The spirits were testing Katara's patience, and she was on the brink of snapping. Or losing her sanity. Whichever came first.

"I'm not gonna lie, I was kinda worried when he spent a whole day with them," one of Shila's closest friends said, putting on the Favorite's eyeshadow, "but whatever you did to him must have really paid off if he's running back to you like this."

Shila smirked, shifting smugly in her seat at the vanity in her chambers.

"I told you he didn't care for those harlots," she bragged. "They were just a one-time fling. I knew he'd come back to me. He loves me."

The other friend, massaging Shila's hand, arched a knowing brow. "I mean, how bad were they that he drank all day and night while they were right there?"

Katara blocked out their giggling and focused on brushing Shila's silky, chestnut hair instead, because she knew she wouldn't be able to keep herself from whacking them all in the head with the brush if she had to listen to them gossip about that traitor prince for one more second.

Things only got worse once Shila was all ready, and she was off to the Prince's chambers, Katara and the eunuch escort in tow. A royal guard outside the chambers knocked on the doors, informing the royal inside that his Favorite had arrived, and Katara could do nothing but linger outside by the wall beside the eunuch, praying for the night to be over as quickly as possible.

The doors creaked open and Shila stepped inside, greeting 'her dragon' with a sound kiss on the lips. In the following seconds, Katara waited for the doors to close and the torment to begin. But they opened wider instead.

"You," came the Prince's voice, so cold and commanding it could make mountains move. "Go get us some dessert."

Katara's hands clenched into fists where they were clasped before her. She couldn't help but to glance up at him from under her lashes, head still bowed.

Ice-cold, golden eyes were locked on her. There were cuts on his lips, nose, and brow, and bandages wrapped around his forearm showed from the sleeveless crimson shirt he wore.

Exhaling a soundless sigh, Katara reigned in the desire to gouge his eyes out with her bare hands. No matter how much she would like that, she had to bide her time, play the submissive handmaiden everyone knew her to be until she broke free of her chains.

So she curtsied, albeit too sharply to be acceptable, then swiveled around and headed for the kitchens. She did her best to calm the rage that roiled within her while retrieving a tray of pies and two goblets of water, and returned to where her greatest enemy still awaited in the doorway. He leaned against the doorframe with folded arms, and Shila stood back inside the room, also scowling and with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently.

Katara's self-control deteriorated with each strenuous step she took toward the Prince. By the time she'd reached him, she was a coiled spring, ready to burst free at any moment and wreak havoc on everything around her.

She held out the tray to him, curtsying—biting her tongue to quell the insults that begged to be freed, wishing she could've drowned him in the goblets of water instead. He reached for the tray—and as he did, his hands wrapped hers where she held the handles.

Katara could swear her heart stopped for a beat.

Then her fury surged forth in all of its glory.

The world turned red as she snapped her eyes to his, baring her teeth in a snarl and—

She halted. Didn't get to lash out at him for touching her, when, at that moment, a slip of paper inside his palm brushed against the back of her hand. It wiped her mind blank—her anger vanished wholly with it.

A note. It was a note. He was trying to hand her a note.

Katara looked at him— really looked at him for the first time since Ba Sing Se.

The ice she'd seen in his eyes earlier was nowhere to be found. There was something else in them now, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, like a light, soft and flickering—like hope and desperation.

Only when he pressed his split lips tightly and let some of that desperation show did she understand what it was. He was asking her—no, begging her to stay quiet. Silently telling her that he understood that she was confused, but that he needed her to go along with whatever was going on.

But he had to know the consequences of looking at, much less touching a member of his father's harem, even if she wasn't a concubine. That its punishment was public execution for both parties—especially if one of those parties was a crown prince, since it'd be perceived as an act of open-rebellion against the Fire Lord.

Why would he risk it? Why? Why? Why?

The sound of Shila pointedly clearing her throat ripped her gaze away from the Prince's. The Favorite's suspicious frown was locked on Katara, scrutinizing her and the Prince over his shoulder.

Katara didn't glance at the favored concubine, give away the bizarre moment she'd just had with her archenemy. She forced a mask of indifference onto her face. Hurriedly, she curtsied and handed over the tray to cover up the slight jolting of the plates and goblets it held as she twisted her hand over to clutch the paper in her fist. The Prince played along with her—putting on a facade of disinterest and stepping back to close the doors on her, but not before sending a fleeting, grateful glance her way.

Katara took her place beside the eunuch, her mind still whirling with confusion. Not even half a minute later, the doors opened again and Shila stomped out of the room, huffing loudly through her nose. She stormed past Katara and the eunuch without deigning to look at them.

Curiosity gnawed at Katara as she followed Shila and the eunuch back to the harem. The paper inside her fist dug into her skin, daring her to read what was inside. She couldn't reach the harem fast enough.

The eunuch left them at the entrance of the harem, and Shila demanded she be left alone once they got to her chambers. Katara was more than happy to oblige.

She nearly sprinted to a secluded section of the harem and stopped by a torch mounted on a wall. Glancing around the hallway to make sure not a soul dwelled about, Katara finally opened her fist and unveiled the tiny, folded piece of paper that sat in the middle of her palm.

She did quick work of unfolding it. Awaiting her inside was a message written with neat handwriting.

Meet me in the servants' passage behind the royal spa at midnight. It's really important for both of us. Destroy this after reading.

And it only raised more questions.

Why would he want to meet with her? What could he possibly have to say to her that was so important? What was going on?

Some logical part of her warned that this might've been a trap. Katara wouldn't put it past him to invite her to meet, then report her to the maids—telling them she was having an affair, or was communicating with the outside world through a spy, or prove that she was willing to partake in actions behind everyone's back.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd get her to believe in him just to pull the rug from under her at the last second. Or maybe he wanted to toy with her and take joy in watching her get executed.

Would he, though? That look she'd seen on him, in his eyes—that look that had begged her to accept the note and thanked her when she had… Was that something someone who wanted her downfall would do?

Of course, he could be acting—he was Azula's brother, after all, and had succeeded in playing her before. He could've faked this whole interaction and riled up Shila by dismissing her almost instantly only to make his case seem more believable.

But would he, really? Would he actually go so far as putting his life on the line just to have a jibe at her misery? Why not just invite her to meet through a maid that he could easily silence with a sack of gold? It would serve the same purpose as this note. And it'd mean way less danger for him, too.

Katara felt as if her head was about to explode. And though she hated to admit it, there was only one way to get answers to the countless questions swirling in her mind—meeting him.

'Katara,' hissed her inner voice. 'Did you forget this is the same guy that condemned you to this hellhole?! To a life of slavery?! How can you trust him again?!'

Katara wasn't trusting him. She'd learned her lesson about Fire Nation and trust. No, she wouldn't talk to him—she'd stay far away, only go there to see if he'd indeed show. It wouldn't provide all the answers she needed, but at least it'd quell the burning curiosity churning in her stomach.

'Stupid, naive girl. Leave it to you to fall for his lies again.'

Disregarding the scolding voice in her head, Katara looked both ways in the hallway and hastily tossed the note into the torch she was standing next to. She watched as the paper burned into ashes, then turned and started toward the kitchens. She couldn't go into battle unarmed, so she snuck in and out without the chef sleeping in the corner noticing and 'borrowed' a knife sharp enough to cut paper. Just in case.

With the knife hidden behind the column of her forearm, she began stalking toward the rendezvous point, watching her back.

Once there, at the intersection of two short, narrow halls, Katara leaned against the wall that overlooked the passage the Prince had written about and started waiting. With no way of telling the time, she had to trust her instincts on how far off midnight might be.

She had to hand it to him—he'd chosen a good spot for a secret meeting. No one would wander anywhere near here at this hour of the night. But she didn't drop her guard for one second, not even when she got too weary to keep standing and sat down with her back to the wall—weary but alert, no matter how much she wanted to rest. Always.

Minutes trickled into hours as she sat there, waiting, busying herself with the knife by trying to balance its hilt in her palm and inspecting the sharp edges. But with exhaustion setting deep into her bones and no sign from the Prince, she eventually decided she'd waited long enough. She no longer cared that it may not be midnight yet—she was just bored and so, so tired. It'd been a long day.

Katara sighed as she got up, muscles aching and joints popping loudly. She brushed dust off of her robe and turned to leave, huffing and cursing herself for wasting the only night off she'd gotten in weeks for something so pointless.

And that was when she heard it—the low groan of earth grating against earth. She felt its rumble in her bones.

Katara froze. Didn't dare to breathe.

Then a pair of footsteps emerged from what sounded like inside the wall. They drew nearer—quiet but firm.

They could've belonged to anyone, Katara told herself. It didn't necessarily mean it was him.

Slowly, without making a single sound, she turned to poke her head around the corner just enough to see who it was, hiding the rest of her body behind the wall.

It was him—alone and wearing a black outfit that reached up to his neck. He was walking out of a door-like gap in the wall, and there were no signs of weapons on him whatsoever—only what seemed to be the ends of a ribbon dangling from a gloved fist.

He trod toward her, eyes fixed on the ground. The all-powerful front he'd put up in front of everyone had come down. This was the vulnerable side of him he'd only let her see earlier—a doleful boy with slouched shoulders, a battered face, and a scowl. It made him look younger than he was. Much, much younger.

Once at the middle of the passage, he stopped—didn't tread a single step into Katara's side of the hall. He lingered there for a while, still staring at the floor, patiently waiting for her.

He turned and leaned back against the wall when she didn't come out—just continued watching him from afar, silent as a spirit. Minutes passed by in a flash as he kept on waiting and Katara kept on spying.

Then began the fidgeting and the pacing—again, never overstepping the invisible halfway mark of the passage. With his hand that didn't hold the ribbon, he restlessly scratched the inside of his clothed forearm—the same arm Katara had seen the bandages on. He grimaced in pain as his fingers dragged along the fabric, but didn't stop.

When that didn't suffice, he buried his hand in his unbound hair—raked his fingers through it and paced the length of the hall and exhaled deeply and wiped his face and scratched his arm—

He stopped altogether, sighing, his back turned to Katara.

Then he looked over his shoulder. "I'd brought you a gift."

Katara almost let a gasp slip and whirled back around the wall. Her heart began pounding in her chest. How long had he known she'd been watching him?!

"I know you hate me," he continued meekly. "I don't blame you. You have every right to be mad me. And I know I'm asking a lot from you to meet me. But I need to speak with you."

Katara heard shuffling of fabric and then a light object being placed down on the ground with a soft clink.

"I'll be waiting for you here again tomorrow night," he said quietly, and began walking away.

Katara poked her head around the corner again. He was lumbering back toward the gap in the wall, and behind him, laying in the middle of the hall, was—

The floor tilted beneath Katara's feet, her heart stuttering with joy and sorrow and relief and countless other emotions when she saw it—the familiar carved piece of whalebone attached to a deep blue ribbon she'd long believed to be lost, glinting with the blue of the glaciers of her home under the light of the torches.

-o-

"How did you get that?" Her flustered cry echoed in the hallway.

There was something awfully familiar about this scene. The only thing missing were the tree Zuko had tied her to all those months ago and some pirates.

Agni, he had so much to apologize for, didn't he?

Zuko stopped a few steps away from the wall-door he always used, having expected a similar reaction from her more or less. He'd hoped he could've given the necklace to her himself, but after sensing her prying gaze on him since the moment he'd set foot in the passage, he'd decided perhaps she might not be very keen on that.

Loosing a shaky breath, he gathered the courage to turn around, slowly so as to not scare her away.

She stood grounded with her feet apart across the hall, out of the range of his firebending. One of her hands was curled around an object, the rest of it hidden behind her forearm. She looked as weary and scrawny as he'd ever seen her, if not worse. Rings of bruising peeked from above and below that hideous collar around her throat.

Zuko gulped to find his voice.

"They were gonna get rid of your things in Ba Sing Se," he replied as softly as he could manage. "I took the necklace to protect it."

She narrowed her eyes. "Why."

"Because it belonged to your mother. I saw how you cared, and I knew you'd be devastated if something happened to it." He neglected to mention that he knew just how devastated she'd be, and how he'd give anything to own something that belonged to his mother.

She snorted derisively. "You have no problem chucking me in here, but my mom's necklace is where you draw the line?"

Zuko almost winced at the harsh truth.

"I tried to stop it," he said quietly. "I tried to change Azula's mind and get you back to your family, but she wouldn't listen."

The icy rage that seeped from her eyes burned deep into him. There was the girl he'd gotten a glimpse of outside his chambers almost a week ago.

"Is that what you've been telling yourself all this time?" She took a threatening step toward him, tilting her head in disbelief. "That it's only your sister's fault I've known nothing but pain and suffering for the past three months? That you've done nothing wrong?"

Zuko tried to find the right thing to say, the right way to apologize. But he knew no amount of apology could atone for all the agony he'd brought upon her. So he opted to change the subject instead, to spare himself from her wrath.

"We shouldn't stay out here for long. Anyone walking by can see us." He turned toward the secret door in a silent invitation. "I know a place where no one will find us. I promise I'll explain everything once we're there."

"Is that why you brought my necklace?" Every word was laced with loathing and bitter resentment. "To bribe me to go with you?"

"I only brought your necklace because it's yours and you should have it." Zuko trusted her to keep it hidden, and he was glad he sounded more confident than he felt. "You're free to do as you wish," he continued. "I won't force you to stay, and I won't stop you if you want to leave. But I'll tell you that you'll wanna hear what I have to say."

Her glower softened ever so slightly, though her tense posture didn't relax one bit. "Alright, then. I'm here now. Tell me."

"I… think it's best if we're somewhere more private." Zuko didn't know how she'd react to him pledging his allegiance to her. She might explode on him and lead any nearby palace guards on patrol right to them. Better to be safe than sorry.

"Where no one can hear you kill me?" she bit out. "No thanks."

Her believing he would want to kill her hurt Zuko more than he liked to admit. But of course she'd assume the worst of him—he'd given her plenty of reasons to.

"I know you won't believe me," he said, "but I don't want to hurt you. I just wanna talk. Really."

The waterbender regarded him warily. She turned her eyes to the ground, thinking. They flitted left and right as she contemplated her options.

Then lifted her chin. "Step back."

Zuko paused at her sudden change in attitude.

"Do you want my trust or not?" she asked before he could form words. The bite in her tone had gained a sharper edge, and she seemed stiffer than before, if such a thing was possible.

Zuko complied after a moment's reflection, backing away to the door in the wall to give her space. If this was what it'd take for her to come with him, so be it.

She didn't take her eyes off of him as she hesitantly stalked closer, snatched her necklace from where it still lay on the floor between them, and immediately backed away again.

She then tipped her chin toward the door. "Walk."

Without objection, Zuko lit a ball of fire above his palm, careful that he didn't startle her with any sudden movements, and walked into the dark passage, toward the secret room that he'd found solace in during his youth.

Damp, stone walls and air thick with humidity swallowed them in as the waterbender entered behind him and pushed the door closed behind them with a grunt of effort. The mossy passages guided them deeper into the heart of the palace, lit only with Zuko's flickering flames.

He watched the uneven ground ahead of him as he walked, occasionally glancing up to follow the clues he'd left on the cornerstones of the tunnels. He kept one eye on the girl trailing timidly behind him—at least ten paces away from him at all times. He could feel the daggers of her glare between his shoulder blades. The tense silence drew his nerves taut.

"We're here," he rasped once they reached the final clue, facing the wall that bore the mark of the secret lever.

Zuko pressed the stone into the wall, glancing at the waterbender from the corner of his eyes, who had stopped a distance down the hall.

"You go in first," she ordered as the door rumbled open, eyes forever glued to him—watching him, waiting for him to slip up. She held her necklace tightly in her grip, brushing her thumb over the carvings.

Zuko wordlessly strode into the tiny, dark room. Moisture trickled down the uneven stones on the walls, and the same stench of humidity in the passages hung in the air here as well. The drawings, blank scrolls, as well as the writing brush, inkwell, and the melted candle were all where he'd left them last, clustered together by the door.

He walked the short distance that it took to get to the opposite wall. Then, inhaling deeply, he turned around. The waterbender stood in the open doorway, in a positively defensive position, ready to flee at a moment's notice.

Zuko had rehearsed how to start this conversation countless times before in his chambers—but now, here, with her glare burning into his skull, he drew a blank.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced before," he blurted out without thought. "I'm Zuko."

Her expression darkened. "I know."

Zuko nearly recoiled at her steely gaze. It made him want to crawl back to his chambers for asylum, but he stood his ground.

"And what's your name?" he asked gently. He was genuinely curious, too—he was sick of calling her 'the waterbender' over and over.

Her eyes narrowed, almost sharp enough to spear right through him. "What, you want me to call myself 'uncivilized'?"

"No, no, I wasn't—"

"Get to the point already," she cut in sharply. "Why did you ask me here?"

Exhaling a heavy, shaky breath, Zuko forced himself to meet her gaze.

"I asked you here because I know you're planning to escape the Fire Nation." The waterbender didn't react—didn't even bat an eye. Zuko chose his next words carefully, mouth suddenly dry. "And I want in."

To say that she was baffled would be an understatement.

It took her a few moments to process the information. She blinked rapidly, clearly trying to make sense of what she'd just heard.

"What?" she blurted at last.

Zuko gulped before repeating himself, "I want to escape with you."

She looked him up and down.

"Is this some kind of a joke?"

"No, it's… I'm serious. I have valuable information that can be of help to you."

She blinked a couple of more times.

"Why?" she then asked. "You're a prince. You have all the money in the world. Why would you wanna leave that behind? Your life is perfect."

That last line struck a deep, lonely chord in him.

"My life is not perfect."

She scoffed, bitterness slowly returning to her features.

"Oh, you poor thing," she cooed. "Having hundreds of servants doing everything for you and a different girl in your bed every night must be so hard for you."

Zuko couldn't keep the edge out of his tone as he hissed, "You know nothing about me."

"I don't?" Her lips curled in ire, jaw clenching. She stepped closer. "I know that you're a lying, manipulating, back-stabbing little pig that takes pleasure in watching people suffer." She took another step. "I know that your uncle loved you, and you sold him out." Another step. "I know that I trusted you, and you sold me out." She stopped a few paces from him. "Is that not enough?"

Zuko shut his eyes, grimacing at her brutal candor. She was right to hate him, and she couldn't hate him more than he hated himself. Still, though, he felt as if he'd crumble under the weight of his guilt—as if the lump in his throat was her hands wrapped around his neck, suffocating him. Killing him from the inside and out.

He couldn't meet her eyes as he muttered, "I'm sorry." He truly didn't know what else to say, what else to do.

"You're sorry?" she spat cynically, accusingly.

Her breathing was becoming rapid, more and more out of control. Zuko could see the inferno of anger raging behind her eyes.

It was fury—pure, unadulterated fury that roiled within her. She was a storm in the making.

"Do you have any idea what I have to go through every single day because of you?!" she seethed through gritted teeth, stepping ever so closer. "What I've been going through for months?!"

Zuko gulped again. He didn't have any words.

"YOU BETRAYED ME!" she finally snapped. Her cry thundered off of the walls, echoing inside the room endlessly. "YOU DON'T GET TO BE SORRY!"

"What can I do to make it up to you?" Zuko pleaded, desperate to hear that there was some way to do so. If she told him to burn the palace to the ground, he'd do it. He'd do anything.

"Hmm, maybe you could reconquer Ba Sing Se in the name of the Earth King! Or, I know! You could bring my mother back! Give me back my childhood! MY LIFE!"

The raw, ugly truth struck Zuko like a punch in the gut. And he didn't get to release the breath stuck in his throat when she lunged at him like an arrow from a bow, a roar ripping from her chest.

He saw it coming. He saw it, and he didn't move—didn't stop her as his back collided with the wall and his skull nearly cracked open at the impact.

Pain shot from all over his still-bruised body, thrumming throughout, and it nearly put out the flames above his palm—but all of his thoughts refocused on the waterbender when she pressed a meat knife against the underside of his jaw, her other hand clutching his tunic.

"Give me one reason not to kill you," she snarled through her teeth, standing so close that they shared one breath. The flames in his hand reflected in her fuming eyes, cast her face in shadows from below.

Zuko didn't let her hatred go to his head. He still had a mission to carry through.

He calmed himself, taking deep breaths, remembering Uncle's lectures on keeping his inner fire in check.

"Because I'm your only way out of here."

The waterbender scoffed, driving the knife further into his throat. "That's it? Is that really all you could come up with?"

Zuko gritted his teeth at the knife biting into his skin and the drops of blood he felt starting to trickle down his neck. He could've easily disarmed her, but instead, he looked her straight in the eyes as he uttered his next words.

"We know about the invasion on the day of the eclipse."

It was as if life itself came to a standstill.

She stopped breathing. Turned deathly pale. Didn't blink.

"We've known about it for months," Zuko continued, ignoring the warmth of his blood sticking to his skin. "The Earth King told Azula everything when he thought she was your ally."

Seconds passed as she stood there, unbreathing and unmoving, just staring at Zuko. He could see her world collapsing in her eyes.

The pressure on his neck disappeared as she staggered back, a hand on her throat. Her breathing became quavering, strangled. The knife in her hand clattered to the ground.

She backed away until her back hit the opposite wall by the still-open door. Her wide eyes were fixed on the floor. Zuko wasn't sure if she was aware she'd been moving.

"The traps are already in place," he added grimly. "Anyone that sets foot here on that day will be—"

"Slaughtered," she finished his sentence, meeting his gaze. Unshed tears lined her eyes.

'Killed' was the word he was going to go with, but yes, 'slaughtered' was more accurate. Massacred. Butchered like livestock.

"My whole family…" The waterbender slumped against the wall and slid to the floor. Her voice and Zuko's heart broke when she whimpered, "Slaughtered."

He considered telling her that the survivors would be sent to labor camps, but that wasn't any better than death, was it? So he stayed silent, pressing his lips into a thin line in understanding and condolence—let her grieve for those she loved, those she would never get to see again.

She buried her face in her hands and wept quietly, shoulders shaking. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Dripped onto her robe. She looked so fragile—like she would shatter into a million pieces if Zuko dared touch her.

He'd known this part of his plan would be the hardest—he'd always been the one to react to tears, always needing to comfort the weeping person. But he'd had to do this. This was the only way she'd accept his help. He couldn't yield to his feelings, not now.

The waterbender wept, adrift in her sorrow, and Zuko shuffled his feet awkwardly, not knowing what to do with himself. Then she lowered her hands and bloodshot blue eyes stared at him from between her fingers, as if she'd only now remembered he was there.

"What do you want from me?" she croaked, letting her hands fall to her lap. Her voice was raw and thick with emotion.

Zuko gently sank to his knees, putting his weight on his heels. "I want to help you get out of the Fire Nation. That's all."

The waterbender let out a bitter, mirthless laugh. She leaned her head backward on the wall as her laughter died down and stared down her nose at him, smiling sadly while tears trickled down her hollow cheeks. "Why would you want to help me? I'm your enemy."

Zuko looked her dead in the eye. "That's not how I see it."

"Yeah?" She gave another short-lived laugh, sniffling. "And what do you see me as?"

"An innocent girl who was unjustly sentenced to a life of misery because of others' mistakes, and is trying to fight an unwinnable war by herself."

Her shoulders continued shaking with stifled sobs as she examined him.

"Then why do you want to escape?" she asked after a prolonged moment of silence.

"I told you. My life is not perfect." Not a lie. But not the whole truth, either.

Despite everything, she still didn't seem to believe in his sincerity, so Zuko began speaking before she could, blurting out what came to his mind.

"I made a horrible, horrible decision in Ba Sing Se, and you suffered for it. There's not a day that goes by that I don't regret it." He bowed his head, one palm on his knee, the other keeping the fire lit. "I won't beg for your forgiveness, because I know it's not something you can, or will, ever give to me." He slowly raised his head. "So I offer my help to you. I won't fight back if you want to kill me. I won't. I'll take whatever you'll throw my way. But please let me help you first. That's all I ask. You won't see or hear of me again once we're out of the Fire Nation. I promise."

Not for the first time tonight, she was taken aback by his candor. She looked less defensive, less miserable. It was a step in the right direction.

Her gaze flitted to the scrolls and drawings on the floor across the open doorway. Then it wandered down to the necklace in her fist, thinking, devising.

Zuko could see the gears turning behind her eyes as they lingered there, her sobs and tears petering out little by little.

Suddenly, she snapped her head toward him, wiped away her tears, and shot to feet, Zuko quickly following suit.

"Fine," she said firmly, chin lifted high as if she hadn't just been bawling her eyes out. "I will escape with you."

Zuko's face lit up.

"If," she then added, and his smile fell, "you let me send word to my family about the invasion."

What little was left of Zuko's smile twisted into a frown. "All of my letters go through the royal courier and are tracked. I can't just write to the enemy."

"That's not my problem."

Zuko sighed, running a gloved hand through his shaggy hair. He'd gotten her to come around, but at the cost of his confidentiality.

"Okay, I'll see what I can do," he conceded. "But you have to understand—the letter might not reach them in time. The invasion's in eight days, and a messenger hawk can only fly so fast. And it might get intercepted on the way, too."

"I don't care. You'll send it."

Zuko nodded earnestly. "I will."

The waterbender eyed him for a beat before making her way across the doorway and crouched down to pick up the inkwell amidst the clutter of scrolls.

She held it out toward Zuko. "Melt the ink. It's dried."

He came over and did as was commanded, briefly taking off one of his gloves to bend a tiny stream of fire at the splash of dry, black liquid, mindful of its wooden surroundings.

"Go stand at that corner," she ordered once he was done. He did.

From where he stood at the furthest point of the room from her, he saw her grab a blank scroll from the cluster of his drawings and scribble a short but to-the-point message onto it.

THEY KNOW ABOUT OPERATION OVERLORD. CANCEL ALL PLANS. DO NOT ATTACK.

She made to get up, but stopped and set the scroll back on the rugged ground again to jot down one more message at the bottom.

Please don't worry about me. I'm doing well. Words can't describe how much I love and miss you all. I will see you again soon. Take care.

As the last of the characters dried, the waterbender stood up and rolled the paper. She then stared at her necklace for a long moment. She closed her eyes, pressing the pendant longingly to her lips, before tying its ribbon around the scroll.

"Send this to General Fong's base in the Earth Kingdom," she told Zuko, walking over and handing him the letter. "My friends and my dad's fleet should be there by now. They'll know who it's from."

Zuko took the letter—and the necklace with it.

"It might get lost in transit," he said solemnly. He wasn't talking about the letter, and she knew it.

She gazed yearningly at the pendant, as if missing it already. "It's worth the risk."

Zuko's heart clenched for her as he tucked the letter into the sash around his waist. She'd just reunited with the only remnant of her mother after so many months, and now fate was tearing it away from her again.

"So," she said, finally tearing her eyes away from the necklace, "let's hear your master plan."

Zuko stared up at her. "What master plan?"

The waterbender raised an irritated brow, crossing her arms. "Your plan on how to get us out of here?"

"Oh. Uh…" He cleared his throat, unconsciously standing up straighter to make up for his lack of confidence. "I… don't really have a plan… yet."

She gave him an exasperated look. "You did all this, but didn't think to come up with a plan?"

"I wasn't sure you'd show up!"

Zuko could see her mentally facepalming herself.

He cleared his throat again before she could scold him further. "We'll meet here on the night before the eclipse—or we could meet at the same place we did tonight and come here together. I'll have a plan ready by then." He looked beyond her, at the dingy passage through the open door, then turned her attention back to her. "I won't be able to firebend during the eclipse, but neither will the palace guards. That's when we take them on. One of these tunnels opens out to the gardens. We could use that one so you'll have plenty of water to bend from the pond there."

Now, it seemed, it was her turn to be awkward. She shifted uneasily on her feet.

"Something wrong?" Zuko asked, raising his sole brow.

"There's… a bit of a problem," she muttered, clearly getting more uncomfortable by the second.

Zuko stayed quiet as an invitation for her to go on.

She wrapped her arms around herself, took in a deep breath, and exhaled it sharply, averting her gaze. "I can't bend."

Zuko blinked. "Why not?"

"This collar." She motioned at the bulky metal around her throat. "It blocks my chi. I can't bend with it on."

Oh.

Well… That certainly was a problem. A big one.

Why couldn't things go right for once?

But maybe it could be reversed. Maybe. Hopefully.

He checked out the collar. "Do you remember how they put it on?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "I think there's a lock on the inside of it or something. They inserted some sort of key into it and twisted it and I lost my bending. That's all I remember."

Zuko rubbed his jaw in pondering. "Well, we'll need your powers when we break out of the palace. I can't take on all the guards by myself." He wiped his face wearily and raised his head. "I'll find a way to remove your collar… and plan our escape."

"And send my letter," she added pointedly.

"And send your letter."

A moment of strained silence passed between them before the waterbender stepped away, picking up her knife from the floor. "I should go. Shila probably trashed her room because you stood her up. I gotta clean it all up before she wakes up."

Zuko couldn't say he was particularly upset for Shila, but he nodded in understanding nonetheless. "I should go, too."

The waterbender turned around without another word, knife in hand, and made her way out of the room.

"Thank you," Zuko said behind her before he could stop himself. The girl stopped at the threshold and looked at him over her shoulder. "For trusting me," he clarified. "I won't let you down again."

"I don't trust you." Her voice was sharp as ever. She twisted from the waist to give him one final, icy glare. "I'm only doing this for my family. Nothing more. I could break out of here without you. Don't forget that."

Without another word, she turned back around and walked off, leaving Zuko all alone.

A/N

Oh my god, I've been wanting to write this chapter for so l o n g. It's a bit fast-paced compared to the other chapters, so what did you think about the pacing? Was it too fast? Too slow? Just enough? I would love to hear your thoughts on it (and the rest of the chapter too :D).

As always, thanks for reading and see you later!

PS: Forgot to mention that 'Operation Overlord' was the codename for the Normandy landings during WW2 (aka D-Day). I thought it a fitting name for the Day of the Black Sun, because, come on, it's perfect.

PPS: Katara's harem name, Mikai, actually does mean 'uncivilized' in Japanese. So, uh, yeah. Do with that information what you will