AN: sadboyclubpresidents - I'm so glad you're enjoying it! Hopefully this one will be as good! You're right - Katara is not ready to discuss her feelings about Zuko unless the feeling being discussed is anger... which I love for her right now tbh...
pieceofsketch - I am SHOCKED at how many people responded to Bogara. She totally hijacked my plan for the chapter, like would not be satisfied with less than her own soliloquy so I'm glad it worked!
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"Ursa."
She had not been called by her name in almost ten years. Had she known Prince Iroh would say it, she would have expected it to be a growl, a curse. But it was only her name, sudden and surprising as this encounter.
And as she watched him, his surprise faded and was replaced with good humor and faint bewilderment. His eyes crinkled slightly - almost just the same as they had when he had greeted her and the children as they passed in the grand halls of the palace.
"She said her name was Kuo, Gramps."
The Water Prince peered between them. "You know each other?"
Iroh blinked at the children and then back at Ursa, squinting now. "The light is not so good. Perhaps I was mistaken..."
He was not, and he knew he was not. He would simply allow her to slither away?
"No," Ursa said, rubbing her stinging fingers together. "We knew each other... a long time ago."
"Another life, really," Iroh agreed with a shrug.
A life I stole from you.
The girl narrowed her eyes. "Did you, like, date or something? Because you're both giving off crazy vibes."
"Au-!" Ursa was entirely shocked and taken aback by the mere suggestion. Iroh just laughed, his cheeks a little pink.
"No! We were just friends."
Friends. How could he call her that, after what she had done? How could he seem so... whole? Still smiling in amusement, he bowed his head to his task, filling a bowl. Ursa could only watch him, too stunned for clear thought.
"Wow," said the Avatar, a grin spreading across his face. "What an incredible coincidence, to meet an old friend in the middle of nowhere after years out of touch. That's a sign if ever I saw one! Yup, we are definitely meant to be here."
"Aang," the prince sighed with an air of long and dutiful suffering. His good posture had evidently been forgotten. "Would you stop trying to make this an Avatar thing? We cannot stay here..."
A bickering argument ensued, but Ursa turned her head to look at Iroh as he approached with the steaming bowl. She accepted it, not quite able to believe that this man who had once been the crown prince was serving her a meal... but it should not have been such a surprise. Princes always found ways to subvert the rules that were supposed to apply to them, and Iroh had always been on the informal side.
From the look of things, he had veered very, very far in that direction.
Ursa quickly burned her fingers and had to settle the hot ceramic in her lap but kept staring up at him, trying to give voice to the questions she needed to ask.
Iroh only peered down at her, a little sad and wistful, a little sympathetic. His voice was pitched low enough to catch only her ear. "I must admit, I am very surprised to see you at all, much less here in the Fire Nation. It is a terrible risk for you. Anyone might recognize you."
"You are the first in all these years," Ursa whispered back.
"Only because you recognized me! They joke about it, but it almost hurts my feelings. I used to be a big deal around here! Now I'm just the old man stirring the Avatar's soup." He chuckled, seemingly genuinely amused.
Ursa's face broke into a long-forgotten smile. Tears threatened.
What if... he did not know exactly what had happened? What if he was only being kind to her because he had no idea that she had been the one to poison Azulon's mind and then snuff out his life?
She should tell him. She should admit what she had done to him.
"It's so good to see you, Iroh," she choked out instead.
Because it was. There had been a time when this man had been a brother to her. Older and preoccupied with his own important business, but he had taken time to visit with her young family. His son had played with hers - as much as he could considering the wide gap in their ages. He had written to them during his campaigns, had sent birthday gifts for the children. He had been beloved, a warm face in a chilly court that thought of Ursa as little more than an elevated peasant. A mere descendant of Avatar Roku.
Breeding stock.
She had come to think, as the years passed, that her wounds had healed. But now, suddenly, looking into the kind eyes of the kind man she had betrayed, with the cruel words of the cruel man who had convinced her to do it echoing still in her mind, Ursa realized that time was at best an inconsistent barrier against pain. Ten years was not so long at all when the memories that endured remained sharp enough to bleed her.
Iroh settled his warm hand on her shoulder and smiled. Ursa unthinkingly laid her own hand over his and gripped tight.
"What's a few more days," the girl was saying. "How long could it possibly take for Fanboy to get his act together and figure out a way to set her free?"
A sudden silence fell. The hand on her shoulder twitched minutely. Iroh's smile vanished and he turned his keen eyes back on the others.
Whoever this person was, the very mention of his name had blown a chill through the companionable atmosphere around the fire. Reflexively, Ursa shivered.
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"We must address the obvious nature of the Fire Prince's regard for you."
Katara froze, all her happy feelings fizzling away, but managed to lift her eyebrows. "Oh?"
"Indeed." Bogara folded her hands back together in her lap and somehow attained an even greater height of severity.
Katara could feel the walls of tradition closing in around her. She could feel the pressure of Bogara's authority, weighing her down. But Katara would not be held down. Not by tradition. Not by her own shame. Not by her respect or gratitude for this almost-elder's support. Not even by her nagging fear that that support might be withdrawn. Katara sat up straighter and frowned, even though her face was too warm.
"His regard is not my problem. I won't be controlled and chaperoned and monitored like a child. I'm a warrior. I need to be able to meet with my ally privately. Regardless of- of whatever he's... My word that nothing is going on should be enough."
"Agreed," Bogara said with a placid blink. "To insist otherwise would place an undue burden on you. What is proper for a warrior-princess is open to be defined, as we have never had one before. I sent Iyuma today merely to reassure myself that your discussion remained peaceful."
"Oh," Katara said, relaxing her posture a little. "So then... what are we talking about?"
"The Fire Prince is clearly deeply invested in you - far more than one would expect of a mere ally. I am willing to take your word for it that he did not exploit your servitude, but I am not so naive as to believe there has been nothing between you."
Katara pinched her lips together and stared at the wall over Bogara's shoulder. Her face was getting hotter. The obvious nature of his regard, she had said. Of course it was obvious... he'd been shouting about her safety like the worst kind of mother arctic hen... And she'd been shouting back...
She couldn't and didn't want to lie and try to conceal the choices she had made, but she also didn't want to have to try to explain them, especially to this particularly stern woman. She had hoped she might linger a while longer in the wide, unspeaking space between deception and forthcoming.
And, to her shock, Bogara allowed it.
"However this situation came about," she went on carefully, "he clearly values the bond you have forged... so much so that you were able to convince him, the crown prince of the Fire Nation, to apologize to us."
"Honestly," Katara shrugged, nervous sweat sticking her shirt to her spine, "he pretty clearly had that one ready to go."
"What is clear is that he cares for you a great deal. This is to our benefit."
Katara blinked questioningly at the woman across from her.
"You voiced concerns that he might be inconstant," Bogara said with an arched eyebrow. "He would not be the first young leader to demonstrate and cement his commitment to his cause with a political marriage."
She could have slapped an angry pricklesnake down on the table and not shocked Katara more. She sputtered and blushed hotly, floundering for a moment before she could get a grip again.
"I-! Wha-?! I am not marr-! How can you even say that?"
"It is a simple matter of practicality. I would be remiss if I did not at least float the possibility." Bogara watched her steadily, evidently having ice water for blood. "Sometimes, for the wellbeing of her people, a princess must make sacrifices-"
"You can forget it," Katara snapped. "I'm a warrior first. I won't be traded off to the guy I was enslaved to - who I kind of hate - just to secure an alliance that's secure enough as it is. Zuko doesn't need to be bought. He isn't going anywhere."
Bogara's eyes narrowed. "That statement is in conflict with your remarks yesterday. What about his previously shifting allegiances? An enemy who becomes an ally could easily become an enemy again."
"That was before we talked," Katara insisted, slowly so as not to stammer. She was thinking suddenly of the Fire Lord's cold stare, of Zuko's deep-rooted fear.
...one wrong step and it's over...
...taught me the price of disrespect...
"There's no going back. Not this time. And he knows it." She shook her head and banished the weird little grieving pang from her chest. Panic flared up right after it.
Oh no, it cried. Oh no no no - don't let this happen! Don't let yourself be fooled again!
But it was too late. There was too much at stake. And she refused to compromise who she was, who she needed to be, just because fear was clanging its warnings. Katara shut her eyes and heaved a deep, troubled breath, but she still went on.
"In the past, he was unreliable because he was conflicted. I took a leap of faith putting my trust in him before and he... disappointed me... because his loyalty still belonged to his father. But that's no longer true. He's still... working stuff out, I guess, but he doesn't believe the Fire Lord can be reasoned with anymore. He knows there's no chance of mercy or forgiveness. He's already committed."
As she said it, she realized it was true. She hated it, she didn't want to step out on the ice like that, but she knew it in her heart. Things had changed. Zuko had changed. Maybe not reliably in every way, but in this way, in his politics and purpose, Katara found herself confident.
"We've agreed on a real plan of action. Real things that I will help him do that will set back the Fire Nation's efforts to win the war. And we've agreed that he will help me free the rest of the healers."
Bogara watched her the whole time she spoke with keen interest. "A strong defense. I'm glad to hear it. Conflict in a partnership should lead to tighter bonds as new understandings are reached. Just remember that we are all depending on this particular partnership to last. A marriage would have formally solidified it, but we are not without other means."
Her eyes dropped pensively to Katara's untouched teacup as she went on.
"We must all do what we can to be a steadying influence on that young man, on whom so many hopes are riding. That may mean different things for you than for the rest of us, but multiple approaches are ultimately more effective in any case."
Katara nodded slowly, though she wasn't entirely sure she understood. "I mean," she smiled a little nervously, "probably nobody else is gonna want to knock sense into him when it's necessary."
Bogara performed a slow blink, sizing Katara up anew. "Likely not."
Very uncomfortable and suddenly terribly aware of the time, Katara glanced at her bedroom door. "I really do need to-"
"Yes, go ahead. I'll continue through the list while you ready yourself for... what, exactly?"
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Ursa had a sick, choked feeling she had once been very familiar with - the feeling that a delicate subject had just been broached and an ugly fight was immanent. Her heart ratcheted into her throat, because for all the years that had passed, her body had never forgotten that feeling. Perhaps it never would.
"Assuming he's ever going to set her free at all," the Avatar muttered. His tone had gone dark. The playfulness had evaporated and left only grim animosity.
"No offense, Toph, but we're one-hundred percent gonna get captured if we resign ourselves to waiting around for-" The prince's eyes flicked toward Ursa, but he hardly paused. "-Fanboy to find the perfect opportunity to do the right thing."
"Am I the only one who realizes he's responsible for any of us going free?" The girl leaned forward in her chair, one hand braced on her knee and the other jabbing through the air to point at both boys. "If he hadn't dropped by with his little gift, I'd still be in fancy-girl jail, you'd still be shriveling up in prison, and you'd still be dangling in that bunker like the saddest festival decoration."
"And if it wasn't for him," the Avatar insisted, "we'd have never been in those situations in the first place."
"That's not the point. When he brought me the clock and told me Gramps was about to be sentenced, I could feel his heartbeat-"
"So what?" The Avatar threw up his arms. "Sometimes hearts just beat faster! Maybe he was nervous about seeing his uncle! Maybe his noodles were too salty! Have you considered that?"
"No," the eathbender said loudly, "because I don't waste my time being wrong. Look, if it was as simple as 'his heart sped up', that'd be one thing. But it didn't. He put his hand on the clock because he wanted me to know. He talked about his uncle and where you both were. And his heart was banging. Whatever he was feeling, it was intense." Her voice got suddenly softer. "Plus, he brought Splatto with him so we could say goodbye."
"Yeah," the prince said sarcastically, "and how did my sister seem to you? Cheerful? Hunky-dory with pal-uh- with her whole deal?"
Toph's mouth tightened but her eyes just looked sad.
"I don't care about his feelings," he continued, low and steady, "or anything he did to help us. As far as I'm concerned, how he treats Katara is the only thing that matters right now."
"Exactly," the Avatar asserted. "He's keeping her as a slave. No matter what other good deeds he might do and no matter what justifications you want to throw at it, there's no balancing out keeping someone trapped like that." He shook his head as if coming to a stark and terrible realization. "Even if he does free her, I don't think I could ever forgive him."
Ursa stiffened even more as Iroh spoke quietly. They all turned their attention to him, perhaps a little shame-faced. His hand, still resting on Ursa's shoulder, was a bracing weight.
"None of your points of view are wrong in this. The situation is very complicated. After the Eastern Air Temple, I was certain that my nephew had committed himself to a dark path-"
Ursa's stomach dropped violently. She was forced to acknowledge all at once who Fanboy was, and who Sokka's enslaved sister was. Her mind flooded with weeks' worth of rumors and horrible stories, nightmarish mutations of the sweet boy she had sacrificed so much to save, grown now to a man...
...so like his father...
"-and, while his actions ultimately facilitated our escape, I am not convinced that that signifies any deeper change of heart... but I will tell you that I witnessed him try to send Katara away with her family during the confrontation. I did not stay to the end, so however she came to remain behind, I do not know, but it was not because he held her there."
Prince Sokka heaved a sigh and crossed his arms, gesturing with one hand. "But he didn't free her in front of any Fire Nation witnesses, right? See, this is the exact problem we ran into on the ship. He wants her to go but can't publicly release her without losing face, she won't go until honor is openly satisfied... They could be stuck in this battle of wills and technicalities forever. We cannot wait-"
"You mean," Ursa found herself saying in a cracking voice, "Zuko has not truly been holding that girl against her will?"
They all stared at her, perhaps thinking she was some manically invested follower of the royal family, but she could not find it in herself to care. She only watched the Water Prince, her heart in her throat. He glanced up at Iroh as if for some signal, then squinted at her and spoke with shrugging caution.
"I mean, he did at the start, when we were just prisoners... but that got complicated pretty quick, if I'm being totally honest. He tried to release her from the oath almost immediately."
"It was Azula who forced the bond of service," Iroh said quietly, gently.
Ursa pressed her fingertips to her mouth and breathed deeply, slowly, as relief and guilt pounded through her. It was awful, shameful really, that she should be less horrified that her daughter had done such a thing. But Azula had always been ruthless, even as a child. Zuko... For him to be so cruel, the boy she had known would have had to be so very destroyed, so very terribly lost.
And now, suddenly, after weeks of thinking he was, a light shone through the despair and horror. A few tears tracked down her cheeks.
Perhaps he was not.
"Alright, what gives?" the girl demanded. "All my adults-keeping-secrets alarms are going off like crazy."
"Yeah," the prince said quietly, watching Ursa now with steady suspicion, broken only by occasional glances up at Iroh still standing beside her. "You know Zuko, don't you?"
Ursa sniffed and stared down into the bowl in her lap, the soup going cold as her tears pattered into it.
"You do not have to reveal anything unless you wish to do so," Iroh said quietly after a moment.
She nodded with some urgency, not trusting her voice yet.
They waited, sharing glances as she calmed herself. Iroh's hand on her shoulder was an unmoving comfort - and she was ashamed to accept so undeserved a gift but was helpless to refuse it.
At length she straightened and took in their curious, searching faces.
"I believe Avatar Aang said something about chance meetings," Ursa managed at last. "Perhaps, as you say, it was meant to be this way. I avoid strangers on the road as much as I'm able. But this morning? With the rain? Your fire shining in the mouth of the cave like a beacon... Who am I to deny destiny?"
She licked her lips and said words that she had condemned to remain unspoken a decade ago.
"Zuko and Azula are my children."
"No way," Toph uttered, her face falling open in shock.
The Avatar gaped at her, his jaw momentarily dropping low.
But Prince Sokka tipped his head back and peered at her through narrowed eyes. "I'm not seeing it. Could you, like, scowl or glower real quick?"
"I believe what Sokka means," Iroh said in his diplomatic way, "is that your countenance is both temperate and comely."
"Nonsense. Time has not been kind." Ursa turned her eyes upward and shot the old flatterer a mild look of exasperation.
"Ah!" Sokka said. "Okay, yeah - there's some resemblance. But this only begs the question..." He threw out his arms wide to either side. "Why are you in the middle of nowhere and not in Caldera, giving your son the motherly guidance and tough-yet-tender correction he is so clearly in need of?"
"Yeah," Toph smirked. "Fanboy's kind of a mess. He needs all the help he can get."
"For my role in the succession," Ursa said carefully, "I was banished ten years ago."
She glanced again at Iroh, but his expression was unchanged, unsurprised. That didn't necessarily mean he knew... His hand remained on her shoulder, a steady support. Surely, if he knew, it would not be there.
"And you've just been wandering the Fire Nation for ten years?" Sokka asked with some skepticism. "Isn't the point of being banished that you aren't supposed to be in the place you were banished from?"
"I lived simply in the Earth Kingdom for almost six years... until I heard about the Agni Kai."
"What's an Agni Kai?" Aang asked, trepidation writ large on his face. Ursa felt a pang of guilt. Her own turbulent emotions were clearly showing if they were effecting the young Avatar.
Iroh answered. "A firebender's duel."
"Sweet," Toph muttered. But Iroh went on as if he had not heard her.
"Lady Ursa is referring to Prince Zuko's Agni Kai against the Fire Lord."
"Say what now?"
"Zuko dueled his father?" Sokka blurted. "That's intense, even for him."
"It is not what you are thinking," Iroh said, his voice quiet and grim.
Iroh made his way back around the fire to his own rock seat and began to relate the story. Without the warmth of his reassuring presence behind her, Ursa felt a terrible chill. Or perhaps she was only remembering when she had first heard this story, the way it had cast her life into shades of gray and stripped away any peace she might have found in exile.
Iroh told it differently than the traders Ursa had gotten it from those years ago. They had had no reason to know or care that Zuko at the start had been so achingly recognizable; he had insisted on attending the war meeting to better prepare himself, and Ursa could see in her mind his dear little face, lit up with his bright determination, enthusiasm, excitement. In Iroh's story, Zuko had not challenged his father, but a general who had made a callous proposal. He had refused to fight not out of cowardice, but loyalty and a child's reasonable fear.
And Ozai had burned him while he knelt, pleading for forgiveness. He had burned her child's dear, sweet face. He had-!
Inside Ursa, there was a bottled storm. She had fed it and confined it by turns for years now. She had whispered How could he? and watched it rage. Its winds, even so restrained, had blown her across an ocean. She had reinforced the glass containing it with her doubts and uncertainties and guilt and failure and shame and fear fear fear.
Iroh's version of the story - the true events he had witnessed - thinned that glass to an eggshell. And beneath that delicate membrane, the storm cracked vicious lightning, howled a steadily building certainty.
The time for hiding had come to an end.
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"And then there was a moment near the end where she was launching those ice chunks," Zuko went on, starting to wonder irately if Katara was ever coming back. "If she'd had a little more power then, I wouldn't have been able to bat them off course so easily."
"I've never seen a waterbender do that before," Tenna said. She was practicing near the kids and had enough resemblance to them that they might have been related. "Throwing ice chunks, I mean. Ice blades, I've seen, or daggers or spears, but..." She shrugged and trailed off.
Zuko nodded. "Princess Katara is incredibly innovative. There was no one at the South Pole to teach her, and as unfair and hard as that was for her, it's made her a bender who can think outside of technique and tradition. That move where she froze my pants? I've never seen that before. She always seems to have a new trick-"
"She froze your what?" Iyuma asked, that irritating grin spreading across her face again.
Zuko blinked. They were all staring at him suddenly, eyes wide and bright. His face started to warm. He scowled. "Why do you think that surprise attack was such a surprise?"
"I thought it was just fast and came from an unexpected angle. I didn't realize she'd iced your intimates," Iyuma snickered.
Zuko's face and ears and neck were scorching and his scowl kept getting impossibly deeper. But the tall woman spoke before he could gather his wits and command that his intimates never be mentioned again.
"Ladies, I believe we've discovered why the waterbending masters have so jealously guarded their secrets."
"Imagine Pakku's face," hooted Tenna quietly. Her own face was very red as well.
"Never gonna happen. You'd have to catch him with wet pants - and I don't think his has ever gotten wet."
"Takima!"
Zuko looked on, blushing for entirely different reasons now as he watched the women giggle and cackle and chastise each other. It occurred to him that he should blow up, be outraged and offended and probably storm off to nurse his wounded dignity... but they weren't even looking at him, and while a part of him chafed to be dismissed and ignored, a larger part felt... secure. They weren't laughing at him exactly. Men at large, more like...
It wasn't like Azula's childhood tricks, making him look like a fool for her friends' amusement. It was Katara, laughing at the notion of him marrying Machi, gasping up mirth like she'd been drowning without it.
And the way the healers smiled at each other now, the way their voices rose loose and open on the humid air of the courtyard... it was like watching clenched buds burst into full bloom.
Yes, he supposed he could endure Iyuma's minor inconveniences to see these women find this sort of peace...
But that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.
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Silence filled the cave after Iroh finished telling the story of the Agni Kai and Sokka, for a long moment, did not notice it. In the back of his mind, he remembered a conversation in the steamy locker room under the mountain. He remembered Zuko's challenging scowl, the unusual hunched way he stood when he spat out the insult some guy had used to try and provoke him into a fight-
He said anyone could look at my face and see I was an unwanted son.
-and Sokka had kind of... known then that it had been Zuko's father who marked him. The rest of the story - Zuko's protest in the war meeting, "fighting for his honor", all the witnesses to the event - made it so much worse than what Sokka had had in the back of his head. For a minute, he had to just sit with that.
Ah, buddy.
The shape of Zuko's life was unfurling itself, and things that hadn't quite made sense before suddenly clicked into place.
Sokka remembered the first time Zuko had taken him from the brig to a training room and gave him a sword. That had been just days after the Air Temple, and when that weapon was in Sokka's hand and Zuko was goading him about how the Southern Water Tribe was going to fall and how he'd never let Katara go - she was his, the ice-hole had said - it had been easy to really throw himself into trying to kill the guy.
And it had been easy to set aside how weird and dangerous that situation had felt when Zuko had said that nonsensical thing, something about Sokka fighting for his honor. Or when Sokka had finally fallen, too exhausted to keep fighting, and Zuko had loomed over him, sword in hand, with that horrible, electric potential hanging in the air...
Because, Sokka suddenly understood now, that had been the moment he was supposed to strike the fight-ending blow. That was the moment Sokka was supposed to be maimed, taught a lesson he would never forget.
And instead, Zuko had said something pithy and continued the fight later. They'd fought like that for days, but that dangerous feeling had never returned.
At the time, Sokka had thought it felt different because he had felt different. He was seeing Zuko's gestures at decency, his inner turmoil as he tried to live up to his father's expectations and not be entirely evil at the same time. But now Sokka could see that it hadn't been some change in his perceptions. It had been Zuko.
Zuko had been trying on his father's cruelty. And he'd decided it wasn't for him.
That time.
It was terrifying, realizing he'd been that close to doing something awful, something permanent. And that was just to Sokka. If Zuko had been testing cruelty with Sokka, he'd been testing it with Katara, too.
And Sokka remembered that healing session, when he'd heard a commotion and rushed into the room to find Zuko had thrown a table against the wall because he found out Katara had let on to Azula about the pregnancy. Had that been Zuko dabbling in his father's cruelty as well? Trying to punish or frighten her with indirect violence?
Or just genuinely freaking out about a frankly terrifying situation?
Sokka knew what he wanted to believe. And it unsettled him, terrified him all over again, that he found himself still wanting to think the best of this guy. Despite all the awful things he had done and all the incredible danger he posed. Despite everything... or because of everything...
"That's terrible," Aang was saying, his voice betraying the depth of his horror.
"No wonder Fanboy's so messed up," Toph said with stunned anger. "He was just looking out for some soldiers and caught a life-ruining pile-driver for it."
Sokka rubbed his face and forcibly focused his mind away from compassion and speculation and fear. He couldn't do anything about all of that now. Instead, he thought hard and fast about how Zuko's past was going to effect the current situation. And very suddenly, he understood.
"Zuko can't free Katara. Not unless he decides to openly challenge his father."
He met all the startled eyes around him and shook his head.
"Think about it. The Fire Lord is keeping all these healers and other benders as slaves, right? That's his policy. If Zuko frees his own personal slave, no matter what reason he has for it, he'd be implicitly criticizing the Fire Lord's policy." Sokka waved his hand impatiently through the air before him. "Just like he implicitly criticized the way the Fire Lord ran his war council."
Iroh had shut his eyes and was frowning either in thought or pain. Toph was shaking her head in mute denial. Aang just stared back at him, wide-eyed. And the ragged, worn woman beside him went on staring into the fire with a tightly-contained intensity that was sort of familiar. Really, the family resemblance just kept getting stronger...
"In fact," Sokka went on, "the more honorable a stand Zuko makes over it, the worse the reprisal is gonna be for him - because if what he does is honorable, what the Fire Lord has been doing is not. Zuko could get away with letting Katara escape with Dad because that wouldn't be an open stance for or against the policy. He can't publicly release her like she wants without landing himself in another Agni Kai with the Fire Lord."
"And if his father burned and banished him last time," Toph said with growing alarm, "he'd probably come to the rematch with the intent to bury him. Not in the fun way I bury people either. The permanent kind of burying."
"So Zuko's just never going to let her go," Aang said, frowning and then scowling. He seemed on the brink of going on, but Ursa spoke first.
"Zuko always tries."
The ferocity in her voice had them all stopping short, watching her. She was peering among them now, the set of her yellow eyes fierce yet so strangely kind and urging.
"I do not... know exactly the sort of young man my son has grown into," she went on in a more controlled tone, "but one of his greatest qualities was always his eagerness to try. Even if he could not succeed, or might look foolish, he always tried. If seeing Princess Katara free matters to him, he will try. And he will keep trying until he finds a way. That's who Zuko is. Or... that's... who he was."
Looking at this woman, hearing the suddenly uncertain note in her voice, Sokka realized very suddenly that Zuko had not been the only victim of the Fire Lord's cruelty. He wondered, his heart aching a sad thud, how many tables Ursa had seen thrown at walls. In what ways had she been forced to fight for her honor?
If the Fire Lord could scorch half his son's face off in public and remain above reproach, what could he do to his wife in private?
With such an upsetting prospect souring his stomach, it was an enormous relief to Sokka when, after the briefest pause, Toph snickered.
"Nah, that's Fanboy. When I met him, he was disguised as a refugee in Gao Ling. He's Fanboy because he jumped right into an earthbending pit-fight when he thought I'd squashed Splatto." She shrugged and smirked coolly. "Not without reason. She was so wimpy back then..."
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Zuko glowered down at the Water Tribe women in their merriment, his arms still folded tight over his chest and his face still uncomfortably warm. Girls were crazy and women were weird. This was just the way of the world.
One of the girls - the older sister - was watching him. She bit her lip for a long moment of indecision, then spoke, her quiet voice a little hard to hear over the others.
"Prince Zuko," she began, and when he looked directly back at her, she turned her eyes up slightly above him. "Could you... How did she manage that surprise attack? I mean... she seemed... pretty trapped."
"I don't really know the nuances of waterbending, so she's gonna have to explain the details," Zuko demurred, but then went on thoughtfully. It didn't hurt to tell her what he'd observed. "She did seem trapped, though. I had a solid hold on one hand and she used her other to steady my sword hand. And then..." He frowned faintly harder. "...while I was distracted, she... wiggled."
She squinted at him. "Wiggled?"
Zuko shrugged. "I remember feeling her shoulders move. There was probably more to it but I didn't notice."
"Because you were distracted," Iyuma provided cheerfully. The others had settled down and were back to their practice.
Zuko scowled at her as fiercely as he could, but kept his voice level. "Yes."
"Does your face still hurt?" the girl asked, and although the question certainly could have been mockery, her expression showed nothing but a sympathetic wince. Zuko's scowl faded. "It looks like it kind of hurts."
Zuko prodded at his unscarred cheek. He hadn't touched it or looked in a mirror yet, and was surprised to find it actually was a little tender. "There's a mark?"
"It's a little red."
"I'll heal that for you, if you like," Iyuma said breezily, swooping her water around and swinging it back. Some of the women raised their eyebrows.
Maybe she was trying to extract another 'please' from him, showing off for her little friends. Being irritating. But a little redness in his cheek wouldn't be all that noticeable, and maybe it would even help him to appear less conspicuous by making his scar less obvious. He wasn't going to any formal meetings for a few days anyway, and by then the mark would fade.
Zuko only curled his lip mildly at Iyuma. "I'm sure it's not that bad."
"It looks a little bit like somebody slapped you," the tall woman said, stopping her practice to look up at him directly. "I would like to heal it for you."
Something weird was going on. The other healers were sharing glances as if this meant something that Zuko didn't understand. He narrowed his eyes, watching them, but the tall woman only went on, unperturbed.
"So that no one you meet during your business in the city will think for a second that anyone has had cause to slap you. Healers do not let the men in their households go about looking slapped unless they deserve to look that way. And I have come to believe you do not, Prince Zuko."
Zuko blinked. "Oh. Alright..."
She strode up the steps toward him and laid her blue-glowing fingertips against his cheek light as a kiss. It took only a second, during which Zuko stared off straight ahead, feeling strangely... warm. Good in his chest in a way that had nothing to do with the sting fading from his cheek.
Included. It was coming together in his mind that some decision had been made about him. The healers were technically members in his household, but the opposite was somehow also true; he was a member of theirs as well.
Then the tall woman withdrew - she was actually almost Zuko's height - and smiled a tiny, satisfied smile. "There. Good as new."
"Thank you," Zuko said quietly. Her smile deepened faintly at the politeness. "What's your name?"
"I am Pawe, Prince Zuko." She tipped her head to the side, a little thoughtful. "Are there any other injuries you would like seen to? I seem to recall a terribly scraped shoulder..."
He shrugged, uncomfortably aware that she had seen just about all the little sore places hidden under his clothing. They all had. "No, that's- I'm fine, thank you."
Pawe nodded and returned to the drive, pulling up fresh water to resume.
Tenna spoke, watching her water as she worked. "I'm surprised Princess Katara did not already see to Prince Zuko's injuries."
"She hasn't had any healer training," Iyuma said at once. "You should have seen the mess she made of his shoulder. It took three sessions to fix it."
The other healers started making knowing sounds about common mistakes and natural healing abilities. Zuko couldn't help himself.
"That was an emergency," he insisted. "There were assassins."
"Real assassins?" the little girl asked skeptically.
Zuko fumed, "Real enough to shoot me with a crossbow!"
Her sister peered up at him solemnly. "I believe in the assassins, Prince Zuko."
Zuko glared at the rest of them, their bright eyes and suppressed smiles, and then heaved an exasperated sigh.
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A light seemed to switch on in Ursa's eyes and she asked a couple of questions, drawing out the story of how Zuko had come to be trapped in the resistance base. Toph told her about Zuko's obvious crush and his determination, and a faint smile hovered at the corners of Ursa's lips. The sight of it made Sokka feel a weird ache in his chest. Like when Gran-gran was worrying about him.
He didn't know Ursa, but he didn't need to know her to guess what she might have heard and thought about Zuko before today. And that... really sucked. Zuko was pretty high on Sokka's list of least-favorite people, and the danger he posed to Katara was real. But Ursa was his mom. And she pretty obviously loved him and missed him. Every time she said his name, there was an ache in the sound. It wasn't right that she should be uncertain about who her kid was - for better or for worse.
So Sokka heaved a sigh and pitched in. "I met Zuko in training a little after that. He was trying to pass as Water Tribe but... honestly, that was a stretch. Not exactly a team player, that guy. But he was pretty good with a sword, and that impressed a lot of people."
Ursa smiled faintly. "Zuko liked swords so much better than firebending when he was little. I think he viewed his bending as more of a burden and a responsibility. And it was a source of worry, since his little sister was so naturally gifted. Swords could just be fun."
"Aw," Sokka said, then coughed to cover the unmanliness of the sound. "He never seemed to be having fun, but he sure was invested in learning how to use Water Tribe weapons. He practiced harder than anybody else and pointed out the mistakes in my form every chance he got."
"Oh!" Iroh said, smiling. "I imagine he probably was having at least a little fun."
"Hard work and spit-talking your friends," Toph said with a toothy smile. "Yeah, that sounds about like what I imagine when I think of Fanboy having fun."
"Were you friends?" Ursa asked Sokka, a skeptical little smile in her eyes.
"No! I mean..." Sokka waved a hand in the air, searching for a way to describe that whole funky kettle of fish. "We were enemies - because he was the Fire Prince and he was trying to take my sister away to the Fire Nation - but... he was also pretty great to train with. I learned so much from him about footwork. And, okay, he was really fun to tease. I never got tired of picking on him, even after he turned on us..."
He frowned thoughtfully. Because in the back of his mind, Sokka knew he had skipped right over friends and started thinking they could be brothers. He had - briefly, crazily at the end there - wanted Zuko for a brother.
"Maybe we were a... really weird kind of friends," he finally admitted, then pressed, "but my number one concern was always - and still is - Katara. All that time, I couldn't really be Zuko's friend because either he was cozied up next to her in that super-weird tiny barracks and threatening to take her away, or he was-"
"He was living in her barracks?" Aang asked, somewhere between concerned and irritated. "Why didn't anybody tell me that?"
"We don't talk about Zuko," Sokka shrugged. "Katara assured me he minded his manners but then she went and kissed him, so she really just tossed out any reassured feelings I might have-"
"She kissed him?" Aang demanded, both hands planted on his head now. Ursa looked on, her eyebrows inching high. "Why would she do that?"
"Aang, you are seriously asking the wrong guy here-"
"This guy," Toph said, jabbing herself in the chest with her thumb. "You wanna know intimate details about Splatto liplocking Fanboy, you ask this guy right here. And the answer to your question is 'because he's pretty and Katara liked him and they were at war.'"
"It wasn't just that," Sokka protested, but Aang spoke over him, seemingly unaware.
"Katara wouldn't just kiss a guy because he looked good! She's so much deeper than that! And Zuko's not even that good looking!"
"Apparently, he's plenty good-looking to Katara," Toph smirked. "But you're right. It wasn't just about looks. They had this intense chemistry-"
"What, when he was trying to capture her?" Aang scoffed, shaking his head.
"Yeah, heh heh, they fought about that pretty hard at the start." Her smirk faded to something more pensive. "But at some point, I'm guessing they came face-to-face with the real life-or-death danger they were in and stuff got serious."
"I got captured by the Fire Nation during a training exercise," Sokka said, watching Aang fold his arms tight over his thin chest. "Katara would have come looking for me alone - into a war zone, like a total maniac - if Zuko hadn't come with her."
On the one hand, Sokka could sympathize with the kid - it had to be tough having a giant crush on a girl who viewed him as a child she needed to protect - but on the other, this was the day he'd decided they were going to face facts. Speak the hard truths. And this was one hard truth Aang was gonna have to face sooner or later. So Sokka pressed on.
"It was always kind of serious for him, I think, because he's just a serious guy... but that rescue mission was when it got serious for her. He put a lot on the line to help her. And me," he shrugged, "but mostly her. He even revealed who he was to Admiral Zhao to protect Katara's back and got a pretty nasty burn in the process."
Aang still looked angry and unconvinced, glaring off at a shadowed corner of the cave, but Ursa stared back at Sokka, her expression open, stricken.
"After that," Sokka went on, "it didn't matter what I said. Katara was sailing the FNS Zuko all the way to the Eastern Air Temple. She was totally snow-blind, refused to even consider he might not be able to choose her over the chance to capture his five-year obsession." He hesitated, a pained line cutting his brow. "...or, I guess, grabbing his impossible-for-a-hundred-years shot at redemption, if that's how he saw it."
"He still might have chosen her," Iroh said quietly, but with a hard note Sokka had certainly never heard directed at him, "had he been allowed to make the choice freely."
They had not spoken about Zuko's time in the trunk before, but Sokka could tell right now that the old man knew what had happened and didn't approve. More than that, this was probably a big part of the force drawing Iroh to stay in the Fire Nation - wishful thinking that Zuko, given the perfect chance, might have made the right choice. That he might at any moment correct his course. Sokka shook his head and raised his hands to either side and laid out another hard truth.
"Hey, he had plenty of time to choose love and peace, alright? He didn't. He was just like Katara, floating in whatever goofy little fantasy they'd cooked up and not willing to confront reality. I might have muddied the water for him a bit, but if he'd just calmed down and reflected on his place in the universe for a couple hours, he would have seen that I was only trying to keep him out of his own way."
Iroh met his frank stare for a moment longer, then sighed and dropped his sad eyes back to the fire. Toph spoke up. "Are you guys talking about Operation Boxed Fireflakes?"
Aang was peering between them with narrowed, bewildered, irritated eyes. "Operation what?"
"Don't worry about it," Sokka said, bracing his hands on his knees and refocusing on Ursa. "The point of the story is that my sister really liked your son, and he really liked her. They were kind of stupidly into each other. But then he joined Azula and captured us all and took us to the Fire Nation. Before that though, pretty good guy."
She did not look entirely convinced. She drew a breath as if to speak - but was cut off as Aang lurched to his feet. A weird wind rose, stirring hot cinders up out of the fire.
"Pretty good guy?"
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Katara rushed through undressing and scrubbing down with the tepid water in her basin. Bogara's voice continued through the door, unrelenting as Katara's own sense of urgency.
"...Machi tells me he has broken from his entire family. She did not divulge any details regarding his finances, but I assume, this being the Gan villa, that we are living on the charity of his supporters."
"Charity isn't the right word..." Katara said as she washed the soap from her hair and bent the lingering water away. "It's more like... homage? I guess? We're in good with several families now. Zuko seems confident."
"Young men often seem confident about things they have no business being confident about," Bogara said flatly. "Do you imagine he would let it show if he had doubts?"
Katara reflected on this for a moment, then dropped her water in the basin and sighed. Because... yeah, Zuko would totally conceal something he was insecure about.
"I don't think money is gonna be a problem, but I see what you're saying. I guess the only thing I can really do about it is be more involved in... all the stuff he's doing. I've sat out his meetings with nobles before. But, you're right, we're all depending on his decisions now. So I guess I get to look forward to that again."
Bogara was silent for just a second. "Do you mean you expect to sit there like a slave during these meetings? Because I can't say I approve of that approach."
"No! I mean-" Katara shook a few drops of oil from the crystal bottle and rubbed it into her hands and elbows and knees. "I made it through one really awkward meal with the Gans. But I'm not- I'm not a real princess. Apart from being intimidating or Water-Tribe-village-girl polite, I don't really know what to do or how to behave around those people."
"What's wrong with Water-Tribe-village-girl polite?"
"Nothing's wrong with the ways my Gran-gran taught me..." Katara hesitated, then shrugged and grabbed the clothes Sian had somehow known to leave out on the bed. "All that time I was a slave, it was like wearing a mask. It was demeaning, because I was forced to hide my real self away. But now I worry that anything I expose to Fire Nobles is probably going to end up a part of some cruel parody later on."
"It may well be so," Bogara said with unhelpful honesty. "But politeness, like intimidation, is simply a tool in your kit. It is not intrinsic to you or your culture. Fire Nobles may find you unpolished, but you do not need polish to command respect. Give them what they deserve and not a drop more - like uninvited guests. And if they dare mock you to your face, cut them down to size. In whatever way you like."
She said it so prim and businesslike, Katara couldn't stop a little chuckle. "Unless - haha - the way I really want to cut them down is with a knife made of tea. Because that would be - haha - just so uncivilized!"
She made a a fussy gesture with her hands as she spoke but Bogara could not have seen it and would not have laughed in any case. "A princess may make such decisions."
"You keep calling me a princess, but I'm really not..." Presently, Katara was hopping around trying to get into her baggy pants. "I told you how I grew up. There's really nothing refined about me."
"You were right that you are not like Princess Yue," Bogara said at length, a little sadly. "She was raised in prosperity and refinement, blessed by the moon spirit itself... a true paragon of the Northern Water Tribe's culture and traditions. And she was called to sacrifice herself by returning all those gifts, and so saved us all. Whereas you..."
Katara threw on her tunic, tied the sash, and realized she'd skipped a layer and had to undress again to put on the undershirt. Bogara went on mildly.
"You came up through hardship, all the resources and bending traditions of your people - and even people, the people you loved and needed most - stripped away from you so that every step forward has been a struggle, a fight to survive. You, too, are a paragon, because you are exemplary of what the Southern Water Tribe has endured - and survived. You are called to be a warrior, and wherever you go, that is where you will fight.
"So," she finished with a shrug in her voice, "if the Fire Nobles think you are uncivilized, you are only delivering to their sitting rooms the very incivility they exported to the Poles. Perhaps that is the calling of the Southern Princess. I cannot say. I only agreed to be a deputy and an auntie, not a royal advisor."
Katara fumbled in tying her sash for the third time, a little taken aback. The princess thing had always seemed like a bit of a joke, even when Zuko took it so seriously. But what Bogara was saying made sense. It struck her deeply.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her warrior's hair still loose and drying, her subdued clothing. The straight-yet-relaxed way she stood. Her eyes, somewhere between hard and soft. Katara tucked her mother's necklace under her bracer and the lock of Sokka's hair into her sash, and then she squared her shoulders.
"And as your auntie," Bogara said through the door, "I feel compelled to urge you again to be so very careful on this trip. I can accept its necessity and even the need for secrecy, but I am... most unsettled to have you both go haring off just the two of you. Losing the prince would be difficult but not insurmountable. If you should fail to return, I do not know what we would do."
Katara steadied her hands and smoothed her sash, a little smile tugging at her face. Having an auntie around - even such a formal, cool one - was... nice. "Don't worry. We'll both be back the day after tomorrow. I'll make sure of it."
"See that you do." There was a long pause as Katara tied her hair back into its wolftail. At length, Bogara added, as if it was an afterthought, "I also feel compelled, as your auntie, to urge you not to give that young man any rewards he has not thoroughly earned-"
Katara stared at her own wide-eyed, paling reflection.
"-because the novelty may wear off if he gets it too frequently and it will lose its power as a motivational tool-"
"He's not getting it at all," Katara squeak-yelled.
She caught a flash of her blushing, scowling face in the mirror as she spun around and marched back out to the sitting room, where Bogara was scratching a new note in her little notepad. She raised just her eyes to assess this response.
"Not at all!" Katara snapped as she stomped through the room and shoved her way into the hallway.
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"Alright, I'm ready, let's go!"
Katara came marching up to him and, for a second, Zuko couldn't help but stare down at her. She was either flushed from rushing around or she had been blushing, and the frown she fixed on him was nothing short of surly and defiant.
She had evidently washed, because the air as she arrived smelled fresh and most strongly of her mild scents. She had also changed into entirely new clothes - dark shades of brown with a faintly purple sleeveless top layer that pointed her shoulders and contoured around her breasts...
...which were suddenly there again...
It was just a flick of his eyes, but he immediately felt like a clod. He glowered to cover his embarrassment, but it lacked heat.
"Did you find everything you needed?" he asked.
She squinted at him like he was being weird. Because, he realized, he was being weird. Of course she had found everything she needed. There were servants whose job it was to supply her with everything she needed. But the question had just felt right and had simply fallen from his mouth.
"Yes, thank you," she said quietly, then huffed. "Can we go? I thought we were in a hurry."
Zuko nodded and, without a backward glance at the healers while Katara exchanged quick parting words with them, he made for the gate. Shortly, she came to stride beside him.
"Bye, Katara! Bye, Prince Zuko," Iyuma called at their backs. "Have fun at all those important meetings!"
A few of the others echoed her. Zuko picked out Yakita's voice among them, even though she was quieter than her sister.
"Iyuma is so annoying," he hissed out the side of his mouth as they approached the gate and the soldiers saluted and opened the way.
"Take it as a compliment," Katara said with a sour lack of sympathy. "It means she likes you."
"Hmph."
They left the villa and hurriedly made their way along the outskirts of Harbor City to the docks, pulling up their hoods against the rain and keeping mostly out of sight. But it was of course impossible for the Prince to walk among his people and completely avoid notice, and the Water Princess was somewhat obvious with her collar and her grim, watchful blue eyes. Their passage and departure on a small fishing vessel - purchased just that morning by unknown parties - was much remarked-upon.
And such whispers grew louder and wider-spread scant hours later when the great plume of smoke rose up from where the Gan villa had stood.
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AN: Thanks, everybody! I'm not totally sure when the next update will come. Next chapter is mostly written but there are some big gaps yet to be filled. So... Maybe a week or two? Next Sunday? Here's hoping!
