AN: Thanks for reading, and thanks for reviewing! I hope you like this one! (It's not as boring as that last one. I swear.)


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Katara could not have seen, but the palanquin's approach did not go unnoticed by the party on the lake's edge. A great many finely dressed men and women paused in their conversations, flashing sharp eyes toward the rather plain conveyance and its rather obvious accompaniment of guards, but few remarked on it and fewer still watched as it disappeared behind the Fire Lord's pavilion, where His Majesty sat in aloof splendor, flanked on each side by his royal children.

Or, rather, his royal heirs. Only a fool would now refer to either one of them - the scarred and glaring elder or the calculating prodigy - as children.

Still, many cunning eyes flitted toward the dais, and many cultured voices quieted as they waited for the spectacle that was sure to come. After all, Ozai never threw a party without a weighty agenda, and a full moon celebration was the most laughable practice of which anyone could recall having heard. It so smacked of Water Tribe savagery that many of the younger attendants had adopted silken collars or beads in their hair, with tongues in cheek to match the event. The refreshments were served on ice and there was rather a great deal of purple in the decor. It was all terribly droll.

Katara could not hear a change in the drone of music and conversation as she emerged from the palanquin into the hustle behind the scenes. Golden serving platters and domes flashed and liveried servants rushed around, a hundred cogs working the same dizzying machine. A pitcher of wine was shoved into her hands and servants herded her after two other maids as they passed through the curtain that separated the servant area from the back of the dais. She stumbled on the step up and paused on the cusp of an entirely different world of fine silks and gems and deadly glances.

Nothing in the tenors of voices or the low rolls of laughter seemed to change, but the hairs on the back of her neck prickled and her skin crawled. Like a shock of icy air up the back of her parka, she was exposed, and she stood perfectly still, eyes lowered in the proper way for a slave but with her posture too stiff, too upright.

Such nuances might not have occurred to Katara, but they certainly did not go unnoticed.

Belatedly, she realized who sat before her, partly blocking her from the congregation. Two familiar backs, ramrod straight and clad in the finest silks, and between them, on a raised platform, wearing a crown brilliantly limned by the light of a hundred candles, sat the embodiment of evil.

Katara couldn't help it. Her eyes fixed on the curtain of black hair that fell down below the Fire Lord's topknot. It would be so easy. The wine she carried called to her, water enough to do her bidding, especially tonight. He would not see it coming. He would not suffer. He would simply die, fast as that lieutenant in the woods, the Fire Nation man who had tried to take her prisoner when she was looking for Sokka, the officer who had reminded her for an instant of her father - before Smellerbee's knife found his throat.

The man sitting before her now did not make her think of any kind of father. He sat perfectly still, a facsimile of a human being responsible for the suffering of the entire world, not even glancing at the servant who knelt to refill his cup. Katara hadn't even seen his face. She wouldn't have to.

There was a faint noise from the other side of the curtain and a hand snaked through to grab her wrist. Katara looked back and locked eyes with Roshu, a snarl contorting her face for the instant it took to remember what he had said.

We'll see soon enough what your word is worth.

Katara forced herself to relax, forced her face into the bland, expressionless mask of a servant. Then she ripped her arm from Roshu's grip and turned away.

With the power of the full moon and a lake of her element so close at hand, Katara could assassinate the Fire Lord and free her friends. All she had to do was break her oath before all these witnesses and murder Zuko's father. All she had to do was play the part of the barbarian they had dressed her up to be. If Katara had been hard like Jet had yalked about, this would all be so easy.

But Katara wasn't hard that way, and seeing the masses of city guards gathered on the docks had hammered it home; the death of the Fire Lord wouldn't end the war. The next Fire Lord would just step up to command the vast armies and resources of the Fire Nation. Whether it was Azula or Zuko, Katara bitterly decided it didn't matter.

Those watching closely could see the Water Tribe slave's knuckles turn white where she gripped the pitcher and her face turn red all the way to the roots of her beaded hair. They could see the bitter twist of her mouth and the stiff restraint in her shoulders as she knelt at the prince's side and filled his cup with a passable pour. Most agreed that if their servants were that surly and resentful, they should be quite embarrassed - but then, their servants were not foreign princesses coerced into oaths of obedience.

The prince, the more attentive observers noticed, did not seem eager to show off his prize. The frown he had worn all evening only deepened, and the tell-tale glitter on his furrowed brow announced his tension. When he raised a hand to wave her away from filling his cup, the gesture was soft, his fingers slightly parted, the thumb minutely forward, reaching.

The slave righted the pitcher at once and shifted to sit back in the proper way, just within reach behind him, waiting to be needed again. Beneath lowered lashes, the prince's eyes flicked to follow her, then fixed instead on the wine cup. He did not drink. The sun bellied past the horizon and still he did not drink.

Some laughed - very quietly - that their fierce-looking prince was shy of that little girl. Some scoffed at the weakness of it, imagining they saw in Zuko the failure of his father's lesson. Some, of a more shameless inclination, exchanged theories on just what exactly such a reaction might mean, given the rumors that had come out from the voyage and the different accounts of what might have taken place before. Everyone who was anyone had a gossipy laundress or stablehand who had it from one of the Princess's crew that certain proprieties had been set aside, or that a third party had witnessed a truly compromising scene.

Nothing was confirmed of course, but that only made the possibilities all the more enticing.

A herald called for quiet and even the most voracious whisperers stilled. The Fire Lord was about to speak.

"Honored guests. There is much to celebrate," he said, his satisfied tone an added titillation. "The Avatar is defeated and my first-born has returned, bringing great honor on our nation. What better time than the rise of the full moon, when the strength of our enemy is at its peak, to glory in our victories over them?"

Ozai raised an arm to the east, where the moon was breaking the horizon, fat and yellow from the humidity. Dignified cheers rose from the gathered nobles, echoing the sentiment and applauding the showmanship. Ozai went on, his tone lofty and deliciously leading.

"A toast to Prince Zuko and Princess Azula, heros of the Fire Nation."

The assembled guests cheered and raised their glasses. The prince and princess raised their cups to one another in polite acknowledgement, then sipped and set their wine aside. But Ozai was not done.

As the Water Tribe slave shifted forward to refill the Prince's cup, the Fire Lord swept his hand to indicate her. "And a toast to Princess Katara, reputed to be a hero of her people and perhaps the greatest waterbender of her generation, " Ozai's mouth pulled taut in a mocking smile. He watched the girl's bowed head from the corner of his eye, watched the wine slightly overflow the prince's cup, and raised to toast a second time. "To Katto of the Water Tribe, and all the wines and teas she will so heroically pour in the coming years."

Katara felt the laughter of the nobles like a physical illness, seeping through her skin. Her focus narrowed to her every breath, coming too fast on the heels of the last, and to the ice skimming the top of the wine she clutched too tightly in her lap. It was all a test. The lake, the moon, all intended to sharpen these taunts, to tempt her toward breaking her oath.

"Don't you want to see a demonstration of her skills, Father?"

Zuko's voice was just loud enough to carry to the nearest of the avidly interested nobles, but Katara, still kneeling beside him after overfilling his glass, was close enough to hear very clearly the severity of his tone. In fact, she could also see the way his fingers curled into the leg of his fine pants on the side where no one would see. No one but Katara.

She saw, and swallowed back the unwelcome tickle in her chest. Zuko clearly wasn't amused by the festivities - but he was never amused. He was probably just playing his part in their cruel game, making a spectacle of her for his own benefit.

The Fire Lord turned a dismissive glance on his son. His smile was gone and his voice was so quiet even Katara barely heard. "I have seen waterbenders before, Zuko. Your pet is special only in her pedigree."

Zuko's shoulders tensed as if he were about to argue, but he only remained stiff and silent. Katara finally managed to back away and fixed her blank stare on the sole of his fine boot. For no reason she cared to admit to herself, she cursed him for a coward.

In the audience, though, there was a rumble of excitement.

"Oh, how very diverting," a woman was saying. "I haven't seen waterbending since Admiral Zhao's last stay in the city."

"And under a full moon - that would have to be at least somewhat impressive, wouldn't it? For all they talk about it?"

Azula leaned in and quietly spoke to the Fire Lord, so softly that Katara could not hear. She could only kneel in place, certain that she was the topic of conversation and that whatever was about to happen would not be good.

.

.

Zuko seethed. Azula had told him before that he did not know how to get his way with their father and, in this instant, he knew it for a fact. He gritted his teeth harder still as she spoke.

"Father, Zuko's strategies have never been the most prudent, but in this case, I believe his instinct is correct. The waterbender can be more useful than a mere hostage."

Ozai sat straight and unyielding. "And when she gets a taste of power and decides to cause a scene?"

Azula smirked. "We still have the brother in the city. If the spectacle gets out of hand, we will simply remind her who will bear the punishment for her transgressions."

Sokka. Zuko knew Katara would not break her oath - or he was fairly certain she wouldn't, in any case - but it still unnerved him to think what Azula would do to Sokka if anything went awry. Last time, she had very nearly gotten him killed, and Zuko knew his sister was not one to follow a death threat with anything less severe.

At length, the Fire Lord cast a sideways glance on him. "Perhaps more entertainment is in order," he conceded aloud. "Very well, Prince Zuko. Astound us."

It had been many years now since Zuko had last seen the downturned corners of his father's mouth, but seeing them now brought back a flood. In a burst, he remembered the many times that Ozai had discouraged him from being an embarrassment, from trying when it was likely he would fail. Hot anger surged through Zuko's chest, sweeping away weak feelings like love and sorrow and aching disappointment. He felt like a blocked steam pipe, primed to blow.

This was dangerous ground. To overstep the bounds of acceptable behavior was to face monumental consequences. To displease Ozai was to invite disaster. In that spirit, Zuko had silently endured this assemblage of Fire Court nobles making sport of a weak mimicry of Water Tribe customs all through the early evening hours. He had watched them delight in doing it in front of Katara. He had sat by while Ozai goaded her, humiliated her directly. Zuko could say nothing about any of that, having just returned from a five-year lesson in holding his tongue.

But even faced with the dire threat of his father's disapproval, he leapt on the chance to make these people eat their words. If he couldn't do it himself, he could at least watch as Katara did.

"Yes, Father," he said, dropping his eyes and forcing his fist to release the crushed silk at his side.

He turned to find Katara kneeling just behind him with the pitcher in her hands, listening with her eyes fixed on the dais and her head bowed like a slave. Zuko frowned a little harder.

"Katara."

"More wine, your highness?"

Zuko brushed off the quiet barb, but glowered for good measure. "Go down to the dock and perform the first sixty movements."

Katara hesitated for an instant, then shifted and began to rise - but Zuko grabbed her forearm, stopping her short. Her eyes snapped to his hand, then to his eyes, the furrow in her brow registering her displeasure.

"Big, so that everyone can see."

Her lip curled minutely. "Your wish is my command, your highness."

Zuko's heart lurched uncomfortably in his chest as their eyes met and held. He had not spoken to her in weeks, not since Zhao had come aboard the cruiser, and he had begun to hope that his feelings would all just fade away with a little time and distraction. Now, it was all the rest of the world that faded away as the light of candles and torches flickered across her frowning face and her blue eyes struck him like an electric charge. As if from far away, he noticed the intense heat penetrating her linen sleeve where it pressed between her skin and his.

Zuko snatched his hand off her arm and scowled. "Go."

Katara paused an instant to force the glower from her face, then left the pitcher on the dais and marched straight through the gathering. Nobles stepped aside to make way, some shocked at her audacity and some bemused. Zuko watched their faces - but he could not long avoid watching the stiff square of Katara's fur-tufted shoulders.

The fur. It was the fur trim. In this climate, even at night, she had to be broiling. Of course she had been hot to the touch. There was nothing more to it than that.

The costume might have made her temper seem silly, if he didn't already know what she was capable of doing on a night like this. He watched her pass out of the greater torch light and more fully into the light of the rising moon. Candles lit the short walkway and the dock beyond, but their glow hardly seemed to touch her. She was a shadow cast in silver light and, for a moment when she reached the far end of the dock, she stood perfectly still.

Zuko watched her intently, but he could hear the murmurs of the nobles before him. They were not paying attention to her, not yet, too preoccupied with trivial details. It was dizzying just listening to them, what little he could hear. The things they noticed…

"Your slave," Ozai hissed beside him, too low for anyone else to overhear, "took a tone with you."

Zuko blinked, but did not otherwise react under his father's scrutiny.

"And you did nothing."

The stern accusation hung in the air like smoke, making it hard to breathe. Zuko cleared his throat. "I commanded. She obeyed."

"That remains to be-"

Ozai cut off abruptly as a roar of water thundered up from the bank. Like the head of a sea serpent, the glimmering tear-shape surfaced, then parted from the lake to loom before the tiny shadowy figure standing on the dock. She shifted, and the water surged around her, building speed and power.

Even though he had witnessed Katara do things more spectacular than this, Zuko had to remind himself to blink. The sight was impressive - but something was different. Some nuance of her posture or tension had changed, and it made her strikes harder, her ice sharper. Even as he dismissed the thought and instead shot an assessing look at his father, disquiet settled in his gut like a lump of cold clay.

Ozai watched Katara move through the stances, his eyes perhaps a little wider than usual but giving no other sign of his thoughts. Zuko looked past him at Azula, whose smirk had only grown. That was no more satisfying than Ozai's reaction.

The nobles, on the other hand, were silent, transfixed. When Katara whipped the air over the pavilions, the silk shimmied and the posts shuddered from the resonant crack. Most of the audience flinched. It was almost enough to bring a smile to Zuko's face.

Almost.

Instead, his eyes were drawn back down to the slim girl shifting through the postures on the dock as a massive stream whirled around her. The magnitude of her power only made him more aware of how small she was, how vulnerable to the dangers of this place. Despite all that had changed between them, despite the way she had crushed his heart, she was still a girl alone, surrounded by her enemies. She might not like it, but she needed him now more than ever. She was depending on him to find a way to free her.

It gave Zuko a terrible feeling, a soft warmth in his chest and a sick fire in his throat. He could no more shirk his duty to her than his duty to his people. One way or another, he would keep her safe, and he would find a way to set her free.

"Such raw power," Ozai said softly, darkly. His eyes cut over to Zuko. "And you defeated her in this state."

"I- What? No!"

Belatedly, Zuko noticed Azula watching him with narrowed eyes and realized his error. Ozai cast her a deceivingly mild frown.

"It seems there was some miscommunication in your correspondence, Azula."

She smiled pleasantly. "Zuko is only being modest, Father. True, taking down the waterbender was a team effort-" Her eyes locked on Zuko and held with meaningful intensity- "but Zuko did most of the fighting. Didn't you, brother?"

Technically, it was true. Zuko had been the one to stand in Katara's way at every step. He had been the one to get thrashed. His ribs still ached sometimes in remembrance.

But even though it was technically true, Zuko felt like a liar when he confirmed it aloud. Ozai examined him with a suspicious light in his eyes, but Zuko only watched Katara enter the final movements of her sequence, her water beginning to calm from its previous fury.

"She only stopped to save her brother," he said abruptly. "If we had not had Sokka, Katara would have released the Avatar and sunk the ship."

"That," Azula supplied, "is why Zuko insists we must keep the brother in a secure location, though I should think the prison tower is secure enough for one non-bender."

"Perhaps." Ozai's voice was quiet, thoughtful. Zuko could see from the corner of his eye that he, too, was watching Katara. "But as to whether the prison tower is secure enough to keep out something like that…"

Katara's stream split in two, redirecting to whirl around the dock and recombine with a resounding crash.

"I admit to harboring some doubts," Azula pressed, "but Zuko believes the waterbender is too honorable to break her oath."

"She is." Zuko shot Azula a look as hard as the words. "But Katara isn't the only threat. If either of the other two manage to get free, they will take Sokka with them when they leave the city. Then it really will just be her oath holding her here."

"Don't be ridiculous. The Avatar is chained up in the prison Grandfather Azulon built and the earthbender is easily enough trapped in a wooden room in the palace."

Zuko blinked. He had been trying very hard to avoid all thoughts of the Avatar - remembering his last sight of the kid chained to the prison wagon only caused him more turmoil - but it had not even occurred to him that Toph had truly been trapped this entire week. She had visited her friends secretly aboard the ship, after all. Zuko had only assumed that she was biding her time, plotting her escape for some perfect moment. It seemed he had removed the little earthbender from his list of troubles prematurely.

His stomach dropped and he gritted his teeth. "Underestimating any one of them would be a mistake. Sokka won't be secure until we send him out of the city."

"If that is your recommendation," Ozai said, his sharp eyes fixed on Zuko, "then it will be done."

Zuko sat back an inch, feeling as if his foot had come down on firm ground when he had half expected to fall. Somehow, it was not a pleasant feeling. Perhaps because Azula peered at him past their father with a trace of annoyance penetrating her bored expression. Perhaps because Sokka's departure from the city was only going to make it harder for Toph to free him later.

Zuko fought hard against the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"You were both right," Ozai said after a silent moment. He was peering down at the lake with a pleased light in his eyes. "The waterbender will be quite useful."

Everyone under the pavilions watched as Katara reached the final pose, guiding the massive stream of water back to its resting place with more power than Zuko remembered from his last sight of the form. Waves expanded out from the spot, and by the light of the moon, he could see how they reached all the way across the lake. He could see the way Katara paused, her thin shoulders rising and falling with her breath until she spun on her heel and came marching back up the incline.

This time, the nobles cleared a wide path for her before she even came near the pavilions.

.

.

Their eyes followed Katara through the rest of the evening, then through the litter ride back to the palace, and the walk to her apartment. Even hours later, lying in her bed in the dark of her room and listening to her maids' breathing grow deep and steady, she saw them still. Yellow, gold, tawny, fawn - the eyes of monsters, widened with wonder or fear or hunger, all fixed on her.

Katara slipped from her bed, pressing her bare toes to the polished floorboards with each step to the door and then out into the larger apartment. She knew these rooms so well now, especially in the dark. She knew just how far she could walk the hall before Roshu would stir. Instead, Katara walked the circumference of the tea room until she had lost count of the times her fingertips had trailed along the new wallpaper.

Their eyes followed her still, and walking circles in her apartment only made Katara feel more like a displaced beast on display, pacing behind the bars of her cage. The full moon was descending from its peak now, but its power still flooded her. She could feel the water in the pitcher on her vanity in the next room, shivering just the tiniest bit with her every step. She could feel it in the plants out in the garden, swaying in the faintest breeze.

Katara blinked. Though she could see nothing, she took four steps, raised her hand, and pressed it unerringly against the panel that separated her from the garden. The wood was faintly cool to the touch. Through the crack, Katara felt a breath of fresh night air.

It would be a simple matter to escape the courtyard with the power that thrummed through her tonight. She could strip the water from every plant out there and use it to boost her to the roof. From there she could sneak through one of the windows on the upper level and go find Toph. Maybe she could even help free Aang and Sokka without anyone noticing she was gone.

She slid the panel aside, baring her teeth as light poured over her face and outstretched throat. Katara swallowed, gulped in a few breaths of the scents of earth and plants. A distant chorus of insect song hummed from beyond the palace walls, and a few lone voices sang back and forth across the small courtyard. Above, the moon was radiant, beaming across the clear sky, dampening the lesser glows of stars.

Down the hall, the door to the antechamber scraped open. Roshu's sleep-roughened voice came out of the dark. "Stop where you are."

Katara didn't even look in his direction. Half smug and half defiant, she stepped down onto the soft grass. Dew had begun to form, and it tickled and lapped at her feet, wetting the tops of her toes.

Katara had just a few seconds to enjoy the sensation before the thump of hurried feet announced Roshu's pursuit. She turned to face him where he loomed in the doorway, and even though she had to crane her neck to look up at him, and even though she wasn't sure what she was about to say or do, her scowl was ferocious. Roshu pulled up short, hesitant but still unwilling to let her go.

"Lieutenant," came a voice from the garden.

Katara spun around so fast she nearly fell. Zuko stepped out from beneath the small tree where the shadows had hidden him. Beyond him, Katara noticed for the first time that the panels on the far wall all stood open to reveal the apartment beyond, softly lit by the glow of a single oil lamp positioned on the edge of the walkway.

"Prince Zuko," Roshu uttered, and though Katara didn't turn to look at him, she could hear the rustle of his clothing as he bowed. "My apologies, your highness - I did not realize… I thought the princess was attempting an escape."

Katara narrowed her eyes and returned her focus to Zuko, who was looking at the man lingering behind her. The prince had changed out of his evening finery, but the robes he wore were still of clear quality, draping his broad shoulders and stretching all the way down to the curled toes of his shoes. His expression, on the other hand, remained the same grim frown he had worn through the end of the party.

"She isn't," he ground out. "Leave us."

Katara listened to Roshu's murmured acquiescence, then his receding footsteps. Zuko's eyes slid as he watched the guard leave. Then, they snapped to her. Katara met him frown for frown.

"You did well tonight," he said abruptly, a little too quickly. His brow knotted and he glanced to one side. "For the most part."

Katara bent forward slightly, clenching her fists at her sides. "You mean your snooty friends were impressed by the show? Good, because that was really preying on my mind."

"They aren't my friends," Zuko snapped. "And yeah, they were impressed. Most of them have never seen a waterbender of any real power - and these are people who respect power, Katara. In the interest of ethical treatment for your people, tonight was a good first step." His scowl faded slightly, twisting into disbelief. Hope. "Unless… you really were about to escape."

"Hardly!" Katara could hear the false note in her own voice, and it only made her angrier. "I'd like to see how you enjoy being paraded around for idle rich people to laugh at."

Zuko wavered just for an instant, then dropped his eyes and shrugged, scowling again. "You just have to get past it. We need to discuss Toph-"

"I'm sorry, did you just tell me to get over it?"

"Past it. You can't let yourself get upset over Fire Court games or they'll only tear you down-"

Katara stalked the three steps between them and jabbed him hard in the chest. "You don't get to tell me what to feel. I may be a slave, but you can't command my feelings."

Zuko glared down at her. "I'm just trying to keep you safe."

Katara stood in place, glaring back up at him, until she noticed the heat radiating off of his body. She hadn't realized she'd gotten so close, but only handspans separated their chests and, where her finger was still stabbed against his breastbone, Zuko hadn't stepped back. He hardly seemed to be breathing at all. He only stared sourly back down at her, but the sourness faded as the seconds ticked past.

Katara snatched her hand away and took a long step backward. "If you really wanted to help me," she quietly snapped, "you'd set me free."

"I'm working on it." Zuko sighed and raised a hand toward his face, then stopped midway and dropped it. "But you have to cultivate status and respect first. If I freed you before your honorable compliance was widely known, it'd look like I was colluding with the Water Tribe."

"Because you are," Katara put in with no small amount of venom. "I'm Water Tribe. You're colluding with me to arrange my escape. That's what this is."

Zuko shot her an affronted look that swiftly turned to anger. She folded her arms over her chest and tipped her head to one side, raising one eyebrow in challenge.

"This," Zuko said through bared teeth, "has nothing to do with the Water Tribe or my loyalty to my Nation. It's between you and me. Don't mince words with me."

She glowered back at him. "Oh, I'm sorry. Is that out of line for a slave? The list of things I'm not supposed to do is so long, sometimes parts just slip my mind."

"Katara-" He glared at her, and her name came out half-growled and half-sighed- "however it might sting your pride, you must be seen performing your duties - by the court, and by the people - so that it will be believable that you have earned your freedom through honor and strength of character. Otherwise everyone will just think I set you free to get rid of you, because you couldn't do this with dignity and because I-"

He looked away, his mouth twisting, and let the rest of it go unspoken. Katara did not know, could not have guessed, how the words skittered through his head and gnawed at his heart.

And because I'm too weak to keep you under control like my father would.

Katara only glared a moment more, then let her eyes slide off the brooding prince so that she could peer for a silent moment up at the moon. She felt their stares again, felt their laughter like a chill, and tightened her arms across her chest.

"Let me get this straight," she said softly. "The only way you can ever hope to set me free without damaging your reputation is if those people - the elites of the Fire Nation, who see me only as a curiosity to be mocked, feared, and used - can be convinced that I make a nice, agreeable slave."

"That you keep your oaths," Zuko corrected.

Katara shut her eyes and drew a deep breath. She knew in her heart that there was a way through this - because there was a way through every dark time. Through the war, through losing her mother, there was always a way to keep moving forward until she reached solid ground again. Katara knew it was there, but for all she believed, she couldn't see it.

And with her eyes closed, she did not see Zuko stare at the faint pained lines around her face. She did not see him flinch, then rally himself back to a glare.

"I know you don't trust me," he said abruptly, low and fierce, "and that's fine. I'll see this through on my own. All I need from you is one thing."

Unsure where the intensity had come from, Katara frowned back at him. His hard, down-turned mouth, his burning yellow eyes. He spoke slowly, each word sharp enough to cut.

"Don't use that snide tone of voice with me, especially in front of my father, ever again."

Katara had thought that she was past vulnerability with him, that nothing he did could hurt her more. Now she blinked, taken aback by his cruelty - that he would kick her when she was so low, that he would strip away even the scraps of her dignity - but taken aback even more by the sick downward lurch of her own stupid heart.

She looked away and, out of habit, smoothed her face into the expressionless mask of a slave. Her voice emerged surprisingly level, considering her insides felt wrung tight as wet rags. "Fine. Was there something else?"

"No. Nothing."

Katara pressed her lips together and watched his scowl slide off to one side. "You wanted to discuss Toph."

Zuko was silent for a second, then stiffened his posture to peer imperiously down his nose at her. "A discussion isn't necessary. I'm handling it."

"If there's anything I can do to help-"

"You can't help. Anything you do now will only make it harder for me to free you later."

Katara did not flinch, but it cut her to the quick, because it was true. There was nothing she could do for Toph and the others if she wanted to try to help her people within the Fire Nation. All she could do was appear in Zuko's shadow, an accommodating instrument, and wait for him to take action. The helplessness was an ugly flood though her, and she sank her fingers into the only solid thing she could get a grip on.

"I hate you."

The words just popped out, but Katara let them linger in her mouth, weighed their cold honesty like pebbles of ice under her tongue. Zuko blinked, his eyes catching a glimmer of moonlight as they widened in an expression that Katara had seen on Sokka's face when her ice spear had punched through his body.

As quickly as it appeared, the look was gone and Zuko was scowling harder than before. "Yeah? I can't wait for the day you go free. I hope you go back to that giant block of ice you came from so I never have to see you again. But until then-" He stabbed out his entire arm to point past her at her apartment- "stay out of my garden at night."

Tight-lipped and stiff-backed, Katara nodded and turned to go. She slipped silently through the door to the dark rooms beyond, then slammed the panel shut as hard as she could.

On the other side, unseen, Zuko glared at the spot where she had just stood, fists trembling at his sides. Once again, he was a blocked steam pipe, a breath from bursting. But now, alone in his own garden, he was free to, if he chose, turn in a brilliant wheel of fire and punch a raging blast into the nearest thicket of plants.

He could picture it very clearly, the blinding light, the cleansing heat. For a moment, it would feel good. Then the servants would come, wide-eyed and tense, and Yotsu would ask if he needed anything, as if the garden wasn't on fire. Gardeners would be alerted. Plants would be replaced without comment.

And on the other side of her stupid panel wall, Katara would have the satisfaction of hearing the blast, and in it she would hear the full measure of the power she still had to hurt him, idiot that he was.

The silence in the garden stretched, cooled. A leaf-insect trilled from the jasmine climbing one wall of the courtyard. Finally, Zuko shut his eyes and drew a great breath, letting it out in the slow, controlled release it took to extinguish a fire. For hours more that night he paced the garden in the dark, rubbing his chest through the stiff silk of his robes.