Katara. That was her name. Not Mikai, not 'the waterbender'. Katara.
It felt strange put an actual name to her face. And it felt stranger to think that she'd shown him the slightest hint of trust in giving him her name. He knew it was nothing major—she probably hadn't even seen its significance at the time—but he took it as a sign for the possibility of earning her forgiveness. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, she could come around to view him as more than the villain of her story who turned her life into a living hell.
Zuko wouldn't let her faith in him be misplaced. He might've stayed up almost all night, and the possibility that something might go wrong at any point of his escape plan weighed down on him, but he felt lighter than he'd had in ages. Katara trusted him. As long as he breathed, both she and Uncle would be far, far away from here by the end of this day.
He would do what was right for once.
Trekking through the palace to have a final breakfast with his sister, Ozai's spying dog in tow, Zuko carried his headpiece and chest armor proudly, as was expected of the future Fire Lord who was about to command the aerial counterattack that would blow the invading forces to pieces.
After the breakfast, he would sneak out into the city to visit Mai and Ty Lee, and test the waters to see whether they would actually want to escape with him. If they understood and agreed, he would help them slip into the palace and wait for Katara together. But if they didn't… Well, he didn't want to think what would happen then.
When Zuko's arrival was announced to the dining hall, his sister was sitting at one end of the unnecessarily long table with no plates before her, dressed in an identical armor, and reading a book with a golden goblet in hand. Behind her, a flock of servants and maids lined the walls, and royal guards covered every corner of the hall, all as usual.
Azula paid no heed to him as he made his way over to the seat at the other end of the table, roving her eyes over the pages while he took his seat. She only acknowledged his existence when the servants began to whirl around him, pulling his high-backed chair for him, serving plates of main and side dishes to him, pouring water into his goblet.
"Good morning, brother," she said flatly, casually swirling her goblet while reading.
Zuko sat down without replying and the servants soundlessly went back to where they were standing by the wall. In the absence of a response, Azula's eyes slid to him over the top of her book.
"Why, I'm doing perfectly fine, thank you for asking," she quipped. Her face scrunched up as she gave him a once-over. "You, however, look like you could use some sleep. It's not fit for an heir apparent to walk around looking like a prickly panda-bear."
Zuko scoffed, picking up his chopsticks. He didn't bother to look at her as he snapped back, "What're you still doing here if you're done eating? Don't you have other places to be?"
Azula let out a curt laugh, swirling her drink again. "Is it a crime for me to want to spend a little time with my only brother?"
"Don't act as if you like me," he muttered, cutting her a glare under his lashes while putting vegetables onto his plate. "You hate me. You've always hated me."
"Not true. Remember when we used to play in the gardens when we were little? I seem to recall you having fun chasing me around."
"Yes, and I recall you setting a general's robe on fire and blaming me for it. Father almost broke my hand for that."
Azula groaned and rolled her eyes. "Agni, you're cranky today. What's got you so riled up? Something kept you up last night?" She raised a brow, the corner of her lips tugging into a small, wicked smirk. "Maybe it was someone…"
Zuko tore his gaze from hers, focusing instead on collecting more food onto his plate. It was hard enough lying directly to her face—he couldn't do it with her staring into his soul too.
"You have full authority over the harem, Azula," he replied, maintaining his cool as much as possible. "You know I wasn't with anyone last night."
Azula raised her drink to her lips. The knowing gleam in her eyes pierced him over the rim of the goblet.
"So I do."
The dining hall lapsed into silence in the seconds she took a sip from her drink and went back to reading, the myriad of servants and maids lined by the walls quiet but attentive to their royals' needs. Relieved that she'd dropped the topic, Zuko picked up a sliced piece of komodo sausage from his plate.
"Aren't you gonna ask me what I'm reading?" Azula asked just as he was bringing the food to his mouth.
Zuko exhaled a deep sigh, dropping the sausage back onto the plate. "Can I please eat in peace?"
"What, I'm just making small talk. You can eat and listen at the same time."
Zuko sighed again, now in defeat. He would need strength to get through today, and he couldn't do that if he missed breakfast because he was too busy arguing with his sister.
So he dug into his food—but Azula chimed in once more before he could take a bite, "Well, since you clearly lack basic dining manners, I'll tell you that I'm reading. It's Love Amongst the Dragons."
Zuko went rigid at the mention of their mother's favorite book-turned-play, the sausage hovering midway to his mouth. He took a closer look at the book in her hand, only now noticing the characters carved into the thick leather cover.
His appetite suddenly gone, he put his food back on the plate.
"I have no clue how Mom could read this and make us sit through its play every year," his sister continued carelessly, eyeing the book with distaste. "It's horrible."
Azula's gaze flitted to him, to where he sat frozen in his seat, staring at his plate with glazed eyes.
"Aww, still hung up on dear old Mom, are we? How adorable… Of course, I would miss her too if she raised me as her little milksop." She set the book on the table, then pouted with false innocence and batted her eyes. "Why don't I find you a nanny, Zuzu? Maybe she can play mommy for you. You can suck on her tits and do with her all you want."
Zuko's hand curled into a fist around his chopsticks. His jaw ticked, and he felt all the churning, aimless rage he'd rid himself of over the past few days resurface in his mind.
"She was your mother too," he gritted out. "Have some respect."
Azula snorted, swirling that damn goblet in her hand again. "Excuse me if I won't mourn for some treacherous whore."
One moment, Zuko was sitting—the next, he'd shot up from his seat, sending his chair flying back and toppling to the floor. The wooden chopsticks in his grip turned to ash in a fraction of a second, and the servants by the walls jumped back, gasping. Azula, on the other hand, looked on with venomous pleasure dancing in her amber eyes, completely indifferent to his outburst.
"Apologize," he spat. The temperature inside the hall started rising with the heat emanating from his body.
"Whatever for? She is a traitor. Need I remind you she killed Grandpa?"
"I said," Zuko seethed through clenched teeth, "apologize."
"Careful, brother," Azula warned coldly, her smirk gone, but the amusement in her eyes all too bright. "What would people think if they heard their future lord defended the murderer of another?"
Zuko's fists clenched hard enough that his nails almost pierced his skin. She wasn't going to apologize. He'd never heard her utter the word 'sorry' before—she certainly wasn't going to say it now.
Huffing a breath of smoke out of his nose, he whirled and stalked from the room without having had a single bite out of his breakfast, simmering. The guards at the doors bowed and hauled the doors open just in time for him to storm out.
But just as he was about to step into the hallway, Azula's voice sliced through the blood rushing in his ears.
"Oh, by the way, it's awful what happened to that Water Tribe peasant this morning." She heaved a theatrically dramatic sigh. "Such a shame. She was a nice girl."
Zuko stopped dead in his tracks. In the span of a millisecond, his mind was emptied of all thoughts but one.
Was.
He turned his head and asked his sister over his shoulder, "What?"
"You haven't heard? The whole palace has been buzzing about it."
Zuko turned to her fully, worry beginning to gnaw away at his stomach. "What're you talking about?"
Azula shook her head in obviously feigned sorrow. "Oh, it's terrible… Truly tragic."
His heart began to speed up. The memory of Katara sitting in a small, green-lit room plagued his mind, beaten, unconscious, and with needles sticking out from her fingers. It was immediately followed by the memory of her clamped over the dead Avatar in the Crystal Catacombs, and then with the image of the bruises on her arms and around her neck, beneath where her collar used to be.
Zuko stared at his sister. The obnoxiously fake concern on her face and the repulsive gleam in her eyes chilled him to the core.
"What did you do."
Azula had the audacity to get offended. "What did I do? Come now, Zuzu. You're so quick to blame me for everything." She huffed a chuckle. "You'll trip over a rock and blame me. I should say, it's really starting to hurt my feelings."
Zuko stepped toward her, eyes narrowed into slits and fists clenched at his sides. "Don't fuck with me, Azula. Where's Katara? What did you do to her?"
A light flared in Azula's eyes when Katara's name came out of his mouth. She'd always been too attentive, too cruel, waiting to strike where it did the most damage. She'd always been good at that. So of course she'd caught that he'd said Katara's real name before he himself realized it.
"Katara, is it?" she drawled, taunting him, wearing out his already thin patience. "Tell me, brother—did you exchange names before or after you got between her legs?"
Zuko took another step, breathing through his nose. Smoke began to rise from his hands. "Answer the question."
Azula's lips curled into a victorious smirk. She tilted her head to the side to address the servants over her shoulder, gaze never leaving his, "You hear that, folks? He doesn't deny sleeping with her."
The combined effect of exhaustion, hunger, and annoyance had pushed Zuko beyond the point of comprehending her words. "I'm warning you, Azula. Tell me where she is right now."
"Or what?" she finally snapped. Azula leaned back on her seat, crossing her legs. "What're you gonna do, Zuko? Burn me like Dad burned you? Please. Let's not pretend you have the balls to even talk back to me."
The hall fell silent, the only sounds disturbing it being the servants sharply sucking in air. Out of the corner of his eye, Zuko could see all of the guards exchange looks with each other and shift into offensive firebending stances little by little. Meanwhile, he himself was rooted in his place, tense as a bowstring.
Staring at the smug expression on Azula's face, he forgot all about the escape plan. He forgot that he had to remain calm and not give in to her games. But he couldn't hold himself back any further, not after she'd insulted their mother and possibly killed Katara—not as anger curled hot and unstoppable in his gut, like a blazing inferno that wanted to burn him from the inside out.
A growl ripping from his throat, Zuko pounced across the hall to his sister. He smacked the goblet from her hand, lifted her off her seat by the throat, and slammed her flat on the table so hard that the dishes on his side jumped. Her wine spilled all over the floor and the maids yelped, but Azula was unfazed, save for having the wind get knocked out of her on impact.
"SPEAK!" he roared, one scorching hand wrapped around her throat, not so tight that he strangled her but tight enough to let her know he wasn't fucking around, and the other smouldered by her head. She could easily fight him back, overpower him even, but did nothing of the sort—she only laid there on her back, sneering.
The guards simultaneously darted forth from their posts, palms aimed at him, ready to attack.
"Step away from her immediately!" one of them yelled.
Slightly twisting her neck under Zuko's grip, Azula shouted at the guards, "Get out! All of you!"
They faltered, glancing at one another again. "Ma'am?"
"OUT!"
The maids and servants obeyed happily and slipped out of the hall as quickly as possible, fearing the collective wrath of their prince and princess. The guards hesitated for a moment, before following them out and closing the door behind them.
"Where is she," Zuko snarled through his teeth as the last of them left, blood boiling in his veins.
Azula turned to him, the vile shine in her eyes brighter than ever, like she took pleasure in making him nearly suffocate on his fury. "Wouldn't you like to know, pretty boy."
Zuko curled his fingers tighter around her throat, pressing down hard on her pulse point. He wished he was more like her, like their father. He wished he could hurt her more, burn her, make her suffer for once.
Instead, he could only hiss at her, low and lethal, baring his teeth, "I won't ask you again."
Azula's facade finally crumbled as she began gasping for air. She grimaced and her hands latched onto his wrists.
"Fine," she choked out under his iron grip. Zuko slackened his hold just enough that she could speak freely. She coughed before meeting his eyes. "Last I heard, she was in the harem, getting prepared for her execution."
Zuko's brain stuttered for a moment while his thoughts caught up. He could only stand there, paralyzed to his spot. Cold, bleak terror settled heavy in his chest.
Her execution.
The words echoed in his head.
His mother's screams, the swing of a sword, and a bloodsoaked executioner's block flooded his thoughts. The roars of bloodthirsty mobs filled the clear sky, and rivers of crimson blood contrasted the marble floor, dripping slowly to the stairs below. Then it was the haunting image of Katara that he saw, of her lying at the bottom of the sea with her head and limbs severed, unblinking eyes locked on him.
The hand Zuko had around his sister's throat uncoiled on its own accord. He stumbled back a step as the world shifted from beneath his feet, unable to breathe or blink. Azula seized the opportunity to raise herself onto her elbows, still breathing roughly.
"Go, Zuko," she said coldly, rubbing her throat. "Don't let her end up like Mother."
That was all the incentive Zuko had needed. He turned and rushed out of the hall, his limbs moving on their own. A barricade of royal guards awaited him outside the doors, but they dissipated upon Azula's order to let him pass.
In his hurry to tear through them and the servants in the hallway, he missed his sister sit upright on the table and chuckle to herself, missed her shake her head in disappointment and mumble to herself, "Too easy."
Time slowed as Zuko ran, ran, ran to the harem, pulse beating loudly in his ears, the faces he shot past blurry. All he could see were Katara's eyes that would be shut forever—all he could hear, her harrowing cries for mercy. He couldn't help imagine her bent over the executioner's block exactly where his mother once had, tears pouring from her face like waterfalls.
Zuko had been too naive, too weak to protect his mother. He wouldn't let the blood of an innocent soil the earth again. Not again.
What if he was too late? The question echoed in his mind, poisoning his thoughts. What if he'd failed again?
No, he wasn't too late.
He couldn't be. He simply couldn't.
Having sprinted through nearly half the palace, Zuko couldn't slow down in time to round the final corner to the harem and slammed right into the opposite wall. Just for a moment, he allowed himself to lean against the wall and catch his breath, panting heavily. During that moment, he drank in the magnificent sight that were the harem gates towering high above him, grand and noble. A painting of his father in a gold frame was hung above them, looking down on everyone that entered.
Two royal guards stood at the feet of the gates, and behind them, beyond the wide open gateway, maids and girls of all ages strutted this way and that, going about their day. The guards' attention snapped to Zuko the moment he appeared in the hallway, and they shot a look of confusion at one another when they realized who it was that'd shown up.
Pushing himself off of the wall, Zuko puffed out a breath to try and pull himself together. He started to march toward the men, cold sweat trickling down his temples and back. The guards immediately turned their attention back to him and stepped sideways to block the gateway.
"Halt!" the one on the right barked. "No man but Lord Ozai may enter the harem."
Like that would stop Zuko.
"Get out of my way, and I won't hurt you," he snarled at the men, but they didn't back down.
"Please don't make this difficult, sir."
Zuko didn't slow down one bit. He would burn through the palace if he had to.
He lit a ball of fire in one clammy hand as warning. "Move."
Both men instantly got into defensive stances. "This is your final warning, sir. Turn back now."
If violence was what they wanted, then violence was what they'd get.
Zuko balled his hands into fists just a few paces away from the men, taking his breathing under control in preparation for firebending—only for a middle-aged maid to appear behind the gates and cut right in between them.
"What's all the noise?" she asked in a nasal voice, then her eyes widened as far as they would go when they landed on the battle-ready Fire Prince.
The distraction was his opportunity to strike.
Without wasting another second, Zuko launched the flame inside his palm directly at the woman, not to actually harm her, but for one of the men to jump in to protect her. His plan worked—the woman shrieked and the guard on the left leaped in front of her, easily deflecting the attack. Zuko darted at the opening the man left on his side, shooting another fireball at where the trio was now huddled together, knocking them all off-balance.
More feminine screams grated on his ears as he launched himself into the main hall of harem, grabbed the handles on the gates, and hauled the heavy doors shut right as the guards were pushing the woman off of them and darting at their prince. They tried forcing the thick, wooden gates open and then began banging on them when it did nothing, shouting out curses and orders to call for back-up, but Zuko had long locked them out.
When he spun around, he was met with countless wide eyes staring at him in shock, frozen in the midst of eating breakfast, serving it, having a casual chat by the barred windows, or overseeing everything from the sides. In an instant, they flew to their feet to curtsy to him, while Zuko stepped forward and scanned their faces.
Brown eyes, green eyes, women, girls, even children… They all blended into each other as he spun round and round, heart hammering in his chest. But there was no sign of the blanched brown skin he sought.
She wasn't here.
"Prince Zuko!" a croaky voice piped up from his right.
Zuko whipped toward the sound to find the matriarch of the harem emerging from behind a group of maids not too far away.
"You cannot be here!" she exclaimed as she scrambled to him as fast as her old age would allow, the jeweled staff she carried everywhere clinking on the ground. "You must leave at once!"
"Where's Katara?" he demanded while the guards continued to bang on the gates behind him.
Madam Lin came to a stop in front of him, curtsying. "I'm… afraid I do not know who—"
Zuko cursed under his breath. "Mikai! Where's she!"
"I— I presume she is in Mistress Shila's quarters upstairs, but—"
Upstairs. With Shila.
Zuko spotted a staircase at the far corner of the hall, and without a second thought, he bolted for it, heedless of Madam Lin's pleas for him to leave. Everyone in his way rushed aside to make room for him, as did the ones on the staircase.
Storming up the stairs two or three steps at a time, he gave another round of scare to the concubines and maids in the hallway he'd turned up to upstairs. The hallway stretched on seemingly forever, dotted with elegant doors on either side. More importantly, no screams nor any sounds of struggle disrupted its serenity.
"Which one's Shila's room?" he asked the closest maid standing to him.
The woman dropped to a curtsy, visibly alarmed. "It is the fifth door to the left, Your Highness."
Zuko didn't wait another moment to race toward the said door, breezing past all who stood in his path. His heart pounded louder and louder the closer he got to it.
He slowed down only once he was a couple of paces from the door, mouth dry as a bone. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for the fight of his life, as well as the bloodbath he might witness inside. Then, without stopping, he kicked down the door.
The sight that greeted him rooted him to his spot in the doorway.
She was here. Katara was here.
And she was unharmed.
In the brisk, open space that was his Favorite's lavish bedroom, there was no one but Katara and Shila, and not a single thing was out of the ordinary around them—no men with swords, no signs of danger, no nothing. Just Katara finishing up dressing Shila for the day ahead.
They gasped when Zuko barged in without warning and flinched back a step. It took them both a second to recover from their shock—Shila blinked a few times, mouth hanging ajar, while Katara bowed her head as per protocol, albeit still stunned.
It was only a few moments before Shila pulled a coquettish but slightly puzzled smile onto her face and fluttered her lashes. "My dragon! What a pleasant surprise that you would come all the way here to visit me."
An unexpressed question laid underneath her honeyed words: What're you doing here?!
Zuko barely looked at her, his eyes fixed solely on Katara standing behind her.
"You're… okay." His words were ragged, interrupted by his heavy breathing.
Katara's brows creased further and she briefly lifted her chin to glance at him, baffled, but did nothing more. Shila followed Zuko's gaze to Katara.
"Of course I'm okay," she chipped in as silence stretched out, chuckling stiffly. "It's always a delight to see you." She twisted her neck to glare at Katara over her shoulder. "Are you blind?! Go wait for me outside!"
Zuko only then acknowledged Shila's presence, and stared at her blankly while Katara gave her mistress a half-baked curtsy and stepped around her to leave the room.
"Where's the executioner?" The words escaped him without thought.
Katara froze in her place and Shila's smile slipped. They blinked at him, then at each other.
Shila turned to him. "The what?!"
Even Katara had fully lifted her head, pure confusion written all over her face.
Zuko glanced between the two, still panting and starting to question what was what himself.
"The executioner!" he repeated hectically, then looked at Katara. "Azula said you were…"
It was only then, after breaking practically every rule in the book and actively seeking a member of his father's harem, that realization dawned on him. It struck him like a flying boulder to the guts, sucking the air from his lungs and the color from his face.
Azula always lies.
Katara was alive. She was safe. And she would've remained safe had Zuko not intervened.
But now… Now he'd signed their death sentences with his own hands.
No sooner had the chilling reality sunk in than the sound of heavy footfalls down the hallway reached his ears. He turned his head, eyes glassy, to see a hoard of royal guards thundering up the stairs and everyone in the hallway scurrying to the sides to make room for them.
Zuko didn't have time to lament over his past decisions. Nor did he have time to ponder his future actions. Not here. Not now.
He had to make that time himself.
His limbs began moving before he could fully command them. He shot into the room, pushed past Shila, grabbed Katara tightly by the wrist, and darted to the private bathroom inside the chambers. Shila yell in protest, but he ignored her completely as he dragged Katara along with him with almost no resistance, then shoved her into the bathroom before entering it himself.
Here, he could contrive a plan to get them both out in one piece.
Katara whirled to him while he locked them in. "What the hell are you doing?!" First time she'd spoken to him all morning.
He paid no attention to her as he took in the room, his heart in his mouth. Morning sun bled into the wide room through barred windows on the left, reflecting off the polished floorboards and the gilded, half-filled bathtub in the middle. A matching sink and a couple of vanities with soap bars, towels, and makeup products on top stood by the walls, but other than them, there was nothing to barricade the double doors with.
Zuko then diverted his attention to the windows. The harem was on relatively lower floors of the palace—if they were lucky, if the drop wasn't too bad, he could melt the bars and they could flee through there.
But that was the thing. He was never lucky.
Zuko hurried over to the windows and looked down to the gardens below. Lo and behold, not only were there trenches dug right beneath the windows, there were spikes at the bottom of the trenches, placed there specifically to prevent these types of situations.
The whole harem was a deathtrap.
They were stuck here.
In a fit of rage and despair, Zuko let out a roar of frustration and punched the wall next to the window frame with all of his strength. The sound of his fist slamming into the marble wall got drowned out by the extensive range of curse words now spewing from his mouth. He punched the wall again and again and again, cursing himself and Azula and Ozai and anything and everything that came to mind.
It was all his fault. He'd been too blind and stupid to notice Azula's scheme, and now Katara was going to pay for it. She was going to pay for it with her life.
Zuko should've killed himself that night. Then, at least, Katara could've lived.
Behind him, as if sensing his thoughts about her, Katara called for him, "Will you please tell me what's going on?! Aren't you prohibited from entering the harem?!"
Zuko ceased his punches. He was out of breath, and his knuckles were flayed and bloody.
He didn't feel pain, though—he felt nothing but crippling fury and guilt and regret.
His back turned to her, he pressed the heels of his trembling palms against his eyes and groaned with self-contempt. "I fucked up." Admitting the truth had him slumping his shoulders in shame. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
"Wha—"
Her sentence was cut short when muffled footsteps poured into Shila's room on the other side of the doors, demanding Zuko's location from Shila, which she disclosed right away. They started banging on the doors moments later.
"Give it up, Prince! You have nowhere to run!"
Turning around to face Katara, Zuko ran his hands through his tied hair, trying desperately to think of something, anything, that could get them out of here. Trying, and failing miserably. Meanwhile, Katara's eyes were glued to the water in the bathtub.
They slid to him. "We can take them on."
Her tone was as stern as it was confident.
Zuko shook his head. "No. We can't. Not without the eclipse."
There were already almost twice the amount of soldiers in the palace due to the invasion, and now the harem was going to go into lockdown, which only meant more guards for them to overcome. They couldn't fight them all.
"So what do we do?"
Zuko didn't answer. He couldn't.
The banging on the doors did nothing to ease his nerves as he paced up and down the room like a madman, continuing to rake his bloodied fingers through his topknot.
They were going to be executed, both of them. And this was no evil trick of his sister's, no lie, no deception. It was their future. Their future and their end.
When they'd be dragged out to the Coronation Plaza to meet their end in the same spot his mother had met hers, would the sky be cloudless again? Would the sun shine down on them one last time as they breathed their last breath? Would the birds chirp them farewell? Would the canals that flanked the plaza run red with blood once more? Would Ozai or Azula even bother to come and watch them—
Zuko froze in his place.
Canals.
There were canals at the plaza. Canals full of water.
His eyes darted to Katara. She was staring at the floor, brows furrowed, fidgeting with her hands.
"I know how to get you out."
Katara looked up from her feet.
"There are canals at the execution site," he began as he trod across the room to stand in front of her, the banging on the doors getting louder by the second. "By then, Ozai will think we're together. He'll wanna torment me as much as possible before I go, so he'll kill you first and make me watch. When you're led to the executioner's block, you'll be far enough from everyone else that you can make a run for it before the guards can burn you. That's when you bend the water in the canals and escape. I'll hold off the guards as long as I can."
He grabbed her by the shoulders and gazed into eyes. "Remember the tunnels inside the caldera you memorized? Use them to go to the abandoned shore we talked about and get out of here."
"What about you?"
Zuko would still die, but he'd die knowing he'd saved a life. That was what mattered.
She had to live.
"I'll manage. But promise me you won't waterbend until then. You can't let anyone know you got your powers back, or they'll put the collar back on. Okay? Promise me."
Katara swallowed and nodded. She then opened her mouth to reply, but the doors burst open before she could utter a word. Zuko spun around and shoved her behind him as guards swarmed into the room, barking at them to get down on the ground. They stepped into two ranks at the doors in practiced, military fashion, blocking the exit and holding out their palms, prepared to incinerate their target at the drop of a hat.
"We surrender!" Zuko shouted. He raised his hands to prove his point. "We will not resist arrest. We surrender."
"ON THE GROUND NOW!"
Zuko slowly dropped to his knees as ordered, hands raised, and nodded to Katara to follow suit. The moment their knees touched the ground, the guards broke formation to apprehend them. Two of them grabbed Zuko's hands and forcefully bound them together at his back with the iron shackles they carried on their belt, and two others did the same to Katara behind him.
The men linked arms with him and hauled him off the floor. While the guards started carrying him out of the room, Zuko twisted as much as he could to get one last glimpse of Katara. Her own guards had pinned her face-down on the ground, knees on her back, putting on her shackle. She raised her chin to return his look, fear etched to her face.
"Don't hurt her!" he yelled at her guards. "She didn't do anything! She's innocent!"
They disregarded him entirely, while his own guards grabbed his hair and forced him to look away from her. Zuko was helpless to do anything but obey them and let them drag him off to the palace dungeons, half of the remaining guards in the chambers trailing after them.
He'd failed.
A/N
Ayyyyee I'm not dead!
A couple of things about the chapter:
First, the Coronation Plaza where executions are held is the same place where Ozai was crowned Fire Lord and where the Last Agni Kai took place. Dk why I did that. I guess it'd be simpler, realistically, to have just one grand place to celebrate/witness major events, rather than have a bunch of small ones and confuse people on what would be happening where
And second, I probably should've mentioned this before, but you might've noticed that I've grouped FN guards into several categories: royal, palace, and city guards. Royal guards are the ones with the spiky, red helmets that protect the royal family and the harem (e.g. the soldiers that attack Zuko and Iroh on Azula's command in S2); palace guards are the skull-helmeted ones whose duty is to secure the palace grounds at large (aka the soldiers we most often see in the show); city guards are the ones that surrendered to the invading forces during the Day of the Black Sun episodes, and they... protect the city... I know—what a shocker. Hope this cleared that up
I'll try to have the next chapter ready sooner, but midterms and finals kicking my ass, so... I can't really promise anything. Please don't kill me :)))))