AN: Omigod this one is looong... I've decided to divide the chapters differently - my outline told me to - so that probably means lots of long chapters. Which is hopefully good news. :) Thanks for reading!
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When the reports were done and the orders for repairs had been put in and a messenger had been sent to apprise the Fire Lord of the situation as it stood, the afternoon was drawing to a close and Katara's knees were throbbing from kneeling for so many consecutive hours. With every heartbeat, needles stuttered across her kneecaps and ankles, harmonizing with the drawn-out ache that thrummed the length of her spine. It droned on and on in the back of her mind, a symphony of modest sufferings.
Katara breathed slowly and evenly and did not allow her discomfort to show. She had sat through the whole long afternoon with perfect posture and a perfectly blank expression. She had refilled the Prince's teacup each time he emptied it, and each time, she poured exactly as she had been trained. When he finally dismissed the notaries and rose to retire to his private chambers, Katara rose with him as if attached to his shoulder by an invisible thread. To every staff member watching, she was a proper and attentive servant.
But behind her downcast eyes, she seethed. The pain was easy to set aside when her thoughts were so sharp, so bent on all the things she planned to tell Zuko once she had him alone. His hypocrisy sickened her. His words during the confrontation in the throne room echoed in her head, chased by the hot shame of that moment, the injustice he'd inflicted on her.
She followed him to his chambers as she always did, and bowed in attendance with the other servants in the corridor, all waiting to be dismissed. This had become a ritual after their political tea trips around the city. Katara would see him to his quarters and then, with Roshu trailing after her like a polar bear-dog, adjourn to her own rooms. Usually, she was more than eager to be rid of Zuko's company. Tonight, things were different, and the lieutenant being in an infirmary somewhere had little to do with it.
He could send her away now if he wanted, but that did not matter; she knew how to get to him when all the doors were shut between them.
But Zuko did not proceed into his chambers. With her head bowed and her eyes lowered to just the proper level, Katara could see how he turned his head, not to look at her but to indicate that he was addressing her.
"You will attend me in my sitting room this evening."
For a second, she did not speak, and emotions rolled through her like fronts colliding, stirring each other to a mightier storm. How dare he command her this way, now, after what he had done? And with Yotsu and the door guards and the maids and footmen looking on, noticing this new development, probably already internally speculating. A blush crawled up Katara's neck and across her face. Behind it, rage lashed her like a punishing rain.
For a second, she did not speak. Then her voice came, low and even. "As you command, Prince Zuko."
He turned away and stepped through the doorway. A heartbeat later, Katara followed.
She could not have guessed from his rigid posture or steady stride, but Zuko was being pummeled by his own inner storm. He knew she followed behind him and held her head bowed and her eyes fixed to the floor like dustmice, but he sensed her the way he would sense a rocket aimed at him while the fuse burned down to a sliver.
Zuko was not so stupid as to stand in front of a lit rocket, but he also wasn't stupid enough to allow her to see his fear. If he had simply dismissed her as usual, she (and every staff member watching) would think he was hiding from her. And he didn't want to hide. He didn't want to sit in her mocking silence for another second.
What Zuko wanted, the desire that had burrowed into his skin and left him mercilessly itching under his sweat-chafing formal attire, was to really have it out with her. In his mind, he was already arguing with her, she was lashing him with words, and words swiftly escalated to blows. Their elements were devastating the sitting room, blasting through plaster and buckling polished floorboards with steam. Their bodies and tempers snapped back and forth and finally, winded but hardly spent, they fell together. The warmth of her skin. Her pillowy hair. Her sweat an aromatic hook tugging him closer…
Zuko tamped down the thought the way he would pinch out a flame. That wasn't happening. He would not allow that to happen.
While these thoughts played swiftly through his mind, he led her down a short, wide hallway to the receiving room. He ordered a footman to fetch tea and then, as if an afterthought, turned to Katara. Her short hair was mussed and dirt clung to her clothes, but that was the only outward sign that she was not another humble servant.
That, and the collar. If Zuko had not already banished his heated thoughts, the sight of that iron ringing her slim neck would have done it. It looked cold and heavy, and too coarse to be allowed to touch her skin. He had almost stopped noticing it, but then Hakoda had remarked on it. Iroh had seen. Now, the sight of the collar filled Zuko with an ugly feeling that writhed greasily in his belly.
Then Katara's eyes flashed up in a glance only he was in position to see. It lasted an instant before she dropped them again, but Zuko felt her stare still on him, like chips of ice dropped down his shirt.
"My armor needs repairs. I'll be right back," he said in a deliberately steady voice. "Wait here."
"Yes, Prince Zuko."
Zuko felt like there was probably some hidden meaning in her quiet tone or her unchanging expression, but he turned away and marched from the room. Soon enough. They would deal with that soon enough.
Yotsu had proceeded him to the dressing room and had already selected light evening wear, so Zuko had only to nod his approval and raise his arms. The footmen swiftly went about their tasks, unstrapping the ceremonial armor he had worn for Iroh's sentencing, now freshly scorched and scored by whale-tooth swords. The heavy plates came off and Zuko felt suddenly too light, as if he might be blown away.
The servants replaced his underlayers with fresh robes, too formal for a night in his own chambers, but not quite so fine as he would wear to a celebration. The flames in the hems were sedate, dark red on black, and the high collar and pointed shoulders were a dignified but understated cut. As the silk settled around him and Yotsu tied off the sash and arranged the knot, Zuko was stricken with the same terrible foreboding he had endured all afternoon.
A summons was coming. Perhaps not for hours yet, but it would come. The Fire Lord would not be satisfied by a messenger's retelling of the catastrophic events of this day, and Zuko would be called to explain himself. And, if Azula had already sought out their father, if Zuko was wrong and she decided to do away with him completely after all…
For an instant, it seemed the floor of the dressing room had dropped away and he was a heartbeat from plummeting into darkness. Zuko clawed at solid ground and fixed upon the only thing that seemed as real and important as whatever Azula held in store for him.
Katara. He had to deal with Katara. There was no time to let his fears take hold when he had her to face as well. His relief at the thought was a painful thing.
Finally Yotsu and the footmen stepped back. Zuko lowered his arms and strode from the room, perhaps a little too quickly. As he reentered the sitting room, he found Katara standing over the low table, which was already set with tea and a single cup. She stood in the spot where she would kneel once Zuko assumed his place at the table. Instead, he stopped midway between the door and the table, clenched his teeth, and dismissed the lingering servants from the room.
Katara did not move, and for all she did not appear to be looking at him, she was watching him closely. As the footmen filed out, her heart pounded in her throat, and the rage and humiliation there closed in until she thought she would choke.
When the door slid shut, she didn't even allow the silence to set.
"Does it come easily to you?" she asked, her voice surprisingly controlled as she rolled her eyes up from the perfectly arranged tea set to fix on his face. "Watching innocent people squirm and stutter with guilt over something you caused, I mean."
Zuko did not speak for a moment, but Katara saw how his shoulders hitched up a fraction. She glared at his face, and at the spot behind his ear where a few hairs had come loose from his false topknot. At last he broke the silence, his tone careful, but angry. "Don't tell me you want me to come clean and face the consequences. You know your game can't go on without me."
"Yeah, well it seems like it's pretty dicey with you, too." Sick of standing in her place, she turned away and began pacing one side of the room. Zuko tensed at her sudden movement. She pretended not to see, although it might have pleased her had she been in a better mood. "You lied about Sokka."
"I didn't know. Azula told me she had delayed the transfer."
"Right," Katara sneered, then immediately shook her head and gritted her teeth, not wanting to accept that this could very well be true. "Fine. Did she also make you give me back to my father?"
Zuko's lips thinned and his jaw angled slightly higher. "I saw a chance to set you free and I took it."
Katara stopped pacing, and scowled. He stood there so cool and straight-backed, like this was just another formal audience with just another upset staff member. Katara wanted to slap his stupid head right off his stiff neck.
"You took away my choice," she said instead, soft and venomous. "You undermined everything I've done here. Everything I sacrificed, everything I endured, my every reason for being here - you dismissed it all as less important than your hurt feelings!"
"Hurt feelings?" He took one step toward her and jammed a thumb into his chest. "I risked everything I've fought my whole life for to see your friends and family escape today. Did you really think your father was ever going to leave without you? I made a calculated decision in the heat of the moment because that's what leaders have to do."
"Quit trying to pass this off as some kind of noble act that you put a lot of thought into." Katara folded her arms tight around her, but even clamped against her ribs, her hands still shook. "You didn't want to deal with me anymore, so you tried to get rid of me the second you got a chance."
"You want to believe that? Fine! Whatever it takes to make it easier to hate me, right?" He threw up his hands, then crossed his arms over his chest and scowled down at the lone teacup. "Because I'm the bad guy, and I deserve it. No matter what I do, that's never going to change."
Katara gaped at him. "Are you feeling sorry for yourself right now?"
"No!"
"You are!" She watched, aghast, as he turned his back on her and began pacing the opposite side of the room. "All that stuff you said in the throne room - about me lying to you and using you… and never- never-"
"Don't tell me you deny it," he said, turning around and glaring hard at her from across the table that lay between them like a barricade. "If you had really loved me, you would never have asked me to give up my destiny. My birthright. Who I am." He shook his head and backed up a step. "You only ever wanted me for what I could do for you and your cause. That's still all you want."
"That's ridiculous!"
"No, it's reality. Your behavior when you thought you were pregnant was proof. You told me I was going to have a son. You made it real. And you only ever used it to h- threaten me."
Oblivious to his slip, Katara opened and shut her mouth. Her face burned. She remembered the hard woman she had seen in the mirror back then, the ruthlessness she had embraced. Zuko's words struck deep and stung.
He could see it in her face, too. He raised his chin, a prince preparing to accept his enemy's surrender. "Today I gave Toph a means to escape - for all your allies - and you responded by insulting my integrity. Short of open treason, nothing I do will ever satisfy you."
Katara curled her hands into fists and knuckled hard at her ribs. She felt sick, swollen with so much anger and sorrow and shame that her voice came out strangled. "Do you honestly believe you've done so much for me that I have to forgive you now?"
He didn't speak, only watched her with tight lines around his mouth and eyes, like he was struggling against a high wind. Katara shook her head and looked away, grimacing. But even though her teeth were clenched together so tight, words still came out.
"I did love you. I loved you so much, and you chose your destiny over me. You made yourself my captor, my enemy - and I was… I thought I had my enemy's child inside me and- and you can't imagine how that felt."
She shook her head, her mouth twisted against the memories, the steel cell and chains. Zuko was looking at her strangely, and she became sharply aware of the vulnerability of her words. She bared her teeth.
"I don't owe you anything. You are my enemy, and I'm not ashamed of using the only weapon I had to fight for myself and my people. I had no other choice." Zuko pulled a face and started to shake his head, so she rushed on. "Oh right - I could have forgiven you for betraying me and dooming the world to more war and destruction and just- just agreed to be your- your concubine! What was I thinking? That sounds great! 'Concubine' is a much prettier word than 'slave' for what's basically the same thing."
"I never asked you to be a concubine," Zuko finally snapped.
"No, you just had some hazy idea that we could still be together even though I was your prisoner!"
He flung out his arms and shouted. "Well thank the spirits I'm free of that delusion!"
"And yet you still have the audacity to claim I never loved you because I asked you to consider a different path!"
"What kind of person would I be if I had taken that path, Katara?" he demanded, pacing again.
"What kind of person do you think you are now?" she sniped back, but he was already going on and didn't seem to hear.
"I'd be nothing but a traitor! No right to the throne, no honor-"
"You'd be honoring me!"
Zuko stopped pacing and stared at her, looking genuinely shocked. Almost hurt. Katara couldn't stomach that look and let out a breath as she dropped her eyes. She stared hard instead at the perfectly arranged tea set. Everything in its place. Perfect for the prince, for the future Fire Lord. Her mouth twisted sourly.
"That's what I wanted. That's why it's so ridiculous that you think I was ever using you. And now, instead, you humiliated me in front of my tribe with those crazy accusations, and then you passed me off to them like a sack of moldy sea prunes. Like a possession." She turned her scowl back on him, and the impassive mask he had assumed made her snap the last word. "Like a slave."
His eyebrow popped up and he opened his mouth, then shut it again and looked away. His frown grew deep and heavy as his silence stretched. Katara waited, watched him shut her words away. When he finally spoke, what he said didn't even surprise her.
"Our peoples have very different ideas about honor."
Katara curled her lip and Zuko seemed on the brink of saying more, but stopped abruptly at a knock on the door. Quickly, in near silence, they both assumed their places at the table. Katara felt the brush of air from his clothes as he settled. She tried to smooth her expression, but a crease still ached in her brow.
Yotsu entered and bowed deeply. "Prince Zuko, the Fire Lord summons you."
Katara blinked placidly at the round side of the teapot as Zuko acknowledged the message and rose to his feet. She made to rise as well, but he turned to look directly at her. At this close proximity, it stopped her on one knee, poised to stand.
"Stay and have some tea," he said in a weird, quiet voice.
Something in his manner was off, but Yotsu still stood at attendance by the door, so Katara couldn't ask. Instead, she chanced a look up at Zuko, and found his gaze lingering on her neck. His frown lacked heat, and when his eyes flicked up to meet hers, he let out a long breath.
Then he leaned down, his face approaching hers slowly. Katara froze in shock and confusion. Li and Lo had drilled into her head that she was never to pull away; should her master wish to smell her or kiss her or bite her, she was to remain still and allow it. But as Zuko leaned closer, she dropped that training like the garbage it was. She jerked her chin to one side, flushed and frowning.
He didn't touch her. He stopped a mere inch from her ear, warmth radiating from his scarred cheek, and whispered.
"If I don't come back, you have to get out of the city before dawn."
Katara pulled back to gape at him, but he was already withdrawing. A flurry of questions swarmed her but Zuko's shuttered expression offered no answers. He only straightened and turned for the door.
"This discussion isn't over. Await me in the garden."
Katara stared unabashedly at his back as he left the room, not noticing the lingering heat in her cheeks any more than Yotsu's averted but watchful eyes. Only when the door slid shut behind them did she finally return to her senses and look back at the tea set. Slowly, she settled down to sit on her hip.
What had he been trying to do, leaning so close to her that way? Was it really for discretion or did he have some ulterior motive? Maybe he meant to unnerve her. Or show off in front of his valet. Katara crossed her arms and let out an irritated breath. Await him in the garden indeed.
Unless… he really didn't come back.
But that was unlikely. The guards who had survived the confrontation in the throne room had been unconscious, and no one else had been in a position to witness Zuko in an act of treason. Besides, he had spent all afternoon being very convincingly angry about other people's failures to prevent the escape. Katara had observed his performance from beginning to end. It was doubtful anyone could have guessed at his involvement from that. Maybe he was only implying the situation was more serious than it really was to distract her from her rightful anger.
She absently poured a cup of tea and set the pot down an inch from where it was supposed to be. It felt good, pleasing, to see it out of place. She had watched the footman arrange it when it first arrived, and the sight of him making tiny indistinguishable adjustments until everything was precisely where it should be had made her feel as if she was suffocating. Everything was like that here. Even Katara herself was perfectly positioned to serve the Prince, to make the Prince look good.
So now that she was alone, she moved everything on the table out of place. She sat on the cushion and crossed her legs and deliberately slouched. It felt good, but it wasn't enough to sooth her disquiet. Katara drummed her fingers on the table next to the full teacup.
Azula had been in the audience hall this afternoon, but Katara hadn't really grasped why at the time. She had been more preoccupied with learning that Sokka was locked up in a distant prison rather than the tower Zuko had indicated. Now that she thought of it, though, the situation made her increasingly nervous. Azula wouldn't just show up and hang around for no reason. She had intended her presence to communicate something to Zuko. The more Katara thought about it, the more fully she came to believe that Azula really had lied to him about Sokka's location.
And now he suspected that he might not be coming back from this meeting with the Fire Lord.
Katara stopped tapping her fingers and remained perfectly still. For several long moments, she let the reality of what was happening sink in. If Zuko didn't come back, it could simply be because he was talking late with his father.
Or it could be because he was being imprisoned as a traitor. Or worse.
It had always been a possibility, but somehow it had never seemed real. Deep down in her heart, Katara didn't really believe that Zuko's father would really imprison him. A father couldn't really do something so cruel to his son…
But Zuko's father had banished him once already. Zuko's father wasn't like a real father. He was the Fire Lord. And in this moment, Katara was truly beginning to understand what that meant. Every time Zuko had helped her, he had risked this fate, and his actions had always seemed to Katara to be the very least he could do. She had even figured he deserved to face justice as a traitor - in part because he was one, to both sides, but more so because of the way he had treated her.
But now it might actually happen, and Katara didn't feel vindicated at all. Her mouth was dry. Her heart wouldn't stop pounding. She drew one deep breath in after another, trying to calm down and make sense of what she was feeling.
Nothing was certain yet. She set her teeth together and shut her eyes to the room around her. Zuko hadn't been sure about what would happen. Nothing was certain. Katara would simply have to wait and find out what was going on later.
She took up her teacup in both hands and sniffed the steam. Whatever kind of tea it was, the smell was good, soothing her nose and a sore place deep in her chest. She sipped slowly, and let the knots of her feelings flow away, and began to wait.
.
.
The sun was setting as he rode in a palanquin out of the city to the north, but Zuko did not glance to the side to take in the hot orange and seething pinks burning up the sky. His focus was locked on the path ahead, and the watch tower beyond. His false topknot, freshly tightened to the short hairs at his crown, pulled mercilessly. It was a good distraction - both maddening and dampening to all else around him.
He left the palanquin at the tower's base and passed the guards standing attendance on either side of the open door, then climbed the torchlit stair to the top. There, he found himself on a wide observation deck. Beyond a waist-high crenelation and the posts supporting the steep, tiered roof, the vast panorama of Caldera spread out across the south and the rest of the island sprawled on all sides.
Two people stood side-by-side watching the sunset, each of them reduced to a silhouette by the blazing sky beyond. Zuko did not need to see their faces, though, to know who they were.
"Father," he said, and bowed low.
Ozai did not turn to face him. Nor did Azula.
It only took a heartbeat of stillness for the foreboding to return, shivering up Zuko's spine. She had clearly been here for a while already. She could have told their father anything by now. Everything.
He had not given much thought to what Ozai would do if he learned of Zuko's involvement with the escape - had not been able to think of it - but suddenly reality was looming toward him, massive and unforgiving. His scar tingled strangely, and Zuko hardly dared breathe.
"So," Ozai said, almost conversationally, "my scheming brother brought his new allies to his sentencing. Just as you anticipated."
Zuko stood frozen in place, scrambling to process the words. He had not anticipated…
He could not see Azula's face, but he could tell she was smirking. It was something in the set of her shoulders, her hands clasped behind her, index finger slowly closing as if to prick her wrist. She may as well have slid her finger across her throat while looking Zuko in the eye. The message was the same.
"Your plan could have succeeded." Ozai finally turned to look at Zuko, frowning with mounting annoyance. "Had you not delivered that ridiculous gift to the earthbender like some sentimental fool."
This line of questioning, at least, was something for which Zuko had prepared. The answer was in his mind in an instant, but he could not quite meet his father's eye. "It was a gesture of civility. I couldn't have expected her to use a trinket to escape. No one has ever been able to bend metal before."
"Excuses are for the weak," Ozai snapped. "I was beginning to believe that your banishment tempered you into a better man. Perhaps that work is not yet finished after all."
Zuko's chest went cold and stiff as a corpse's, but his voice emerged steady, carefully controlled despite the lies it formed. "No, Father. I am a better man."
"And yet because of you, the Avatar has escaped, along with his allies. The final stages of the war are upon us, and your incompetence has freed the one being with any chance of turning the tide."
"He's just a-"
Zuko cut himself off, horrified at the words that had slipped unbidden from his mouth, but it was too late. Ozai turned fully to face him. His eyes were wide, his voice dangerously quiet.
"What did you say?"
"Father-" Zuko fought to maintain a calm face as a fresh tide of fear tore through him, raking his flesh with goosebumps. "-the Avatar hasn't completed his training. He hasn't mastered all four elements. With the war near its end as you say, he won't have time to pose a real threat."
"A threat, even from a child, should never go unanswered."
Ozai did not waver. His yellow eyes were hard as a fist, pressing down on Zuko's neck. Azula had turned with him, and there was a warning in her eyes. Her tone, however, was light.
"I doubt Zuko intends to argue that, Father. The Avatar might have the potential to become a serious threat in time, but he was easy enough to capture and hold. The hardest part was anticipating where he would be-" The sharp corners of her mouth twitched upward. "-and thanks to Zuko, we know exactly where he is going now."
Ozai went on watching Zuko with that searing stare. "How convenient that your plan should so easily accommodate failure."
Zuko felt his face go hot and then cold. He did not look away, but his mouth stayed clamped shut. Azula went on as if she had not heard what their father said.
"When the Avatar and his allies attack the Boiling Rock, they will find themselves hemmed in by hidden archers, a complement of which will be devoted entirely to dosing the bison with the same sedative I used to take it down last time."
The Fire Lord watched Zuko a moment longer, then turned his focus to Azula. "And the metalbender?"
"Toph Bei Fong has outlived her usefulness." Azula blinked slowly, evidently bored. "Special accommodations are being made to ensure she does not survive."
Zuko struggled to hold his expression the same, but his eyes widened fractionally. Whatever Azula had planned, he would be hard-pressed to stop it.
The sun had dipped below the horizon, but Zuko could still clearly see the dissatisfied look on Ozai's face when he looked at him. He was a boy again, uncomfortable in his formal clothes and too afraid to ask the questions his father had no patience for. Now, just like then, Ozai's eyes narrowed, and Zuko's stomach pinched in on itself.
"I entertained the notion of sending you to recapture the Avatar, since it was your blunder that saw him free-"
Zuko's heart leapt horribly into his throat.
"-but for you to reach the Boiling Rock ahead of a flying bison would take a strategic risk I'm not willing to make." He turned away, looking down from the tower's vantage without ever bowing his head. Azula, with a final smirk at Zuko, followed his gaze as he went on. "It was mere luck that the bison left the city to the north-east. Still, we cannot gamble that our enemies spotted the prototype before we can capitalize on the element of surprise."
Ozai fell silent and, for a moment, Zuko only stared at his father's back in perplexity and a hope so intense that it paralyzed him. He had not been included in any strategic talk up to this point, and to be so included now - immediately following his fears of discovery and ruin - felt sudden, almost too good to be true. But the whispers of his apprehension did little to dim his sudden elation.
"Come, Zuko. Witness the latest innovation of our people."
Zuko took the four steps to the space at his father's right. The landscape below was deep in black and purple shadows already, but a few scattered lights shone, tiny from this height.
Except for one light, some manner of oblong red lantern. The light inside flared brighter, then dimmed. It was huge. And growing.
"Is that…?"
Zuko stopped, gaping, as the massive lantern - no, balloon - lifted to the level of the horizon and drifted nearer. A Fire Nation insignia was printed on one swollen side and a steel boat of sorts hung down below. In it, Zuko saw a figure firebending into an iron contraption while others worked the controls. With each blast, the vessel rose higher.
"The war balloon," Ozai said, a sly smile in his voice. "Production is already underway to create an armada of airships, larger and more dangerous in design. Unleashed on the day of the comet, I could use such a force to raze the entire Earth Kingdom to ash and rubble."
Zuko blinked. The comet? Not… Sozin's Comet? He had learned in school that it was projected to return in his lifetime, but had not paid attention to the date. It had always seemed so far in the future. Though he had never said it aloud, he had always believed the war would be over before the comet returned.
But it wasn't over. Not yet. A sticky skin dried on his tongue and when he swallowed, it was like gulping down uncooked rice.
"Glorious as it would be to crush our enemies all at once," Azula was saying, "circumstances have changed. We cannot risk the Avatar or his allies warning the Earth Kingdom months before our attack. We must take a lesser victory now, and strike at the heart of the resistance."
"Patience, Azula," Ozai said, watching the balloon lumberingly change direction. "We will discuss our strategy in the war council. Admiral Zhao may contrive some useful suggestion…"
Even before he turned, Zuko felt the cutting force of his stare.
"How fortunate that you already sent for him."
It had been weeks since Zuko had sent the summons, but in this matter at least, he knew he had done the right thing. The strong thing. He turned squarely to face his father and met his eye, unwavering.
"I promised Zhao a lesson in respect. I mean to deliver it."
Ozai watched him for a long moment. The roar of the balloonist's firebending mumbled across the distance to them. Finally, the Fire Lord tipped his head to one side and spoke thoughtfully.
"Had you emerged from this day victorious, I might have supported your initiative. A strong ruler must crush insubordination, and it is best to make an example of low-born soldiers who climb into power." He straightened and peered down at Zuko dryly. His next words fell like a bullwhip, cracking out of nowhere, and he said them as if they were hardly an afterthought.
"But you are not a strong ruler. You let your traitorous uncle and his allies escape you without killing even one of them. You allowed the Avatar to go free. You allowed your slave to rampage as she pleased through the city. Whatever lesson you intended to teach the Admiral, it would ring hollow after the events of this day."
Zuko clenched his teeth so that he would not shatter apart. He felt at once numb, too shocked to latch on to any true emotion, and yet logically still certain of conflicting truths. Zhao had to be punished. He had dishonored the royal family. But Ozai was right. Ozai knew best how to rule. Zuko should be grateful to have this chance to learn from him - so, when he spoke, his tone was controlled.
"You expect me to let his disrespect go unchallenged?"
"When you deserve his respect, we will revisit the issue. Until then, this discussion is over." Ozai turned to watch the war balloon dive and rise again. "Go, both of you. Refine your trap for the Boiling Rock. I will not look so kindly on a second failure."
"Yes, Father," Azula said with a bow. Zuko blinked away his shock and repeated her, and they left the observation tower together, taking the stairs side by side. They were not a full flight down before she spoke in an undertone.
"Let us simply agree that my plan is more likely to meet with success without any… help from you. I'll allow you to keep your dignity and let Father believe you played some role, but I won't tolerate your interference."
"Why are you doing this?" He watched her cool profile as they descended from shadow to torchlight. His father's parting shots still echoed in his ears and he found himself especially unnerved by Azula's apparent calm.
"Whatever do you mean, brother?"
"The lies, Azula. You lied. Again. First to me when you sent Sokka on to the Boiling Rock and now to Father. It was your plan to capture the Water Tribe warriors - I had no idea they were even coming."
"I wish that was surprising to hear." Azula cast him a disparaging look that lingered, turned chilly. "But I suppose you have had a lot of… heavy matters on your mind."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She stopped walking and Zuko stopped a stair past her. They stood eye to eye, torchlight flashing across their faces. Azula looked almost bored, but not quite.
"Only that your diplomatic duties must be taking their toll. It is a delicate dance, isn't it? Placation requires a light touch, just enough compromise to get your own way. Give too much and soon you're no longer leading the dance." The light in her eyes seemed to burn a little brighter. "You're just the fool being led."
"I don't know what you're insinuating," Zuko said, almost truthfully. "No one is leading me."
"Of course not." She turned and started back down the stairs. "You're the crown prince. Short of the Fire Lord, who would dare command you?"
Zuko frowned after her and then hurried to catch up. At the foot of the stairs, he darted in her path. "Don't change the subject. This is the second time you've passed off your actions as mine to Father. Why, Azula?"
She fixed him with a flat look, expressionless as a mask. "What an excellent question. Why have I bothered? Perhaps at one time I thought you could be a valuable ally, but all you are interested in doing is thwarting me at every turn and accosting me with your paranoia. You are determined to ruin yourself. What would possess me to willingly share your fate?"
"If it's all so troublesome," Zuko said through his teeth, "why don't you just end it? You could get rid of me if you wanted to. The throne would be yours. What's stopping you?"
Azula narrowed her eyes, and for an instant Zuko thought she would turn around, stalk right back up the stairs, and tell their father everything he might have liked to know. But she didn't. Instead she stood perfectly straight and still, and her mouth tipped downward in mild distaste.
"Sisterly affection, of course."
Zuko blinked at her, dumbfounded, and she stepped easily around him out to the road where the palanquins waited. A lie, of course. Lies on top of lies. He stepped to go after her, then paused in the doorway instead. Paper lanterns had been lit and strung from the front corners of each palanquin to light the way for the bearers, and their soft glow didn't seem to touch Azula at all as she climbed inside and ordered the veil shut behind her.
Zuko stood watching until her palanquin had lurched out of sight down the winding mountain path. The insects sang loudly from the scrub tonight, their dry cries seeming to flood in and fill up the vacancies left by other sounds.
At length, one of his own palanquin bearers shuffled his feet. Zuko blinked away his sudden weariness, remembered his other obligations, and quickly climbed aboard.
Night had deepened by the time he arrived back in his chambers, but he waved off Yotsu's offer of an evening meal without pausing a step on his way to the garden.
She was there, a shadow pacing a slow path around the tree. Zuko paused on the wooden walkway, and he could not name the strangled clinging thing that awoke in him at just the sight of her shape gracefully flowing against the dark. He knew it was not good, it was not the sort of feeling he should have, but he could not bear to turn away.
He stepped down into the grass and Katara stopped her circuit on the far side of the garden to watch him approach. Her arms were folded loosely over her chest but her expression, when he came close enough to pick it out in the slashes of lamplight that filtered through the low tree branches, was smooth as tranquil water. A servant's mask. Zuko stopped three paces from her and turned to face the tree. His eyes traced the twisted branches up into the thick darkness under the leaves, and he felt them inside himself, the tangled ways and clogged lightlessness.
There was too much he needed to say to her, and very little of it was anything he should admit to. He had wanted to finish his thought from before, he remembered now, something about honor, but he couldn't find the words - or couldn't stomach saying them now, with the fresh confrontation with his father and sister hanging off him like ropes of slime.
At length, Katara broke the silence. "So you're not in trouble after all?"
Zuko hesitated, then tipped his chin upward to look at the highest branches. "That's not really your problem."
"It is, actually." Her voice was quiet, but sharp. "I can't impress the Fire Nation by fulfilling my oath to you if you wind up in prison. That makes your status very much my problem."
Zuko cast a sideways glare at her, then turned to fully assess the sour curve of her mouth, the tiny pucker in her brow that were the only parts of her caught in the light. It cut him that she was more preoccupied with her oath and her people than she was with his wellbeing, but he found he could not muster the anger it would take to lash out. Perhaps he was only tired, but it felt like more than that.
Despite how awful she made him feel, he still felt a cruel comfort in her company. Cruel, because even now, when she hated him more than ever, he found her soothing in a way his own family was not.
He dropped his eyes and shook his head, blowing out a long breath. A fool being led. Azula had a point. All of the risks he had taken were for this girl who hated him. If he was bent on his own destruction, it was because Katara was driving him toward it.
And yet, what alternative remained to him? Azula had advised him weeks ago to lock her away in a waterbender facility - and she had been right. It was the practical way to keep an insubordinate slave from causing trouble. It was the strong way.
But the very thought sickened him, and a raspy voice roared out of the back of his mind. She loved you! To turn from her now would be the crowning betrayal, Prince Zuko - and you are a better man than that!
Zuko scowled at that thought, but it stuck in the back of his mind like hot tar, seeping into every crevice and burning, stinging. A better man? Was he?
What kind of person do you think you are now?
"If you tell me what's going on," Katara said abruptly, slicing through his thoughts, "maybe I can help you."
"How?" Zuko blurted. Realizing the lostness of his voice, he turned bodily to face her, holding out his hands to either side in sudden irritation. "How could you possibly help me?"
"I have eyes and ears. I can waterbend. I can be sneaky." She shrugged, a jerk of her shoulders. "I'm a person, not a piece of furniture."
Her tone was surly, but the words struck him a lot harder than she probably intended. They took him right back to what she had said at the start of the evening.
…like a sack of moldy sea prunes. Like a possession. Like a slave.
Suddenly breathless, Zuko crossed his arms and turned back to the tree. It was easier to talk to the shadows under the leaves, the insects creaking in the dark, than it was to talk to her. His voice came out shamefully small, but just for this moment, talking to the tree, that was alright.
"I know you're a person. And yeah, maybe you could help. But I don't want you to have to. I never wanted you to be in this situation, and now you are, and I…" It hurt, it shamed him so deeply to admit this, but he could not seem to stop. "I wanted to be able to free you myself. And if I can't…"
What good does it do to be a prince, if I don't have the power to do what's right? What good was any of this…?
He shook the thought away, buried it deep. Excuses were for the weak. The only reason he hadn't managed to free Katara yet was his own failure to figure out a way and decisively take it. No, he had freed her. It wasn't his fault she was too proud to leave when she had a chance, too stubborn to do things his way instead of her own…
But that line of thinking felt frail and foolish when Zuko thought of the way she had stared at him when she hung struggling over her father's shoulder. She'd looked so shocked, and furious, and helpless in a way that steel restraints had never matched. And Zuko had only stood there and watched it happen.
He shook that thought away, too, wrestling himself back to the quiet reality of the garden. "I will get you out of here," he said, and his voice sounded overly fierce against the shushing insects. "And when you go free, you'll go with honor. I promise you that."
She didn't answer, didn't even seem to breathe where she stood beside him. Zuko got the distinct feeling she didn't believe him. He twitched his shoulders against the deep ache in his neck and back and drew a breath to go on through his teeth. Katara spoke first.
"Don't make promises," she said, short and quiet. "Just let me be involved in the planning."
Zuko let his breath out in an annoyed grunt. He didn't want that - even if the thought made his heart pound. Planning with her meant talking to her, and being near her as he was now. It meant more time out of his already busy days.
It meant Azula was right. About placation, about who led this dance. About him.
But the warm swell around his excited heart kept him from refusing outright, and in his hesitation, Katara went on.
"Look, we both have good reasons not to trust each other. But I think…" She shifted, and Zuko didn't see because he was staring fixedly at the tree, but he could hear her frustration as she struggled with the words. "I think we need to try anyway."
The words didn't sound soft. There was no forgiveness in them. Still, they fluttered against Zuko like a gust of fresh wind, like a crack opening in a wall he had been battering himself against. It frightened him, how his ribcage felt suddenly so light - as if he had stripped off his armor all over again. It frightened him because invariably, the weight would drop back on him in a moment.
He did not move and, after a moment, Katara continued. "You were right. I need you in good standing if I'm going to change the way people view the Water Tribe. I know there's no other way for this to work, and I think you can trust that I… can understand how your success is in my best interest. And…"
She heaved a breath as if preparing to shift a mass of stones. "And I know I can trust that you really do want to help me. I can trust that you're… that you mean to do whatever is in your power to do."
Zuko scoffed. "When it's convenient to me, you mean."
"No," she said in a disgusted groan. "None of this is convenient to you. I know that, and it wasn't fair of me to say that to you after what you did for Toph."
Zuko looked at her then, sharply, but she wasn't looking back. He could see her mouth in profile, a grimace that squeezed the plumpness out of her lips. Lamplight gleamed dully off the iron at her throat, dimmed as if it had passed through a sickly yellow glass. He didn't realize he was going to speak until the words were out of his mouth.
"Thank you."
She looked back at him, and her eyes in the partial light were so brutally blue. "Don't thank me. And don't think this means anything more than what I just said. We aren't friends. We aren't okay. But we do have a common goal and we can reach it faster if we work together."
"Right," Zuko said quietly, and then turned back to the twisted branches. His face was hot, but his fingers were cold and numb. He curled them into his palms and then folded his arms to snug his fists against his ribs.
"Good." Katara's voice was stilted, clashing with her confident words. "We agree then. So… what's going on? Is Azula trying to sabotage you?"
The branches crossed and double-crossed each other, scaly bark catching the light in flecks and notches that formed no logical pattern. Zuko felt like there had to be some system, he just wasn't able to see it, and without seeing it, he was certain he couldn't form it into words.
He swallowed. "No. She's been… protecting me. I think."
"That seems weird." Katara stiffened and went on quickly. "I mean, she likes power, right? So why not just take yours, if she can do it?"
"She can. I don't know why she hasn't. I don't even really know why she brought me back with her to begin with." He hesitated as Azula's words from earlier slipped back into his mind.
Sisterly affection, of course.
He dismissed the notion at once. She had said it as a final jab at his sentimentality. A little smoke-bomb of a lie, meant to distract him long enough for her to leave. That was all.
"That isn't as important as what she's doing now, though," he continued. "She's frustrated that I haven't been falling in line with her plans. So she probably intends to do something to get back at me." He turned to look at Katara and found her already watching him. "Just… be on your guard."
"You think she might target me?"
Staring at the smooth curve of her cheek, Zuko had no doubt in his mind. He turned back to face the tree. "With Azula, it's best not to discount any possibility."
Katara was quiet for a moment. In the lull, the crickets and crackle flies chorused out of the tall grasses. The jasmine was in blossom, and its scent swelled and faded on the night air like a ghostly breath.
"What about the Fire Lord?"
The scent of jasmine gave way, and Zuko caught a faint acrid whiff of the polish used on some of the new furniture in Katara's apartment. He did not answer, did not know how to answer, and after a long pause, she pressed on.
"Do you think… he suspects you?"
How convenient that your plan should so easily accommodate failure.
Zuko dug his fingers into his sides hard, like he was trying to get a grip on something too big and slippery to keep hold of. Would it be better if his father suspected him of treason? Would facing that be less devastating than Ozai's derision?
because of you… your incompetence… your blunder… sentimental fool… weak
"Zuko?"
"Look," Zuko snarled. "If he suspected, I wouldn't be here right now."
He turned to face her fully, glaring down at her. She didn't move except to turn her head and watch him. Both of her eyes caught the light now, and on their surface they gleamed, but their depths were dark and fathomless as the sea. Looking into those eyes, Zuko felt like a pebble in the surf, getting tossed and battered by something bigger than himself. He looked away.
"It's late. You should get some sleep."
She seemed to think about it for a moment, still staring up at him. He was not looking, so he did not see the way she watched his shoulders hunch up now in a way she hadn't seen since long before they arrived in the Fire Nation. It unnerved her, because she had always sort of thought of this place as his - everything that happened in the palace had seemed to be a part of Zuko's plan. Right now, though, with his face drawn down in weary lines and his arms wrapped tight around himself and his shoulders hitched up from their proper square, he looked about as powerless as she felt. She might have felt bad for him, if she hadn't been the target of so much of his bad temper and poor decisions.
There was more than he was telling her, Katara knew, and probably a good bit of it was essential information that could have helped her somehow. It occurred to her that she might benefit from provoking Zuko into giving away more. But that meant either picking a fight or wheedling. It seemed unwise to fight with him so soon after forming their wary truce, and Katara couldn't bring herself to act concerned enough to draw his thoughts out of him right now.
It was enough for today that she had allowed that she had been unfair that one time. Gran-gran had always told her that too much humility all at once could cause belly-burns. For today, this was enough.
At length, Katara nodded and turned to go without a backward glance. Because she did not look back, she did not see Zuko watching her go, his silhouette swallowed up in the chaotic shadows of the tree behind him.
.
.
The forest was lush and thick with the aggressive growth of early summer, and there were no lights indicating villages nearby, but Iroh had advised against building a fire and Bato, after a glance at where Hakoda sat resting his head in his hands, had agreed. Luckily, even now that dawn approached, the cool of night had no true edge, and the breeze could not reach the people sleeping amongst the roots and loam.
Not that Toph would have noticed a thing like that, since she was sleeping under a tent made of stone. And Iroh and the Water Tribe warriors all rested comfortably under padding for armor they had tossed overboard when Appa began to flag late in the afternoon. They snored and winced in their sleep as they shifted wounded limbs, but they did not stir when Aang tiptoed from his spot toward where the bison slept.
The young man on sentry duty had finally drifted off as the pre-dawn chill set in, and Appa had probably rested enough now to make the return trip. If Aang was lucky, he could make it back to the city before noon, sneak into the palace, and spring Katara before lunchtime. Then they would all go free Sokka together, maybe even that same night. It was a long trip to the Boiling Rock, though, so maybe the following day. And Appa would need to rest… and Aang cringed at the thought of putting the saddle back on him - no one had bothered to remove it in all the time Appa had been in captivity and the fur on his back was thin in a few spots.
But after this, Appa could take a nice long rest and all the other details would work themselves out. The important thing was going back for Katara.
Suddenly, Aang found himself stuck mid-tiptoe, as if he had fitted his feet unwittingly into two holes in the packed clay ground - holes exactly the size and shape of his shoes. He pinwheeled his arms but managed to keep his balance, even when the stone tent snapped back into the ground and a smug sing-song almost-whisper reached him.
"Lookie what I caught! A fluttery little Avatar, sneaking off in the night." Toph ambled over and plopped down in front of him, idly enthroning herself in the gap between two tree roots. "Where are you off to, Flutters?"
Aang tugged hard on one foot, then the other, but both were firmly stuck. He tried gripping himself by the ankle and pulling, but that didn't work either.
"Back to Caldera, you say? To rescue Splatto from her political career? And maybe knock a few teeth out of Prince Jerkface for good measure?" She yawned. "Never saw that coming."
"It's not a joke, Toph." Aang straightened up and glared down at her. "Katara is all alone back there, and nobody even wants to talk about it. These guys are supposed to be her family, and they just left her."
It took a lot of effort to keep his voice quiet, and the silence when his whisper ended felt alarmingly empty. Toph sat rigidly in place until the snores resumed, then came to stand within arm's reach.
"Keep it down, Twinkles."
"So what if they hear me? They may want to just forget her, but I can't. I can't even sleep knowing she's still a slave."
"They don't want to forget her, noodle brains. They were trying not to talk about her in front of Hakoda."
Aang hesitated. He'd been so upset about leaving Katara behind, he hadn't given a lot of thought to her father. The man had hardly spoken since they made camp. In fact, he had ensured that his injured warriors were bandaged up - as well as any of them could do with no supplies and no real healer training among them - and then he had sat down against a tree with his head in his hands, and said nothing more. He must have dozed off, because he was still there, an unmoving piece of the darkness on the far side of the camp.
Aang didn't know Hakoda, had only glimpsed him on the beach that one time before today, but he supposed that this probably wasn't normal behavior for the chief of the Southern Water Tribe. He was probably sad that Katara was still back there, too. But that only led to more questions.
"Then why isn't he trying to go back for her?" Aang demanded aloud. He started pulling again on his legs. "How can they just give her up?"
"They didn't just give up," Toph snapped. "They tried to make her leave and Katara ran away from them." She jabbed him hard in the shoulder with one finger, nearly knocking him to the ground. "And if you go back there, three things are gonna happen. One, you'll force Katara to make that choice again. Two, you'll get caught. And three, if she tries to help you, she'll lose whatever progress she's made."
"What progress? This whole thing is just Azula's trick to keep Katara from leaving-!"
"Azula probably thought that when she started it, but Katara is inside now. She may have been set up to be the heel, but now she's in the pit, and every move she makes is a chance to win the audience. Get it? If you swoop in and try to rescue her, they'll only ever think she was a heel."
Aang hesitated. "I might have been frozen in that iceberg for too long, because I have no idea what any of that even means."
"It's Earth Rumble stuff. The villain of a match is called a heel. Heels are supposed to be unlikeable, but they end up making things more interesting." Toph smirked. "The audience loves em. And if there was ever an upper crust like a raving mob of pit fight fans, it's Fire Nation nobility."
Aang clutched his head, and the prickle of short hair there only irritated him more. "Rrh! That's totally unrelated! This isn't a pit fight - it's life or death! Katara's life or death!"
Toph tensed, and in the next instant Aang heard what she had felt. He spun toward the far end of the camp where a piece of the darkness had risen to its feet and begun picking its way through the sleeping bodies. The sky was lightening, so he could very clearly see the haggard lines carved deep into Hakoda's face. A bruise had spread across his cheek like a storm cloud, and the swelling pushed against the corner of his eye. Hakoda crossed the encampment in slow strides, then paused, looking grimly up at the forest beyond Aang and Toph as if they were not there.
"Toph, can you sense the nearest village?"
She raised an arm and pointed unerringly to the northeast. "Three miles."
He nodded and looked in that direction, looked east as if he could see through the thick trees to fix the sun's position in his mind. Aang rubbed the back of his neck. His face was scorching. "I didn't mean…"
"My men need a healer. Someone in that village will know where I can find one."
"Appa can-"
Hakoda turned his head and dropped his eyes to Aang. His look was hard for a moment, and Aang keenly felt the accusation in it. But then Hakoda blinked and seemed to see him anew. "I think it's best we part ways for now, Avatar. Your bison can't carry all of my people-" He did not smile, but his tone turned dry. "-and something tells me it will be easier to get help in a Fire Nation village if we walk."
"Is it your nose?" Toph asked, smirking once more. "I don't really know what Shaggy looks like, but if he looks anything like he smells, he'd probably send any villagers running for their pitchforks."
Hakoda cracked a smile. Aang laughed nervously and looked away, wondering just how much of their conversation Katara's father had overheard.
"I'll go ahead to scout the village now, but you should leave before full light to avoid drawing attention. We'll meet you at the Boiling Rock to rescue Sokka. Arrange the details with Bato." He half-turned away, then looked back, directly at Aang.
"It's not my place to tell the Avatar what to do, but you're a friend to my daughter, so I'll say this. Much as I want her out of the Fire Nation, she won't be persuaded to leave until she's done what she means to do, or proven to herself that it's impossible." His eyes got a far-off look, and the lines around them seemed to deepen. "If you go after her before she's ready, you'll be fighting her as well as the city guards."
Aang wanted to argue, but he could not meet Hakoda's stare without hearing the empty wind cry through the Southern Air Temple, or feeling the cracked flagstones jut their broken edges against the soles of his feet. At length, Hakoda turned away and disappeared into the forest.
"I'd say I told you so," Toph said quietly, "but that was intense."
Aang nodded mutely, then remembered she couldn't see and cleared his throat. "Yeah."
His eyes fell on one of the warriors he had thought to be sleeping. The older man looked back at him flatly, though his face was pale and he made no effort to move. Someone had used the charred remains of his shirt to tie a loose bandage over most of his torso, but Aang could still see the lower edge of the burn where the ragged cloth ended on his stomach.
Blistered skin and oozing pink meat.
Sickened, Aang wrenched away and stumbled toward Appa on suddenly free feet. Hakoda's men had gone to great pains to rescue Katara - to rescue all of them - and had paid a terrible price. If Aang went back to Caldera and Hakoda was right and Katara refused to leave with him, too… if Aang found himself back in those chains under the mountain, the warriors' suffering would be cheapened, stripped of its purpose. Was it right to risk that?
Aang's heart thudded a different answer with every beat. Save Katara. Honor their sacrifice. Save Katara. You're the Avatar. Save Katara. Only the Avatar can save the world.
He hurried about the tasks of preparing to leave, deaf to everything but the tug-of-war in his chest. He couldn't think of a goal past getting the saddle back on, couldn't think of a destination besides away.
In his distraction, he did not hear the conversations going on among the others. Didn't hear the rustle of maps or the repetition of timelines. Didn't hear hands being clasped and good fortunes being wished. So, when he settled on Appa's head and gathered up the reins, the voice in the saddle behind him startled him.
"So where are we going?" Iroh asked amiably. "I understand there has been some debate."
Toph threw herself flat on her back and heaved an enormous sigh. "Gramps, you don't know the half of it."
Looking back at them, a steady warmth broke in his chest like a giant egg spilling its golden light. Aang let out a shaky breath and felt a soft smile ease across his face. He wasn't alone. Soon he would be in the air, and he would need to decide where they were going, but he would not be alone when he did it.
The reins danced in his hands.
"Yip yip!"
