containing her. Surely Aang would agree that she needed to be contained; that she couldn't be allowed to wipe out the Fire Nation. And if Hama won, Zuko would be in terrible danger. He could not stay here. He was in terrible danger as it was. Katara still had no idea what Hama's plans were, but something told her she wouldn't go for the most nonviolent option possible. Surely there would be fighting and bloodshed. And Zuko, the prince, would be one of her prime targets.

"Katara? Hey."

Katara shook herself out of her thoughts and met Zuko's eyes, full of earnest concern.

"Don't worry," said Zuko, misunderstanding the reason for the fear on her face. "We'll make sure that doesn't happen."

"I'm not worried about me," whispered Katara. "I'm worried about you. Whatever Hama is planning will target you."

Zuko's face shifted, first to confusion and then suprise, and that was all she saw before Katara reached out, arms curling around him in as tight a hug as she could manage. "Katara," said Zuko, and when he spoke she felt his voice rumbling against her ear flat against his chest, heard his heartbeat thrumming along. "We'll both be fine. Okay?"

She nodded fiercely.

Yes. Zuko was going to be fine.

Zuko was going to be fine because she would make it so, because anything else was unacceptable.

She was no pawn.

Her enemies and temporary allies only had to see her as one, just for a little while.

Katara did not voice any of her slowly forming plans to Zuko, not yet. Especially because there were parts she knew he wouldn't like.

"Thank you," Katara said, the tremor in her voice slightly muffled by his robe. "Thank you so much for bringing my father here."

One of his hands slid up her spine and pressed her even closer. "I was glad to," he murmured into her ear.

Ty Lee's knock on the door was what made them pull apart, rather quickly.

Ty Lee, as Zuko predicted, was thrilled to see Katara. She practically bounced as she led Katara into the washroom, gushing to Katara about how anxious she'd been and how relieved she was now to see her recovering. Ty Lee used damp towels lathered with a sweet-smelling soap to clean Katara today instead of bathing her, since she couldn't submerge her in water. Washing her hair at the edge of the tub was easily the worst part, but still, despite the difficulty of motion in leaning back and sitting up again, the spirit water held and Katara wasn't in pain. Just stiff. She couldn't dry her hair as well either, so Ty Lee had to style her hair up and back, with stylish twists along the scalp.

She and Zuko had only turned the first corner out in the corridor when Katara had to slow down. She tried to press on, but eventually she was leaning too heavily on Zuko for him not to notice that her mobility was suffering, and he brought them to a slow stop.

Then without warning, Zuko scooped her up and started to carry her.

"Hey!" Katara clutched tightly to the front of his robes.

"Don't argue," he said. "Save your energy for lunch."

Servants bowed and offered breathless gratitude that she had survived, and some of the aristocracy offered passing condolences. Zuko didn't stop or slow down, and he barely gave them the pretense of listening. Despite these people seeing her like this, Katara was happy that she was being carried. Moving as though she was over a hundred years old was embarrassing, too, and she couldn't help but appreciate the familiar comfort of herbal, smoky scents, always stronger near Zuko's chest and neck. Zuko set her down outside in the corridor once they arrived, so she could at least appear somewhat dignified upon entering the room. It was the same place they'd eaten breakfast after their wedding night, and the day was a particularly hot one after the previous rain. The windows were thrown open to let in the meager breeze, but thin, white curtains hung before the gaps to block some of the insidious heat while letting in enough light.

Her father was already there, pacing quickly near the table.

Guards, at least ten of them, stood along the perimeter of the room.

There was a deep anxiety on Hakoda's face, one that tightened his features. Katara wasn't sure she'd ever seen that expression on him before. But Katara only caught a glimpse of it before he took notice of them and forced a smile. His eyes flicked down and snagged on Katara's fingers, intertwined with Zuko's, and she hastily took Zuko's arm instead, the more formal gesture. She stumbled a little again as they moved toward the table. Her feet and arms just felt so strange. Clumsy and heavy. It was much better than pain, but still annoying.

Her father leaped forward and steadied her. "Easy there. You okay?"

"Yes," said Katara, stubbornly setting her jaw.

"Chief Hakoda," said Zuko quietly. He'd moved a respectful distance away again. "Your seat will be to the left of my father. It's usually for Azula, but she's not here and you're a guest of honor. That one." He pointed, and Hakoda began moving that direction with Katara. "And Katara will be expected to sit by me," Zuko added, apologetic and very awkward now. Hakoda stopped, and Zuko indicated a seat on the other side of the table; Zuko would be to the right of the Fire Lord. The distance to the other side of the table suddenly seemed uncrossable.

Hakoda sighed, but began to help Katara there instead. Lowering to her knees at the cushion before the table wasn't an easy task, but she managed it, even if she surely looked ridiculous in the process. The position itself wasn't uncomfortable, at least, once she'd settled in.

When Fire Lord Ozai arrived not long after, a group of servants entered after him. They scurried into a formation around the table, dipping into bows as Ozai swept to his place. Hakoda, Zuko, and Katara partially inclined into bows right over the table.

"Rise," said Ozai, sounding amused.

Katara swayed a little when she slowly rose back up, but thankfully did not need to reach out and grip the table.

She had a feeling that would probably break some form of strict etiquette.

The servants carried various pitchers, and Ozai raised his glass first. "Plum wine." One of the servants nearly sprinted over to serve him.

Katara saw her father's face twist in displeasure and disgust at the manner of being served. Last time she'd dined with Ozai it had only been the royal family, and she was unused to this particular manner of ordering about the servants. She tried to quell her sudden burst of nerves for what was sure to be a very tense lunch. She inched a little closer to Zuko.

Ozai seemed to be waiting impatiently for something, so her father finally held up his cup and said gruffly, "Is there some kind of juice?"

"Chief Hakoda," said Ozai, his eyes glittering and with a faint hint of condescension in his voice, "it is customary in the Fire Nation during negotiations or business that partners have drinks together. Since this momentous occasion marks the first visit after a successful business deal, it would be a great dishonor to us if you did not drink."

"This is an alliance, not business," said Hakoda, his eyes icing over.

"I disagree," said Ozai. "What is an arranged marriage but a business deal between rulers?"

"That would make my daughter property," said Hakoda furiously. "Which she is not."

Ozai's smile widened. "Your Water Tribe sensibilites are so easily riled, Chief Hakoda. Perhaps your society would do better with more structure, like ours."

"An interesting assessment," said Hakoda, "coming from the man that backhanded his son."

This seemed to strike a nerve, because Ozai's slippery smile vanished, and he leaned forward.

It was a slight movement, but Hakoda still drew back, his body tensing.

"Kindness," said Ozai, "does not rule nations. I admit Zuko's decision was wise in the end for the alliance's sake, and that is the only reason he did not receive worse." Ozai's eyes glinted. All the servants had gone rigid with anxiety around the table, not daring to look at any of them. "Kindness also does not impregnate your daughter, which is his main duty. Are you so offended by reality that we must waste time on semantics? Her body and life does belong to him. To us. But I could call her an asset instead. Would that suit you better, Chief Hakoda?"

Zuko's hands had bunched up in his robes where they rested in his lap, his knuckles white.

Her father's lips pulled back into a poorly disguised snarl, and Katara could barely breathe.

The silence was deafening, the tension in the air thick enough to slice.

"So let me try again. Perhaps I need to speak more plainly, as education is perhaps not a strong point in your culture," said Fire Lord Ozai. "You will drink with me, or you break this alliance and my guards can step forward and slit the asset's throat."

For a moment Katara really thought her father might leap up and try to bash in Ozai's head with his golden cup. She had never seen his face contorted in such hatred. But he finally said, very stiffly, "I'll also have plum wine." He made a point to thank the servant.

"What excellent taste." Ozai smirked and cast an eye over at Zuko and Katara as if he hadn't just made a casual threat of murder.

"I'll have the same," said Zuko, rather hoarsely.

Katara noted that both Zuko and Ozai held their cups high, with both hands, while the servant poured into them. Her father had done it too, probably in a clever imitation of the Fire Lord. "Just—just juice for me," she said, glancing nervously at Ozai. But he gave her a snake-like smile, and Katara gathered all her wits and crudely lifted the cup up for the attending servant.

"It's truly a shame you can't try our wines and liquors, Princess Katara," Ozai drawled. "The Fire Nation makes the very best—"

But his words were drowned out by a loud shattering. Katara had dropped her cup.

Clay shards lay upon the floor in a pile of sticky orange juice, and it had splattered the bottoms of her and Zuko's robes. In the ensuing silence, Katara was left staring down at the damage, blinking down at it in almost surreal surprise. It had happened so very quickly. Her fingers simply had not obeyed her wishes. Katara's lips quivered, and she pressed a hand over her mouth.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her face and eyes burning.

She wished she could flee the room, though she knew she wouldn't get far anyway. She wasn't fast enough anymore.

The feeling of helplessness and shame that swept over her then was almost too much to bear.

"Clean it up!" Ozai snapped, and servants immediately hurried to do so, carrying towels and sweeping carefully at the shards on the floor.

"I'm sorry," Katara said to them. "Thank you for doing that, I would help you, but I—"

"Princess Katara," said Ozai sharply. "You will not speak in such a way to the lower classes."

"And you will not speak that way to my daughter, Fire Lord." Hakoda was shaking with rage.

Ozai slowly turned his head to look at him. "Or what?"

Hakoda opened his mouth and closed it again, then slowly narrowed his eyes.

"That's what I thought," said Ozai, smirking again.

Katara bit her tongue and tucked her chin down. She was torn between crying and wanting to bend Ozai's plum wine right into his cruel face. One of the servants placed a new cup in front of her, and it was Zuko who reached for it this time and held it up to receive her juice.

"Now…" said Ozai. "A rocky start, but I propose a toast to a continued alliance and to Princess Katara's health and fertility."

Her father's lips thinned, but he drank with them nonetheless.

Katara felt like a fumbling child trying to take a drink among refined adults, especially as the liquid in the cup sloshed dangerously when she set it down too clumsily. A warm hand settled on her knee afterward. She tried to give Zuko an encouraging smile, but she could tell by the way he watched her it wasn't very convincing.

"What do you know about the man that attacked Katara?" Hakoda demanded.

"Not much quite yet," said Fire Lord Ozai. "We'll be visiting him today. I assure you, Chief Hakoda, that we'll get to the bottom of it. An attack on the royal family is an attack on my authority." His eyes suddenly flashed. "I suspect that he and some other citizens are unhappy that I allowed your daughter to marry my son. I admit I'm not pleased about the tainting of his bloodline, but the acquisition of the Avatar outweighs that concern, at least in regard to Prince Zuko. I still have Princess Azula to keep the line as pure as possible."

Zuko's hand tightened on her knee and a muscle in his jaw twitched, but he otherwise showed nothing at Ozai's favoritism.

"So you don't think he acted alone?" Hakoda asked.

"That would be optimal, but I doubt it. As soon as we learn what we need, we will burn him at the stake."

More servants arrived, cutting into the conversation, and this group included Chef Rusai and some of his staff.

He gave Katara a gentle smile in greeting when she beamed at him. His hands were too full of a large tray to wave, and she didn't dare say anything to him. He and many of the other familiar kitchen staff circled around the table and waited for Ozai to wave his hand, allowing them to begin setting the platters around the table and lifting the lids. Katara recognized most of the dishes here by now; her father stared in confusion at the table, laden with steaming trays. There were stacks of soft buns and dumplings, the latter stuffed with meat and vegetables. Komodo chicken and komodo sausage made up the meat options, great slabs of it tucked into bright bowls of spicy noodles; there were softened salted vegetables in greens and reds and oranges, and a large bowl of sea soup. The last thing Rusai put on the table were two bowls of sea prunes, one in front of Hakoda, and another right in front of her. Katara's eyes lit up, and she gave him a grateful smile. Chef Rusai only bowed as low as he could before he and the rest of the kitchen staff retreated away to the wall.

Ozai began to serve himself, and the others took his cue.

"I have some matters I want to discuss, Fire Lord," said Hakoda, as soon as everyone had loaded their plates and begun to eat.

"Impatience," said Ozai. "Another Water Tribe quality, it seems. Perhaps the alliance will expose you to some civilized behavior."

"Once again," said Hakoda sharply, "it is astounding that you lecture me on civilized behavior."

Fire Lord Ozai just laughed. "What matters are you speaking of, Chief Hakoda?"

"The first is visitation rights," said Hakoda. "Katara deserves to see her family. Perhaps we could arrange a visit again soon. This time, we could include a delegation."

"A delegation?" Ozai's eyes narrowed.

"To discuss more trade agreements," said Hakoda. "To solidify things between our Nations with peace talks. Surely you wouldn't object to the Water Tribes coming here and learning some of your civilized culture while we draft agreements that work primarily in your favor, no?"

"I suppose that could be arranged under certain terms, and if we see certain benefits."

Hakoda seized on this to begin aggressively negotiating, mostly ignoring his plate of food. Katara wasn't feeling very hungry either, only rather queasy, so she ignored most of the offerings and started to reach for a bun to dip into the sea prune broth, tuning out the conversation of her father and the Fire Lord. But Zuko's hand stopped her. "I've got it." His fingers brushed hers when he handed her the bun. And then Zuko swiftly reached in with his sticks and stole a sea prune from her bowl. Katara's lips parted in surprise and indignation.

His eyes gleamed at her, and then he leaned forward to speak right into her ear.

"They've grown on me," he said, and then leaned back and ate it.

"That still makes you a sea prune thief," Katara said, unable to contain a real smile.

Katara picked at her food slowly, and finally, at long last, no one took any more. Only then did Rusai and his servants collect the trays and leave, and Ozai proposed another toast. By the time the men had all taken another cup of plum wine, Zuko's cheeks were flushed.

The kitchen staff returned with dessert, which turned out to be fruit tarts and sweet cream.

Katara managed to eat one, and finally Ozai demanded one final drink for the end of the meal.

It could have been so much worse. Her father was clearly stiff and furious, but he'd purposefully kept Ozai distracted from bothering her or even Zuko, no one had devolved into violence, and the alliance had not broken. It even sounded like Ozai might allow a Water Tribe delegation to come here soon. Really, it was the best outcome Katara could have hoped for.

"Enjoy your stay, Chief Hakoda," said Ozai after the third drink, a clear dismissal.

They all rose, Katara with Zuko's help, and moved to the door.

They made it into the corridor before Ozai's voice floated after them. "Wait, Prince Zuko."

They slowly turned back to the Fire Lord, who swept regally out into the corridor. "You will come with me," said Ozai.

Katara's fingers curled into the fabric of Zuko's robe as he stood there, frozen.

"Come," said Ozai to Zuko. "Don't you want to meet the man that nearly killed your wife? You were so desperate to make important decisions. So you will lead the questioning."

Zuko paled, but only inclined his head in a stiff bow, and her father came to support her as Zuko slowly extracted himself. "Don't leave them alone," Ozai ordered the group of guards flanking the door.

Katara wanted to ask how long it would take. She wanted assurance that Zuko wouldn't be hurt. Instead she had to stay silent and watch him give her one last reassuring look over his shoulder before he disappeared around the corner with Ozai. And so Katara and Hakoda had no real choice but to go the other way, surrounded by the ominous clink of Fire Nation military gear. None of the guards spoke. Hakoda and Katara didn't speak much, either. There wasn't much of substance to say with guards present. They spent the afternoon exchanging stories and memories, and playing Pai Sho, but they were still poor distractions for Katara, who kept glancing anxiously to the door. Zuko arrived at least two hours later, looking even paler and his eyes hazy. He ordered the guards out immediately with an irritable twist to his mouth.

"Any news?" Hakoda asked, quickly getting to his feet.

"He insists he acted alone." Zuko's fists were clenched at his sides, and his voice was strange. "We'll try again tomorrow."

Her father's visit passed far too quickly.

Two days wasn't enough time with him, not nearly enough.

They spent the rest of the first evening doing quiet activities, and Zuko, either trying to give them space or wanting to be as alone as possible, spent most of his time over at his desk, quietly scribbling away at something. The next morning Zuko was summoned to see the prisoner almost right away, so it was with full Fire Nation uniform, top-bun, and crown that he left.

He'd called Ty Lee in to be with Katara during Shoshu's daily healing session as well as Hakoda, which Katara was grateful for, because it meant that no guards had to be present. When Kuenni first put her palms on her, she glanced up quickly at Katara's face, something sharp and inquisitive flashing over her wrinkled features. But then she lowered her head and concentrated on her healing.

The effects of that careful drop of spirit water hadn't worn off, and what was more, Katara had full intentions of applying another drop when it was just Zuko and her father here again. She hoped it would help her mobility issues; she wanted to show her father the positive things here in the Fire Nation today. She didn't want him worrying too much, and he'd been on edge ever since the lunch with Fire Lord Ozai. She could take Ty Lee along. They could visit Appa, slowly tour the gardens, and visit the kitchens, so that Hakoda could see the nice people that she'd met here. She wished they could visit the beach, but Shoshu heard Katara suggesting the idea to her father and dismissed it.

"That's far too much activity, Princess Katara," she said, very sharply. "Not today."

Guards filed in to watch them like faceless, menacing statues when she was alone with her father again. It was already midday by the time Zuko returned, the heat beginning to swell to something truly unbearable. She wasn't quite sure how, but the hot days always seemed to get hotter. Katara and her father were halfway through a game of Pai Sho as they waited on Zuko—with the board placed in Katara's lap and her sitting up against the bed frame, Hakoda leaning in to make his moves—when Zuko flung open the door and stepped in.

"No new information," said Zuko quietly. To the guards he said sharply, "Get out."

They obeyed instantly, and Zuko didn't waste time retrieving the spirit water.

As soon as the single drop of spirit water was administered it took away the small build-up of lingering pain from the past day, and she was even more mobile than before. Her feet and fingers and arms felt less heavy, and though she was still a little clumsy and fumbling, she already could see improvement from yesterday. It was heartening, and Katara wished more than ever that they could go to the beach, but at least she wouldn't have to be carried today because she wasn't as slow.

And she didn't have to worry quite so much about dropping things.

Their first stop was to go visit Appa, and he was thrilled to see them. He once again gave Zuko a long, wet lick up the side, and Zuko sputtered, staring at Appa indignantly. "Wow. He really does like you," Katara said to him, laughing along with her father and Ty Lee.

Zuko scowled, but he stepped forward and softly petted Appa all the same.

After keeping Appa company for a long time, they visited the kitchens. They ate a late lunch right there with Chef Rusai and the staff, despite the vicious heat from all the stoves and the lack of proper seats. Beads of sweat formed on Katara's brow, but they crowded around and drank watermelon juice, and Chef Rusai presented Hakoda with his imitation of Water Tribe dishes, thrilled beyond measure when Hakoda praised them. It was boiling hot by the time they went to explore the gardens, and despite the spirit water, Katara felt sluggishness coming on. Once they reached a section of particularly grand rose gardens, she had to reluctantly ask the little group to halt for a break. The gardens were relatively empty today, probably because of the heat, but the people that were wandering nearby did a lot of staring and whispering. Her father didn't seem to mind or even notice. He only helped her settle in on the green grass in the middle of the rosebeds.

Then, once he straightened, he said, "Could I have a quick word, Prince Zuko?"

Zuko, who had been moving to sit beside Katara, came to a halt. He glanced at Katara uneasily and then at their surroundings, and Hakoda seemed to guess what was bothering him, because he added, "Not far. Just right over there." He pointed to the edge of the grass, and Zuko relented with a nervous nod before he followed her father away. Katara watched the two men leave with distinct curiosity.

They'd both been acting odd the past two days. Zuko was distant, watchful; sometimes his eyes would glaze, as if his mind was far away. The night before he'd gone straight to bed, quite unresponsive to her attempts to check in on him. She knew it must have to do with his time visiting the prisoner, because he seemed especially strange right after those visits. Her father, on the other hand, often watched her with an expression on his face that she couldn't quite read, though he immediately arranged it into a smile if he saw her looking.

Ty Lee settled in beside her on the grass. "I think I know what they're talking about."

"What's that?"

"You, of course." Ty Lee squeezed her arm with a quiet giggle.

Katara peeked over again. Hakoda had put his hand on Zuko's shoulder and was speaking to him very seriously. Zuko watched him with a little frown, but slowly nodded. Then he said something; at Hakoda's response he seemed to repeat it, more insistently. Hakoda leaned back just slightly, staring at Zuko for a long moment. Then he clapped Zuko's shoulder and gave him a tentative smile, which Zuko returned.

They both looked over at Katara, and she hurriedly tried to look like she wasn't watching.

"Told you," Ty Lee whispered in her ear, sounding smug.

Katara didn't reply; her father and Zuko were already making their way back over. She watched them approach rather suspiciously, but her father only gave her a casual smile and Zuko avoided her eyes entirely, though he did sit right beside her. Ty Lee had thought to pack a little basket in the kitchens, so they had snacks and more watermelon juice right there in the gardens, among the sweet smell of roses. The heat and her continued struggle to move as quickly and normally as the others had so thoroughly worn her out that by the time they finished the tour of the gardens and were headed back to the palace that evening, Katara already felt exhaustion coming on. But she didn't hurt, and she seemed to be improving quickly, so it was with a happy kind of tiredness that she settled in on one of the scarlet chaise lounges near the bookshelves when they arrived at their quarters. Zuko went off to the washroom to give them more time alone.

Her father settled in at her feet. "You still feeling okay, Katara? The spirit water is still helping?"

"Yes," she said. "It's helping so much. I'm just tired. It's hot."

"It's very hot here," agreed Hakoda, brushing some hair strands from her face. He leaned forward and murmured, "Toph's project is a series of underground safehouses. The war is going to start again someday, Katara, probably sooner rather than later, and the resistence will need bases to work from. In case you need to make your way there on your own, I know that one of the entrances is at the Earth Rumble arena."

Katara instantly became more awake. "Oh, wow. Okay. Thanks, Dad."

"You shouldn't be on your own anyway," Hakoda said, squeezing her hand. "We'll make sure you get out of here." He glanced toward the door. "You may have guessed this already, but I suggested that delegation for another reason. Maybe if we can time that for when Hama makes her move...if she has more waterbenders...maybe we would all have a shot, even if Aang only has his airbending. If you can hold on just a little longer here, until the end of the summer, we might be able to end this. We could attack at night, to increase waterbender power..." Her father's eyes held the familiar light of making strategy. "Well. I'll certainly put some planning into it. I wish Sokka was here to help." He rubbed a hand over his face and looked at her. "But I wanted you to know that there's a safe place to go. Just in case…"

"Don't say it." She gripped his arm. "Dad, please don't say it."

Hakoda glanced back toward the washroom. "I'm pleasantly surprised by Prince Zuko."

"I am, too," Katara admitted.

"I've noticed," said Hakoda, giving her a rather knowing look.

Heat filled her face. "What did you talk to him about out there? In the rose gardens?"

"Just a little man-to-man talk. Thought he could use it. With his uncle locked up, and his father…." Hakoda's mouth twisted, his expression souring. "Being what he is."

The thought of Ozai was an unwelcome dark cloud on an otherwise pleasant day, and perhaps her father realized this, because he suggested a game of cards. This could be played with multiple people, and when Zuko came out to join them, with damp hair and the fringes of it hanging in his eyes in a manner that Katara found unjustly attractive, he actually smiled twice during the game, real smiles.

It was growing very late indeed by the time Hakoda bid them goodnight. Katara did not want it to be the next morning, when he would leave, and she watched the door close after him with a stifled sigh. She shuffled off behind the divider to change into her night robes. The candles went out with a wave of Zuko's wrist after they both got into bed, and she was keenly aware of Zuko so close beside her.

"I haven't drunk my tea," said Katara suddenly.

Zuko slowly looked over.

"Since the day of the play," Katara clarified.

"I thought you wouldn't need it until next month," said Zuko. He sounded a little cautious.

"Well, even if we aren't…" Her entire body went warm and she tried again. "I mean, I'm still supposed to drink it regularly."

"Oh." Zuko was quiet for a moment, and then he began shifting to stand. "I'll make it, then."

"That's not what I meant," said Katara hastily, also sitting up. "I can also—"

"No, I want to. Sit there." She saw his silhouette moving about over by the floorboard. A flame sprang to life on his palm, lighting up his face, and then he put the tea cup on his lit palm to boil the water. "Cheers," he said, bringing it over and handing it to her.

Katara wrinkled her nose, then plugged it and tossed it back in one awful swallow.

"Sorry I didn't help you remember," said Zuko, taking the cup away.

Katara slumped back against the pillows. "It's been a crazy couple of days."

"You can say that again," Zuko muttered, going off to the washroom to clean the cup.

When he returned and slid back into bed, Katara said, "Hey, are you…okay?"

Zuko stiffened. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well…" Katara chose her words carefully. "Because you have to...deal with the assassin."

The man who tried to kill her. What a strange, surreal thought. The man who tried to kill her was sitting in a cell nearby, and Zuko had met him. He had tried to get answers out of him while Ozai observed, and she was quite certain that meant Zuko was being forced to either order torture or actually carry it out, and that's why he was acting more withdrawn.

Zuko flinched. "I don't think you want to hear about that."

"You think I don't want to hear it, or you don't want to talk about it?"

Zuko groaned, bringing up a palm to cover his eyes. "I don't know. Both."

"Are you okay?" Katara repeated. "You...you don't have to tell me any...details, but I just hope you're—"

"I'm fine," said Zuko shortly.

Katara recoiled a little, but didn't push. "Well…okay. Then I...I sort of have a plan I want you to hear."

Zuko softened a little. He turned on his side to properly face her, propping on his elbow. "What's your plan?"

His eyes were the only things she could make out in the dark. "We need to to warn Hama about Eza's sons. And I think I might have a way to deal with Eza."

"I'm listening."

Katara turned to fully face him as well. "If Kuenni wants to pass me information, she'll probably want to do it now, when she has regular excuses to come heal me. She has windows when Shoshu rummages in her supply bag, but if you're watching, Kuenni can't do it. So you can't hover during healing sessions. And I need to pass her a note too. Can you distract Shoshu?"

"Yeah," said Zuko slowly.

"Just make up some questions," said Katara.

"Okay. But, uh, what could I possibly have to ask her?"

"Something that matters to her. She needs to get me pregnant, so ask questions about fertility or something."

Zuko looked very dismayed indeed. "How fun," he said dryly.

"There's something else," said Katara. "I also need Kuenni to pass a message to Mavang. I need to see her."

Zuko's long silence radiated displeasure.

"Mavang," he repeated flatly.

"Yes," said Katara, plowing forward anyway. She'd known he would react exactly like this. "Mavang. I think she can help with Eza."

"Katara." Zuko took her by the shoulders. "You know she'll want something from you. It's not a good idea."

"Zuko." She reached up and put her hands on his. "I'll think of something. Trust me on this. Please? I have to try, for Sokka. And for all those people that Eza would terrorize on his Earth Kingdom campaign." She hesitated, and then said very softly, "And maybe…maybe if you wanted, you could also ask Mavang about your mother."

Zuko bowed his head and sighed, low and frustrated. "How do you propose we do this?"

"Well," said Katara, "Kuenni should be able to pass on my message to Mavang, since she and Hama are working together. And I thought we could meet Mavang somewhere else. You said something about going to that play you like, right? We could…go out for the night and maybe combine the two activities if we're careful."

Zuko's gaze snapped to hers. "A play? I thought you wouldn't want to, after this one."

"One stabbing isn't going to keep me from plays my whole life," said Katara lightly, and Zuko gave her a look of incredulity and dismay both. "What?"

"Oh yes," he said sharply, and heavy with sarcasm. "Just one stabbing, no big deal—"

"And," Katara continued, rolling her eyes. "We lay low. Try and go as regular people."

"That means no guard."

"Yes. We can go outside the capital maybe. A coastal village."

Zuko watched her for a long moment. "I only agree to help once you can fight properly again."

Katara deflated a little. That could take at least a week or two. She hoped not longer. "But—"

"No," said Zuko fiercely. "That part is not negotiable."

"Fine," Katara said, rather put out, but knowing that there was no use in arguing. Zuko's eyes were blazing and he had that stubborn clench in his jaw. "Well, then I hope the spirit water keeps working the way it has been. Then I should be back to normal soon. We can finally spar again, and you know what? I think there's a big 'loser' title with your name on it."

"Keep dreaming." He shot her a roguish, taunting little grin.

Her stomach burst awake with flutters and she cast about desperately for a change in subject."In the meantime, maybe we can try and find as many secret passages in the palace as possible. Especially the one your uncle mentioned, in the baths. Those could come in handy whenever this all comes together, either for escaping or...smuggling people in."

"Good idea," said Zuko, relaxing a little now that she'd agreed to his condition.

Katara hesitantly reached for his hand. "Do you think you'll ask Mavang?" she asked quietly. "About your mother?"

"I don't know," mumbled Zuko. "I think I do want to know. Especially after…" He stopped.

"Especially after what?"

"No, it's—it's stupid—"

"Zuko," Katara cut in, though very softly. "I'm sure it's not stupid."

He was quiet for a long time, frowning down at the bed. When he finally looked up, she could see a sadness on his face that reminded her of the time they'd walked past the portrait of the royal family, and he'd stopped to gaze up at it. "I've had Uncle Iroh," said Zuko. "For a lot of years. But having your Dad here…and being back around my Dad so much…I don't know. I guess I wonder what it would be like. Having a—a nice one. And I guess that also makes me think of her more, too. What it would be like if she...if she never would have gone."

An overwhelming avalanche of emotion rendered Katara suddenly speechless.

Zuko kept talking before she could even gather her thoughts to respond, much louder than before. "He did something to her," said Zuko savagely. "I know it. The night she left, she said she was protecting me. I was half-asleep, a kid, and it was so long ago, but I know I heard it. I don't understand why she had to go, and I don't know why she wouldn't come back—"

His voice broke, and Katara lunged forward and pulled him to her. Zuko's forehead fell onto her shoulder, and he released a long, shuddering sigh before he returned the hug, wrapping his arms around her. Katara's fingers found his hair and she pushed through it in slow, steady movements, lightly scraping his scalp. "We'll get answers," promised Katara. "I'll help you."

Zuko held her a little bit tighter. "Okay."

He sounded hoarse, uncertain. It hurt to hear.

He remembers her leaving. For a moment Katara tried to imagine Zuko as a young boy, right in this very room, seeing his mother for the last time. His confusion. His heartache the next day, when she was gone. The compartmentalization he'd surely employed to survive after.

"I think my dad likes you, by the way," said Katara.

Zuko let out a weak laugh, muffled into her robe. "Right."

She kept stroking his hair, and Zuko nudged closer into the contact with a quiet groan. It was soft and rasping, an expression of contentment. "Feels really good," he mumbled. Something about the smoky tone of his voice made her insides clench.

Katara only kept petting his hair and said, rather shakily, "And I like you."

"Why are you giving me the short list of people that like me?" He sounded like he was smiling.

"A bad attempt to cheer you up." She playfully tapped his head. "Oh, you can't forget Appa."

"You mean Apricot?"

"What?"

"Never mind." He was definitely smiling now. She could tell by his voice.

After a long silence in which Katara carefully played with his hair, Zuko said, "Katara?"

"Hmm?"

"I…well I'm wondering, about that play…was there some accuracy?"

"There was quite a lot of accuracy," Katara admitted, very grudgingly.

Katara felt the very subtle shift of tension entering Zuko's body. "The, uh…part about Jet?"

She was quiet for a long time. "Which part?" she asked finally.

"All of it, I guess. Is he really…did he really die?"

"I didn't see the very end. We had to escape. But his insides were…" Her fingers shook in his hair, suddenly remembering the moment when she'd first hovered her palms over Jet after that rock. "It was beyond my capabilities," said Katara. "He wasn't going to recover."

"I'm sorry." He sounded very awkward now. "And…was it true…you and him?"

"Parts. It didn't—end well."

She heard Zuko swallow, and he slowly leaned back to look at her, and something about his expression made her heartbeat quicken.

"And do you have…someone else? From before?"

Katara's pulse felt too loud, too intrusive. "No," she said quietly.

They were sitting very close, but Zuko suddenly shifted to lay on his back, his shoulders relaxing. He didn't say anything, only stared up at the ceiling in silence until Katara began to wonder if he was drifting off. But he reached for her hand when Katara slowly lay down.

His fingers met hers in the middle of the bed, twining them with his.

He didn't let go and neither did she, even as they both drifted off.

Chapter 23: The Pyres

Notes:

I have some lovely artwork from Instagram to share!

Zuko, Katara, and the seashell by .rosie (Chapter 17)

Thank you again 3

Chapter Text

Hakoda arrived at their quarters early the next morning.

It gave Katara extra time with him, time to linger over a long breakfast as the sun slowly crept higher in the sky.

They did not speak about his departure, and indeed, most of that morning was spent in comfortable silence, trying to enjoy the end of his visit. Her father stayed by her side again when she had her morning healing session and bandage change, but soon, far too soon, it was time for him to depart. Zuko accompanied them all the way down to where Appa was waiting in the front plaza, fully equipped with a saddle and travel gear.

Appa had been prepared by the palace staff and was clearly grumpy about it. He let out a low rumbling roar that Katara supposed was indicating displeasure, though perhaps that displeasure was also due to the imminent departure, since he tried to nudge Katara closer. "I have to stay, Appa," said Katara sadly.

Appa turned to Zuko instead and repeated the sound. "Sorry, Appa," he muttered, carefully petting Appa's side.

Hakoda went to Zuko first and clapped his shoulder again. "Prince Zuko. Thank you again for inviting me here."

"No need to thank me, Chief Hakoda," said Zuko. "I hope to see you again soon."

"Before summer's end, I hope," said Hakoda. "If the Fire Lord will still cooperate."

Zuko inclined his head but then seemed to catch himself, and he straightened up again.

And then Hakoda turned to Katara, and she met his eyes too, boldly, even if her lips quivered. She didn't cry, but it wasn't easy when they hugged one last time, long and fierce, or when her father took her face in his hands and looked at her. "You take care of yourself."

"I will," said Katara, with a weak smile.

"I'll see you again very soon. I promise."

"Bye, Dad," she whispered.

Hakoda hoisted up on Appa, leaning over the saddle to give her one last soft smile.

And then with a roar, Appa leaped into the sky. Just as she had with Sokka, Katara stood watching until there was nothing left to see.

When she still didn't move for a long time, Katara felt a warm hand settle very lightly on her lower back.

"I'm fine," she said automatically, and a little sharper than she'd intended, even though Zuko hadn't yet asked or said anything at all.

Perhaps saying it would make it true.

"I have to get back," said Zuko, very low and quite toneless. "I'm expected for another…ah, visit to the prison."

Katara glanced quickly at him but he avoided her eyes.

They were both quiet as they made their way back to the palace.

The morning heat was already unbearable, and today, Katara knew, would be another day hotter than all the others before. There was a heavy pressure in the air, a mugginess that she knew by now didn't quite promise the release of another storm. Instead it hung in the air, sticking to skin and clothes and surfaces, burying in lungs. Zuko walked her all the way to their quarters, promised he would return as soon as he could, and left. Katara thought about sending for Ty Lee, but in the end tried to relish being alone. She went to the library instead, tailed by a group of faceless guards on the way. She got more books about the royal palace and tried to study them, ignore how hot it was, and wait for Zuko to return. Her eyes kept darting to the door, distracted, and the later it got, the less she could concentrate.

Finally, some time in the mid-afternoon, the door burst open. Zuko stood, filling the door frame, his chest heaving.

It took Katara a few long seconds to register the scarlet color on the front of his robes. She scrambled up from the chaise, but Zuko was already hurrying to the wardrobe. Katara immediately leaped to her feet to go to him. Zuko didn't look over; he was peeling off his robe with shaking fingers. There was no sign of blood on him otherwise. It wasn't his, and Katara was overcome with both sharp relief and a trickling sense of horror as she took a few cautious steps toward him. "Zuko?"

He didn't answer.

Katara moved until she was right beside him and took hold of his elbow. "Zuko. You're not hurt?"

"No." He gritted the word out through a clenched jaw. His hands were shaking so badly the fabric of his robe rippled, and his eyes were glassy.

"What happened?" Katara pressed.

Zuko's fists clenched at his sides, his eyes squeezing shut. "I got the information," he said finally, very hoarsely.

Katara's heart began to pound. "So he really wasn't acting alone?"

"No. He was coerced into it." Zuko paused, and a muscle in his cheek twitched. "He's a Master."

"A Master?"

"Yes. He works here, in Caldera City." Another pause, another unsteady exhale. "He trains in knife-throwing."

The words settled over Katara like a slow blanket of dread.

She thought of Omashu.

Of amber eyes narrowed at her under a fringe of dark bangs, sharp blades protruding from sleeves.

Her legs suddenly felt weak. "It…it wasn't…Mai?"

Zuko still had not opened his eyes. "He only mentioned her mother."

Katara did not need to ask why. She knew, just from the brief time in which she'd met Mai's parents, that they thought her unable to read and incapable of fully functioning cognitive abilities. She'd seen the resentment on Lady Michi's face. Without Katara, she saw the chance for her family to be elevated into royalty.

"The assassin wasn't going to give up the information. So I told him I would…" Zuko looked rather queasy, half-slumped in over himself. "I told him I would make sure his family was safe. That was why he held on so long, to protect them. I meant it. And he told me. But my father…" Zuko choked over his words and he finally opened his eyes, looking out the nearest window without seeing. "My father immediately called for the execution of his family. Mai's family will be removed from Omashu and brought back here."

It took Katara several seconds to form the question. "What will happen to them?"

"I don't know." Zuko's voice was hollow.

Katara didn't know what to say.

When they'd fought on opposite sides, when Mai had been helping Azula in Omashu, she'd aimed the knives right for Katara's chest. Clearly she had no moral qualms about killing her in the heat of battle. But planned out in this way, cold-blooded and premeditated, simply for being brought here to marry Zuko against her will? Killing her outside of a fight? Was she capable of it? Katara did not know if her apathy and disdain meant that she was. Perhaps even worse, if Mai hadn't known about the plan to assassinate her, she might be punished for the actions of her parents. "Do you think she knew?" Katara asked Zuko finally.

"I hope not," said Zuko. He'd closed his eyes again. "But I don't know."

After a long moment Zuko suddenly straightened up taller, looking very grim. "I have to go."

"What? Where?"

"Black Sun is coming up. In four days. There's a meeting to go over the security plans one more time."

Katara blinked, feeling a bit disoriented at the news.

At the fact that it was news.

It wasn't that she'd forgotten Black Sun, exactly, but with no promise of rebellion or fighting back and no Fire Nation invasion, it wasn't nearly as important as before. And with everything else going on, the day certainly had come a lot faster than she'd anticipated.

Zuko was more steady on his feet as he began mechanically shrugging on new robes.

"And I have an idea about meeting with Mavang," he added. "I can tell you more when I'm back."

"Okay," Katara said, cautiously hopeful.

She chewed her bottom lip, trying to think of something to say that would ease Zuko's distress. Usually she was quite good at finding ways to comfort someone, but this was a situation that stumped even her. What do you say to someone forced to torture, their maniac father breathing down their neck? What could she say about Mai, when she'd only ever had negative interactions with her?

"Do you know how long the meeting will be?"

"No," said Zuko, rather curtly. The robes he wore now were some of the heaviest robes he had, the most princely ones, meant for meetings and formal occasions. Katara was unsure how he could wear such things on days like this. So far the afternoon had been brutal, her brain and body sluggish and overheated. After a flurry of shrugging on layers and tying sashes and adjusting his crown, Zuko was ready. He paused and looked down at her, finally seeming to really see her for the first time, his golden eyes less clouded. For a brief instant his features relaxed, and he just looked young and exhausted and frightened.

But then they hardened again into that mask of coolness, the one Katara knew Zuko sometimes disappeared into for survival, and he moved toward the door.

And once again Katara could only watch him leave.

When he did come back it was evening, and the heat hadn't abated. Katara had sprawled out on the bed in only her wraps, long past the point of caring about modesty. Her hair was in a messy knot on top of her head to keep the weight off her neck, but sweat still pooled all along her hairline. She routinely dipped cloths in cold water and laid them on her forehead, her forearms, and her feet, and then all she could do was lie as still as she possibly could and try to bear it.

After changing into lighter evening robes, Zuko came to sit on the edge of the bed.

He gave her a faint smile, and it pained her to see how forced it was. "You look half dead."

"I feel half dead."

"This heat wave is pretty unnatural," admitted Zuko. "And long."

He glanced at the door, quickly, and then he said, "You should prepare a note to pass to Kuenni. We need to act fast."

Katara slowly sat up. "I thought you wanted to wait until I'm fully healed."

Zuko's lips pursed briefly. "I would still prefer that. But there are too many other advantages to meeting Mavang sooner, and leaving during Black Sun."

Katara's eyes widened, heart leaping. "Really? But…how?"

His smile thinned. "Well, my father was pretty pleased with me today, after…" He looked away, jaw flexing briefly. "Anyway. I took advantage of his good mood. I told him that if you and I are away from the capital for Black Sun, it's less security that has to guard us and can be used for other things. I also told him that a little getaway after an assassination attempt might, ah…help fertility chances. You know, your stress levels." Zuko shifted uncomfortably. "Also, Uncle said he's going to try and escape, and it's not a secret we traveled together for years."

Katara nodded in understanding. "So it would also help with any suspicion that you helped him in some way. And where should we go?"

"Ember Island," said Zuko. "It's mostly for tourism and vacations. We have a house there. I've been there once already since I've been back, and people didn't even recognize Azula and I, so we might actually have some peace, if we're lucky. And there are a lot of theaters and plays, so we can still go see Love Amongst the Dragons. If you want to," he added hurriedly, as if expecting Katara to have change her mind since they last discussed it. "It's on the water, too. Mavang can sail right in, and I thought maybe you would like being on the beach." He rubbed his neck.

"Zuko, that's brilliant!" Katara said, beaming at him, her mood brightening a little after a long, hot day of anxiety.

He shot her a half smile, a less forced one this time.

"When can we leave?" Katara asked.

The most promising part of the entire thing wasn't only the distance from Ozai, but the possibility of some anonymity.

"My father wants me here for Mai's family's…sentencing." Zuko's tone became very halting and strange. "After that, we can leave."

Katara grew more somber. "Did he mention what sentence that would be?"

"No. He'll decide when they arrive." He wasn't looking at her anymore, but down at his knees, turning slightly away from her. And then he abruptly stood and hurried over to the desk, bringing over some parchment, ink, and a brush. "Here. You should hurry and write it."

Katara nodded again, quickly taking the brush.

But she dropped it as she tried to dip it to the page, splattering ink all over the pristine silk sheets.

Just as she had at breakfast, Katara stared down for a long time in disbelief. She hadn't dropped anything since the juice cup that day, and she'd been steadily improving over the past few days with everything else; the lingering anxiety and stiff movements, as well as the clumsier water-bending. Having it happen again, when she'd thought she was past that particular bout of side effects, was like a slap in the face. Zuko was already taking the quill and parchment away from her and helping her over to the desk. "I don't understand," Katara heard herself saying, her voice odd and distant. "I've been better. I thought I was better."

"You are," said Zuko firmly, sitting her in the chair at the desk. "Try again."

This time the brush was firmer in her fingers, and though her strokes and characters came out sloppy and childlike, the note she wrote was still readable. When she looked up she saw Zuko watching her, and she didn't miss him schooling his features to neutrality where before there had been a concerned crease to his brow. Katara swallowed hard and folded up the note very slowly after the ink was dry.

And then she said, very low and still looking at the desk, "You're worried I'm not healing properly."

"No."

"Is that why you don't need to wait to meet with Mavang anymore?" Katara said, her throat tightening. "Because it might not matter?"

"Katara, no."

She glared up at him. "Right."

"That's your fear talking, not mine. But I do think," said Zuko carefully, "that you should try administering a few more drops of spirit water instead of one at a time."

Katara tried to push away the creeping sense of despair. "What if it doesn't matter? Aang had a whole vial. And I told you he couldn't waterbend properly—"

"Well, Avatar or not, he's not a waterbender. And he could still airbend, right?"

Katara bit her lip. "Well, yes—"

"You see?" He came around the side of the desk and pulled her to her feet. He kept her hands in his. "And it's only been a few days."

Katara dipped her chin. "I'll try a few drops tonight instead of one."

Zuko squeezed her hands, and then went to request dinner and a change for the ink-stained bed sheets.

When the healers arrived later that evening, Zuko asked Healer Shoshu if he could discuss something with her privately.

Whatever excuse he made to speak with her over in the washroom, it worked. He was able to delay her long enough. Kuenni read the note quickly, blue eyes flicking over the parchment. Then she looked up at Katara and nodded, pushed the note urgently back into Katara's hand, and continued healing her.

Barely ten seconds later, Healer Shoshu and Zuko emerged.

Healer Shoshu came and measured Katara's vitals, and then she sat in the nearest chair. "It seems you are healing quite well, Princess Katara," she said. "Prince Zuko has expressed concern about the fertility aspect after your injury. I have assured him that I have been very diligent in researching the best possible ways to ensure a quick pregnancy." Zuko caught her eye over Shoshu's shoulder and gave her an apologetic little grimace. "I have actually been thinking about a new fertility plan," said Healer Shoshu, and Katara tried to keep her face neutral. This did not sound as though an appealing conversation was coming.

She was very aware of the secret, incriminating note balled up in her sweaty palm.

"Since Prince Zuko has expressed concern, I think it's best we all discuss it together now."

Katara cleared her throat. "Okay."

"As you may be aware, Princess Katara, I was aiming for the average time of ovulation by putting your fertility range in the middle of the cycle. But I've promised the Fire Lord you'll be pregnant by autumn, and your health was compromised, so I think some extra…security may be necessary. You have a very average twenty-eight day cycle," said Shoshu. "The beginning, when you start to bleed, is in a little over a week from now. From the beginning, day nine is when I would like you to start trying to conceive. You will attempt conception from days nine to twenty. From days thirteen to eighteen, you will try daily. The rest of the time, every other day should suffice. This adjusts for an earlier or later ovulation. It also puts an attempted conception day on the full moon, which I suspect may be helpful in your case."

Katara opened her mouth and closed it again, thinking of that restless energy she had on the full moon.

"Oh," was what she finally managed to say.

"Until then, continue to rest," said Healer Shoshu. "Any questions?"

Katara shook her head.

"Good. Then I'll see you tomorrow morning, Princess."

As the healers left, Kuenni shot Katara one last furtive glance over her shoulder.

"It worked?" Zuko asked as soon as the door closed behind them.

"It worked," Katara confirmed, then held out the note to him.

Zuko took it, lit a flame in his palm, and dissolved the evidence into ash.

Over the next two days, Katara spent most of her time with Ty Lee in the palace.

The weather only grew hotter, with seemingly no relief of rain or a thunderstorm in sight.

Zuko was often gone, his days once again filled with meetings due to visits of several Generals on campaign in the Earth Kingdom.

When Katara did see Zuko he was distant and terse, his shoulders line of perpetual stress.

He wasn't the only one that was out of sorts. Ty Lee was quieter than usual too, and she smiled far less often than before.

Katara considered asking Zuko for sparring lessons to fill the rest of her time, but he always looked so tired and irritable that she simply tried steps on her own, when she was alone in their quarters. She practiced her bending, too, and though she was certainly improving, and the effects of several drops of spirit water had bolstered her healing process, she could not seem to shake that persistent and frustrating clumsiness.

Mai's family arrived two days before Black Sun.

Zuko was already gone when she woke, and Katara found out about their arrival through Ty Lee, whose hands shook so badly when she was bathing Katara that she accidentally slopped water out of the tub and all over the floor. "Sorry," said Ty Lee, just before she burst into very noisy tears.

Katara recovered quickly from her brief shock. "Ty Lee?" she prompted very gently.

"I'm sorry," said Ty Lee again, wiping her red-rimmed eyes and mechanically starting to scrub at Katara's arms again.

"You're worried about Mai."

Ty Lee let out another little shuddering sob, then gulped and nodded, tears sparkling in her big eyes and still sliding down her cheeks. "They'll stand before the Fire Lord today. I have to get you ready. You and Zuko have to go. I'm afraid she's going to die," she whispered.

"I'm sure Zuko won't let that happen," Katara said, hoping to reassure. Privately she knew very well it may not matter what Zuko wanted. Ty Lee seemed to know this too, because Katara heard her start to cry again as she shifted behind Katara and began washing her hair. Ty Lee didn't respond, and Katara was at a loss of anything better to say while Ty Lee bravely continued getting her ready. Today Katara was able to bend her hair fully dry, but it still took ages to prepare her for a presentation as part of the royal family. The gown Ty Lee chose for her today was purple and trailed behind her in a thin pool on the floor, the sleeves set wide and hugging the outside of her shoulders. Ty Lee fashioned an updo with braids and put a golden necklace around her throat, and make-up took nearly another hour.

Katara felt sweat pooling at her lower back by the time it was over and Zuko showed up, around midday. He wordlessly held out his arm for Katara.

Ty Lee's lip quivered as she stood as well, clasping her hands before her. "Zuko…"

"I know," he said hoarsely, and then he was leading Katara out and to the throne room.

They were the first ones there, except for the rows of guards lining the perimeter. Zuko knelt to the right of the throne and helped Katara kneel directly to his right. The left side stayed conspicuously empty. Fire Lord Ozai swept in a few minutes later, giving them a cold nod.

As he settled in his enormous throne, he gave another nod to the nearest group of guards. They bowed and hurried out but returned quicker than Katara expected, this time with Mai's family in tow. They were all in chains, wrapped tightly around the wrists and the ankles, and they had to shuffle awkwardly into the throne room. Even their little boy Tom-Tom was chained up and carried by the guards. Mai's mother looked pale but determined; Governor Ukano looked frightened. Mai, miraculously, still only appeared very bored. Even now, an utterly blank slate. Not for the first time, Katara envied Mai's ability to hide her emotions.

Katara was quite certain she had never looked that calm facing the Fire Lord, and she'd never been facing a possible death sentence. The only flicker of something Katara saw in Mai was when she looked briefly at Zuko, then at Katara. Only the slightest disdainful curl of her lip.

And then she followed the rest of her family down to her knees, on the floor.

"Well, Governor Ukano," said Fire Lord Ozai after a long, terrible silence. "I must say I'm disappointed."

"Fire Lord," said Ukano, voice trembling wildly, "please, we ask for mercy. And I had no knowledge of my wife's actions."

"Interesting that you use my title," said Fire Lord Ozai. "For you don't seem to have respect for my decisions."

Ukano prostrated himself so low his face was smashed into the ground, but Mai's mother spoke, defiantly lifting her head and raising her chin. "It's true, Fire Lord. I acted alone, on behalf of my daughter and Prince Zuko." Her gaze found Katara; her expression twisted into hatred. "He is a prince. My noble daughter was his rightful match. Not this dirty, simple-minded thing that sits in Mai's place." Governor Ukano hastily reached for her, attempting to silence her, but Mai's mother shook him off, her sneer only growing. "Stop that, Ukano. You may be spineless, but I am not. I was concerned for the future of the Fire Nation, the tainting of the royal bloodline with impure—"

"I believe, Lady Michi, it is more accurate to say that you were concerned for your family's chance to marry into the royal family," said Fire Lord Ozai. "Even though I made it clear where the Fire Nation needed you and your husband, and what it required from your daughter."

There was no reply Lady Michi could make to that. She fell into silence, tilting her chin down again.

"I sentence you and your husband to death by fire," said Ozai. "Guards, take them away."

Ukano let out a pitiful little sob. Mai's folded body shuddered in place, only briefly, just once, but she did not move or look up as her parents were dragged away, the scrape of their boots horribly loud on the stone floor. "Please, Fire Lord!" they begged. "Spare the children! They knew nothing! Please!"

Their pleas carried on long after they were bodily carried from the room, chains rattling.

Ozai waited until the sound of them had faded until he spoke again. "Rise, Lady Mai."

Mai did, on astoundingly steady legs, though she did not look the Fire Lord in the eye. She kept her gaze trained on the floor.

"Prince Zuko," said Fire Lord Ozai shrewdly. "You will decide the sentence for Lady Mai and Tom-Tom."

Ozai's lips were curled into a little smile.

Katara realized with a sudden jolt that he was testing Zuko. Zuko had made a bold decision in inviting Hakoda here, and strangely, almost ironically, the boldness and his defense of it had not only enraged his father. It had also impressed him, just like Zuko discovering the culprit of the attack had probably impressed him, too. Ever since she'd arrived, Katara assumed that Azula would be heir to the throne, regardless of the actual line of succession. Ozai clearly favored her. But perhaps Ozai was reconsidering this; or perhaps he simply wanted to ensure Zuko's loyalties. If Zuko's sentence was too lenient, he would not appear supportive of the throne.

Zuko stood. His face was like a stone mask.

At the rustling sound of his robes, Mai looked up.

"Tom-Tom is young. He will become a ward of the state," said Zuko. "He will serve the Fire Nation as we see fit when he is older."

His eyes finally drifted to Mai, and Katara saw something briefly pleading on her face.

"Did you know?" Zuko asked her.

Mai hesitated.

"You did," said Zuko flatly.

Mai dipped her head and seemed to gather herself. Then she said, perfectly steady, "I would never betray my country's leaders."

It wasn't exactly an answer. Zuko's expression twisted, very briefly. And then it hardened. "Your loyalties will always be questioned here. I hereby strip you of all titles and property and I sentence you to banishment, effective immediately." He glanced at the still, faceless guards. "Deliver Tom-Tom to the orphanage," he said to them. "And Mai to the Earth Kingdom."

With a bustle of movement and the rattling of chains, the guards began taking Tom-Tom and Mai away. Tom-Tom, of course, had no idea what was happening, and he was happily smiling and drooling and playing with his chains as if they were toys. Mai didn't struggle, but she moved very stiffly.

She did look back one last time once she was in the doorway, and the look she gave Zuko then could only be described as cold fury.

And then Mai was gone.

Zuko did not settle in at his father's side again; his fingers were shaking.

Ozai stood and cast a dispassionate glance at his son. "Very well. I expect you both at the execution this evening," he said. And then Ozai was sweeping quickly out of the room, followed by his most loyal guard and leaving Katara and Zuko in a very heavy silence. Finally Zuko held out a hand for her to take.

"Zuko," Katara began, when they were in the corridor, but he shook his head sharply, looking almost sick.

Katara dissolved into silence, disconcerted. She'd seen more and more of Zuko's cold, distant mask the past two days.

He went straight away to the washroom when they were back in their quarters. Ty Lee had to come prepare Katara all over again as well, since apparently she had to dress formally for a public execution. This dress was similar in style to the earlier one, only black, and Ty Lee put black earrings on her this time. Ty Lee didn't speak either, and her eyes seemed to be in a permanent state of red. They didn't have time to eat dinner, and Katara suspected she wouldn't have an appetite after.

There was already a large crowd buzzing with the excitement of promised violence. Katara had wondered why Zuko had banished Mai immediately, without giving her time to gather any belongings at all. Now she understood. He had wanted to spare her the ordeal of being forced to watch the execution of her parents.

There were two large pyres that must have been brought out immediately after Ozai carried out his sentence. Wrapped around them were large, rectangular structures with a platform piled with wood. Bars containing swirling dragons caged in the pyre around the outside. Katara went to her designated spot, two places away from Ozai and uncomfortably close to where the flames would rise from the wood and bodies. Katara caught a glimpse of Mai's parents, held by the guards off to the side, and her stomach did a terrible little lurch. Somehow she knew it would break some sort of royal etiquette if she closed her eyes and looked away.

She wondered how long it would take for them to finally die as they burned.

The Agni Kai she'd seen, though still slow, had at least been targeted strikes, aimed to maim and kill as quickly as possible.

Burning at the stake was designed for an even slower, even more excruciating death.

Katara watched everything proceed as if she was in a dream. Even the loud screams and cheers of the gathered crowd sounded surreal. Warped and muffled. She watched and tried to detach from reality as Governor Ukano and Lady Michi were led and strung up just over the wood. She barely heard as Ozai announced that these were traitors, that they would burn, that they had attempted to assassinate a member of the royal family. She tried to let her vision glaze over as Ozai strode forward and streams of fire blazed from his fists, catching the dry wood. The air began to grow even hotter, the smoke mixing with the heaviness.

As soon as the fire began to lick at the bottom of their bare feet, Mai's parents began to struggle and yell. Katara shifted in her seat, trying not to wheeze.

Their bodies began to thrash, a useless and desperate attempt to break free from the fire and survive.

Zuko wrapped an arm around her lower back, both a gesture of comfort and a warning to hold still.

She tried to focus her attention on the feeling of the side of his body against hers and that only, but she could not drown out the eventual screaming.

The flames consumed them, bringing that familiar, perversely enticing smell of cooked flesh.

The shuddering and twitching eventually stopped when they'd been charred to a crisp, and the pleased murmurs of the crowd grew louder. "It is done," said Ozai proudly after a pause, and a loud roar went up in the plaza, reaching toward the now-darkening sky.

Katara was uncertain how she got out of there properly. She did not know how she stood, and bowed, and smiled as if this was a happy and regular occurrence, and she did not know how she was able to walk away with Zuko after that, all the way back to their quarters.

As soon as they were there, Zuko staggered back against the wall and buried his head in his hands, shaking violently.

It was the first time in days that Zuko had shown much emotion other than emptiness, and this alone made Katara forget the creeping sensation that she had to be sick. Instead, a strange, eerie calm settled over her, and she went to Zuko and took him by the arm.

He did not protest when she led him to stand over by the wardrobe.

He barely seemed aware of her as she untied the sashes and began taking off all the heavy, formal parts of his robes, piece by piece, and as she rummaged in the wardrobe for something thin for him to wear to bed. She lifted his arms into the sleeves and he obediently followed her movements. She tucked the robe over his shoulders and came back to stand before him so she could tie it closed. Then Katara stood on her tiptoes, gently removed his crown, and set it on the nearest table before she very carefully unraveled his top knot.

Zuko's hair fell to his shoulders in a rippled, wavy mess. Katara pushed it out of his eyes and pulled him down toward her until his forehead rested on her shoulder.

His shoulders began to shake, and Katara's arms tightened.

After a while, Zuko's shoulders finally stopped shaking. He didn't straighten up from Katara's shoulder for a long time, but when he did, he seemed much calmer. He stared down at her; he was close enough that she could clearly see the faint stubble along his jaw. Then Zuko reached out and began undoing her hair, just as she'd done for him. His fingers nimbly unraveled the braids that had been woven against her scalp, his mouth pursing into that little dip of concentration as he worked. When he was finished, his eyes searched her face seriously before he turned, pulled a night robe from inside their wardrobe, and came around behind her. He waited, perhaps expecting her to protest. Katara didn't. Her breathing came shorter and faster, but she didn't stop him when he started to untie her dress.

The top slipped down, cool air hit her skin, and the fabric pooled to the floor. Each brush of Zuko's fingers on parts of her bare skin as he helped her into her nightgown—on her shoulders, parts of her arms, her upper back that was not surrounded by wraps—nearly made her shiver. Each movement seemed unnaturally slow, as if he was afraid she would bolt away if he moved too quickly. He took her by the waist to turn her around and tie her sash. Katara looked up at him under her lashes. Zuko's hands lingered before he withdrew, and finally his eyes flicked up to meet hers.

She couldn't look away. They really were such a pretty shade of amber.

Katara suddenly wondered what Zuko would do if she placed her palms on his chest.

Zuko averted his eyes to the floor and cleared his throat. "We should, uh, get some sleep. Sail early tomorrow, beat the heat."

She managed a nod.

Once they were both in bed, lying in the dark, Katara moved tentatively over, crossing the wide gap between them in the gigantic bed.

She reached out without speaking, and her heart fluttered when Zuko opened an arm, accepting the closeness, pressing his face into her hair with a low sigh. They didn't speak. Despite all that had happened it didn't feel that there was much to say. Not now. It was enough for the moment to not be alone, and exist in the space of silent comfort. It was enough to know that they could sail away tomorrow, however brief and impermanent it may be. The night was far too hot to be this close.

The warmth rippled off Zuko in sweltering waves, but Katara didn't care.

She curled closer into his side anyway and closed her eyes.

Chapter 24: The Deal

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Despite the journey to Ember Island taking several hours by boat, Katara remained on deck the entire time.

She took in the wind and sun and ocean. Their boat was small enough that she could feel the faint jostling of the waves, but she relished the feeling of movement.

Soon the island was in view, a distant shape looming larger and larger on the horizon. As they sailed closer Katara could see the vivid green of foliage, and sprawling plains and mountains. They anchored at a dock near a private, empty beach ensconced in small cliffs. The vacation home itself was perched on these cliffs, overlooking it all, and a dirt path began at the end of the dock and wound uphill to the front door.

"You really think we won't be recognized here?" Katara asked Zuko as they climbed the path.

Zuko hiked a bag higher on his shoulder. "Chances are low."

Compared to the massive palace, the house was small. But the palace held hundreds, if not thousands of people, and the Fire Lord's beach home would still undoubtedly feel empty with just the two of them. Katara peeked sideways at Zuko.

Just the two of them.

She was constantly alone with Zuko.

Somehow this felt very different.

It became obvious upon entering that the beach house was mostly abandoned. The large entrance room was empty of furniture, save for a few wardrobes and one rug. There was nothing on the walls, and their footsteps echoed loudly on the floor. The other rooms they passed through weren't any livelier. The furniture that did remain was haphazardly placed, usually clustered together against the wall and with some drawers still open. "My family doesn't use this anymore," Zuko told her. His eyes were a little distant as they stood, looking around. "We haven't spent time here in years. As you can probably see."

A set of stairs led up to a second floor, which contained several rooms and a balcony facing the ocean.

Despite the rather melancholy feel inside the house, it was a beautiful view; palm trees and greenery and blue, clear sky.

Zuko led Katara down a corridor to the left of the stairs, then paused and gestured to the doors. "Well…" he said, shuffling his feet. "There are five rooms."

Katara cautiously opened the first door on her left and was immediately presented with a view of an imposing portrait of Ozai and Ursa standing stiffly and with intertwined hands. Judging by their clothing, it was a wedding portrait, but neither were smiling. It hung directly over the head of the bed.

"We can take that down if you want this room," Zuko muttered. Then added, rather bitterly, "Use it for bonfire kindling."

Katara quickly closed the door. She had no desire to sleep in the Fire Lord and Lady's previous quarters.

She ended up choosing one of the guest rooms. Zuko set her bag on the edge of her bed and then gave her a very brief tour ending in the kitchen, which was easily the least depressing room. The curtains were checkered red and white, the walls were vivid scarlet, and it had significantly more decoration than the rest of the house, though every surface was covered in a thick layer of dust and the potted plants had long since died. A door in the corner led to the wraparound porch.

Katara ripped the curtains open and sunlight poured into the room. "Are there rags somewhere?"

"Probably up in the attic. I'll check."

When Zuko returned with rags in hand they wiped down the surfaces of the kitchen to make it usable before venturing out to find a market. The smell of salt on the wind was far more tangible here than at the palace, and they could always hear the steady crash of the tide. Already Katara felt a balm settling into her heart; a result of being so near the ocean. She followed Zuko to the nearest village, which for its size still had an impressive marketplace. Katara could have spent more time looking at the stands had she not already been so hungry. When they returned, Katara set Zuko the task of cutting vegetables, since he did not seem very confident in the kitchen. But he was more than willing to help and take her directions, and it was a pleasant, companionable task to do together. She hadn't truly cooked for herself since she'd come to the Fire Nation, and it was a nice change of pace; more satisfactory, somehow. More special.

After, Katara suggested they go down to the beach. "I want to spar." She was already gazing rather longingly at the blue of the water through the window.

"I'm not sparring with you today."

She pursed her lips. "But those extra drops of spirit water this morning really helped."

Katara had taken Zuko's advice and done three drops that morning. She hoped it would be the last she had to take.

"Good," said Zuko, raising a brow at her. "But seeing as you were stabbed less than a week ago, still a no."

"Then I'll just bend by myself," Katara said, trying not to scowl.

Zuko disappeared into the attic again and returned with a musty umbrella and towels, then accompanied her to the beach. Katara let the tide lap at her toes, and she began to practice twirling water around her waist, her wrists, her arms. She formed circles in the air and skimmed water off the top of the waves, pulling it into whips. It still didn't feel quite the same as before her injury. It felt stiffer, clumsier, and a bit slower, but it was a vast improvement that she could do the moves at all without fumbling or dropping the water. She also didn't tire nearly as easily. After fifteen minutes, however, she had to stop for a break, but that had more to do with the oppressive heat.

Katara scanned the beach and found Zuko sprawled on his back on a towel, an arm draped over his eyes. As she came to settle in beside him she saw that his hair was wet and he wore only swimming trunks; she hadn't even noticed him go swimming, and she was trying desperately not to do any excessive noticing of him now. But there was so much smooth, muscled skin, covered in little water droplets. His head was tipped back, the slope of his neck long. The biggest distraction of all was the well-defined "v" shaped lines of his pelvis. The way they dipped down and inward, tracing lower, a direct path reaching—

"Katara?"

She jumped a little. "Huh?"

Zuko removed his hand from across his eyes and looked at her. "I asked how you felt after bending."

She tried to gather her thoughts, which were wildly unfocused. "Oh, I…" She cleared her throat, which had gone curiously dry. "Good. I feel really good."

"I'm glad."

Katara hummed in agreement and turned away to watch the waves; it was a much safer view.

The rest of that first afternoon and evening was spent being mostly idle.

They didn't speak much. Occasionally they swam or bent, and of course later they made dinner, and while the mood wasn't exactly subdued it was…strange.

Katara strongly suspected that adjusting to such a tranquil setting after living in a perpetual state of tension was one reason. The calm of this place, the beauty, the solitude—it felt too surreal. Katara thought Zuko must feel it too. His eyes were distant and clouded more often than usual, as they were when he was somewhere else. She considered asking him if he'd like her to try healing him again, as she had after that disastrous Agni Kai. But she also didn't want to press.

Later that night, after they'd gone into their respective rooms, Katara leaned against her door and closed her eyes.

It felt strange that tomorrow would be Black Sun, and they would do nothing for an occasion that once would have been so momentous. She and Zuko had specifically decided to lay low during the eclipse; she could tell he was nervous about losing his bending again, even if it was only for eight minutes. In another world, Aang may have defeated Fire Lord Ozai today. Instead their allies were scattered and in danger, and Katara could only remain, unable to fight or escape.

It was strange, too, that her bedroom that night felt odd without Zuko's presence.

How her bed, when she slipped in, felt empty and cold.

When Katara woke the next morning the sun was rising, and she went out to the upstairs balcony to watch it.

Part of her expected Zuko to be there, but the balcony was empty. There was a gentle breeze today, enough to slightly lift her curls, which were still tangled and messy from sleep. She stood at the railing and looked at the bursts of color in the sky, and then she caught a glimpse of movement on the beach.

Zuko was shirtless and bending.

She rested her elbows on the railing and watched the fire bursting from his fists and his feet as he stepped and jumped and slashed. Even from this distance she could see his upper body heaving; he wasn't bending in a precise, careful way, as if to practice moves or to simply greet the sunrise. Katara knew meditative bending when she saw it, and this wasn't it. This was aggressive and vicious, a tidal wave of emotion.

Several times Zuko simply punched the air over and over, the flames roaring. His body shone, his muscles rippling.

A little tug pulled at her navel, and Katara quickly turned away and went to make breakfast.

The eclipse that day was almost comically anticlimactic.

Katara sat with Zuko on the porch as the sun went black. He immediately tried to call a flame. Nothing. Not even a spark.

"What does it feel like?" Katara asked.

"Terrible," Zuko admitted. His fingers twitched nervously at his side. Then he said, "I hope Uncle makes it out."

"I'm sure he will," Katara soothed.

It was over before they knew it. Such a large cosmic event, and in the end there was no significance at all. The next thing of importance would be the comet, giving the Fire Nation a dangerous advantage. Katara glanced at Zuko as she got to her feet. His eyes were far away again, but slowly they focused on something in the sky and he started to frown, sitting up more intently. Katara followed his line of sight and saw an approaching hawk. It carried a simple note, delivered to Katara.

The Madame awaits. Three villages.

Zuko scowled when Katara showed it to him. "Three villages up the coast, I take it."

"What does that mean?"

"It means," said Zuko, "that Mavang expects us to meet her at one of her pleasure barges."

They didn't waste any time departing to meet with Mavang. It was at least an hour walk, possibly more, which was no small task in the terrible heat.

But they'd both fervently agreed that they didn't want to visit the barge during the night, as that was likely when most of Mavang's customers came calling.

The third village up the coast was actually more like a mid-sized city; it was far larger than the village closest to the beach house. As they came to the dock it was immediately obvious which boat belonged to Mavang. The pleasure barge was not meant for sailing fast, but for social cruising; it was wide and lumbering, strung up with lights that surely glowed when it became dark, and there were women lingering about on deck. Two Lilies gestured them onto the boat when they approached, but only after patting them down. They crossed the makeshift plank and came aboard, and a Lily opened the door to the interior of the ship.

Immediately Katara's senses were overcome with a wall of smells so thick they were almost edible, flowery and fruity and sickly sweet. A fine layer of mist had settled into the room, and that was just as well. Katara felt her cheeks growing warm at the casual debauchery on display. The pleasure barge was tastefully decorated; draped in hanging plants, the walls a delicate shade of lilac. Strange contraptions sat around the floor and people sat in cushions around them, sucking through pipes, and a loud bubbling filled the room, accompanied by low murmurs and giggles. Velvet couches held occupants in various states of seduction and undress. Some of Mavang's Lilies were entirely topless. Some had decorative, dangling objects adorning their nipples, glinting in the low, shifting light.

Everywhere Katara looked there seemed to be breasts. Smoke and breasts.

One Lily on the couch nearest her was straddling a man and kept tilting a bottle up to his lips with a tinkling laugh.

"Of course she had to make us come here," she heard Zuko mutter.

They'd barely made it two steps when they were accosted by a Lily. She was easily one of the most beautiful women Katara had ever seen, and she halted directly in front of Zuko and thrust out her very bare chest. "Hello," she purred, slowly eyeing him up and down. "May I help you?" She trailed a finger down his arm.

Katara noticed several Lilies watching the interaction like avid birds of prey. If this one failed to entice him, another would surely swoop in. Katara could appreciate their dedication to business-savvy, but she felt a prickle of hot irritation nonetheless. "We're here to see Mavang," she said, a touch too loudly.

The Lily turned to Katara, her blood-red lips widening in a smile. "The Madame did mention some visitors, and you look just as she described…" She glanced back at Zuko with a rueful sigh. "Oh, but you look like such fun." She suddenly swooped around him as smoothly as the mist in the air, her hands skimming his shoulders. Zuko twitched away, jaw set, but she just laughed at his unease. "I do love unraveling the stoic ones with my mouth. How does that sound, hmm?"

Zuko's flush was visible even in the smoky, darkened room. "I'm not here for your services."

"But why not take advantage?" The Lily grinned and slowly licked her lips. "What if I offer half-price?"

"He already said he's not here for that," Katara snapped.

The Lily just laughed and drifted to Katara instead, reaching out to finger one of her curls. "Don't worry. You can join in, pretty thing."

"I want to see Madame Mavang," said Katara, swatting her away. "Now."

The Lily pretended to pout. "Very well. This way."

She sashayed away, leading them down a tiny corridor to their left. Gold lined the top and bottom of the walls, and the paintings all depicted nude people or sex acts. The Lily knocked on the door, also gold, and after a moment, it swung open to reveal Madame Mavang, half bathed in shadow. "Ah," she said.

She waved them smoothly inside. Mavang's little office was decorated more classically than Katara had expected. Dark wood, gleaming brass, busts of marble.

"Well," said Mavang in her deep, pleasant rasp, settling herself regally behind her desk, "what can I do for you?"

Katara thought Mavang might appreciate the blunt, direct approach, so she didn't hesitate. "I want you to kill General Eza."

Mavang threw back her head, her jewelry clanging and flashing in the dim candlelight, and laughed. "This is a whore house, darling, not an assassin's guild." She raised a perfectly shaped brow, drumming her fingertips together. "You've come to the wrong place."

"Your Lilies are highly trained and deadly," said Katara, undeterred.

"To protect themselves should contracts be broken," said Mavang. "Not to go around slitting throats on a whim."

Katara gave Mavang a shrewd look. "So you've never used their talents to take out someone you don't like? A rival?"

Mavang's fingertips stilled and she leaned back in her chair. "It would be expensive," she drawled finally.

"Name your price."

Beside her, she could physically feel Zuko's wince. "Katara…"

"Hush now, Prince Zuko, the women are doing business," said Mavang. "Hmm…let's say twenty thousand."

"Twenty thousand silver pieces?" Katara stared at her, stunned.

"Gold."

Even Zuko, a prince and presumably quite rich at least some of his life, blanched at this sum. "What?"

"Assassinations are a high-risk endeavor, Prince Zuko," said Mavang, unfazed by their reactions. "Especially when it comes to a man like General Eza. I expect proper compensation, and that sum is both fair and achievable."

"My father controls the royal vaults," Zuko snapped. "I can't stroll in and take twenty thousand gold pieces."

"Oh, there are other ways you could earn the money," said Mavang, starting to smile.

"Such as?" Katara was also having difficulty tamping down on her temper. Mavang was taking advantage of her desperation.

A shadow crossed Mavang's face for a moment, so quickly that it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. Then she slowly stood. "When I started finding success with my business," she said, gliding around her desk, "I had more and more young women coming to me, wanting work. Needing work." Mavang stopped before Katara, her eyes suddenly sharp and appraising. "I had to get good at it, you see, and very quickly. What, I wondered, could determine the value of a night with a woman? Does it lie in their talents? Their measurements? Their past?" She began to circle Katara slowly. "Many men are willing to pay five thousand gold pieces simply for a virgin, so value is clearly also influenced by a man's fragile little ego."

"I'm not selling myself, if that's what you're suggesting," said Katara.

Mavang strolled back around to stand before them with a little smirk. "There's always exhibitionism," she said. "If you're too traditional to sleep with someone other than your husband."

They both made noises of outrage, and Mavang laughed. "What? Oh, you wouldn't make twenty thousand in one go. It would take a few times, certainly, but you're young and attractive and part of the royal family, so there are plenty of people that would pay handsomely to see you together. After I take my cut, of course, I'd estimate it would take four or five times and the debt would be paid, and it's not as though they sit right in the room with you. They peek through—"

"Enough," Zuko snarled.

"I'm only trying to list options for payment, Prince Zuko, no need to be so nasty," said Mavang, looking thoroughly amused. "I could have just left it up to you to figure out how to get the money, but I'm trying to give you a few options."

"I'll pay you," said Katara, quickly getting the conversation back to what mattered. "After you kill him."

She felt Zuko looking at her, but she determinedly stared Mavang down.

"And how will you get the money to pay me?"

"That's my problem, isn't it?"

Mavang's eyes flashed with warning. "You don't want to be in my debt, Master Katara, I promise you."

"Good to know," said Katara, refusing to break eye contact with her. "But I'll have your payment, Madame."

Mavang deliberated, but to Katara's frustration she didn't answer right away. First, she glanced over at Zuko. "And what about you, princeling?" she said. "Why are you here? Are you planning to pay for the knowledge of your mother today?"

There was a long silence, until Zuko finally exhaled sharply and gave a stiff nod. "Yes."

"You know the price, Prince Zuko. A secret for a secret."

Zuko drew himself up taller. "I'm wanted by the Fire Nation under the alias of the Blue Spirit."

Mavang gave him a wicked grin. "That's you? Oh, how deliciously naughty."

Zuko's jaw tightened. "Just get to it, Mavang. What do you know about my mother?"

Mavang took her time answering, long enough that Zuko's hands began to flex impatiently as his sides.

She settled back in her chair, observing them, and she looked, for just a brief second, much older and much more weary than usual. And then the expression passed, and she leaned back into the shadows. "I was in the Fire Nation when Princess Ursa vanished from the palace, Prince Zuko. Naturally I have heard all sorts of rumors over the years about the disappearance of your mother. 'Princess Ursa had an affair.' 'Ozai has her locked away.' Oh, the people do like to whisper. But I know the truth. Princess Ursa and Prince Ozai had a conflict over the fate of their son."

Zuko's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. Katara automatically reached for his hand, clutching tightly.

She was jolted by the realization that Ursa had never been Fire Lady at all.

"Prince Ozai wanted the throne and asked his father, the Fire Lord, for it," continued Mavang. "But the request was considered an insult to his older brother Iroh, heir to the throne and grieving, having just lost his only son. And so Fire Lord Azulon asked your father to repay the insult and kill you."

Katara stifled a gasp and glanced up at Zuko, horrified. But she saw no shock on his face.

Mavang seemed to have noticed this too. "Is this not news to you, Prince Zuko?"

"No," said Zuko.

A brief bout of surprise flickered in Mavang's eyes. "Did you know your father was going to follow through?"

Zuko's fingers did a funny spasm around Katara's, and she gripped his hand even tighter. "No."

"Yes. Ozai was willing to kill his firstborn son for the throne, and Princess Ursa predictably did not like this very much. So she made a plan of her own when she found out her husband's intentions. She struck a bargain with Prince Ozai. Your mother had a curious hobby," continued Mavang. "She liked to experiment with concoctions and substances, did you know? She was a natural herbalist. She came to me for key ingredients at times, when I visited the Fire Nation. Yes—I knew your mother, Prince Zuko. Respected her. A strong woman making the best of a bad situation. I provided her with what she needed that night: ingredients for a poison to kill Fire Lord Azulon. I tried to warn her that her husband would not let her live, regardless of what he may promise her. He would not want her to spread the knowledge of how he'd won his throne. She did not listen."

Zuko's voice was very thick. "Did he kill her?"

"No," said Mavang. "Because I offered another solution to him."

"So she's imprisoned somewhere? Where?"

"No, Prince Zuko," said Mavang. "She is free, and she is much happier than she ever was at that palace."

"What was the solution?" Katara pressed, impatient with Mavang's hedging. "And why would Ozai accept?"

"Oh, he certainly wanted to kill me," said Mavang. "Still does, of course. But that's the thing about secrets, Master Katara. I can always assure they will be spread, even after I die. I assured him that if I died, his illegitimate rise to the throne would be exposed. And I told him the same would happen if he murdered his wife. Iroh was well-liked; I suspect he remains well-liked even now, as a traitor. Ozai isn't the wisest ruler, but he knew this. He knew his secret couldn't get out."

Zuko swayed in place, his face contorting almost as if he was in physical pain. "Where is she?"

"Patience, Prince Zuko." For some indiscernible reason Mavang's hands shook, and it took her a long moment to speak again. Finally, she said, "I convinced Ozai to bestow a different punishment upon Ursa, one that would still let her live, but would not make her a threat to him. I knew of an ancient spirit in the Earth Kingdom. I suggested a visit to the Mother of Faces."

"I—what does that—what?"

"She has no memory of her life as Ursa," said Mavang. "She doesn't go by that name. Her identity was erased."

Zuko began to shake. Katara could feel the vibrations of it against her side.

"You—you mean she doesn't—" Zuko's words seemed to get stuck in his throat.

"No," said Mavang. "She doesn't know you. If you met her, you would not know her face. She is no longer Ursa." For a brief second, Mavang looked almost as though she was feeling pity. "She fought very hard against it, if that helps. Prince Ozai had her transported forcefully to the Mother of Faces with my help and guidance. She actually managed to bite several people."

Mavang chuckled, though it sounded a little hollow.

"You've known all along." Zuko's voice had gone dangerously quiet. He stepped forward, away from Katara, and flame started to lick up his arms.

"Zuko," Katara began, but he didn't seem to hear her. He took another prowling step toward Mavang.

"Put your fire out, you fool," said Mavang, very coldly. "You should be grateful. She would have thrown her life away for you, and I saved her."

"Grateful?" Zuko's flames flared brighter.

"Go wait outside, Prince Zuko," said Madame Mavang, back to her raspy, unconcerned drawl. "Your temper is taking a turn for the worse, and I'd rather not have you present in my office while I finish up my bargain with Master Katara."

"No."

"It wasn't a request, Prince Zuko. It was an order. This is one of my pleasure barges, not your palace."

Zuko's entire body coiled as if prepared to strike.

Katara quickly planted herself in front of him. Zuko's arms were on fire, so she reached up and cupped his jaw. "Zuko. It'll be just a few minutes." Zuko's eyes found hers. The flames on his arms snuffed out, and his jaw worked so hard she heard the grind of teeth. "I need this," Katara said, thinking of Eza and Sokka. "Please?"

Zuko's entire body still trembled with rage, and over Katara's shoulder he threw Mavang a look that was nothing short of deepest loathing.

But he nodded stiffly and stepped back.

"My," said Mavang. "You have him well-trained, Master Katara. Does that mean you took my advice?"

"What?" Zuko tilted his chin to stare down at her.

Katara quickly and inwardly cursed Mavang to the deepest depths of the sea. "It's nothing—"

"What advice? What is she talking about?"

"Out, Prince Zuko," said Mavang lazily. "Now."

Zuko's golden eyes burned, helpless and furious. Then he whirled on his heel and stalked out.

"Was that really necessary?" Katara snapped at her, as soon as Zuko was gone.

Mavang only chuckled. "Master Katara, you understand that having a written contract of this might hold too many risks."

"You're saying I'll have to trust your word?"

"As I will have to trust yours," said Mavang, inclining her head. "Once I provide proof, you have two months to pay me."

Katara swallowed, taking a few moments to gather herself. "There's something else I want from you."

Mavang leaned forward and rested her chin on intertwined fingers as if enraptured, jewelry flashing.

"The Fire Nation citizens are wealthy, aren't they, Mavang? Probably some of your best customers, those nobles. If the Fire Nation gets wiped out entirely, who will pay for your Lilies? Won't that weaken your trade? Your whole business?"

Katara didn't say it outright, but she knew Mavang would understand her point; that Mavang didn't want Hama to win at all. Most likely she was just using her for the coup, and to get rid of Ozai. Mavang, above all, wanted stable commerce.

Mavang's face was a placid mask, revealing nothing. "Get to the point, darling."

Katara cut straight to it. "You offered me passage once. A one-way ticket for one passenger. I want to accept it."

"Which passenger might that be?" Mavang asked shrewdly, then smiled at the dismayed look on Katara's face.

Katara had been hoping she wouldn't ask. She'd wanted to keep the details vague so that Mavang could not refuse them. "Zuko."

Mavang got to her feet again. "You want me to give safe passage to the prince over yourself?"

"If Hama wins this, I'll need to stay in the Fire Nation anyway for a little while. If he stays, she'll kill him. Or worse."

A slow smile pulled at Mavang's lips. "You know," she said softly, in a tone that made Katara's heart start to pound, "I do love when someone gives up an important secret for free. Those are often the best ones." She walked over to stand in front of Katara again, her sharp eyes scanning her. "You should not have gotten attached, Katara."

"Is that a yes or a no?" Katara asked, very brusquely.

Mavang was beginning to look amused again. "And does Prince Zuko know that you're asking me this on his behalf?"

"No," said Katara. "Because he won't want to go."

"Ah, so you are aware that he's in love with you. I was beginning to wonder if you were willfully ignorant or just clueless."

"He's not—he's—" Katara sputtered, her entire body turning warm. "He's not very conscious of his own safety."

"And he'll refuse to leave your side," said Mavang. "As I'm sure you're aware of on some level, or you wouldn't be here conspiring with me. So, you want me to ferry your husband—who will be very angry, by the way, and despises me—safely away from the Fire Nation. That is no small task, Master Katara. You've come with two large requests today."

"I want you to get him safely away and let him go," Katara said firmly. There could be no loopholes in her phrasing. "You won't harm him or keep him. You'll give him passage somewhere safe and that's it, Mavang. No tricks or games."

"No tricks," said Mavang, eyes glittering. "No games. But why trust me to do it at all, Master Katara?"

Katara thought of her hunch, formed during Mavang's story.

Mavang's weariness, the vague shake in her hands. The uncharacteristic altruism of Mavang stepping in to transport Ursa to the Mother of Faces.

Katara took a gamble. She followed her intuition, hoping she would strike true.

"Because I think you loved his mother," said Katara quietly.

Mavang's face contorted in utter rage. Katara had only seen her cold or irritated; she had never seen her like this. In the candlelight and swimming shadows of the office, Mavang looked briefly demented. Then her face went blank.

"I see what you mean," said Katara viciously. "The best secrets are the ones you get for free."

Katara half expected Mavang to look furious again, but instead her mouth twitched in amusement, her flash of anger already having passed. And when she spoke again it was flat and calm. "I am not so sentimental as to care about or protect her offspring, Master Katara. What is the point in that? There is no space for sentimentality in my world. In fact, I've almost gotten Prince Zuko killed once before. Didn't he ever tell you why he hates me so passionately?"

A chill went up Katara's spine. Perhaps she'd gambled wrong.

"Regardless," said Mavang. "I hold to my contracts. I would not harm him. But what could you possibly offer me for these two monumental tasks, darling?"

"Not money," said Katara. "Myself. You want me for your ships, don't you? As a pirate. I can be useful to you, Mavang. And I will be. Kill Eza and protect Zuko, and when the dust settles from this war, I'll serve you for two years."

Mavang didn't bother to contain her visible excitement. "Ten."

"Five."

"Deal." Mavang beamed, triumphant, and then took firm hold of Katara's wrist, drawing a long dagger from her robes.

She tapped the tip to Katara's palm and their eyes met in a silent challenge. Katara did not draw away or flinch.

"Will you swear on your blood?" Mavang asked.

"Will you?" Katara shot back.

Mavang sliced a gash on her palm without so much as a wince and wordlessly handed Katara the knife. Katara did the same, never looking away from the intense gaze of the pirate queen, and their palms met in a wet, sticky handshake.

"Then we have a deal," said Mavang, and then stepped back, pointing at a basin of water. "Do you mind?"

In seconds, Katara had their hands patched up. It was as if their skin was never cut open at all, but Katara's palm still tingled.

"A pleasure doing business with you," Mavang drawled.

Katara gave her a curt nod and turned away. She felt Mavang's appraising eyes on her back as she moved to the door, but Mavang called out just as she reached it. "By the way, Master Katara, I was very happy to hear of your speedy recovery after you were stabbed." Katara paused. There was something in Mavang's voice she didn't like. "Quite speedy," continued Mavang. "Your father's visit must have…invigorated your spirits?"

Katara slowly turned back to face her. "Yes. It was very uplifting."

"I'm so glad." But Mavang's smile was more than glad. It was delighted. Taunting.

She knew about the spirit water oasis.

Katara's mind raced.

Mavang had told her that she had waterbenders among her Lilies. Katara had not given much thought as to how, but she didn't have to look far for the answer. Perhaps they were Southern Water Tribe members that had somehow escaped imprisonment or transport to the Fire Nation. Perhaps they were Northern Water Tribe women running from arranged marriages; and some of these would no doubt have knowledge of the spirit oasis. Was there anything Mavang didn't see?

Mavang was subtly asserting her knowledge of yet another of Katara's secrets; another secret Katara had not willingly given.

"Well," said Mavang lightly. "Once again I expect I'll see you soon, Master Katara. Enjoy your remaining time with your husband."

She was still smug. She thought she had the upper hand.

What Mavang did not understand was that blood was beholden to Katara now, and not the other way around; a blood debt meant nothing.

One day, Mavang would be her bitter enemy, but Katara had chosen it, and it would be worth it.

She only gave her another cold smile before she turned and walked out.

It was late afternoon by the time they returned to the beach house.

Zuko had been deathly quiet on the walk back. He seemed almost numb.

Today he'd learned that Ozai would have killed him for the throne, and that his mother's disappearance was a direct result of that. Not to mention he was probably still torn up about Mai, and the whole mess with interrogating that assassin. The stress over his uncle's escape. The debacle at the theater. Katara was barely keeping it together herself, but it was no wonder Zuko was ripping apart at the seams. Katara wasn't sure what she would do with the knowledge that her mother was alive, but didn't even know her family. That even her appearance would be lost. It was almost like Ursa had died.

Katara led Zuko to the kitchen and began preparing tea. When she'd finished and set it before him he still didn't react, so Katara pulled water to her palms and went to stand behind him. She settled her glowing hands on his shoulders, and tension left Zuko's body so fast that he nearly dropped his tea. He managed to set it down before his head drooped.

"Good," Katara said gently. "Just relax."

The muscles along Zuko's shoulders, particularly closer to his neck, were tight enough to be alarming. She eased them with a combination of bending and careful presses of her fingers. Then she put her water-filled palms to his temples again and tried to calm his mind as she'd done once before. Once she was finished, it took Zuko a very long moment to speak.

"Thank you," he said, voice very hoarse.

His expression was difficult to look at when she came around to kneel at the table again. Just hollow, aching pain.

Then he said, "She isn't my mother anymore."

"Yes, she is," said Katara, very fiercely.

"I wouldn't even know her if I saw her," said Zuko, face eerily empty. "She wouldn't know me. I'm not her son."

"You are," said Katara. She reached across the table and took hold of his shoulders, shaking them a little. "You are. And if this Mother of Faces can control identities, I bet she can save them too. And Mavang probably knows more details about where your mother might be. I bet it can be reversed."

Zuko just blew out a puff of air, hair fluttering up from his forehead. He didn't look convinced. He looked miserable.

Absentmindedly, Katara pushed her fingers through his hair, and Zuko closed his eyes and sighed. "Maybe," he said after a while, very quietly, "it would be cruel to reverse it anyway. She's probably much happier. Not remembering…him. That life."

"No, Zuko. She would want to remember you," said Katara softly. "She fought against it. She didn't want it."

They sat in silence. Zuko didn't touch his tea again.

Finally he asked, "How are you going to pay Mavang?"

A squirm of guilt clenched her gut for the other deal struck without his knowledge, but she pushed it away as best she could. With her father and the allies hoping to get involved for the coup, Katara wouldn't need Zuko's help in the Fire Nation. Surely he would see that. He could help the cause from elsewhere, far away from the threat of Hama. And he would be so much safer that way. Surely he would understand that she needed him alive. "I don't know yet," was all she said.

Zuko sighed. "Katara…"

"I'll figure it out."

He looked up and right at her. "What advice did she give you?"

Heat crept into Katara's neck. "It really doesn't matter."

"Then you can tell me, right?"

"I promise it isn't important. It's just a stupid thing she said."

"I still want to know."

She avoided his eyes. "It's Mavang. What do you think? She said to earn your loyalty through seduction."

To Katara's surprise, Zuko only let out a low, humorless laugh, though she didn't see what was so funny.

Unspoken things settled heavy in the air between them.

And Katara was struck by the sudden, burning desire to feel normal; if only for a few hours. So much had happened and she was on a beautiful island and she was going to enjoy at least a little bit of it while she could; and she was going to cheer Zuko up, too. She stood with determined purpose, taking hold of Zuko's arm. "Come on."

"What? Where?" But he allowed her to pull him to his feet.

"Let's go out and do something."

Zuko's mouth twisted. "Why?"

"Because I think we should do something fun today."

"Going out and being around lots of people is fun?"

"Yes, because we'll make it fun." When Zuko continued to look doubtful Katara added, "And if you still absolutely hate it after a little while, we'll come back. I promise." Katara began lightly poking him in the chest, over and over. "Please?"

Zuko rolled his eyes, but a corner of one side of his mouth reluctantly quirked up. "Fine."

Pleased, Katara turned him by the shoulders and started ushering him upstairs. They changed in their respective rooms; Katara found that Ty Lee had packed her an airy sundress in yellow, with thin straps. It flared out at her mid-thigh. Zuko was already waiting for her downstairs, wearing black trousers and a black tunic to match. It had no sleeves, his arms crossed and bulging as he leaned against the wall. His hair was down, casual, and for a moment the affectionate warmth that swelled up in her was almost debilitating. But then he turned to her, and Katara collected herself and smiled brightly. "Let's go."

She laced an arm through his and pulled him from the house. The heat immediately pressed on them, but it seemed less obtrusive than before, and not only because the sun was setting. By the time they found a bustling marketplace on a pier—this one thankfully with no pleasure barges—the sky was full of pink and orange bursts. Katara led Zuko toward it.

"Are you looking for something?" Zuko asked her as she weaved through the crowd with purpose.

"There must be a food stand somewhere. I want some noodles."

"The Udon noodles? With seafood?"

"Yes," said Katara, glancing up at him in some surprise. "How did you know that?"

Zuko shrugged. "You seem to like them. You always take seconds when they're served at the palace. There's some."

After they'd perched on the stools of the food stand and had their fill, Katara began exploring the other stalls, Zuko on her heels. It was very busy; several times, Katara had her foot stepped on in the bustling, chattering crowd. It seemed the earlier eclipse had done nothing to slow down business, and neither had the long-lasting heat wave. And this marketplace contained stalls with seemingly everything. Dry food and raw food and sweets. Bottles of fine alcohol. Clothing and cooking ware, knives and woodworking, colorful jewelry and bags and satchels. Objects hung from the ceiling or were delicately arranged on tables, and the stall owners stood watching the crowd, hawk-like, searching for likely customers.

The air smelled of salt and fish and fried noodles, and despite the jostling and shoving, Katara loved the crowd.

She and Zuko were invisible here. Not a prince and princess. Not a married couple tasked with birthing a Fire Nation heir.

Just normal people, as she'd wanted.

Even Zuko seemed to have finally caught a bit of her good mood, because a tiny smile played at his lips as he followed her around. At one point Katara had to side-step a particularly noisy family barreling through the path and briefly lost sight of Zuko. She stood on her tiptoes, scanning, and when they finally found each other again she took hold of his hand.

A group children dashed by, giggling, holding a treat on a cone as they raced to the edge of the pier.

"What's that?" Katara pointed at what they were carrying.

Zuko gave her an incredulous look. "Ice cream?"

"Is it sweet?" Katara had been here long enough to be wary of Fire Nation desserts. They were often spicy.

"Yes." Zuko's hand tightened on hers and now he began to lead her through the crowd. "You'll like it. Come here."

Zuko took her to one of the brightest stands Katara had ever seen, a tent of pale pink cloth. It was particularly popular with families, for they were clustered here in droves. They stepped into line behind a tired-looking mother and father with no less than four children. When it was finally their turn she chose strawberry and Zuko chose raspberry; it began to melt as soon as they stepped away from the stand, so Katara wasted no time trying it. Her eyes widened and then she looked up at Zuko, who looked a little smug. "I told you," he said. "I can't believe I haven't had you try ice cream yet."

"It's like iced fruit, but better," said Katara, delighted. "Creamier."

They'd gone off to the side where the crowd was thinner to eat the ice cream. And then Zuko suddenly extracted his fingers from hers, and only then did Katara realize they were still holding hands. "I'll be right back," he said, and before she could ask where he was going or even blink, Zuko melted into the crowd.

She frowned, standing on her tiptoes to try and watch where he was going, but nearly everyone here had black hair and he was impossible to find. When he returned she'd finished the ice cream and licked her fingers clean, and he carried two things. One was a clear package with something that looked like colorful cloth inside. The other was a gigantic yellow flower.

Katara watched Zuko's throat bob as he swallowed hard and then held it out to her, cheeks faintly dusted with pink.

"For me?" Something about Zuko's body language and the nervous, hopeful expression on his face put a lump in her throat, and made her stomach erupt in distracting little flutters.

The question seemed to make Zuko second-guess himself. "If—if you want it," he said, looking mildly panicked. "It, uh, matches your dress," he added, gesturing over her, and Katara could only stare at him, warmth unfurling in her chest. She stood in stunned silence too long, for Zuko seemed to wilt, shoulders dropping as he uncertainly pulled the flower back a little. "Uh, that's okay. Never mind, I just thought maybe—"

Katara plucked it out of his hand and held it close to her chest. "Thank you," she said softly.

Zuko blinked, starting to look hopeful again.

"I love it," she added, then quickly kissed his cheek.

The rosy tint on Zuko's face increased and Katara gave him a shy smile, pointing at the other package. "What's that one?"

"Oh, well...this is also for you." Now that his first gift hadn't been rejected, Zuko was more at ease. He had a small smile, his eyes warm. "It's a kite. I told you I would show you how to fly one."

"I don't remember that," Katara said, feeling a little guilty.

Zuko's mouth twitched. "You were pretty high on pain medicine."

"Oh," she said, smiling. "That explains it. Sounds fun."

"We might not be able to try today," said Zuko, as they began wandering through the crowd once more. "Not enough wind, I think. But as soon as the conditions are right we can go down to the beach and fly it."

Katara glanced up at him as they walked. The color in his cheeks made him look healthier, and his eyes were brighter. Happier. Pleased warmth spread from her chest and through every limb.

They mostly observed the market goods from a distance, learning the hard way that if they came too close the owners of the stall would try to aggressively rope them into buying things. The sun steadily sank under the horizon and twilight had set in when Katara nudged Zuko in the direction of another stall.

"You pick one," Katara suggested.

"Why me?"

"You spent years around sailors," said Katara. "I assume that means you know more about alcohol than me."

"My crew just drank the cheapest things they could find," Zuko muttered, but he stepped forward and picked out a bottle of pale yellow liquid. It had fruit floating around inside. "Umeshu," he told her. "Plum wine. It's light and tastes good, but it's strong—"

"Sounds perfect." Katara grabbed the plum wine and as soon as they'd paid and walked away, she started to open it. Katara took a long drink and gasped at the burn, starting to cough.

Zuko thumped her on the back. "I warned you."

They were weaving down a sandy path away from the marketplace and back toward their beach house, passing grandiose homes with sprawling grounds. But there were smaller homes, too, and there were also stands along the road, some of them closing down but others apparently opening for a later crowd. Tiki torches lit the way, and the occasional group or person went around them, heading in the direction they'd left. Once back at the house, they dropped off their wares inside and went down to the beach. Katara flopped on the sand close enough for the tide to lap at her toes, not caring if she got sand all over her clothes. She patted beside her and Zuko joined her.

She thrust the bottle at him. "Here."

"Only a little," he said slowly.

"Why?"

"I want to stay alert." He paused. "And too much hard alcohol makes me pretty flammable."

Katara, who had been taking another very long drink, suddenly choked. And then she started to giggle.

"It can actually be really dangerous," said Zuko, frowning. "I mean, not for me, it doesn't matter too much if I suddenly burst into flame, but for anybody or anything nearby…or if I come into contact with even a small flame—"

"Oh, no way." Katara's giggles became uncontrollable and she had to clutch her stomach. Her head buzzed, and she couldn't keep the huge grin off her face. She lifted the bottle to drink, swallowed far too much, and had another coughing fit. Then she held it out to him again. He stared down at the alcohol, his jaw working as he considered, and Katara nudged him with her shoulder. "You can relax."

Zuko hesitantly took the bottle.

"I'm not trying to be pushy," said Katara, more somber now. "I'm sorry. You don't have to drink anything, that's not what I...I just wanted…" She bit her lip and looked away. "I don't know. Things have been miserable, haven't they? And I don't want you to feel like you have to watch over everything, that's all. The whole reason I suggested doing all this was for you." Zuko's brow shot up, his eyes softening. "Well, both of us," Katara amended. "But mostly you." She aggressively blew a stray strand of hair from her cheek, and because her tongue felt much looser than usual she added, "You've had to deal with your father, and that assassin, and then this thing with Mai, and now your mother—"

Zuko flinched.

Belatedly, Katara realized these topics were not as numb for him as they were for her, tipsy as she was. "Sorry," she said hastily.

"It's okay," he said. Katara squinted at him, chewing on her bottom lip again. He didn't seem angry or upset. And soon enough his mouth even curved upward again and he took a drink. Zuko also coughed and shuddered, and then Katara was laughing and he was smiling, and for a while there was only comfortable silence as they passed the drink back and forth. Zuko took little sips only, but Katara didn't exercise quite as much caution, and within half an hour she sprawled out on her back to stare up at the sky.

"The stars are swirling," she slurred, and then she started to laugh again. "Do you see?"

"Uh huh." Zuko sounded amused. He stretched out on his back beside her, but he still looked mostly clear-eyed.

"You don't, do you? Do you even feel the alcohol?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm…" He considered, then gave her a slow, unfairly handsome grin. "Slightly altered."

She ruffled his hair. "You have sand in your hair."

"So do you," said Zuko, still smiling. "Which does make sense. Since we're lying in sand."

Katara turned on her side to face him, propped on her elbow. "Tell me something about you that I don't know."

Zuko blinked rapidly. "Uhhh…"

"What's your favorite color?"

"Green. Dark green."

"I would have thought red," Katara said, poking him.

"I like red too. What's yours?"

"Purple."

"Not blue?" Zuko poked her back this time and she swatted his chest. He just flashed her another grin and stole a quick drink.

"Now it's my turn to ask another." Katara shot him a mischievous look. "Have you ever been skinny dipping?"

Zuko stilled. "No."

"No?"

"Have you?"

"You can't just ask me the same question back," Katara said. "You have to get at least a little creative."

Zuko huffed. "I'm not creative."

"Oh, I know that's not true. Then what are you writing all the time?"

"What?"

"Back at the palace. You were always writing at your desk. I assumed they were letters at first."

Even in the dark, a deep flush could be seen rising up Zuko's neck. "No. Who would I even write to?"

"Mai."

There was a brief pause.

"I wasn't writing letters to Mai," said Zuko firmly.

Katara just gave him another teasing nudge, this time with her foot on his shin. "Then what is it? Poetry?"

"I thought it was my turn to ask a question."

She sighed, long and dramatic. "Fine."

"Would you rather be covered in fur or in scales?"

Katara laughed and sat up to take a long swig of plum wine. "Ummm…fur."

"Fur?"

"Yes, Zuko, fur. It would be warm. Not all of us are living furnaces."

"But scales are smooth. And they make you harder to attack."

"Skin is smooth. And I'm already pretty hard to attack."

Zuko just chuckled. "Fair enough."

"My turn," said Katara. "Well then? What are you always writing?"

Zuko groaned out loud, seemingly hoping she would have forgotten in the last thirty seconds. "Nothing."

"That's not an answer," said Katara in a sing-song voice.

"Just what I'm thinking about. It's not a big deal. Sometimes it's just easier to write things than say them." He averted his eyes and then muttered, barely audible, "And yeah, some poetry. If you can even call it that. It's definitely not any good."

"What? What do you mean 'not creative'? I want to read it."

"No," said Zuko, looking deeply alarmed. "No way."

"Please? When we get back?"

"No."

She opened her mouth to protest again, but Zuko quickly changed the subject. "Do you do something creative?"

"I'm good at telling stories," said Katara. She hugged her knees closer to her chest and took a long drink. "Storytelling is important in our tribe. Especially in the times of the year without sun. Everyone gathers around the fire and listens to stories and it's so much fun. I'm best at scary ones. One time I even made Sokka pee himself. He still claims he didn't, but I know better."

Zuko started to laugh and didn't stop for a long time. The sound was contagious, and she joined in; after a while they were gasping for air. "Don't tell him I told you that," Katara said, waggling a clumsy finger at him. Her head was light.

For a brief time, just for now, she actually felt happy.

The air felt heavier, and much cooler than before. The temperature had dropped almost alarmingly fast, or perhaps it had done so slowly and she'd barely noticed, too caught up in being here with Zuko and drinking until she was warm.

"Is it going to rain?" Katara wondered, peering at the sky. She couldn't tell in the dark, especially as it was a new moon.

"I think so." Zuko had sat up again too, and he was closer to her than before. "We should probably go inside."

But neither of them moved. The tide was pushing higher and higher, lapping now at their calves and not their toes. Katara scooted even closer and put her head on his shoulder with a little sigh, staring out into the vast blackness of the ocean.

Light rain drops had begun to fall when Katara lifted her head again and looked at him. Her gaze hazily traced the line of Zuko's jaw. The curve of his cheekbone, the dip of his eyelashes.

"You're pretty," she blurted out.

Zuko looked surprised for half a second, then he scoffed. "It's dark and you're on my good side."

"You don't have a bad side," she said softly.

He glanced sideways at her. "Katara, come on."

"I mean it!"

"Yeah, okay."

Irritation swept over her. "Don't do that! Don't..." she sputtered. "Don't reject my compliment, as if I would lie about that."

Zuko turned slowly to face her, and Katara reached out and touched his scar. He didn't draw away, so she carefully traced the outline with her fingers. "Okay," Zuko said finally, very low.

He was so close.

Even in the dark, Katara could see a light scattering of freckles over the bridge of his nose. And something in his eyes made a familiar sensation wash over her. A throb that built at the base of her spine and between her legs. A pull to move closer.

The temperature of the air had dropped, the rain finally ending the heat wave, but Katara barely noticed. Zuko's gaze had briefly darted to her mouth and darkened, and a slow blaze was lighting up her entire body. Her heart began to race; she couldn't think.

Zuko's eyes were half-lidded, his lips parted. Then he blinked and his expression changed, as if coming out of a stupor. Very abruptly, he scrambled to his feet and held out a hand.

"Come on," he muttered. "We need water and sleep."

It took Katara a few moments to gather herself against the drop in her stomach that felt like sharp, bitter rejection, and then a few more to shift and try to stand. Even with Zuko's hand in hers, the ground tilted wildly and her head spun. Zuko just chuckled and caught her, his arm warm where he slipped it around her waist. Together, they staggered clumsily up the beach.

"Oh," Katara said. "I think I might be drunk." It was much more obvious now that she'd stood up and was trying to walk.

Zuko's soft laugh tickled along her neck. "You think?"

"I can't feel my face."

"I promise it's still there."

Katara began scrunching up her face into exaggerated expressions. "It really doesn't feel like it. You aren't that drunk."

"I am a little. But I took much smaller sips. And my body burns it off faster than yours."

"Firebenders," Katara muttered.

Zuko kicked the front door open with more force than he intended, for it crashed loudly against the wall. "Oops," he said, and they both dissolved into low, tipsy laughter. They pulled each other over the threshold and made it up three stairs before Zuko's toe caught on one of the steps and he tripped. Between the two of them they managed to keep him from falling, though it almost sent them both tumbling down the stairs.

Katara barely managed to speak between uncontrollable giggles as they continued to slowly climb. "You almost fell...right on your face." She fumbled up to clumsily pat his cheek. "Your pretty face."

"Shut up," he mumbled, tickling her side.

Katara shrieked and tried to lunge away, but Zuko just grinned and held tighter, ushering her toward her bedroom. He went off in search of water, and Katara, with great difficulty, managed to pull off her dress, which was damp and covered in sand. Katara stood there in her wraps, hating the itching feeling and trying to brush as much sand as possible from her skin, but was interrupted from this strenuous task by a funny choking sound. She peered blearily at the doorway where Zuko stood frozen, a pitcher of water in his hands. He looked as if he'd recently received a good thump to the head.

"I'm all sandy," slurred Katara as explanation.

"I...see," said Zuko, glancing over her.

He swallowed thickly and set the water pitcher down.

"Turn around," Katara said, giving him a pointed look.

"Oh, you're...uh—"

"My wraps are sandy too."

"Uh, right, of course, uh...okay." Still looking rather dazed, Zuko turned quickly on his heel and faced the opposite wall.

Katara successfully pulled off her top and bottom wraps after another long, difficult struggle. When the cloth hit the floor with a soft sound she saw Zuko's hands curl and uncurl at his sides—just once, briefly—but the motion sent a molten heat unfurling in her belly again. She remembered the feel of those hands on her and wondered if he was thinking of the same thing.

Rather flustered now, Katara fumbled in her bag for a cloth to wipe herself down. She bent water on it, spattering some on the floor in the process, and cleaned off as best she could.

It took much longer than it usually would have, but finally she felt cleaner and had a robe on.

"Okay," she said, perching unsteadily on the edge of the bed.

Zuko came to sit beside her and poured her a cup of water. He made sure she drank two cups before he eased her back and pulled the covers up to her chin.

"Did you have fun?" Katara asked. "Do you feel better?"

"Yes," said Zuko, smiling at her.

Katara beamed. "Really?"

"Yeah. Really. Thank you."

He began pushing her hair back from her face, a tender motion, and Katara closed her eyes. His fingers felt so good brushing her cheek and scraping lightly over her scalp. She snuggled deeper into the blankets and said, "You'll drink enough water, too?"

"Yes." Now he sounded soft and amused.

"You'll make it to bed?"

"Well, it might be hard, but I'm sure I'll manage to walk down a corridor alone." She cracked an eye open to see him smirking.

"You almost didn't manage the stairs," she pointed out.

He chuckled again as she closed her eyes.

And then Katara felt warm lips brush her temple, right on her hairline. Then lower, pressing slowly into her neck just below her ear, and Katara shivered. "Sleep well," Zuko murmured.

He pulled away, the warm weight of him disappearing. Quick footsteps crossed the room, and the door closed behind him.

Notes:

Zuko, Katara, and ice cream by juldooz-atla.

Chapter 25: The Determination

Notes:

Lovely artwork of last chapter's ice cream scene by juldooz-atla.

Thank you so much.😍

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

When Katara woke it was still dark, with only a bare hint of the pale light indicating an approaching dawn.

The rain had ceased sometime in the night. The air felt clean and cool and fresh, but her mouth was horrifically dry and she was vaguely nauseous. Katara could feel her heart racing to work off the alcohol. With a low groan, she pushed the covers away and fumbled for the water pitcher beside the bed. But as she was drinking, her ears pricked. A low rumble of voices came from downstairs, and they sounded angry. Katara nearly choked in her haste to scramble up from bed.

She landed a little too heavily on her feet, but her bending was graceful as it had not been since her injury when she jerked a stream of water from the pitcher and coated her hands. She opened the door and crept cautiously out. The voices grew louder, more heated, as she padded down the corridor and the stairs.

One of the voices was Zuko's, that much she could already tell. She didn't recognize the other.

She moved faster, the water on her hands becoming thin streams that twined silently around her arms. If this visitor meant Zuko harm she could easily hurl daggers at them from a distance, providing she had a clear shot. It sounded like the voices were coming from the kitchen, and as Katara inched through the sitting room and toward the kitchen door, she could finally make out what was being said. "—surely must understand the need for precaution, Prince Zuko."

"Not really," said Zuko sharply.

Katara peered around the door frame. Zuko's back was to her, and talking to him was—

Katara recoiled.

It was one of General Eza's sons. She didn't know either of their names. He wasn't smirking, nor did he have the smooth, hair-raising drawl of his father. He looked only flat and serious, his mouth pinched. Two guards, faceless in their spiked Fire Nation masks, flanked him, their stances wide and menacing.

Katara tightened her control on the water around her arms, calculating the situation. It would be difficult to take out all three of them quickly enough if she needed to, especially at this angle. She could very well end up striking Zuko instead. She held her breath and watched, hoping no drastic measures would be needed.

"He's not stupid enough to come here," said Zuko. "And I brought my wife here to get some peace."

General Eza's son gave a perfunctory little bow. "Yes, I was most upset to hear about the attempt on Princess Katara's life, Prince Zuko. But I assure you that their presence won't put any strain on her recovery or disturb your remaining time here. Small as the chance may be that Iroh tries to come here or contact you, the Fire Lord wants to be prepared for it."

Katara bit her tongue to stifle a sound of dismay.

Of course they thought Iroh would try to come to Zuko. Of course having more than one day to themselves was too good to be true.

She shuddered as she imagined the Fire Lord's fury when he'd learned his brother had broken out of prison.

"Fine," Zuko snapped. "But the guards will stay at the perimeter. No closer. And we're not housing anyone."

"Of course. They're not here to intrude on your privacy, Prince Zuko. There are plenty of quarters on the ships that they will use. You won't even know they're here." He paused, then raised his voice a notch and said, "Princess Katara, I'd appreciate if you didn't attack us. We're not going to hurt you or your husband."

Katara nearly dropped the water out of sheer surprise, but managed to keep it swirling around her arms as his eyes flicked to her. He gave her a knowing little smirk. She hadn't even seen him look her direction and notice her. Katara grimaced, straightening up and edging into the room to stand beside Zuko.

General Eza's son eyed the water still snaking along her arms.

"Princess," he said, with a hint of warning.

Katara tilted her chin up and gave him the most insolent look she could manage before she sent the water to the nearest cups. She could always bend it back again if she needed to, even if it was far less convenient. But he only smiled politely at her and said, "Thank you, Princess. Now, if either of you need anything, come to one of the ships. We'll bring you back to Caldera City in the morning." He bowed. Zuko's eyes sparked with irritation, but they swept past him without a word.

Katara would have to assume that the guards stationed around the perimeter would be able to see them if they were outside. That meant no more bending or swimming for her. And just when she was able to spend time at the ocean and bend again, too. She longed to pull the water from the floor and whip them with it on the way out, but she could only stand, tense and silent, as their unwelcome visitors filed out with barely a glance at her. Zuko turned toward her, his lips a thin, irritated line, and Katara became aware how frightful she must look. Rumbled night robe. Hair like a sparrowkeet's nest. And she really, really needed a bath.

When the front door closed, Katara said quietly, "Well, the good news is that your uncle made it out."

"Yeah." Zuko looked torn between intense relief and lingering rage at the intrusion. "But as you heard, my father wants us to return tomorrow."

Katara sighed. So much for a nice break from palace problems. "Why?"

"He didn't see fit to pass that along, but my guess is that with Uncle escaped, he wants me around so things look stable. My uncle has a claim to the throne, and it's not a secret he and I were close. If I'm gone too long, people might begin to talk."

Katara often wondered how Ozai, with his absolute power, was somehow both horribly insecure and overly confident.

She sighed again. "I was really hoping to bend and swim."

After a moment Zuko said, "We can try some hand-to-hand today. Inside."

"Really?" Katara brightened.

"Light moves only," Zuko said, then raised an amused eyebrow as he glanced over her. "Hungover?"

Katara's cheeks warmed. "I'll be back to normal after food and a bath."

"You can go back upstairs and get ready if you want. I'll make breakfast."

She gave him a teasing smile. "Are you sure you won't burn the house down?"

"Ha ha," he said, rolling his eyes and tugging lightly on one of her curls. "I'm sure I'll manage."

"Thank you." Katara turned away and went back upstairs to the washroom at the end of the hall, her stomach twisting up again. This time it wasn't to do with any lingering alcohol in her system. It was, on the one hand, the steady uptick of flirting with Zuko, but also the more unfortunate fact that General Eza's son and Fire Nation soldiers were here, right outside. Two ships of them. It did not give her the greatest feeling of safety and security. She wasn't even sure of the last time she'd felt safe. So she clicked the lock to the washroom door and closed the curtain over the small window, even though it was unlikely anyone could see her from the edge of the trees, where the guards would be in position, and even though it would have been nice to bathe in a stream of sunlight. She tried to focus on the prospect of hand-to-hand fighting, and that cheered her a little as she started to draw water and sank in with a grateful sigh. It took her a long time to bathe.

It had been a while since she'd even had to wash herself. Royalty was making her soft, less and less independent, which was probably exactly the point. All the more reason to look forward to the hand-to-hand training, though she also ached for the feel of the ocean under her fingers. She tried to quell her wave of irritation at that loss and started washing her hair. When she was finished she felt much better, and much less queasy. Now her stomach finally had room for hunger.

Zuko had prepared fruit slices and nuts and buns for breakfast, and afterward he suggested going to the beach.

"There's a decent breeze," he said, watching some of the trees sway lightly in the wind from the kitchen window. "We could try the kite if you want."

After he'd fetched it they trudged down the sand toward the edge of the water, where the tide lapped at their toes. Katara tried to ignore the ships at the dock and prickling feeling on the back of her neck, the feeling of being watched. She scanned the edge of the nearest treeline but saw no guards, so they were well camouflaged. Of course it did not mean they could not see her, and she did not like that one bit. She saw Zuko's eyes darting around, also unnerved.

They didn't speak about it. They seemed to have wordlessly agreed to try and enjoy their last day despite the arrivals.

Flying a kite, she learned, was as easy as holding the handles and letting Zuko unravel the string. It was a simple diamond shape but the purple and blue coloring was bright and brilliant, and watching the kite bob merrily in the clouds lifted her mood, especially when she saw Zuko smiling as he watched it, too.

"Did you do this a lot?" she asked him. "When you came here with your family?"

"Yeah. With my cousin, Lu Ten. Even Azula, once."

Katara looked at him as the kite tugged faintly in the wind. His eyes were far away.

She let him be in silence for a while before nudging him with her shoulder. "This was a good idea, Zuko. Thank you."

His eyes were warm when he smiled at her.

He hovered so close to her, even though there was no real need. Sometimes Katara thought he might touch her, or wrap an arm around her, but he never did. He only let his hands linger a little too long on hers when he took a turn holding the kite. When they decided to go inside to practice hand-to-hand moves before lunch, in the privacy of a spare bedroom rather than on the beach, Zuko pushed the curtain securely over the window and then dropped into fighting stance before her.

Katara hurriedly copied him. He certainly wasn't wasting any time.

Zuko's eyes scanned her critically as she stood there. "Get your elbows up."

She obeyed.

"Higher."

Katara scowled at him but did as he instructed, which seemed to amuse him because he was clearly stifling a smile.

"Maybe start with some simple jabs," Zuko suggested.

She punched at him, slow and methodical as she got used to the movement again, then faster as her muscle memory kicked in. This wasn't so hard. She remembered how to do these. Zuko met her easily with blocks, turning his arms up and sideways and rotating them to meet her, step for step and strike for strike. Katara began to move faster. Her lungs burned after a longer period of being sedentary, but she ignored it. She aimed mostly for Zuko's chest, the widest target.

But she couldn't get a hit in, no matter how she moved.

Katara was no longer doing simple, stationary jabs. Now she was circling and spinning, her feet light as air.

Her wound began to twinge and ache, but she ignored that, too. It was far too fun to stop.

After a few more minutes, Zuko neutralized her. He caught her arm on one of the punches and twisted. She spun involuntarily, her back slamming against his chest. He did it so easily it was embarrassing, though at least he was exerted enough to be breathing a little harder, warm against the back of her neck. A flush of intense heat rolled down Katara's spine. They stayed like that for several heartbeats longer than was strictly necessary.

Finally Zuko stepped back and away. "I said simple jabs," he said. He sounded full of amusement again, and indeed, when she faced him his eyes glinted with it.

"That was simple," said Katara, rather mulishly. "We didn't add kicks."

Zuko gave her a look, but Katara waved her hand. "Come on, let's go again."

"Sequences first. Then we can have one full sparring match. Only one."

Katara crossed her arms and sniffed. "Fine."

The sequences took about twenty minutes to get through. The kicks hurt her wound more than anything else, likely because of its proximity to her hip. For now it was only a dull twinge when she kicked on that side, and rather than making her want to stop and rest, it only aggravated her more. And having Zuko examine her stances so carefully when it was her turn to mimic him was nerve-wracking, made her skin feel like it was tingling. "Hold there," said Zuko, on the third sequence.

Katara froze where she was. Her legs were spread, her front leg forward, her back stretched out. Next she was supposed to slide her back foot, then plant and pivot with a spinning kick. Zuko sidled up to her, took hold of her elbows, and raised them. "You really need to start remembering to protect your face. Now kick."

Katara didn't hesitate. She slid, planted, and aimed a spinning kick right at Zuko's stomach. It was her injured side, so her foot didn't go as high as expected. Zuko caught her ankle in midair with a low cry of alarm just before it connected with the worst spot imaginable, right below his waist. Katara wobbled, but managed to stay upright; Zuko glanced up at her over her leg, eyebrows raised, before he released her and she stumbled back. Katara pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at his expression, which was a mixture of scandalized and alarmed. "Well," he said. "That's one effective way to weaken me. Even if it's a cheap one."

This time she did laugh. "Oh, you must know I was aiming for your stomach."

Zuko's mouth twitched. "That's really not as reassuring as you might think."

"I just can't kick as high on that side. I calculated wrong." She frowned down at her hip. "It's the injury."

Zuko frowned too. "Sounds like we should stop for the day."

"Not yet. I was promised one sparring match," Katara said stubbornly.

She crouched, itching to start despite her fatigue and aches.

They started to circle each other, looking for an opening. It was Katara attacked first.

It was similar to the way they sparred when they were bending, and also completely different. Katara was still adjusting to the harsh, quick jabs rather than graceful sweeps of her wrists and feet, so the rhythm wasn't quite as in sync, and it certainly wasn't anywhere near evenly matched. Zuko kept blocking and blocking, without going on the offensive, and he moved with an air of lazy boredom. When he did attack it was slow and careful, giving her plenty of time to block or duck.

They paused, circling each other again.

"You're going easy on me," Katara accused.

She darted forward and unleashed a barrage of punches in rapid succession.

"Yes, so weird that I would go easy on my recovering wife," said Zuko dryly, arms flying up to block a punch to his face.

Katara faltered, surprised.

It cost her. In the few seconds that she righted herself physically and mentally Zuko swept in, crouched to the floor, and spun. He knocked her feet out from under her so fast she could only gasp in surprise, and then again when he reached out and caught her before she fell. One arm was curved under her back and she found herself staring up at the the ceiling, held just over the floor, Zuko's face over her.

He gave her a very smug grin that should not have been as attractive as it was. "I won," he said.

Katara just gaped up at him, completely out of breath.

And whatever was on her face made Zuko laugh, really laugh. She watched it light up his face, watched his eyes sparkle and his face break open, and she felt the contagious joy spreading. By the time Zuko lowered her carefully to the ground she was laughing too, and still rather stunned.

It wasn't new that Zuko referred to her as his wife. He'd done it just a few hours ago, to General Eza's son, and he obviously said it in public, back in the Fire Nation. But she couldn't remember Zuko ever referring to her that way when it was just the two of them. It was still strange to think of Zuko that way, as her husband. Even though he was, and even though she'd had enough time to get used to the idea. But of all the words she could use to describe Zuko, husband felt like the least important. Just a legal and technical definition in a very strange situation. And perhaps that was why it had rattled her.

The way he'd said it, so casually, didn't make it sound like just a legal term.

Zuko held out a hand to help her up, seemingly unaware that he'd said anything out of the ordinary.

And Katara's thoughts flew, once more, to Aunt Wu's prediction all those months ago.

You are going to marry a powerful bender.

I sense a great romance for you...The man you are going to marry.

Katara swallowed and took Zuko's hand, clutching lightly at her side as he hauled her to her feet.

Zuko slid an arm around her and she leaned gratefully on him. "Are you hurt?"

"Just a little sore. Not a big deal."

It had been more than worth it to fight again, even if only briefly.

Despite her assurances, Zuko made her sit and rest when they went down to the kitchen for lunch.

By the time they'd finished eating the throb in her side had already dissipated, which Katara saw as a very good sign.

They spent the afternoon on the beach. Zuko, as a show of solidarity, also did not swim, even though Katara tried to tell him to. Zuko suggested that they could still go see the play, so as the afternoon drew to a close they went back inside and Katara slipped into her room to get ready. She had no idea how formally she should dress; she wasn't exactly concerned with breaking the social rules except that she would stand out if she didn't dress right, and she certainly didn't want to be recognized here. But to her surprise, she found a note pinned to one of the dresses in her bag; Ty Lee had packed for her. For a nice outing, it said.

The dress in question was a blend of casual and formal, deep green with straps that settled wide on the shoulders and a row of bows up the back that Katara wouldn't be able to tie on her own. It showed a lot more skin than she usually did; her stomach, half her back, a substantial expanse of skin on the chest. Katara tugged it on and tied several bows that she could reach on the top and bottom, enough to keep it from sliding off, and cautiously went off in search of Zuko.

It didn't take long for her to hear soft creaks from above. At first this was cause for alarm. She didn't necessarily trust the guards to stay out of the house.

But then she saw a ladder descending from a gap in the ceiling, and realized Zuko was in the attic.

He hadn't mentioned an attic in this house before, and she hesitated before slowly climbing up.

Zuko sat on the floor, shoulders bowed, turned away from her. There was something in his hands.

The subtle shake of his body told her that he was either in tears or close to them.

Katara paused at the top of the ladder, biting her lip. She was torn between the feeling that she was intruding on Zuko's grief and the need to immediately rush over and offer comfort. Though she'd been young, she remembered vividly that tumultuous time after her mother had died and her father had left. How she'd wanted time alone, to disappear into a hut and curl up on the floor. Other days she'd been unable to tolerate being out of Sokka or Gran-Gran's presence for even a moment, fearing that if she was left alone she would shatter and never gather the pieces back properly. But Zuko only ever had Iroh for support.

Now Iroh was away. Katara swallowed and made up her mind. "Zuko?"

She spoke softly, but her voice still echoed in the attic, with its high ceilings and emptiness. There were several boxes and a whole lot of dust, but not much else. One of the boxes was open; Zuko sat beside it.

He didn't turn. "I'm sorry," he said. His voice was all wrong, flat and empty. "Were you waiting? I probably lost track of time. We can leave now."

Katara climbed fully into the attic and went to him. Over his shoulder, she saw the object he was holding was a portrait of Ursa and Zuko. Zuko must have been five or so in the image. He was sitting on her lap and beaming. Ursa's arms were wrapped around him, her eyes alight. Katara's throat tightened painfully, and she tentatively touched his shoulder. His head bowed lower, his shoulders scrunching up toward his ears.

Katara settled next to him, looping an arm through his. She smiled down at little beaming Zuko. "That looks like a happy day."

"It was," he said hoarsely, but he didn't elaborate further.

That was the worst part, Katara remembered. When grief robbed you of words. Being unable to express all those feelings because they were inexpressible.

"Zuko," she said quietly. "We really don't have to go to this play. I don't want this to be too painful for you."

This made him look up and over at her. His eyes were rimmed with red, and her heart squeezed. "But I want to go. I want to take you. I'm okay. It's just…" His voice broke and he trailed off, glancing back at the portrait. He deflated further. "I just was thinking that she doesn't even look like this anymore." He gave a harsh laugh, one hand reaching up, unconsciously, to touch the edges of his scar. "I guess I don't either."

Any verbal comfort or apology would feel insufficient. The situation with Ursa was terrible. The burning and maiming of his face at Ozai's hand both sickened and enraged her. It was all so messy, so tragic, and Katara would not give him empty words. Instead Katara wrapped her arms around Zuko's torso and pulled him closer, resting his head on her shoulder. He let out a slow, shuddering exhale. Katara started rubbing the broad expanse of his back and they sat like this for several long minutes, until Zuko finally pulled back. He stared at her shoulder for a moment as if just now realizing it was bare, then glanced up at her.

Katara's heart quickened. His face was very close to hers.

"Can you please finish tying these?" she asked. She shifted around, turning her back to him.

After a few seconds, she felt warm, hesitant fingers brushing her bare skin as Zuko started tying the remaining bows.

"It's pretty," he said awkwardly as he worked.

"Ty Lee is good at her job. But I think she forgot not to pack things I can't take on or off by myself."

Zuko's fingers faltered, so quickly it was barely noticeable.

The air in the attic suddenly seemed very heavy, and it wasn't because it was stale and full of dust.

Once he'd finished, Zuko stood and came around to help her up.

"Thank you," he said. The attic was growing darker as dusk approached, but she could see how intently he was looking at her.

He didn't need to explain why he was grateful. Katara knew, because it was exactly how she felt about him.

Thank you for listening. Thank you for understanding me without words. Thank you for holding me. Thank you for accepting my emotions.

Katara just smiled and tugged on his wrist. "Come on," she said. "Let's go see this play."

Love Amongst the Dragons was a love story.

It wasn't that it was a surprise, exactly, given the title. But perhaps Katara hadn't expected that to be such a main focus. She'd expected some grand action-adventure story. A quest to save the world with love on the side. But it was not. It was almost entirely and wholly a romance.

It was about a Dragon Emperor bound to mortal form by a Dark Water Spirit. As a mortal, he fell in love with a mortal woman. Through this love he became more giving, more humble, and lifts the curse. The Water Tribes even had a similar story, told by their roaring fires by Elders who'd memorized every word; master story-weavers who let their voices rise and fall at just the right times to keep their audience captivated. The theme, then, was familiar. Reassuring.

The way love can make you better, the triumph of love over pride.

The theater itself had been small, almost shabby for the standards of Ember Island. It was nothing like the theater they'd visited to see the other play. Katara had expected to have some prickling feelings of discomfort entering a theater again, but the place was so unlike where she'd been stabbed that she didn't encounter that problem at all. They did encounter guards as they left the beach house, but they only bowed and said nothing as Zuko and Katara went on their way.

Zuko had settled them into seats in the center but near the back. Nothing special, no box seats.

Just regular people coming to watch a play.

And like the day before, when they'd explored the village, this filled Katara with a sense of comfort.

In the very first scene, the Dragon Emperor became bound to his mortal form, and the Dark Water Spirit design made her eyes widen. It was the Blue Spirit mask.

She stared and stared, and then she started to giggle, trying to stifle it into her palms.

She felt Zuko poke her in the side. "Shh."

Katara peeked at his outline in the dark beside her, her eyes dancing. "You are such a nerd," she whispered.

He gave her a mocking glare. "Shut up."

She was still choking on giggles.

"Be quiet!" hissed someone from behind them, very angrily, and Katara clapped her hands over her mouth, chastened.

After the play ended, with the Dragon Emperor being restored to his form and finding out the mortal he fell in love with was the Dragon Empress, lamps on the walls blazed to life. Murmurs and the rustle of people standing filled the theater. Katara was grinning as they slowly made it out into the warm night air. The sky was a dark, inky blue. They were away from all the people now, winding along a sandy path back to the house. The walk to the theater had been quite long, several villages away and inland from the coast. Even so, Katara could still smell and feel the sea.

Zuko glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "You look like something is funny. Is this still about the nerd thing?"

She smiled wider. "A little."

"How is that a nerd thing?" Zuko demanded.

"Zuko, you based your secret sword-wielding ninja persona on a character from a play. And you write poetry and like romantic plays. You're just a big secret softie, aren't you?" Zuko started to sputter indignantly, and Katara laughed. "It's not a bad thing. I think it's sweet." She playfully knocked her side into his. "I can't believe I ever saw you as a threat." To her surprise, Zuko caught her around her shoulders and kept her close. Inwardly she preened about this, giddily delighted.

"Well, I still see you as a threat," he teased. "Especially while sleeping. I think I might have permanent bruises on my shins from your kicking."

She snorted. "You can't prove that they're from me."

"But I can start waking you up as revenge. It would serve you right."

Katara laughed again, and it was quiet for a while as they padded through the warm sand.

"Did you like the play?" Zuko asked finally.

"Yes," she said. "I really liked it."

When they finally arrived back at the beach house it was dark, but Zuko waved a hand and candles sprang to life in the wall sconces, making it slightly more friendly inside. "I can make tea," said Zuko after they lingered awkwardly in the entryway for a moment. "Do you want some?"

Katara nodded and followed him into the kitchen, watching him carefully prepare the leaves and hot water.

They sipped in silence for the first few moments, though Zuko broke it to ask her about one of her favorite stories from her tribe. Katara ended up telling him about the ones most similar to Love Amongst the Dragons. There was the one with the happy ending, about the Chief that didn't look out properly for his tribe and had to learn humility lessons by traveling the world. "He falls in love in that one too," Katara explained. "But it's not the main part of the story like in the play. We also have the more tragic one about the Sun and the Moon. The Sun chases her across the sky but he never catches her."

"We have one sort of like that," said Zuko. "But in ours the Sun does catch her. The world dissolves without the difference between day and night and all the people and animals die. But they're so happy together they barely notice."

Katara blinked. "That's pretty dark."

"Yeah," said Zuko. "Oh, if you want to hear another dark one, there's also this tale about this sleeping dragon…"

They went on like this for some time. They shared similar stories and discussed and laughed and drank their tea.

When it came time to head upstairs and go to bed, Zuko grew quieter and quieter, his body language tense as they climbed the stairs.

Katara's muscles tightened as well when they approached her door. She turned to face him.

Zuko was shuffling his feet and darting glances at her. She gave him a nervous smile.

She probably needed help untying her bows. She should ask for help with that. But her throat felt stuck.

Katara put her hand on the doorknob. "Well, um…"

Open the door. Invite him in.

Before she could find the words, Zuko spoke.

"Right. Well." Zuko cleared his throat. "Goodnight."

She caught a glimpse of a curiously strained expression on his face before he turned on his heel and walked away so quickly that Katara was almost offended.

Trying to swallow her disappointment, Katara slowly slipped inside and closed the door behind her. She leaned back against it with a little sigh.

She thought of how hesitant Zuko was with her. How careful. She remembered, briefly, that horrible memory of him bowed out the window, sick at the thought of hurting her that first night they were together. He'd been bordering on skittish with her ever since. He did initiate more touches now, but it was clear he was afraid to be too bold with her. He was still afraid of going too far, of doing the wrong thing and crossing any line. If she was waiting for him, she would be waiting a long time.

Maybe it was because she'd almost died. Maybe it was being away, on this island. Maybe her affection for him had finally spilled over.

Whatever it was, she was flooded with a sudden, fierce determination. Katara whirled around.

She flung open the door and swept out, but after several strides almost collided with Zuko in the middle of the corridor.

Katara's heart leaped and began to flutter in her throat.

Zuko held one hand facing upward, his palm full of flame, a guide for the dark corridor. The fire flickered across his face and for a long moment they just stared at each other, fully aware they'd both been on their way back to the other. Katara barely saw the column of his throat ripple before he extinguished the flame. His eyes were bright and intense in the sudden darkness and the air seemed to press inward from the walls, the tension thickening like a physical thing.

Zuko took several slow steps closer.

Adrenaline roared up in her, tugging at Katara's stomach. Her whole body felt light.

"Katara, I…" Zuko swallowed hard again and moved even closer. "Can I…come in?"

Katara smiled.

"Yes," she whispered.

And then she stood on her tiptoes, placed her palms on his chest, and kissed him.

Notes:

RL stuff has slowed down updates, so I wanted to say thank you very much for your patience and for sticking with me. The next scene was originally part of this chapter and is quite long (hehe), so the good news is that it should speed up the next update process a little because many words are already drafted.

Once again, thank you for reading and for your love! It keeps me going.

Chapter 26: The Lovers

Chapter Text

It was only a soft press of her lips to his. Brief and hesitant.

Katara didn't pull fully away after; her mouth still brushed his, and Zuko was very still for one long second.

Then he dipped lower and kissed her back with such enthusiasm that they both staggered.

They'd kissed before, in the heat of the moment. Katara already knew what kissing Zuko felt like.

It was somehow even better than she remembered. The precise curve of his mouth and brushes of his nose. The taste of the tea they'd drunk, the hint of mint on his lips. The way his torso blazed with a wave of heat, as if it had come awake at her touch. When Katara felt the slide of his tongue, she parted her lips for him with a quiet moan, and that little sound acted as a spark, igniting every nerve, charging the air and burning all sense of hesitancy away entirely.

Suddenly Zuko's hands were everywhere. Up and down her back. Weaving into her hair. Cradling her face. Gliding on her neck, warm fingers skimming over her rocketing pulse. And they were faltering, uncharacteristically clumsy in his haste. He couldn't seem to touch her fast enough.

They stumbled blindly toward the door to her room without breaking apart, his shirt bunched in her fists as she pulled him after her.

They missed on the first try, one of Katara's shoulder blades knocking back against the frame. She barely felt it.

When they finally made it inside, Zuko kicked the door shut. His hands pressed into her lower back, tilting her upward and pulling her tighter against him. Their hips connected and Katara gasped when she felt the evidence of his desire pressing hard against her. Heat unfurled in her lower abdomen, and all at once the layers of clothing between them felt oppressive. She started tugging fiercely at the hem of his shirt and Zuko pulled away from her just long enough to help her rip it over his head and toss it aside. Then he descended on her again, cupping her jaw in both hands and kissing her until her head spun.

Katara eagerly pressed closer to his bare chest. She spanned it with her palms and Zuko's hands came to cover hers; her heart stuttered at the simple sweetness of the gesture. She wove her fingers through his and squeezed, loving the way his hands dwarfed hers. How warm they always were. How they were strong and deft and capable when wrapped around a sword or managing a flame, but gentle and careful when he touched her.

She took one of them and guided it around to the line of bows down her back.

Zuko drew back and looked at her with hooded eyes. "Turn around."

His voice was low, huskier than she'd ever heard it, and with just the slightest hint of command.

A delighted shiver went through her as she obeyed.

The dress was a lot of work to untie. So many individual bows. Each brush of Zuko's fingertips on her skin was like an electric jolt, but even more distracting was his mouth. He kissed and licked as much exposed skin as he could reach. Her neck and shoulders, down her shoulder blades, along the top of her spine. Katara's legs were weak when he finally turned her back around and eased the straps over her shoulders. The dress pooled to the floor, leaving her in bottom wraps.

Zuko sucked in a sharp breath, his golden eyes glazing over as he stared down at her.

Heat warmed Katara's face and she had the strangest urge to fidget, to shield herself with her hands. But she forgot her self-consciousness quickly when Zuko wrapped her up and pulled her close again, hot skin pressed against hers. He cupped the back of her neck with one hand and gently tilted her head, kissing from her clavicle up to right below her ear.

"You're so beautiful," he rasped, and her chest fluttered at the praise.

His other hand began to glide up her body, over her stomach and her ribs, his touch light but undeniably urgent.

He cupped her breast in his palm and kneaded it very slowly, and Katara's breath started coming in short gasps.

"Been dying to put my hands on you," Zuko mumbled.

His thumb brushed over her nipple, pebbled and sensitive in the exposed air, and Katara whimpered into his mouth.

Their kisses became faster again, more desperate, laced with little sounds of encouragement. She could feel Zuko's chest heaving against hers, feel how strongly he responded to just touching her. His reactions made her feel powerful. They made her want to consume and claim. They made her want to be consumed and claimed. She wanted his undercurrent of urgency full-blown and at the surface. Katara cupped his jaw with one hand and traced the crevices of his abdomen with the other. Then she started to slide her hand lower and Zuko stilled; he seemed to briefly stop breathing.

She glanced up under her lashes to see him watching her with eyes that were nearly full black.

She swallowed and kept moving her hand lower. When he didn't stop her, she slipped lower and lower until she finally brushed against his cock, straining through his trousers. It was warm and solid, heavy against her palm. She slid her hand along the length of it, back and forth, still watching his reaction. Zuko's face flashed with something utterly feral that made her squeeze her thighs together. Before Katara fully realized what she was doing, she was clawing at his trousers.

Zuko followed her example and helped her pull at his clothes, panting harshly. Wisps of smoke rose from his knuckles.

Once his trousers and wraps were successfully down to his knees, Katara couldn't help it. She was too curious.

She looked straight down at his cock and stared longer than she probably should.

It was dark, of course, but she could still see it, rigid and upright against his abdomen. Her mouth went dry, both because she remembered how full he always made her feel and because it was daunting; a stark and unwelcome reminder that she wanted to make him feel good but had no actual clue what she was doing.

Heart hammering in her chest, Katara reached out and gently curled her fingers around it. It was much softer to the touch than she'd anticipated.

She gave it a small, experimental stroke, and Zuko's reaction was immediate.

A stuttered moan fell out of his lips and his abdomen tightened under her other hand. This emboldened her enough to give another careful stroke. She leaned up to kiss him and started to pump him with slow precision, but she didn't get far before Zuko snatched her wrist and pulled her away, then took her face in his hands and kissed her so hard it made her breathless. She had only a brief second to worry that she'd been too clumsy and inexperienced before he was kicking off his clothes the rest of the way and lifting her off her feet with a low growl, as easily as if she weighed nothing at all.

Katara clung to his shoulders and tucked her legs around his waist as he carried her over to the bed.

As soon as he'd deposited her on it he hovered over her, nuzzling into her neck.

Katara reached for his hair, soft under her fingers, as his hands slid all over her.

One of his hands kept drifting lower to start toying at the edge of her wraps and Katara squirmed, trying to tilt up toward it. Just searching for any kind of friction, silently begging him with rolling hips to touch her. She didn't think she'd ever been this aroused in her entire life. It was strangely easy to verbally express her desire when she was this far gone. "Please."

Zuko's answer was a helpless groan before he suckled gently at her pulse point and dipped his hand under her wraps. The first brush of his fingers made bliss erupt through every nerve. She made a low keening sound, clutching hard at his hair and arching her lower body up toward him.

Zuko dropped his head to her shoulder, his breathing ragged. "Fuck." He moved his hand lower, stroking gently, and the choked sound he made when he felt how ready she was set her alight. "You're so—" He sounded wrecked. "Fuck—"

"Hurry," she pleaded, reaching blindly for his hips. She couldn't wait another minute, not this time. "I need you—"

This finally seemed to make him snap. He snarled against her throat and shifted back to his knees, hooking his fingers in the sides of her wraps.

His eyes were now pitch black and blazing down at her. "Lift your hips," he told her.

She did, and he pulled the wraps down over her legs and tossed them away. His eyes raked over her, bare under him.

She'd never seen this expression on Zuko's face before. It was almost primal. Like he wanted to devour her.

But the way he put his palms on her legs and slowly ran them all the way up her was still gentle, as if she were a priceless treasure.

Zuko settled over her again, kissing her, aligning himself between her legs.

As soon as his weight was on her again, heavy and comforting, Katara sighed in relief, her hands resting back on his hips. The soothing, familiar smell of smoke and herbs filled her senses. The tip of him pressed against her and she writhed, nudging her legs wider, open and pliant for him. He made a small rocking motion and she almost sobbed with want.

Zuko took her in his arms, surrounding her so completely it felt as though she was swaddled in a very warm, strong cocoon.

He slid into her easily, in one smooth, slow motion. Once he was buried in her, they both let out fractured moans.

For a while Zuko held still, pressing soft kisses into her shoulders and neck. She could feel the tension thrumming in his body, wanting to move. Her eyes had closed, relishing being connected and full and so close. But they fluttered open when she felt fingers under her chin, tilting it up. Zuko was looking right down at her.

His palm came to cradle her face, thumbs swiping over her cheekbones.

He kissed her slowly, his tongue gliding against hers like he was savoring the taste of her.

The happy glow from the gentle intimacy made Katara feel like she could levitate right off the bed.

Finally he rocked back and forward again. All the way out and all the way back in, slow and precise.

Katara's fingers dug into him and she saw Zuko's jaw go slack, his eyes unfocusing for several long seconds.

Despite their desperation to start, Zuko kept the pace achingly slow, his strokes long and deliberate. One hand held her face and the other buried in her hair and his eyes never left hers. He was so close their noses were touching. Katara's hands touched every part of his skin she could reach. He couldn't stop kissing her, on her mouth and across her cheeks and gently along her jaw. He used one knee to push her open wider and it was even better. Deeper.

Her toes curled when he rocked all the way in like this, and he stifled the high-pitched sound she made with his mouth, nibbling on her bottom lip.

Zuko rolled into her like this several more times, so slow and deep that her mind went blank.

Then, to her surprise, he pulled back and away. He shifted off to lay on his side and guided one of her legs until it crossed over the other.

She still lay on her back, but her lower half was now angled away from him. He pushed back into her and Katara's lips parted, lashes fluttering.

"Good?" He purred it into her ear, pressing kisses into her neck.

Katara tilted her head back with a shaky sigh to give him more access. "Yes."

Zuko took her leg closest to him, running a soothing palm over her thigh, and pulled it back toward him and over his legs to open her wider. In this position Zuko was still close to her with his face, forehead pressed against hers. But his torso curved along her side instead of covering her, so he could see and touch her body.

He immediately took advantage of this by tracing feather light fingertips all over her as he rolled his hips, his thrusts still long and precise.

The only times that he stopped kissing her were to draw back and watch her face before hungrily capturing her lips again.

Katara liked this position very much, but her clit was throbbing and there was no pressure on it like this.

"Please, I need—touch me—" The rest dissolved into a moan when he heeded her request.

His fingers started slow circles. Slow, frustrating circles. He was so close to where she needed him, but not quite…

"Lower," she pleaded.

Zuko groaned into her ear and his fingers inched down just as she'd asked, searching for the right spot.

There.

A half-sob tumbled out of Katara's throat and her nails dug into his forearm. Zuko did not seem to notice or care that she was scratching him. His voice was smoky in her ear. "Right there?" He put light pressure on her clit again, just a quick touch. Testing. Learning her. Katara could only gasp and nod, watching him in a haze.

Zuko alternated between strokes and circles with his fingers, moving them faster and faster but still pushing into her slow.

Katara's eyesight was already turning blurry. She had needed this so much. This would not last long now, not with him touching her like this as he took her. There was the tightening of her muscles and the hitching of her breath, the telltale signs that seemed to last mere seconds this time. She hurtled to the edge.

"Fuck." Zuko was watching her intently, his expression mesmerized. "Fuck, Katara—"

Her body seized up, all the tension in her imploding.

Vaguely, as ecstasy rippled through every limb, she heard Zuko making strangled sounds of awe as she came around him, clenching and tightening and rippling.

It was a long time until her body finally stopped trembling with aftershocks.

They were both breathing like they'd run the entire coast of Ember Island.

When she'd gained the ability to form a coherent thought, Katara wondered why Zuko had not finished.

She knew he hadn't, because the way it felt when they came together, prolonging it for them both, and listening to the sounds he made—that was one of her favorite parts. He'd always come right after she did, the other times. But right now he was still just inside her, one hand flat against her stomach. He was breathing very harshly, his face buried in her neck, and he was frozen except for the faint shaking of his muscles. Confused, Katara experimentally wiggled her hips.

Maybe he just needed a little more but was afraid she wouldn't want him to continue now that she'd finished.

But Zuko's hands gripped tight to her waist to stop her, and the sound he made was almost pained. "Don't move."

After a few seconds he gently eased out of her, though he didn't shift away.

It took Katara a few moments to string words together, and they came out slurred. "But," she mumbled, "you didn't…?"

"Not yet." He kissed her and she could tell that he was smiling. She could feel it in the curve of his mouth.

He kissed her face and neck and shoulders, following a path caressed first by his hands. Katara made a happy little noise, looping her arms around his neck.

Her brain was fuzzy, muddled, but this was important, so she tried again. "But…"

"Don't think." The careful way he twined his tongue with hers made her moan.

He resumed his veneration of her. He licked down her neck, toward her chest. He kissed along her collarbones, pressed a kiss over her heart, then trailed a line of light kisses across each breast. He took his time laving and licking at them and touching them. At some point, on every exhale, smoke streamed from Zuko's lips. And after several long minutes of the slow, focused attention, molten heat began seeping through Katara's veins like the slow spill of warm honey. That coiling, tight feeling between her legs started to grow all over again, a small little flame of desire fanning back to life. She'd had no idea it could come back so quickly.

Zuko's mouth closing around one of her nipples. The wet heat of it and the slow curl of his tongue made a series of shaky sounds come out of her mouth. By the time he turned his attention to the other, she was twisting around in his arms. "Oh god oh god—" she heard herself saying, and then Zuko was moving lower.

Down the center of her torso, right along her sternum. Across her ribs and down her stomach.

She was so aware of every move he made, each exhale of warm air and smoke unfurling on her skin. Her thighs started to shake.

Zuko paused at the scar near her hip. She watched him trace the line of it with his fingers, then lean forward and press kisses across the entire length of it. Then he paused again and glanced up at her, his hair rumpled and face flushed, his eyes full of heat. Liquid gold. Still watching her, Zuko started to kiss lower.

Along her hip, down toward her inner thighs —

For a second Katara just stared hazily at him. Then she finally processed what he was wanting to do.

Her body reacted before her mind. Her chest tightened and she tried to slam her legs shut and curl away. "W-wait."

Zuko moved immediately, sitting up and away from her. A chill settled over her in his absence.

"Okay," he said quickly. "Okay. I'm sorry. I just thought maybe you'd like…I shouldn't have—"

"No," she said, still breathless. "It's okay. You…you gave me plenty of time to talk to you. And I promised I would."

He was watching her very cautiously, as if he was unsure whether he should come close to her again. Katara wanted to kick herself. She liked everything they were doing. She trusted Zuko. The strange flash of panic had completely blindsided her. Was it the intimacy and newness of it? That was intimate in such a different way.

His face…right there.

And she was usually bathed and primped by Ty Lee before being with him. She'd never really had to consider cleanliness.

Now she was keenly aware that she'd last bathed that morning, and combined with the warm days here…

Well. It just felt less than optimal.

And she didn't think she would be able to stand it if he didn't…like her.

Katara held out her arms. "Come back," she said, wanting him close to her again, and Zuko obeyed, crawling over her and gathering her up again. "I didn't mean to react so strongly," she said, muffled into his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I just…"

"Don't apologize." He kissed across one of her cheeks.

It struck Katara then how obvious it was that he'd done all of this before, and how obvious it must be to him that she had not. It was a truly awful time for Mai's face to flash before her eyes, and it did not help the creeping feelings of inadequacy and shame. And that was only one partner. Perhaps he'd been with others. Maybe they all had lots of experience and had known exactly what to do with him, and here she was, barely knowing how to touch him properly. She felt too old for this.

Zuko pressed another kiss lower, right on her pulse. "We can stop."

"No," Katara said very fiercely. Then she squeezed her eyes shut and mumbled, "It's just that most of…these things are…new. For me. I guess I got—nervous." She couldn't help but add, rather defensively, "It's not like my tribe had any dating opportunities."

Zuko propped up to look at her and she avoided his eyes, cheeks hot.

The physical vulnerability—stripping away her dress or baring herself to him—that had been so much easier than this.

He brushed a curl from her face and leaned down to kiss her, running his fingers through her hair.

"We can do or not do whatever you want," Zuko said gently. "You don't need to worry."

Part of her wanted to correct him, tell him that she knew that and trusted completely that he would stop and listen to her.

The other part of her didn't want to discuss the real reasons for her nerves at all because they were embarrassing, and she especially didn't want to do it when he was still peppering kisses on her, and when his cock was still hard against her thigh because he hadn't finished. She really wanted him to finish.

She started running her hands over his torso.

He touched her in return, and eventually Zuko was back to kissing her all over again, though he didn't move lower than her stomach this time.

He kept at it until she was a mess under him, back to wriggling and trying to grind up and find the pressure she needed.

He was leisurely kissing his way up her right arm when Katara boldly took hold of his shoulders and pushed him over.

Zuko landed on his back, his face flickering with surprise as she straddled him.

Then his eyes darkened and his hands came to firmly grip her hips. She followed his guidance as he eased her hips back to position her over him, using his other hand to line himself up at her entrance. But he let her slide down on him at her own pace. Something about the angle made it feel like he was more for her to take.

It didn't hurt, wasn't uncomfortable, but she took her time and sank down on him very slowly, with frequent pauses.

When he was finally sheathed in her, Zuko's face broke open with sheer, unreserved bliss. His head fell back to the pillow, the line of his neck long and graceful.

Just seeing that look on his face and knowing she'd caused it was more than worth the lingering uncertainty about being the one on top.

Katara shifted down until their foreheads pressed together and kissed him.

She slowly rocked her hips up and back, trying to find the right motion and rhythm.

Just like before, the pace started slow. They stayed close, kissing or staring into each other's eyes, touching each other's faces or necks or jaws.

They found an angle where her clit rubbed him on each movement, and the pressure in her started to build.

After a while Zuko moved to sit up, bracing himself on one elbow and curving the other arm around her lower back so that she still straddled him. Katara tucked her arms around his shoulders and started to move again; now Zuko pushed his hips up to meet her. They were still so close, so entangled in each other. When he wasn't kissing her or watching her expression, he laid his face against her chest or sucked and licked at her nipples. Katara started to move faster as she got the hang of what she was doing, rocking and bouncing in his lap. Each time she bottomed out on him, Zuko made a low, masculine moan in his throat.

She reached back to hold one of his thighs for leverage and chased that building feeling, more elusive and difficult to catch after having already come once.

She kept cresting upward, up and up, but it would level out or fade again as she grew closer.

Katara let out a ragged gasp, ready to go to pieces with frustration. "I don't know if I can—"

"You can," Zuko growled. He wrapped his arm tighter around her, fingers spreading wide over her lower back.

He started to snap his hips upwards so hard and fast that she slammed down on him and jolted back upward on each thrust.

He hit so deep inside of her, over and over; she had no control over the sounds she made.

She kept bouncing on him furiously, trying to match his pace. Zuko's eyes, glassy with pleasure, flashed with undisguised, primitive lust.

"So good," she heard him pant. "You feel—so—good." He punctuated each word with a particularly hard thrust, and she clenched tighter on him with a wail.

She was rewarded with his pleased hiss, and pride sparked in her. She liked knowing she could affect him like this. This was exactly what she'd wanted.

She'd wanted him completely lost in her, wanted him to make her feel like he needed her.

She tensed, tighter and tighter. She didn't level out or fade, but kept rising.

Words started to spill out of him in a fierce rasp as he pounded up and into her.

"—that's it, keep going, keep riding me, come all over me, I'll do anything for—fuck—" Zuko faltered and broke off.

He'd felt her shatter around him.

It was so intense her vision briefly shuttered black. She might have screamed.

She felt Zuko yank her closer, felt him pulse in her with a hoarse shout. All she could do was hold on and wheeze for air as they convulsed in each other's arms.

When it was over her muscles ached from holding them locked for so long and the intensity of a second release. Her entire body was a glob of jelly and she was slick with sweat, her thighs sticky with fluids. She couldn't care less. She collapsed forward and he caught her, lying back, easing out of her and gathering her up to his chest. Zuko kissed her temple and started rubbing his palms up and down her spine.

Katara sleepily kissed and nibbled at his chest and he released a rumbling, satisfied sigh.

Her brain felt fragmented; she couldn't form a full thought. The world was warm and fuzzy.

Fingers found her chin, tilting it up so he could kiss her. Katara made an incoherent, pleased noise against his lips.

"So good," he whispered to her, just kissing her and kissing her. "So good. So stunning. You're perfect."

Zuko rolled her very gently onto her back and started kissing her face and neck and shoulders, everywhere he could reach. He ran his hands all over her, slow, light caresses. Trailing up and down her arms and pushing hair from her face and brushing her cheekbones.

Katara lay there, limp and dazed, as he showered her in seemingly endless affection. She couldn't even speak.

She never wanted to leave this bed or his presence.

A thick bubble of emotion worked its way into her throat, growing and growing until it hurt.

She suddenly had to bite her tongue, hard, to keep herself from sobbing. It made no sense; she was blissfully happy.

Unfortunately biting her tongue wasn't enough. Before she knew it her chest was hitching uncontrollably, and then she was crying.

Zuko had been buried in her neck, still kissing her, but his head snapped up when he heard it.

His eyes blew wide with horror. "Katara…?" His hands urgently cupped her face. "What is it? Did I hurt you? Was it too rough at the end? I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I—fuck, if I hurt you again…" His entire body had started to shake and he was turning ghostly pale.

Katara desperately shook her head, trying to speak over the painful lump in her throat.

"Can I do something for you? I can—" He started to draw away, his face twisted up. "I can bring you something, I can leave—I'm so sorry—"

"No," she finally managed through the tears. She reached out with heavy, beseeching arms. "Please don't…leave me."

Zuko came nearer and Katara instantly snatched at him and pulled him as close as possible, tucking herself below his chin.

He hugged her and rocked her until she had calmed down enough to say, still shakily, "I'm not…hurt."

"You swear?" His voice was very hoarse.

"I swear." Her sobs were settling into intermittent sniffling. "Nothing is wrong. Not at all. I don't know why I'm crying."

Now that the unexpectedly powerful burst of emotion was fading, she felt drained again. And very, very stupid.

Zuko just pulled back to look at her and started wiping tears away with his thumbs. She tried to duck her head, knowing she looked splotchy and puffy after her outburst, but he held her there, not letting her look away from him. "Really?" he asked, quietly.

"I promise." She touched his face. "I was—just feeling so happy. And I've never—and two times—"

She saw some of the tension sag out of Zuko's shoulders, saw his face flicker with relief. His eyes softened at the edges.

"Okay," he said, pulling her back to him. "Here, just relax."

She slumped into his arms. Her body still felt weak and useless but Zuko kept running reassuring hands over her.

Then he started kissing her again just as he had earlier, slowly and all over, until she was only feeling sleepy and content and her breathing was even again.

"You still need to drink your tea," he murmured after a while. "I can make it for you."

Katara wrinkled her nose. "Gee, thanks," she said faintly.

She heard him stifle a raspy chuckle into the crook of her neck. "I'll brew you good tea to make up for it. And bring you food. I can make you a bath while I do that, if you want. And, uh…well, without Healer Shoshu, if you're able to bend…"

"I can. I'll take care of it," she promised, though she strongly suspected half of it was already trickling down her legs.

Zuko leaned back and kissed her cheeks.

"Come here," he said, then scooped her out of bed and started carrying her out of the room and down the corridor.

Katara just stared quietly up at him in the low light of the corridor as he cradled her to his chest, affection squeezing at her so hard it hurt.

He noticed her looking. His mouth quirked up on one side into one of her favorite crooked smiles. "What is it?"

I think I'm falling in love with you, her brain supplied.

But she only swallowed hard and said the first other thing that popped into her mind. "You don't want to take a bath, too?"

His smile widened, until his eyes crinkled at the edges. "Are you asking me to join you, or trying to politely hint that I need one?"

Katara giggled. "Why, do you want to join me?"

"Obviously," he said, eyes glinting at her. "But it's supposed to be for you to relax. And I have things to go and make for you."

Zuko kicked the door to the washroom open and set her down. He busied himself with preparing the water and heating it, and Katara slipped out of his line of sight to bend everything out of her and to a spare bedpan. Even that little bit of bending made her feel tired again.

She stumbled over to the edge of the tub and waited on wobbly legs.

Zuko was still naked, his lips pursed in concentration as he tried to heat the water to an acceptable temperature.

She was so busy admiring his sculpted torso and the lithe grace of his movements, and maybe staring below his waist just a little, that she didn't even notice him finish and straighten up. "I can't believe I'm the one saying this to you instead of the other way around, but my eyes are up here," she faintly heard him say.

She glanced up, face heating, to see that the eyes in question were dancing at her.

"I know very well where your eyes are, but I wasn't interested in those at the moment," said Katara.

He flashed her a devastatingly handsome smile.

Then he drew closer, tucking his arms around her. "I won't be long." He affectionately brushed her nose against his.

Her heart fluttered. "Okay."

Zuko kissed her, slow and deep and for several long moments, before he reluctantly pulled away.

"I won't be long," he promised again, and then backed out and shut the door.

Katara, remembering Healer Shoshu's advice about infections, relieved herself first before she clambered into the tub very carefully, half afraid that she would topple over. Her legs still weren't working properly. True to Zuko's word, she'd only soaked in the bath and let it soothe her wrung out muscles for less than ten minutes when he returned. He came to the side of the tub and helped her out, now wearing a thin night robe.

She stumbled out dripping wet and Katara bent herself dry, all too aware that he was staring at her.

When she was done, Zuko picked her up and carried her off again.

He brought her back to the bed and sat with his back against the headboard, pulling her to sit back against him.

He reached over to the bedside table and put a prepared platter of fruit in her lap. "Eat," he told her.

Zuko seemed perfectly content to sit there and hold her while she sleepily nibbled on fruit, leaning back against his chest.

She obediently drank water that he offered her, and then the fertility tea, and then several sips of another mint tea to wash out the taste.

With her stomach full, the drowsiness returned with such force that she began nodding off right there, sitting up.

Zuko caught her chin and leaned around to kiss her cheek. "You need sleep."

She nodded dazedly, eyelids drooping. He moved the food away from her lap and shifted them until they were lying down. "Come here." He started kissing her face and smoothing her hair back as she curled against him, snuggling into his chest. His arms came around her. "There. Are you comfortable? "

"Mhm," she mumbled, and released a deep sigh.

She'd never felt so relaxed. So safe.

"Are you?" she managed to ask.

"Yes," Zuko murmured. She felt him gently kiss her forehead. "Little star..." His voice was very tender. He kissed her forehead again. "Sleep well."

Katara was just awake enough to feel a ripple of warmth at the endearment, but that was all.

It took her only seconds after that to fade from consciousness entirely, lulled by Zuko's steady heartbeat.

Chapter 27: The Return

Notes:

Hello, all! It's been a while since the last update.

I'm removing the hiatus status but updates will remain sporadic, I'm just working on this when I enjoy doing so :)

Comments will now be moderated, at least for a time. I hope this doesn't discourage you if you feel like leaving one; unless someone is very obviously and purposefully being nasty, I'll approve it. It's just a measure I've decided to take for the time being to improve my fandom experience, and I wanted to try this before disabling the ability for guests to comment.

Also! Since the last update, juune-moon created more Incendiary-inspired art. Go check it out.😍

As always, thank you for reading!

Chapter Text

Fingers pushed through Katara's hair. She was wrapped in warmth.

She made a sleepy sound and burrowed closer to Zuko's neck.

Zuko must have noticed her start to wake up, because he brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her temple. For a while Katara dozed in his arms, content, while he played with her hair and traced patterns along her bare back. Sun spilled into the room, the curtains half-parted; restless energy emanated from him.

"How long have you been awake?" Katara mumbled finally.

"Sunrise." An unsurprising answer.

"Is it late?"

"Yeah. It's mid-morning." He kissed her temple again.

Katara let out a sleepy groan. "Zuko, mid-morning is early."

He let out a raspy chuckle. "It is not."

"How would you like it if I woke you up in the middle of the night?"

Zuko dipped closer, his mouth at her ear. "Go ahead."

His hands slid down and settled on her waist, tugging her closer. Katara shivered at the tone of his voice and smiled, but didn't open her eyes. She was in no hurry to get out of bed. At some point today, they would have to sail back. The thought was like a rock in her stomach. But she didn't have long to worry or feel disappointed about that before Zuko caught her chin with his fingers. He tilted it up and kissed her, slow and soft and careful.

She melted into him. For a few long minutes, she forgot to dread their return.

Katara tucked her head under his chin again after a while.

Zuko let out a happy, rumbling sigh into her hair.

Maybe she should say something about all of this, this new development between them. But she wasn't sure what. It felt far too fast; it felt just right. It felt confusing and new; it felt more natural than anything. A niggling part of her was wary of the warm glow of happiness she'd found. It was one more thing that could soon be ripped away.

And if Mavang kept her promise to save Zuko, it certainly would be.

A flicker of doubt took root in Katara's mind, growing larger and larger. Had she made the right call?

Or had she been desperate and overconfident, a silly little girl playing at power with a woman who clearly knew well how to wield it?

Not to mention that Zuko would be furious with her.

Maybe he wouldn't want her afterward, once she found him again. Katara knew full well just how enraged she would be if he did the same thing to her. And yet, she knew she would choose it again if she could. She clung tighter to him. Better he's furious but alive.

Better to be rejected and lose this than to see him die.

Still, she could not quite ignore the gnawing guilt in her.

Zuko broke into her troubled thoughts. "I think I solved your night kicking problem." He still sounded relaxed and at ease, and Katara forced herself to return to that mindset. They had so little time to be here and alone. She wanted to enjoy it.

She slipped a hand under the fold of his night robe, palm on his chest. "Oh?"

He leaned down to her ear again. "I think I just have to wear you out."

The words tickled at her skin and she tingled all over with automatic delight.

Zuko shifted to sit up, leaning over to reach toward the bedside table. The tantalizing aroma of food filled Katara's nose. "I made these," he said, grabbing the small tray of them, and he sounded very proud of this fact. "From scratch."

"You did that this morning already?" Katara tugged the covers up to her neck and sat up.

Zuko put the tray on her lap and slid an arm around her. It was ridiculous that such a casual motion could make her feel so fluttery in her chest. "I've been awake for hours. I figured I had plenty of time to do it before you woke up. You aren't exactly a morning person."

He plucked a bun up off the tray and handed it to her, his eyes dancing.

His face was open like it was when he laughed, and he had a little smile on his lips. He sat in a patch of sunlight and his hair was a mess. He looked beautiful and happy, and more relaxed than she'd ever seen him. Seeing him like this made her heart swell in response.

"Morning people are annoying." Katara poked him in the chest.

"Are you calling me annoying?" Zuko poked her back, in the side. "Try it."

"How many batches did you make?" For a moment Katara entertained herself with images of Zuko trying to bake: flour all over him, letting out irritated shouts, and wearing a frilly apron. Maybe she could convince him to come down to the kitchens with her once they were back at the palace. Chef Rusai would probably faint from sheer joy if the prince came.

"Just the one."

Katara took a bite and Zuko watched her, trying to hide his apprehension. She was careful not to change her facial expression. She swallowed and almost choked.

"Well?"

Katara tried to hold it back, but the laughter burst out of her anyway.

"What?" Zuko demanded.

"I—I think instead of sugar—" she gasped out the words, barely able to breathe from giggles "—you used too much salt. It's just—a huge pile of salt—it's awful —"

"What? No. You're joking." Zuko snatched the bun from her and took a bite. He chewed; his face morphed into disgust and horror, and Katara laughed even harder.

"Damn it." He tossed it back with a grumpy expression.

"Aww. It was still a nice surprise." Katara wriggled closer to him.

"It was not."

"I thought it was sweet." She looked him right in the eyes, mouth twitching, unable to help herself. "Well. No, it wasn't sweet at all, was it? It was just very salty—"

Zuko made an embarrassed groan, head knocking back against the bed frame.

"But the effort was sweet." She looped her arms around his neck and kissed his jaw.

When she moved her arms, the covers slipped down to her waist. Zuko's eyes dropped almost comically quickly down to her exposed chest. His breath hitched.

When his gaze slid back to hers, it was noticeably darker.

He pulled her forward by the waist, his grip tight, and kissed her.

The pace was slow at first. Leisurely. His hands came to tangle up in her hair again.

Soon they were kissing fiercely, hands roaming, pressing closer.

"Last night's offer is still on the table." Zuko kissed a sensitive spot behind her ear and his hands spanned wide across her ribs. He kissed down her neck to her collarbone. Katara stilled, overcome with a wave of nerves and lust. Unlike yesterday, the lust won out over the nerves; her thighs clenched and a sharp, aching feeling spiked between her legs.

When it took her a moment to respond, Zuko added, "No pressure."

He kept kissing across her collarbone to the other side, then along her shoulder.

Katara's eyes fluttered closed, her heart pounding hard. "Okay," she said finally. "We can—try it."

Zuko stilled. Then he shifted to look down at her. "Yeah?"

Katara just nodded. She didn't trust herself to speak.

One of Zuko's hands slid to hold her jaw and he kissed her so deeply her head spun. He rolled over and onto her, and his other hand pulled at the bed covers between them. When he yanked them away, his eyes dilated at the sight of her underneath him. The sunlight from the window slanted across his skin and he radiated the power of it. Just looking at him made the mounting tension in her build to a persistent throb. Katara made a pleased sound when he pressed back against her and kissed her, slow and steady.

His hand traced reverently down her naked body, his fingertips only brushing her, barely contacting her at all.

The featherlight touch was warm and maddening and not nearly enough.

He trailed along her shoulder, over her throat, along her collarbones.

Katara moaned faintly into his mouth, and did it again when he brushed over her nipples. They were already so hard and sensitive; arousal pooled between her legs. He'd only kissed her and barely touched her and she already had to fight not to writhe around and ask for more. She wondered if it was normal, being this insatiable at the beginning. Zuko's hand swept over her abdomen, and the burn of want was suddenly too much. Katara pushed her hips up in a silent plea.

But his hand took hold of her hip and guided her back down to the bed.

He came to nip at her neck. "Stay still, Katara," he muttered into her ear.

Katara's breath caught in her throat. A slow, tantalizing shiver ran up her.

The drag of his fingertips on her skin paused. "Should I keep going?"

She nodded and shifted her hips, desperate.

Zuko cupped her left breast in his hand and started kneading it. Katara couldn't help but wriggle a little, searching for friction. She felt so terribly empty. But she managed not to lift her hips or move too much. Even when his thumbs circled her nipples, she only jolted faintly. Her breathing became sharper and faster when his mouth began following the same path as his hands. It trailed down, maddeningly soft along the front of her throat; down to her collarbone; across her breasts. He kissed around and under them. Everywhere except her aching nipples. When he did flick his tongue across one, she thrashed involuntarily and whimpered low in her throat. He was dragging this out. He was playing with her.

"You like this?" Zuko's tone, low and rough, made her shiver.

"Yes." It came out breathless.

Zuko took a nipple in his mouth and suckled very gently.

Katara thrashed again. Surely he'd stop teasing her soon. Surely he would.

But he did not.

Zuko took his time. He licked and sucked and kissed all over her upper body for so long, drawing it out and winding her tight, that her entire body was shaking by the end. Then his body weight suddenly disappeared; Katara could only make an incoherent pleading sound. Warm lips pressed a gentle kiss just above her left knee. Her mind was so scrambled that she didn't have it in her to feel self-conscious that his face was so close to her. Maybe that had been his goal with all this. Maybe not. All she cared about was easing the ache.

Zuko kissed higher up her leg until her body quivered with tension.

He was so close. Warm breath swirled on her inner upper thigh and her awareness of his mouth drowned out everything else. Her toes curled, ready, but he stopped and drew back.

He dipped down to her other knee and started the process all over again.

When he licked at her, one short, warm lick, ecstasy shot through her entire body. Her jaw fell open. He did it again and Katara snatched the bed sheets beside her, bunching them in her fists. The pleasure was blinding. She tried to squeeze her thighs together for friction, but Zuko's hands wrapped firmly around them and held her open, lapping gently at her. Katara whined and scrambled to hold onto his hair, clutching the silky strands tightly between her fingers.

She rolled her hips repeatedly up toward his mouth, frantic.

"Fuck." He spoke thickly, sounding just as overwhelmed as she was. Zuko slid his tongue up her again before circling her clit. Katara shuddered with bliss.

He kissed and licked her and slowly added more pressure, until her lungs burned and her whole body was taut. He took one of her legs and draped it over his shoulder before dipping his face down again. His hands drifted over her body, ran up her stomach and over her thighs. His enthusiasm was obvious. He made muffled moans into her as if he enjoyed this as much as she did. This hurtled her rapidly to the edge. Her hips pushed up, over and over, so close, and—

Zuko stopped.

Katara whimpered and tried to tighten her legs again. Zuko's hands kept them open.

"Trust me," he said, even huskier. He kissed leisurely along her thighs again. Her inner thighs were wet with arousal. Sometimes his warm tongue swiped along them and tasted her. Her legs shook violently. She needed to come so badly. Dimly she became aware that Zuko was rolling his hips, rutting into the bed to try and relieve some of his pressure.

The sight of it made her wild.

"Zuko," she begged finally, squirming.

He looked up; his golden eyes blazed at her. "You want more?"

Katara nodded, dazed.

Zuko lowered his head and kissed her clit. Katara whined and he did it again.

"You taste so good," he muttered.

He started teasing out her pleasure again with his mouth.

He did the same as before, once and then again. He brought her all the way to the edge until she was on the brink of shattering, only to pull away again and kiss slowly at her legs. He worked at her for what felt like hours, only to stop at the last moment. She couldn't take much more. "Please," she mumbled, when he did it again. Her voice trembled. "Please…"

"So good. One more time." Zuko planted a kiss on her stomach. "One more?"

"Yes," she whispered.

His mouth returned and she sobbed faintly, her thighs clamping around his head.

Once again he stopped just before she tipped over. This time he moved up to his knees to look down at her as she writhed underneath him, rendered entirely incoherent. Strong hands massaged her tense legs. He massaged all the way to her calves. Then he dipped his head back between her thighs.

Katara's hips circled and thrust against his tongue, all sense of inhibition lost long ago. The wet sounds of his mouth, the sounds of enthusiasm he made, how much it excited him, how long he focused on her. It all intensified the white-hot feeling inside of her until it crested, hovering; Zuko sucked firmly on the right spot, and Katara shattered.

After getting so close over and over, after waiting so long, it was like the detonation of a bomb. She bucked into his mouth and twisted on the sheets, gasping. The entire room went blurry. Zuko kept at it, gentle pressure only, until her muscles stopped seizing and her body felt weak and wrung out.

Zuko crawled up to her side and wrapped her up. Something very hard pressed into her hip. His hands rubbed along her arms and brushed hair from her face before kissing her. He slowly brushed his nose with hers and then leaned back to look right into her face.

Katara blinked slowly, suddenly drowsy again. She gave him a wide but bleary smile.

He smiled back, golden eyes warm. "Don't fall back asleep." He nuzzled her cheek and kissed her again.

"Mmm…wasn't gonna." Katara lifted one leg with some difficulty and pointedly wrapped it around his hip.

Zuko's face flickered with unbridled lust for half a second; then he faltered. "Katara, that was for you."

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him on top of her. "And now this is for you."

"That's not why I—we don't have to—" He made a strangled sound when she reached down and closed her hand around him. She tilted her hips up and he brushed at her entrance. Katara gave him a pleading look and felt a surge of triumph when Zuko's eyes glazed over. He took her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head with a little growl, weaving his fingers through hers when he pushed in, both commanding and affectionate.

He did not seem affected by fatigue from the night before or from all the time he spent on her; his energy was just as voracious, if not more so, probably due to the influence of the sun. He took her hard and fast and Katara scratched at his back and whispered to him that she wanted him to finish in her. It immediately tipped him over; he stilled and came hard.

Katara clung to him, enjoying the rippling feel of his muscles, the pulse of him inside her, the helpless sounds he made. She ran her hands affectionately over the back of his neck and through his hair. They were both panting when Zuko rolled off and onto his back, and there was a scorch mark on the sheets near her head, where Zuko's hand had held them.

Katara shifted to sprawl on his chest again, absentmindedly tracing across it with her fingertips. Zuko's hands mapped her spine. "I loved that," he murmured to her finally. He paused, his body getting a little more tense under hers. "I—like everything we do together."

"Me too," she said, a little shyly. She pressed a kiss onto his chest.

Something about the way Zuko held himself made Katara expect him to say more.

But he didn't. After a while he deflated a little, and kept tenderly running his hands over her.

She felt warm and deliciously sated. Sex really could work wonders for relaxation.

"We should get up," Zuko suggested after a while.

Knowing he was right, Katara reluctantly sat up, gathering the covers to her. Zuko fished his robe from the side of the bed where it had been unceremoniously tossed and put it on. Clothing was still strewn about the room from the night before, including her dress.

"Can you please get me a robe?" Katara pointed at her bag.

Zuko turned with a little smirk. He'd yanked open the curtains all the way, and welcoming sunlight blazed into the room. "Why would I do that?"

She only gave him a stern look; he grinned and obediently went to her bag.

When he tossed her a night robe she slipped it on and went to him, taking his hand. He followed without question. They drifted to the washroom and Katara stood behind him, watching Zuko firebend until the water was warm and then transferring it into the tub.

She watched the careful way he conjured a flame, the concentration on his face.

She gathered her courage, pulse fluttering, and silently discarded her robe.

"There," said Zuko, starting to turn back, "that should be a good temp—"

He faltered, eyes glazing, when he caught sight of her. She tugged at one side of his robe, pushing it off one shoulder, nerves dancing in her stomach. "You're coming in too, right?"

Zuko only seemed able to manage a dazed nod.

Katara stood on her tiptoes to kiss him and started to pull at his clothes.

He managed to pull away long enough to get in, bringing her with him. She laid over him, body stretched along his, facing him, and started kissing him again. Their skin and the slide of the water moving together was undeniably erotic. Zuko made a little groaning sound in his throat when she started kissing down his chest.

But several very loud raps from downstairs made them break apart and freeze, listening.

The sounds came again.

Someone was knocking.

With a low, frustrated sigh, Zuko reluctantly got out and began tightening his robe again with quick fingers. "They said they wouldn't disturb us." He ran a hand through his hair.

Just like that, the lazy, teasing, good mood Zuko had acquired disappeared. The bubble of peace had been disturbed, and the line of his shoulders was tense again with strain. "Stay here." He swept out the door, the bottoms of his hair wet, before Katara could protest.

Zuko faced so much alone. Back at the palace, he mostly dealt with Ozai alone.

She could at least be there with him now. So instead of bathing fully Katara took two quick minutes to clean herself up and dress again, this time in a proper dress. Then she hurried downstairs. She stopped in her tracks when she came in view of the front door. Slow, creeping horror rooted her to the spot. Their visitor was not a guard or General Eza's son.

It was worse. It was Azula.

The freedom from Azula's presence had been a severe weight lifted from Katara's shoulders. Now it sank back over her, heavy and pressing.

Whatever reason Azula was here could not be a pleasant one.

Katara forced her feet to keep moving forward, toward Zuko's side.

"Sister!" Azula caught sight of Katara over Zuko's shoulder. The way she said the word sounded somehow deeply sincere, yet the way her eyes glittered told Katara she was clearly being mocked. "I heard the news of that disastrous play. I'm so relieved you're alive."

Zuko did not waste time on pretense, nor did he feign friendliness. "I asked why you're here, Azula."

Azula's face flickered with faux hurt. "That's your first question for me, Zuzu? I'd hoped you'd be a little happy to see me again. Though I am sorry to disturb your, ah…honeymoon." Her eyes grazed over their rumpled attire with a little smirk.

"As if you've ever been sorry for anything," Zuko snapped. "What do you want?"

Azula ignored this and tried to step inside. Zuko stepped in her path with a glare.

"Oh, move. This is our family home." Azula knocked Zuko's shoulder as she crossed the threshold, though she only spun smartly to face them both once inside, her lips still curved upward in a vicious little smile. "So. I hear that you had to banish Mai. How painful."

Zuko's fists curled at his sides.

"Not as painful as dealing with you," he said flatly. "I'll ask again. Why are you here?"

"Why, I just thought I'd accompany you home," said Azula, blinking innocently. "I heard you were both here and was on my way back myself. And my ship is far more comfortable than the one you arrived in." She sighed dramatically. "Honestly Zuko, all this suspicion is getting grating. I've only been generous since you've come home. I gave you credit for the Avatar's fall." She paused, amused. "I also gave you your wife, if you remember."

"Gave me my—" Zuko sputtered furiously, clearly too incensed to speak for several seconds.

"Well, you do seem to be getting along." Azula shrugged.

Zuko looked ready to forgo his firebending and hit Azula with his bare hands.

"Where have you been?" Katara was determined to cut through Azula's games.

Because something about the glint in Azula's eyes was new. Sharp and smug.

Something had happened while Azula was away, something that deeply pleased her.

"Here and there," said Azula airily, waving a dismissive hand. "So, I can see the two of you need a bit of time to prepare yourselves before we can depart. But do hurry. I don't want to keep Father waiting too long. I'm sure he's eager to see us after Uncle's big escape."

Katara did not ask how Azula knew any of this. Likely she'd received hawks.

Azula folded her arms, expecting her command to be followed.

Zuko looked murderous, so Katara took his arm and began pulling him toward the stairs.

But Azula's voice drifted after them on the third stair. "You've healed quickly."

Katara turned back slowly.

"Unnaturally quickly," Azula continued. "Tell me, did your father bring you spirit water?"

Katara's stomach swooped. For a long moment she couldn't think.

A slow smile was spreading across Azula's face, sweet like honey. Then the princess laughed at the expression on Katara's face. "Did you really think that barely guarded oasis would stay a secret from all of our soldiers placed in the North? From me?" Azula tilted her head, clearly enjoying herself. "It must be powerful. I heard you even stopped breathing."

Katara desperately tried to keep her face blank. Azula already suspected Aang was alive.

Now Katara was certain that Azula suspected exactly how Aang still lived.

Azula's smile grew wider. "There used to be something around your neck…"

"My mother's necklace," said Katara brusquely. "I left it with my family."

"Aren't we family as well?" Azula pretended to pout. "Oh, but no matter. I wasn't talking about that hideous Water Tribe necklace you used to wear. No. It was a thin chain, carrying something hidden in your clothes. I assume that was a small vial of spirit water, yes?"

Katara remained silent. Azula's attention to detail was frightening.

She seemed to know Katara's silence meant that she was correct. "And," said Azula, "after the Avatar's victory against Zhao in the North, perhaps they gave it to you as a gift? And you carried it with you ever since." She suddenly laughed again. "Now I understand why Zuko couldn't strike you down in Ba Sing Se. He's so sentimental. Did you offer to heal his scar?"

It was a rhetorical question. Azula's smirk said she already knew the answer.

Any moment now, Azula would accuse Katara directly of healing Aang. She would observe that Katara had no longer been carrying the vial when Azula came to retrieve her for the marriage. She would ask Katara what she used it for, and Katara needed to lie very well, even if it seemed pointless. But Zuko spoke before Azula could.

"Yes, she did. And it didn't work," he said sharply. "It couldn't be healed. Happy?"

Azula said nothing. She only watched them with that same unnerving smile.

After a tense silence, Azula only said, "You will hand that new vial over to me, sister."

"Or what?" Katara couldn't help but say. She was trembling with fear and rage.

"Or I will tell my father that you hid something so useful from us. Your allies. I think he'd be very, very displeased with you." Azula's voice lowered, becoming soft and threatening. "He might wonder what other secrets you have. And I know you brought it. Go fetch it."

Much as she didn't want to follow any order of Azula's, Katara was happy to be away from her, and she didn't see another choice. She turned and swept up the stairs, Zuko on her heels. Her fingers shook as she fished the vial out of her bag once back in her room.

"I'll take it to her," muttered Zuko, and Katara relinquished the vial with a pang to the chest. It had been a safety net, and now it was gone. "And I'll hide the fertility tea on me for the way back," he added, very quietly. "In my clothes. It's better that way. Not in your bag."

Katara swallowed. "You think she suspects?"

"I don't know. But searching our bags is not beneath her." He was pale with fury.

"I'll hide it on me, then."

If they found it on her, Zuko could plausibly say he did not know about the treachery. The same did not apply to him.

But Zuko only shook his head. "No," he said firmly, and then he went back out.

Katara sat on the edge of the bed and tried to calm herself.

She did not want to be afraid of Azula, but something about that look on her face made her very, very nervous. Mostly for Zuko's sake. If Azula really did want a royal Avatar, she had no reason to kill or harm Katara. Yet. But Zuko…that was another matter.

To Azula, Katara assumed Zuko was just an obstacle to the throne. It wasn't really a question of whether Zuko would be eliminated, but when.

And Zuko would have to meet with Ozai today, too, and the Fire Lord's mood would no doubt be especially foul after Iroh's escape. He might be more paranoid or suspicious.

She clenched her hands together in her lap to try and stop them from trembling, and forced herself to stand and look calm when Zuko came back. He stalked over to the window and gripped the ledge. Azula always knew just how to get under his skin.

Katara didn't ask what she'd said to him.

Instead she quietly walked over and wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her cheek against his back. After a few moments, some of the tension seeped out of him.

Zuko turned around and pulled her into a hug with a low sigh.

She pretended not to notice that he was shaking. She only held him tighter.

"We'll have that bath later," Katara promised him finally, smiling up at him.

Zuko smiled back, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Their brief reprieve was over.

Azula's boat was far more comfortable and spacious.

Not that it mattered. It wasn't a very long journey, and just like the way to Ember Island, Katara spent it out on the deck, watching the prow slice easily through the water. Zuko stood beside her, his crown piece back in place, his expression contemplative.

A flurry of activity heralded their arrival at the docks, and members of the crew leaped from the sides of the ship to anchor the boat while curious eyeballs watched from afar.

Azula did not disembark with them. "I have matters to deal with first," she said to Zuko from the side of her ship. "Meet me in the throne room. Father will want to meet with us."

Katara took Zuko's arm as he turned stiffly to lead her to the waiting palanquin.

Once inside, Zuko pulled the curtains closed with so much force they nearly ripped. Katara was very glad they hadn't; she did not want an audience for the ride back. Katara reached out to clasp his hands in hers as the palanquin started to sway. "I can come with you," Katara offered. "Won't it make it easier if I come?"

She did not care if she didn't have an official invitation from Ozai.

"No," said Zuko bluntly.

There was a brief pause.

"I hate waiting for you to come back," Katara said quietly. Already she was dreading it. Very likely every minute would feel like hours, and Katara would frantically pace the room, helpless, trying not to imagine something terrible happening while she did nothing.

Zuko squeezed her hands. "It won't be long," he said, raspier now. He hesitated for a second, then directly met her eyes. "Then I was hoping we could…talk. About…"

"Us?" Katara supplied, after she'd found her voice.

He gave her a small smile, then drew her hands up and kissed her knuckles. "Yeah. Us."

Ty Lee greeted them at the palace steps, wearing shocking, brilliant pink and an even more brilliant smile.

She waved so enthusiastically that nearby guards edged warily away.

"Hi!" she called, beaming. She bound up to them with long strides, reaching for their bags, but Zuko swatted her away with an eye roll. Ty Lee only grinned cheerily and hugged him instead, then threw her arms around Katara and hugged her as well. "How was your trip?"

"Too short," said Zuko gruffly, gathering their bags on one arm.

"I bet." Her eyes were dancing, and briefly landed on Zuko's other arm, which had not unraveled from around Katara's waist after they'd stepped from the palanquin.

She pranced along beside them as the cool air of the palace descended on them. Luckily the corridors were empty; they encountered no one as they climbed staircases. Katara was not sure she could have drudged up fake courtesies.

"Sooo," said Ty Lee when they arrived. She was already rummaging through Katara's clothing for a more formal, palace-appropriate dress. "What did you two get up to?"

Katara's mind immediately traveled to inappropriate places. Zuko must have had the same issue because he coughed awkwardly, turning away in an attempt to hide his flush.

Ty Lee, who had turned back from the wardrobe, probably wasn't fooled; especially because Zuko started fidgeting uselessly and nervously with random items on his desk.

"Uh…we saw a play," he muttered, his back to them. "And Katara tried ice cream."

Ty Lee came forward with a wide smile and a pile of fabric. "Cool! What else?"

"Zuko showed me how to fly a kite," Katara told her.

"Oh! Did you like it?"

"Yes," said Katara. "I really liked it."

"Which ice cream flavor?" She held the dress in front of Katara and eyed it critically.

"Strawberry."

"You have to try lemon," said Ty Lee conversationally. She nodded to herself, satisfied, and then gestured for Katara to step behind the privacy screen. As if that mattered.

"Don't try lemon," said Zuko from the other side.

"Oh, don't listen to him. Once," said Ty Lee to Katara, as she helped her into a dress that was much stiffer and more uncomfortable than the previous one she'd had on, "Zuko bit into a lemon right after eating something really spicy. He's avoided lemon-flavored things since."

Katara started to laugh, and was still laughing when Ty Lee shepherded her back out from behind the screen with her new dress on. Zuko was tying the sash on a new set of more formal robes and threw Ty Lee an indignant look. "It was horrible."

Katara nudged him with her shoulder. "As horrible as the salty buns?"

"I'll probably never hear the end of that, will I?"

"Salty buns?" Ty Lee prompted.

"Zuko tried to make breakfast," Katara explained.

Ty Lee pressed her lips together, not quite hiding a knowing smile. "I see."

"But he used salt instead of sugar."

Ty Lee giggled, and Zuko scowled. "Well, as fun as I'm sure teaming up on me is for the both of you," he said, "I need to get going. Down to the throne room." The mood shifted; the lightheartedness faded.

The unspoken elephant of Iroh's escape and their prison visit loomed in the room.

"Ty Lee," began Zuko quietly, but she shook her head before he could say more.

"I'm not going to mention that you went to see him, Zuko."

"Azula is back," he said, watching her carefully. "You know she's going to question you."

Ty Lee's gray eyes flickered; she opened her mouth and then closed it again. Then she shook her head, more firmly this time. "I'm not going to tell her."

Zuko looked marginally more relieved, though still troubled. He glanced at the door to the bedroom, and then at Katara.

Ty Lee quickly stood, dismissing herself to the washroom with the excuse of finding some make-up for Katara. As soon as Ty Lee was out of the room, Zuko took Katara's face in his hands with a determined look and kissed her breathless. "Zuko…" she whispered.

"It'll be okay." He forced a smile. "See you soon, okay?" Zuko gave her one last slow kiss.

Then he took a deep breath, and his eyes hardened, and he left the room.

Katara stood watching the closed door for a while, and didn't even notice that Ty Lee had returned to the room until she gently said her name. "Katara?"

"Hmm? Oh. Right. The make-up."

She was distracted, fidgeting as Ty Lee painted light color on her eyes.

Ty Lee was kind enough not to comment. She chattered away, and it would have been a nice distraction and even a welcome return to what had slowly become normal over Katara's time here, this time with Ty Lee. But Katara was too preoccupied with worry.

A knock on the door several minutes later turned out to be a servant, bowing low.

"The Fire Lord requests the presence of Princess Katara in his throne room."

Katara's heart began pounding, but she calmly thanked the servant and turned to Ty Lee, who bit her lip. "I can walk there with you," Ty Lee offered, and Katara gave her a grateful nod and a smile. Even if Ty Lee couldn't come into the throne room, her presence for the journey would help.

Ty Lee gave her one more once-over, ensuring she was fit to see Ozai.

And then they stepped into the corridor together and began the descent.

Chapter 28: The Rupture

Chapter Text

The guards bowed to Katara when she approached the doors of the throne room.

Before she could enter, Ty Lee turned to her and, to Katara's surprise, hugged her again.

On the one hand, it was nice to have someone else in the Fire Nation that showed her affection besides Zuko. On the other, it made Katara feel as though Ty Lee was nervous for her, which only made the prospect of going into the throne room worse. What could Ozai possibly want?

What victory had Azula won while she was away?

For Katara was certain it was some type of victory. Azula was always confident and smug, but her behavior since Ember Island had been even more alarming than usual. But it was pointless to keep speculating. She'd done it on the journey back and the walk here, and she would find out now.

Heart in her throat, Katara opened the door and stepped in.

Azula, however, was not there as Katara expected.

Ozai lounged in his throne and Zuko knelt before it, a small figure in a vast room. No flames lit the raised dais of the throne today, perhaps due to the early evening heat. Ozai barely flicked a glance at Katara. "Princess Azula has something to share with us from her journey, Princess Katara. We await her now. She made it clear that your presence here is necessary." He did not seem pleased to be kept waiting; his eyes flashed. Katara thought it best to say nothing. She bowed and crossed the room. Her footsteps were too loud, too echoing. Ozai's eyes trailed her, and her blood rushed in her ears. Zuko gave her the quickest glance out of the corner of his eye when she knelt.

Katara tucked her chin down and waited, folding her hands carefully in her lap. The perfect picture of prim, silent obedience. Part of her expected Ozai to say something else, but he did not. The Fire Lord only waited with them in an awful, stretching silence. Rays of sun bore in from the windows.

The collar of Katara's dress felt itchy, oppressive.

When the door opened again, Katara took several deep breaths before looking over.

As soon as she looked, she wished she had taken several more.

Azula walked front and center before a group of guards, at least ten of them. Beside her walked someone tall and lanky and familiar, someone in a dark, faded robe with the hood pulled up. For a second, a brief, blissful second, Katara didn't recognize the figure. Then they came several steps closer, and sunlight streamed from the window, illuminating big gray eyes and youthful features.

His arms and legs were bound, and he could only walk by small shuffles of the feet.

Even his mouth was secured, a gag shoved roughly into it.

His frightened gaze met Katara's, and her entire body seemed to sink through the floor.

She could not deny what she saw, not looking so directly.

Katara heard Zuko's sharp, quiet inhale beside her. He'd realized it only seconds after she did.

By some miracle, Katara kept herself from crying out. Or perhaps it wasn't such a miracle. Maybe she couldn't actually speak at all. Her brain had gone horribly numb with that dull, buzzing panic that necessitated action but could not quite lead anywhere. Maybe the shock of it was what kept her still and quiet as Azula led Aang to stand before Ozai. Her heart raced as she watched the Fire Lord.

Azula had done it. She'd found him.

All Katara's sacrifice had been for nothing. She was about to die. She thought of the tribes, both clustered up in the North, with Fire Nation soldiers already swarming in the city; a quiet sob broke through her throat and Zuko's hand twitched at his side. Otherwise he was eerily motionless.

Ozai only raised an indolent brow at his daughter. "Explain yourself, Azula."

Azula bowed. She was sure to let a vicious little smile curve her lips up as she threw a look at Katara.

Then she stepped up to her prisoner and yanked the hood back.

Blue arrows glinted in the sun. Ozai blinked and then slowly rose to his feet, staring at Aang.

There was another long, terrible silence.

"The Avatar…" Katara had never heard Ozai sound so hushed. Almost awed. And then his face hardened, and Katara saw the inevitable truth forming over it. The Water Tribes had deceived him.

Azula moved to kneel on the other side of Zuko, her steps light.

Ozai's eyes slid to Katara. Then he settled back into his throne, watching her as a lion watches a gazelle. "My, what a revelation," Ozai said, very softly. Katara had never been so afraid, not in her entire life. Her body trembled where she knelt. She forced herself to look down and away from him, to bow her chin in submission when she wanted to watch him in case he decided to strike her. "It seems I was lied to by our newest allies," Ozai continued, almost casually. "What a pity for you."

Katara tried to think past the numbing panic and sort out her options.

She could try and fight, but she could not sense any water nearby. The sun was out, and Azula and Ozai were at their most powerful. She had more hand-to-hand knowledge, but she also had a recent injury that had weakened her. Fighting also might mean Zuko or Aang dying in the crossfire.

"Fire Lord." Zuko sounded hoarser than Katara had ever heard him. She wished Zuko would not speak, would not draw attention to himself. She wished he didn't sound so desperate. Ozai's gaze moved to his son, his face twisting in clear distaste. "She isn't a Water Tribe leader. She didn't know."

Katara chanced a glance over. Zuko was pale but his expression was determined.

Azula, beside him, hid her growing smirk by staring down at the ground, but she did not bring up the spirit water.

Amusement flitted across Ozai's face. "Perhaps. But what about you, Prince Zuko?"

A beat of silence.

"Me, Fire Lord?" Zuko's voice was carefully steady.

Katara had no idea how he managed it. She still wasn't sure she could even speak.

She wanted to look at Aang, examine him, see if he was hurt. Talk to him. Reassure him, beg him to help as he always seemed to be able to, save them. She wanted to ask how this had happened. A wave of emotions roiled over her, the first of them since the initial shock: fear, anger, resentment. She didn't dare interact with Aang, even though she heard muffled noises coming from him, trying to speak past his gag. A guard finally kicked him, and Aang fell silent. He knelt directly in front of Katara, the line of his neck and spine rigid. She still could not believe he was here; that Azula had found him.

And Zuko…

Azula told Ozai that Zuko had—

"You were supposed to have slayed the Avatar in Ba Sing Se," Ozai said, soft and deadly. "Did it not stick? I should have known you didn't manage it. I was always right about you." Ozai suddenly stood.

Katara saw Zuko's throat bob as he swallowed. He said nothing.

"Tell me," said Ozai, "what, exactly, is the use of you, Prince Zuko?"

Another small hitching sob exited Katara's mouth without her permission. Her chest kept tightening and she couldn't breathe. Zuko's fingers were bunched in the sides of his robes, trying to hide his shaking as Ozai stepped closer to them, to the edge of the dais, eyes hard and unyielding as stone.

"It seems I must fix your mistake," said Ozai. He planted his feet and brought his palms together.

Then his arms began to move, slow twists and sways, and electricity crackled at his fingertips. He was gathering lightning.

It grew and grew at his fingertips and Katara, transfixed, could only stare. Distantly, she recognized the danger.

But for one brief second, all Katara could see was the power of it. It was almost incomprehensible. The entire room seemed to crackle with it. The blaze illuminated Ozai's face in harsh lines and he angled himself to strike Aang, and this one would stick, this one would kill him, Azula had the spirit water—

Katara sprang to her feet, instincts extending outward, searching desperately for water, any water to be found in this room; there was none.

But Azula's voice cut through the room. "If I might, Father?"

An arm gripped hers, vice-like. Zuko had gotten to his feet and held her in place.

The lightning on Ozai's hands sputtered and died. "Speak, Azula." Impatience rippled through him.

"Perhaps killing the Avatar now would not yield as many advantages as waiting." Azula finally looked up from the ground, her eyes glittering. "He has been easy enough to contain. We could…delay."

"Explain."

"We control the timing of the rebirth of the Avatar, Father. And we hold the closest thing to royalty that the Water Tribe peasants could offer us. If we wait to kill him until Princess Katara is about to give birth, we could have a royal Avatar, with our bloodline. Imagine the power of that Avatar, and under our influence. Water Tribe women with pregnancies that closely coincide with hers can be easily dealt with."

Katara was breathing very harshly; Zuko still clung to her arm.

Greed flitted across Ozai's face. "An Avatar of our bloodline…"

He made the decision quickly. He nodded at the guards. Two of them snatched Aang by the forearms and dragged him out of the room, bound heels scraping across the floor. He was shouting, muffled into his gag. "No! Aang! Aang!" Katara cried, until the door had shut. She rounded on the Fire Lord, her self-preservation forgotten. Rage had finally burned out her fear. "You can't do this!"

"Is that so?" Ozai's voice had dipped to something lethal. He swept to the steps of the dais and descended upon them. "You dare tell me what I can and can't do, little peasant? Peace with the tribes was an agreement in our contract. And you and your lying, scheming tribes have broken the contract, Princess Katara, not the Fire Nation. You are lucky that I still have a use for you."

"Fire Lord—" Zuko started.

"I cannot say the same of you, Prince Zuko," Ozai said coldly. "I ask again: what use are you? Do you think I will risk your weakness in the future Avatar's veins? No. This child will be conceived by me."

It took time for Ozai's words to sink in. When they did, Katara actually swayed with nausea.

"So what to do with you?" Ozai tapped his chin, eyes glinting at his son.

Zuko gave up all pretense of obedience. He shoved Katara behind him and flames erupted up his arms like a beacon, a low snarl working out of his throat.

"Zuko," Katara gasped. "Zuko, don't—"

"Your attachment to your wife matters more to you than the Fire Nation, Prince Zuko? If I conceive the child, it will be infinitely more powerful. Surely you see that. You are as treasonous as my lazy, useless brother." To Katara's horror, Ozai glanced at Azula, leisurely and relaxed, as though Zuko's fighting stance across from him did not threaten him in any way whatsoever. "What do you think, Azula? What shall we do with your brother?"

It was exactly like Zuko's decision with Mai. Ozai, grooming Azula for the throne, rewarding her with a decision.

Everything had changed so quickly—

Sunlight glittered on Azula's crown as she got to her feet. "The people are fond of their royal couple, Fire Lord, especially after the play," she said. "Make sure they are still seen publicly together. The rest of the time, hold him." Katara stared at her incredulously; she wasn't suggesting to kill Zuko.

Why?

She got a vague, horrible answer in Azula's very next breath.

"There is more I have to share with you from my time away, Father. You will be glad you trusted in me." A blaze of excited light entered Azula's eyes. "As you know, the Dai Li of Ba Sing Se are loyal to me. To us," she amended quickly, when Ozai threw her a sharp look. "They have certain…talents that will be useful. We have been pushing those talents to see how far we can take them. Zuko would make an excellent test subject." An exaggerated look in Katara's direction. "Perhaps I should explain in more detail without the traitor in our midst. Despite her treachery, we still need her to be as healthy and calm as possible." Her smile flashed briefly. "For the eventual conception and pregnancy, of course. We don't want to distress her more than necessary."

Zuko and Katara broke at the exact same time.

Katara let out a feral shriek and lunged for Azula; she had no water, only her blind rage.

She only needed to get her hands on Azula, just once, quickly, to wrap around her throat and squeeze —

Zuko hurled fireball after fireball at his father, darting forward to engage him.

It was pointless. Part of Katara knew this as soon as she'd started, but it was better than meekly accepting it. Azula shot fire at Katara, who dodged, drawing closer, and even managed a few jabs and kicks until pain shot through the scarred area at her hip, and Azula took the extra second of distraction to kick her hard in the chest. Katara tried to sit up, wheezing, but the guards had already swarmed and pinned her with strong hands. Zuko and Ozai's fight lasted only seconds, and then Zuko was on the ground as well, yelling and thrashing against five guards, breathing a continuous stream of angry fire.

Ozai struck him in the head so hard that Katara screamed. Zuko instantly slumped, eyes closed.

"Zuko!" Katara hated that she was crying. She struggled fruitlessly against the hands holding her.

"Take her to the chambers meant for the Fire Lady," said Ozai to the guards. "Secure it as you would a cell for a waterbender. No one is allowed in or out except at my express command. Send a hawk to the General stationed at the Northern Water Tribe. Kill Chief Arnook as a warning. The citizens and other high-ranking members need not all die if they obey. Assume full lockdown and authority over the city." His eyes lingered on Katara, and then he smiled. "Bring Chief Hakoda here. Between the threat to her father and her husband, surely Princess Katara will see the sense in behaving herself."

Then he turned to Azula. "You will now show me what project you have begun with the Dai Li."

Azula's triumphant expression was too much to bear. Katara had never wanted to kill someone so badly.

Ozai snapped his fingers, and the guards lifted Zuko, his head lolling dangerously. The other guards began dragging her away. Katara kept struggling and screaming insults until Ozai said, "Make this difficult, Princess Katara, and I will kill your father in front of you when he arrives."

Katara's voice caught in her throat. She went limp in the guards' arms.

"Cuff her," said Ozai. "In public appearances, they will come off. As soon as your father arrives, I'm sure we can trust you a little more, no?" He smirked as the guards brought out metal cuffs and snapped them around her. "You will behave normally and say no word of this." Ozai's voice was cold.

The guards led her away on numb legs.

She got one more desperate look at Zuko hanging over the arms of the guard carrying him, his face pale and eyes closed, before the door to the throne room closed and the cool air of the corridor swirled over her. "Move," said one of the guards gruffly, poking her in the back until she stumbled.

Katara had no choice but to obey.

She tucked her cuffed hands in front of her and forced her feet to move.

When Zuko woke, his head throbbed so badly it was like someone kept stomping on it.

A blur of images and memories settled over him. He blinked groggily, trying to sort them…

When clarity hit him, he sat up so fast that bile rose in his throat and his head pounded like a drum. He ignored it and tried to launch himself blindly forward, toward the faint light he saw through the dark spots in his vision. He smacked gracelessly into iron bars and a chain pulled tight at his wrists and ankles.

Zuko gathered himself and sat up with a groan of pain. "Katara! Katara!"

He kept struggling, yanking so hard at his metal restraints he heard his wrists and ankles cracking, as if he could break away from them through sheer force alone. Over and over, launching himself around the cell he was kept in. The floor was dirt, the walls stone; the same prison where they'd held his uncle.

Zuko kept trying to break free. Flames poured out of his mouth and leaped around his cell.

He shouted for Katara until he was hoarse, until a sharp voice sounded through the darkness. "She isn't here."

Zuko froze and peered out of the cell. Dimly, he could make out more bars across from him, and a silhouette sitting in the other cell.

He recognized the voice, even if it was different than before, harder and darker.

The Avatar leaned forward out of the shadows of his cell and stared at him. Zuko stared right back. Then hot rage flooded him, so powerful that smoke streamed from his hands. "You fucking idiot," he snarled. He wanted to throttle the Avatar with his bare hands. "You got yourself caught by my sister! You got yourself caught! Katara is—she's going to—"

Zuko couldn't even say it. His head throbbed again and he slumped back, picturing his father's face.

This child will be conceived by me.

Bile shot up in Zuko's throat again and he worked hard to shove it down. A hatred that Zuko had never known choked him, but he pushed that away too. This wasn't about him. He had to focus on getting out of here immediately if he wanted to help Katara, not wallow in his feelings about it. It wouldn't do any good to think about it. He couldn't think about that. He had time.

Right?

How much time had Healer Shoshu said? Before Ember Island, Zuko thought it was another two weeks or so before they'd try to conceive.

And what if he doesn't wait until then? a nasty voice in his head whispered.

Zuko tilted his head back and yelled. Fire blazed up to the ceiling, the air of the cell shimmering with the heat.

"She's alive?" the Avatar demanded.

Zuko glared viciously at him. "Yes. They're keeping her alive."

The Avatar's shoulders slumped in obvious relief. Zuko did not tell him that he shouldn't be too relieved. He didn't want to explain or say any of it out loud. He had to focus on getting out of here. He tried to think of possible ways out. The Avatar also would want to save Katara. Surely he would agree to help Zuko go and get her. Where would they be keeping her, if not here? Another cell? Or still at the palace? He and the Avatar had not been gagged for sitting in their cell. Maybe, between them, using breath of air and fire, they could come up with something.

Some plan to escape now.

His head ached in protest and another bout of nausea followed. His whole body was shaking.

"Hey! Hello!"

"What?" Zuko hissed, barely opening his mouth to let out the word. He did not want to vomit in his cell.

"I was asking why they're keeping her alive. What do they want from her?"

"Does it matter? We need to get out of here. Now."

The Avatar's gaze hardened. He opened his mouth several times, and he watched Zuko carefully. Zuko could see what Katara meant by the change in him. It was etched onto every line of his face, a new harshness that had not been there before. She'd been so devastated when she talked about it.

Her scared face in the throne room flashed across his mind and Zuko wildly started launching himself around again, throwing his body weight against the pull of the chains. It did nothing except break one of his wrists when he pulled too hard, and he let out a yelp and curled up, panting hard.

If only his ankles weren't chained, he could stomp on one of his hands. Break every bone, smash it to bits until he could slide it out of one of his cuffs. But then what? Try and steal a key with a mangled hand? And if he mangled both of them? He'd be free, but unable to do much of anything.

"We can't make a plan if you're acting like that," he heard the Avatar say as if from a great distance.

The scathing tone in his voice made Zuko gnash his teeth together.

"Shut up!" he snarled, staggered toward the bars again and glaring at him.

"You sided with Azula back in Ba Sing Se," he pointed out snidely, and all of Zuko's retorts died in a powerful wave of self-hatred. He hated himself for that every single day. "Katara never would have had to marry you if you hadn't helped her. So instead of throwing yourself around like an animal or blaming me, we should—"

The Avatar abruptly stopped talking.

Loud footsteps approached and a group of guards appeared in front of Zuko's cell.

"Planning a mutiny?" one of them said, and a chorus of soft laughs echoed around them.

Zuko's head pounded in time with his heart, fast and angry.

His cell door opened. Zuko was able to get one stream of fire out of his mouth and hurtling toward them before they surrounded him and pinned him, shoving a gag in his mouth. For the first time, Zuko remembered what Azula had said about his own fate. Something about being a test subject.

Fear turned his legs to water, but he still tried to fight back.

Despite being chained and outnumbered, he gave them serious difficulty.

But he paid dearly for his little rebellion. The guards hit him, over and over. They punched him in the jaw and the cheek and delivered hard blows to his stomach. They beat him until he was curled up on the ground and he couldn't even twitch his fingers. The acrid smell of vomit filled his nose, and Zuko belatedly realized it was his. One more kick doubled him over where he lay on the ground. His broken wrist hung at an awkward angle in his chains.

And then someone unlocked his chained feet and lifted him.

Dazed, Zuko tried to open his eyes and watch where they were going.

The corridors seemed to blend together with the sound of footsteps, the metal clanking of armor, their amused voices.

They took him to a room and something heavy and forceful snapped over his calves and arms and forehead. A conical shape swam in his vision, a flash of green, and Zuko shuddered. He stood braced against a wall, the restraints holding him up. Zuko still struggled weakly, unable to give up. "He's got spirit," he heard.

"Yes," said another voice. "He'll be a tough one."

Zuko did not recognize the voices. The room tilted and swirled.

"Katara," he said hoarsely. "Katara…"

The second voice chuckled. "Start taking his measurements."

Someone stepped closer. Their face swam in Zuko's vision. He tried to lunge forward and bite them, but they viciously grabbed his forehead and slammed his head back against the wall with a crack. They forced something liquid down his throat. Zuko gagged and almost threw up again, but they held his nose and mouth closed until he had to swallow it. "What…? What are you…?" Zuko tried.

But the man put a gag in his mouth and began measuring him. Taking stock of the length of his legs and arms and fingers, the span of his chest, every possible length on his body. Zuko heard the meticulous little scratch of a brush after each measurement. The room dimmed further, hazy.

Zuko's last coherent thought was that they'd drugged him.

He gave one last feeble thrash and then he was still, hanging against the restraints.

He once again slipped into unconsciousness.

When he woke again he was still braced, but this time he was strapped to a table, stretched out on his back. Wild fear and rage blossomed in him and he cried out—or tried, as the gag was still there. The face hovering over him only smiled indulgently. "Struggling will make it worse, Prince Zuko."

Something sharp pricked into his arm.

For a few seconds, nothing happened.

Then Zuko's eyes rolled back into his head and he began to thrash against the restraints. His veins were on fire. Everything hurt, everything burned. This was the worst pain he'd ever felt, like his father's hand burning over his face again, except in his entire body, inside his bloodstream—

It ended and Zuko choked against the gag, shaking violently.

"At least three doses. Always makes them more amenable to the new input."

The voice was strange and warped. Tears streamed out of Zuko's eyes and down his cheeks.

The sharpness pricked at him again and his back tried to arc off the table. He tried to twist and roll, tried to scream. He could not escape the agony, it lasted forever and he would do anything to make it stop, anything, anything—

His stomach heaved when it finally did stop, but he thankfully did not vomit against the gag.

He had only a few seconds of reprieve before it happened again.

"Gag out," said the voice afterward, probably correctly guessing that he was too weak to breathe fire.

"Please," Zuko whispered. "What…? Please…no more…"

The pain had scrambled him. He couldn't remember past it.

He pushed through the fog of it, desperate. He had to get out of here. Something important…

"Katara." Her name dragged out of him. He had to get to Katara. He tried to focus on that thought only.

The table shifted; Zuko realized it had a function in the middle that could bend it until he was sitting up as if in a chair.

A Dai Li agent stood directly before him, calm and poised, the tip of his hat sharp. A bright light flashed in Zuko's eyes and he tried to shrink back.

"Relax," said the Dai Li agent calmly. So calmly. So steady and quiet.

Zuko began to pant, hyperventilating.

"Relax," said the Dai Li agent again. "You are the prince of the Fire Nation. You are loyal."

The bright light flashed again, blinding him. This time Zuko saw how it receded in a circular motion.

"You are loyal." A flash of the light. "You are loyal to the Fire Nation. You will fight for them."

Another flash.

"No," Zuko moaned. "No…"

"Keep going. Another dose," a voice said. Zuko could not see who it belonged to. He could barely see anything at all. His eyes could only register the repeated switch of white and black before his eyes.

Pain tore through him again and he yelled and yelled.

"You will fight for the Fire Nation," said the calm voice.

Zuko's brain, fractured from agony, scrambled to find the pieces of something real. Anything.

Even when Zuko tried to close his eyes, he saw it behind his eyelids, that searing light flashing and returning, flashing and returning.

Hands gripped his face and something clamped his eyes open.

"You are loyal to the Fire Nation. You will fight only for the Fire Nation."

The light circled, over and over, a repeated flare. Pain erupted in his nerves all over again. He lost count of how many times it happened.

The pain got worse when he resisted the calming voice.

The light. The calming voice. The pain.

The only three things that were real, on and on, forever.

Chapter 29: The Tower

Notes:

Hello all!

I would have loved to get this out sooner, but things have been a little difficult lately.

Thank you for following along with me even with sporadic updates! I appreciate you very much.

xoxo, Ros

Chapter Text

The first thing they did after bringing her to the Fire Lady quarters was strip the room bare.

Katara sat on the floor, cuffed firmly to the bedpost, glaring as she watched attendants come in and out, emptying the room until it resembled a spacious, well-lit cell. Bookshelves, tables, all of it got hauled away, with every piece of the room examined until only dust remained. Nothing, no matter how small, could be left to her. Secured over the windows hung a latch with a lock similar to her cuffs.

The Fire Lady's quarters had two doors.

One of them led to a private washroom, and as the palace servants finished up their work and prepared to leave her alone in the now-secured room, three female attendants escorted Katara inside. They did not take the cuffs off nor leave her alone to do her business. The other door, chillingly, led straight to the Fire Lord's quarters. The Fire Lady could enter and exit her own room through her husband's room only. No locks existed on her side of the door.

The Fire Lord could access his Fire Lady or lock her away whenever he pleased.

The thought made her ill.

When Katara was finally left alone, she paced around the room, scouring it. She peered into every corner, every crack in the wall, smoothed over every floorboard with her palms. She searched for some indication of another secret passage, something sharp, something useful, anything.

Even knowing it was probably hopeless, it was far better than sitting around, waiting for Ozai to appear.

At some point, of course, she could no longer distract herself in an empty room.

Katara huddled up in a corner, struggling to breathe. So much had gone wrong. Everyone was at risk.

Would her people be the next airbenders, her entire culture exterminated?

Chief Arnook would die. They'd bring her father here to hang over her head. One more person, besides Aang and Zuko, that they could use to make her obey. There was no way her father would get by without punishment. They'd hurt him, they'd torture him, just like they might be hurting or torturing Zuko and Aang.

Right now, right this very moment.

These thoughts finally made Katara launch up wildly and stagger over to the windows. She scrabbled at the locks until her fingers came away bloody, gasping and sobbing. She felt crazed; she felt like that trapped tigerdillo, prowling in an empty cage. She thought, with a bitter irony, of her arrival here. How frightened she'd been of Zuko, how relieved she'd been that she, unlike Ursa, had not been married off to Ozai and his sadism.

Hours passed, the worst hours of her life.

Katara paced, and sometimes she curled up in the corner again, her thoughts racing and fragmented.

Any moment, she expected Ozai to burst into the room. If she thought about his arrival or his plans for her too long, she began to hyperventilate and her fingertips turned numb. Katara grasped for hope, any spark of it. She tried listing out possible sources of help.

Sokka.

If Mavang's Lilies managed to off Eza—or even if they didn't—Sokka could find a way to escape. He could come here, but his ability to help them quickly without getting caught or captured was unlikely. More than likely he would want to be smart, plan something with a group of people, some kind of a secret infiltration. He'd probably recruit Toph, with her ability to detect underground passages. Whichever way Katara looked at it, help from her brother would not arrive soon. Sokka no longer had Appa. The trip alone would take weeks.

There was Iroh and the White Lotus.

He'd said he would try to help the Northern Water Tribe when he escaped. And perhaps there were even White Lotus members here, in the palace, that could pass word to him or somehow get them all out of here.

There was also, of course, Mavang and Hama.

Katara could pass a message to one or both of them through Kuenni, though it was exceedingly likely both of them had somehow already heard about what had happened; with their eyes everywhere, their informants. But speaking to Kuenni alone, without Shoshu or even Ozai present, wasn't likely to happen.

She was right.

Darkness had fallen when the door opened and Ozai stepped in the room.

A terror like Katara had never known came over her. She'd told herself she wouldn't cower away from him, but her body had other ideas. She folded over herself, pressed against the wall, trembling wildly as his eyes found her. It was almost laughable to think of her fear that very first night with Zuko and compare it to this. Her only comfort was that Ozai might have limits to his physical cruelty; if he hurt her too much, it might affect pregnancy chances. The thought that this was a comfort, a source of actual gratitude, nearly put her into another bout of hysterics. But Healer Shoshu and Kuenni trailed in after Ozai, and Katara's legs went limp with a blinding relief that only lasted seconds. Ozai could easily send them away after the check-up and rape her.

A sour taste rose in her mouth, and a choked sob fell out of her.

Ozai came to stand right over her, his mouth twisted in disgust, eyes glittering malevolently. "Get up."

On the first try, Katara's legs gave out. She managed to stand properly on the second.

Ozai pointed at the bed. "Go lie down for Healer Shoshu."

He followed her and stood at the side of the bed as Katara mechanically laid back. She looked into Healer Shoshu's eyes and saw the pity and sympathy, the fear for her. She'd attended to Ursa as well.

The sour taste in Katara's mouth got worse.

She took deep, shaking breaths as Shoshu checked her pulse and the scar on her abdomen.

"It is healing very nicely, Princess Katara," said Healer Shoshu, with a little tremor in her voice. "Very nicely. I hope your time away at Ember Island was helpful and restful. Have you noticed any side effects, princess?"

Katara tried to keep her voice steady. "I get tired quicker. Sometimes a little pain."

"Incredible," said Healer Shoshu. "We could not have asked for a better outcome."

Katara glanced at Kuenni, wondering if she'd detected the source behind her miraculous healing, but the other waterbender would not meet her eyes.

"As I mentioned before, I want to expand your fertility window this month," said Shoshu. The healer swallowed very hard before she forced a smile. "The first day will be in nine days." She bowed to Ozai. "That falls on a full moon, Fire Lord, and I recommend attempting conception at night. I believe taking Princess Katara's body into consideration and her time of strength will make pregnancy more likely." She looked at Katara, held her gaze.

Something desperate was in Healer Shoshu's stare, something pointed. Katara's heart began to race even faster.

Was Shoshu trying to tell her something? Was she purposefully putting this on the full moon?

Then Shoshu inclined her head again and spoke to Ozai. "Until then, Princess Katara should rest."

"And if my son has impregnated her on their little honeymoon? What then?"

Healer Shoshu's bow froze, taking on a statue-like quality. "That is, of course, a possibility, Fire Lord."

"A possibility we must rule out," said Ozai. "This Avatar child will be mine."

In the light of the moon, a faint sheen of sweat lined Healer Shoshu's forehead, beading just below her hairline. "Apologies, Fire Lord Ozai, but if she is already pregnant, I do not recommend ending the pregnancy. Such herbs often come with harmful side effects. It may hurt her fertility chances and even sicken her."

"I thank you for your recommendation," said Ozai, in a very dangerous voice that suggested the exact opposite. "Check her. Now."

"Fire Lord Ozai," said Shoshu, sounding very faint indeed, "Kuenni can detect pregnancies early, astoundingly early, but not quite so soon. Even if they conceived on the first day of their trip, it would be too soon to tell."

"When," said Ozai, eyes flaming in the dark, "would she be able to tell, Shoshu?"

"At least a week after, Fire Lord."

Ozai made a low, displeased sound, and both Shoshu and Kuenni flinched. But he merely pursed his lips. "Very well. In one week, you will check to ensure that she is not pregnant. If she is, you will ensure that changes."

Healer Shoshu bowed lower. "Yes, Fire Lord." She gave a little nod to Kuenni, who came forward and pulled water to her hands, hovering it over Katara's abdomen. Kuenni healed her as usual, barely looking up at her.

Katara clutched the sheets in her hands, trying to calm herself.

She'd drank her prevention tea every night as she was supposed to, ever since Nira gave it to her.

She'd been diligent.

Except—

Except tonight. She would not be able to drink it tonight, after the morning spent with Zuko.

There was nothing to be done now. How likely could it be? She would not have to take purge herbs.

She would not.

Ozai dismissed them soon after. Shoshu glanced over her shoulder at Katara as she left, starkly pale. Katara shrank back into the pillows, curling her legs up to her chest, tightening them, as if that could keep him from spreading them if he wanted to. Ozai merely looked amused. "I'm not going to fuck you now, peasant. Healer Shoshu has informed me that it is better to let you rest. And be assured, I do not desire you."

Katara found all her strength to ask, "Where are Zuko and Aang?"

"If Zuko is ready in a few days, you will go on public walks on his arm again. Azula and a host of guards will accompany you. You are forbidden from speaking to Zuko about any topics except pleasantries, during conversations with the nobles. It is your job to look like a happily wedded couple to them."

"Where are Zuko and Aang?" she repeated, more fiercely.

Ozai simply turned his back on her and strode out of the room.

Only when the door closed did Katara realize how much tension she'd held in her body at the mere sight of him. She melted into the mattress, and for a long time her muscles did not let her move. Finally, she slowly got up and began pacing again. It was better than being on the bed. She wouldn't even sleep on it; she'd take the floor. She would not be in the bed waiting for Ozai to come in and spring himself on her, which he could still do at any point during the night.

Or the next day, or the next.

The horrified anticipation made her unable to sleep, unable to relax. As the night passed and Katara paced and cried and worried, her stress never lessened.

She lived in a constant state of high-alert terror.

Perhaps that was what Ozai wanted.

He did not leer at her like Eza did and never had, and that bit of what he'd said about not particularly desiring her, at least, seemed to ring true. And he liked power games.

Surely he knew keeping her here for nine days, alone and always frightened, was a power game on its own.

Every morning and evening, she was brought food. Thirty minutes later, a servant always came to retrieve the tray and give her water and tea. Guards stayed in the room for that part, when she had liquids available to her.

It wasn't as though she could bend with the cuffs anyway. But they really weren't taking any chances.

Otherwise Katara was left in complete isolation.

By the third day, she thought she might already be starting to go mad with fear and worry and lack of sleep.

On the third night, she heard Ozai through the wall, fucking someone brutally in his own room. Katara could not drown out the sounds of the woman crying out, even when she took her pillow and covered her ears.

She suspected that he wanted her to hear it.

But something else happened the next day. Something good.

As usual, Katara was brought food in the morning by a servant. This morning, her tray contained a large, thick piece of fruit cake, hard and filled with nuts and raisins. The servant bowed to her as always as he set down the tray. "Chef Rusai and the kitchen staff send you warm regards," he said. "A good luck gift for your upcoming conception attempts." He paused. "This cake is baked to be hard, and some things can be difficult to bite. He told me to advise you to be very careful eating it, Princess Katara." He bowed again, even deeper.

When he left, Katara immediately took a bite of the fruit cake. It was delicious, flavorful.

She doubted Rusai cared one wit about her conception attempts. He'd made it to comfort her.

It made her want to cry.

If she ever got out of here and snatched any power for her own, she would give everyone in that kitchen the largest bonuses they could possibly imagine. As advised, Katara chewed the cake carefully, trying to savor it. Somewhere in the middle of the slice, however, something cracked against her teeth.

Something hard and thin, something that definitely didn't belong in fruit cake.

Katara pulled it out of her mouth. It was a hair pin.

Heart pounding wildly, she cleaned the remnants of cake from it and held it up to the sunlight. Then she examined the lock on her cuffs.

Sokka had some practice picking locks. She wished so badly that he was here, that anyone was here with her.

But she was alone. She would have to figure this out on her own.

Before she could start trying, however, the doorknob rattled, and Katara hurriedly shoved the hair pin back into her mouth, right under her tongue. She gave the guard and servants a demure smile, and she drank her water and tea very carefully, very slowly, keeping the hair pin tucked tight and secure under her tongue.

When she was alone, she would keep it in her hand and work at picking the lock.

Otherwise, she'd keep it safely in her mouth.

She could not risk it being found, and not only for herself. The only thing that came in and out of the room was nourishment, and if it was found, no doubt it would be traced right back to Rusai and his kitchen staff. And Katara would not add them to her list of people that she feared for.

As soon as she was alone, she set to work.

Katara spent nearly all her free time working at the cuff locks. She used the hair pin carefully, so as not to break it, and fumbled around in the lock, feeling the mechanisms, the places where it clicked or met resistance.

They were well made, tricky to crack. Panic rose in her every time she thought about her dwindling time.

She would have to practice endlessly over the next two days. She assumed attendants would come and get her ready when the time came—she missed Ty Lee, and worried about her, and she doubted Ty Lee would be allowed in here—and in the brief window of opportunity after that, she would have to break free. It helped her to have this to focus on instead of the prospect of what would happen if she failed when Ozai came to her in the room.

It gave her something to do to think about besides her despair.

Ozai strolled into her room again around noon on the fifth day, and as always, Katara went blank with horror.

He gestured her toward the window, and she shuffled over, trying not to look in any way guilty.

There, in the courtyard visible from this room—not Zuko's favorite, with the turtleduck pond—her father was being led on a walk, surrounded by guards. He was not cuffed, but didn't need to be. Ten guards trailed him.

"As you can see, your father has joined us," said Ozai. "Today you will be let out for a walk with my son. If you do not follow the instructions, I will drag you to your father's cell and you can watch as I slit his throat."

"Yes, Fire Lord," Katara murmured, inclining her head.

She tried to take comfort at the prospect of seeing Zuko, and at the hair pin under her tongue.

Shoshu and Kuenni were summoned, and as before, Katara laid out on the bed and they checked her. After reassuring once again that her wound had healed well and there were no other complications, Shoshu gestured Kuenni forward and sat on the edge of Katara's bed. "You've bled, Princess?" she asked calmly.

"Yes." Katara's voice wavered.

She'd been so relieved when it started several days ago that she'd sobbed herself hoarse.

"Any irregularities?"

Katara despised that Ozai was listening in. "It was—very light. And short." She'd assumed it was due to stress.

"Hmm. Implantation bleeding can occur right after conception, the first two weeks or so. I've seen it several times. Women usually mistake it for a light menstruation. So it's best we be thorough, of course. Kuenni?"

Katara's heart began to race as the healing water settled over her. She'd thought bleeding had put in her in the clear. Now she watched Kuenni anxiously. Her head was bowed solemnly over Katara, frowning in concentration. A muscle in her jaw twitched, and the water wavered. Her eyes widened a fraction, quickly, very briefly. Then she slowly stood and shook her head.

"Not pregnant," said Shoshu, looking relieved.

"You're sure?" Ozai said sharply. Kuenni kept her head inclined in affirmation. "Good. So. Two days?"

"Yes, Fire Lord." Shoshu stood as well. "In the night, when the moon is out."

"Well then." His eyes trailed over Katara. "Let us hope we are successful."

Dread settled thick in Katara's throat.

"Attendants will be sent to prepare you for your outing," said Ozai.

He ushered Shoshu and Kuenni out before him, and threw her one final, malevolent look before he left.

As Katara guessed, it was not Ty Lee that came to get her ready for the afternoon, but three other women she'd never seen before. They moved her gently and had kind faces, but they did not speak to her. Five guards stood in the room with them, and most of them grinned when the women changed Katara's wraps and dress. The room, of course, had no privacy screen. Katara's face burned as they drank in her nudity, watching avidly.

After, when she'd been deemed acceptable, wearing classic formal red robes and no cuffs, she was led out of the room for the first time in a week. Anxiety and hope crashed over her in simultaneous, powerful waves. What state would Zuko be in when she saw him? She feared she would see signs of injury or misuse, but the thought of seeing him had also been one of the only things keeping her sane, even if the interaction would be guarded and limited. The guards flanked her, leading her through Ozai's room and out into the corridor. They took two left turns and a right, and Katara recognized the route. She was being led toward Zuko's room, their room.

Her chest warmed, despite everything. She missed him so much it ached.

They turned the final corner and Zuko was already there, standing beside Azula and a group of Dai Li.

When she approached, Zuko looked up, and Katara nearly stopped in her tracks. His face was hard and set, his eyes cold and foreign. His pupils were blown oddly wide, so that she could barely see the golden color of his eyes. He held himself differently, too—stiffer. He warily watched her come up to him.

"Zuko?" she whispered.

Azula's gaze was fixed sharply on her brother, watching him, studying.

Zuko only thrust up his arm, already turning the direction they would be walking. "Let's get this over with, wife."

He refused to look at her. She had never heard him speak so coldly.

Katara gaped up at him. "Zuko," she began, voice shaking, "what—?"

"Ah, ah, no talking," said Azula. "Put a smile on your face and let's greet nobles. Come." She waved an impatient arm and marched off first down the corridor, throwing Katara a smirk reminiscent of Ozai over her shoulder.

The guards circled Katara and Zuko and Azula remained only several paces ahead, clearly listening.

All Katara could do was shoot frantic, pleading looks up at Zuko. He still refused to look at her.

She'd thought seeing Zuko would at least make her feel a little better, but it had only made everything worse. When she rested her hand lightly on his arm, he tensed as though he wanted to pull away from her. She dared not say anything to him, not with her father's life on the line. All she could do, the entire hour that they strolled the gardens, was look up at him and examine him, notice the things that were so different.

He walked strangely, though he hid it well. But Katara knew him well enough by now.

She could see no physical signs of harm, but that meant nothing. He wore stifling robes despite the heat of the day, and the only skin she saw was part of his neck, his face, and his hands. His face bore some signs of damage—not bruises or anything obvious, but deep shadows under his eyes, a hollowness to his cheeks.

He was being hurt. They were doing something to him.

The thought was too much. The idea of going back to her room after this, knowing this, robbed her of air. She was trapped, unable to save one person she loved without condemning all the others, for if she so much as said one wrong thing to Zuko, Ozai could punish her with more than just her father. Sokka or Gran-Gran, and the entire fate of the Water Tribes were all vulnerable, too. Aang was the only one she knew wouldn't be killed. Ozai needed him alive until Katara was giving birth. It was little comfort; they could still torture him.

Somehow it was both the longest and shortest hour of her life.

Zuko continued to act as though she were a suspicious inconvenience. His eyes were still dilated, tight and angry at the corners. When nobles made their usual tittering or condescending comments to her, Zuko said nothing in her defense. Only sometimes, she would catch him watching her out of the corner of his eye.

After that, flashes of pain would erupt across his face, his expression twisting in confusion.

Katara knew what the Dai Li were capable of, and she remembered seeing Jet's eyes grow black like that when they'd triggered him to fight against her and her friends back in Ba Sing Se. But he hadn't undergone an entire personality change. Jet hadn't forgotten their history, or most pieces of himself. It seemed over the months since Azula's capture of the city, the Dai Li developed their methods to do something even stronger to people.

But what had they done, exactly? Did Zuko even remember anything? Was their relationship wiped entirely from his mind?

And he'd never been this hostile toward her, not even when she first arrived.

He'd been upset and resigned—never hostile.

They'd told him something. They must have fed him lies.

The memory of him holding her on Ember Island just a week ago seemed so far away.

By the time they walked back into the palace and out of the warm air, Katara's eyes burned. She bit her tongue hard to keep from crying.

This stranger in Zuko's place cut at her, but even worse was parting from him.

Her vision was blurry when they paused outside their room—Zuko's room. Guards awaited them.

She caught a glimpse of Zuko frowning down at her, finally turned fully toward her rather than angled away, and he didn't look angry. Instead he had that thoughtful crease to his brow that he often got when he wrote something. Azula must have noticed it too, because she stepped forward and said firmly, "Take the princess back to her quarters."

The moment passed. The shadow fell over Zuko's face again.

Katara's chin wobbled and she turned away. The guards came toward her, and Zuko spun to leave. Azula waited by the door for him, watching the interaction with sharp eyes. Katara was no longer looking up. She was afraid she'd leap for Zuko and try to make an escape with him if she had to watch him walk away. But she did hear the guards muttering to each other as they passed Zuko, and she heard vague amusement in their voices; and next thing she knew, a furious yell had erupted in the corridor.

Zuko sprinted forward and jumped, tackling one of the guards to the ground and pummeling at him.

"Zuko!" Azula called sharply, but Zuko ignored her. He didn't even seem to have heard her.

"What did you just fucking say?" Zuko shouted at the guard, shaking him and decking him in the face several more times before several Dai Li finally managed to pull him off.

The other guard had immediately come to secure Katara before she could even move, holding tightly to her arm, heating his hand in obvious warning.

Zuko struggled viciously, put into even more of a frenzy when he noticed the Dai Li closing around him.

"No!" he roared. "No, I won't—don't—stop, no more—Katara—!"

Katara's heart lurched, but he wasn't looking at her. His expression was glazed as they overpowered him and dragged him back.

It reminded her of the time they'd gone to that Agni Kai and he'd been there, in the room, but mentally far away.

She couldn't help it. "Zuko!"

His eyes snapped to hers and he froze, going limp. "Katara?"

He sounded hoarse. He sounded almost like himself. But he still looked hazy, as if he didn't know what was real and what was not.

"Katara?" he asked again, his voice breaking over the word, so scared and uncertain.

Before she could say anything else to him, they yanked Zuko into his room and slammed the door shut.

Katara started to cry.

She heard the Dai Li hurriedly say something to an angry Azula about 'relapse' and 'normal' and 'time' as the guards nudged her sharply in the back.

Once more, she was forced to numbly walk back to the Fire Lady's quarters.

The following two days were worse than the entire week combined.

Katara was kept, once again, in isolation except for meals. She tried to question anyone that entered the room about Zuko or Aang or her father, but of course she received no response. Her brain was foggy, disassembled. It was difficult to concentrate on even the simple task of working at her cuffs with the hairpin.

And it didn't work.

The day of conception came, and Katara watched the passage of the sunlight inch across her room as the day flew by, frantically trying to get free even though she didn't know exactly what she would even do if she did. She couldn't save them all at once. She didn't even know where anyone was being held, and she also couldn't just run away, leaving the others here.

Her best bet was to find Kuenni first, as quickly as she could. Another waterbender to help her on the full moon.

But even that might backfire.

Still, she kept trying, working at it until night arrived, and the light of the full moon shone into the room.

She only stopped trying once the door clicked open and Ozai entered, wearing a thin golden night robe.

Katara's stomach heaved as he closed the door behind him.

No one had come to even get her ready. It was just going to happen like this.

"Get on the bed," Ozai said coldly. "On your hands and knees."

Katara could not move. She could only sit in the middle of the floor and stare numbly at him.

"Do not make me ask again," he said.

Katara pushed to her feet and tipped before she righted herself. Her entire body trembled from head to foot. She approached the bed as if in a trance, cuffs rattling, and knelt on it, then shifted onto her palms. She watched the shaking of her fingers, clutched tightly in the sheets. Her mind scrambled for an out and found none. She was stuck here. She could not fight.

The thing she'd dreaded for nine days would happen.

Tears dripped onto the back of her hands, and she couldn't keep her sobs quiet.

"Stop your whining," Ozai snapped. His voice had come closer. He was right behind her.

A rough hand grabbed at her robes and began bunching them up her legs and around her waist. Katara started to wheeze, panicking, the room going darker, and Ozai snatched her hair and yanked her back and up so he could growl into her ear. "I said to stop your sniffling." He pushed her back again and Katara collapsed down, sprawled flat on her belly.

"Hips up," said Ozai, sounding amused. "Come now, at least try to excite me a little. Present yourself."

At least she still had wraps on. They were still on right now. That was good.

Katara focused on this and this only as she slowly raised her lower body into the air.

Ozai put a hand into the middle of her back and firmly pinned her upper body to the bed, still hiking her robes up.

A rustling sound came from behind her. He was taking off his robes. He was—

A knock sounded on the door.

Ozai snarled and stalked over to it. Katara's mind had gone blank and distant. She tried to listen to the conversation at the door, because for someone to come and interrupt Ozai, it had to be important. But she could only register heated voices. An argument. And then the snap of the door, and a cold, terrible dread.

But no footsteps.

Katara peeked over her shoulder. Ozai, for the moment, was gone. The murmur of urgent voices continued on the other side of the door.

A distant boom occurred somewhere in the palace. The bedposts rattled as the floor shook.

Something was happening out there.

Survival instinct and wild hope reared up in her. Katara spat out the hairpin and began frantically picking the lock.

It was no use. She'd tried this for so long. She'd failed, she was going to fail—

The door opened just as something clicked on her cuffs and they fell open. Her wrists were raw, mutilated.

Ozai looked disheveled and angry.

For a moment, a long, drawn-out moment, Katara and Ozai stared at each other, equally shocked.

Then Ozai roared and struck, sending a strike of lightning barreling toward her.

Katara dove off the bed to avoid it. It hit the window and shattered the glass, shards raining into the room. She'd planned to somersault and push to her feet in one smooth motion, but she was clumsier than usual in her fear and desperation, and out of fighting practice after her time contained in the Fire Nation. She stumbled, and Ozai, lightning quick, snatched her by the back of the robes, lifting her. Katara untied the sash and wriggled, falling out of them and to the ground in her wraps, rolling onto her back.

Ozai yanked her up again by the arm, and called flame.

Katara screamed as fire ate away at her forearm. Blinding pain, nothing but pain—

She heard the rattle of cuffs. Her brief chance was disappearing, she smelled burning flesh, her flesh—

Adrenaline allowed her to reach viciously into his bloodstream.

At first her hold on him was weak, even though it was the full moon. She was badly burned, and Ozai was strong. But it was enough to control his fingers and pry them off her, and then scuttle backward. Panting, ignoring the agony of her fried arm, Katara curled her fingers and Ozai doubled over, choking and sputtering.

She'd found her strength. In the sudden high of bloodbending, she barely felt her arm.

Katara forced the Fire Lord to his knees. Ozai tilted his chin up at her, body shaking, trying to resist, and she saw the fear in his eyes.

Wild triumph blazed through her. The rush of bloodbending made her feel as though she was levitating off the ground. All-powerful, invincible, his blood hot and malleable, rushing in his veins like water rushes in rivers. In one second, she'd taken hold of his heart. Funny, how it felt so delicate in her hands. Like a little bird, wings fluttering, powerless in her grasp.

He was just as helpless as anyone else.

There would be bloodshed tonight, but something was happening in the palace. And it would take a lot to stop her. She'd almost forgotten how bloodbending made her feel, how easily she could make others do what she wanted, how intoxicating it was, this rush of control, this lack of consequences. There was no game to play when she could bloodbend. She always won. By the time the palace realized she was coming for them, Katara would find and save the others.

The floor shook again, and screams came from the courtyard.

Wind blasted in through the shattered window, sending Katara's hair in wild whorls around her face.

The moonlight danced on her skin. Power.

It pulsed in her blood and veins, pounded at her temples.

She squeezed experimentally at Ozai's heart. His eyes bulged and he writhed with a low whimper.

Katara felt no fear, no hesitation at his suffering. If anything, she relished the evidence of it.

Guards ran into the room just as she smiled down at Ozai.

Then Katara clamped her hand into a fist, and Fire Lord Ozai's heart burst under the power of her fingertips.