A/N: Me: "oh god, I can't wait to post the next chapter, I must know what my readers think!"
My update schedule: "uhhh you're five days early"
Me: *already posted* "haha who are you?"
It's three weeks before the fall equinox when Azula knocks on Katara's door for the first time. It's her palace, her nation, she doesn't need to knock. Nevertheless, handling people is her specialty, and there are times when it's wise to show deference to people you don't owe any.
Katara, of course, doesn't answer. Lets Azula knock while she sits in the darkness and tries to think of nothing. Isn't the least bit surprised when Azula enters anyway.
"Come with me", Azula says, and Katara can hear how much her voice wants to fall back into its usual commanding tone. "I want to show you something."
Katara doesn't react.
"Please."
The word sounds unfamiliar from Azula's lips, to both of them. It's not a word Azula is used to saying. But the unexpected sincerity in her voice is enough to elicit a reaction from Katara: the slightest flicker of her eyes over to Azula, the tiniest spark of life in her posture.
She stands up and briefly sees stars. Barely moving for weeks has weakened her body as much as weeks of darkness and silence have dulled her spirit. But once she's steadied herself, she wordlessly follows Azula out of the room. She squints, expecting the sun to blind her once she steps through the door, but the sky outside the windows as just as dark as it is inside her room, where she's kept the blinds drawn for weeks.
This time, there are no guards when Azula leads her through the palace. She follows her outside, into a park she hasn't seen before, across a giant lawn towards a towering, domed building. Azula pushes the large double doors open and ushers her inside.
The Royal Observatory.
Azula has made sure to clear the building of guards before, dismissed the sages, given strict orders not to be disturbed. Here resides a masterful example of her people's industriousness and ingenuity, the largest such in the entire nation, mounted from the ceiling and surrounded by a giant catwalk:
A telescope.
It's been over two years since Azula has set foot here. She'd just returned from the Earth Kingdom and had consulted the sages about this 'day of black sun', the date of the upcoming invasion. She's never looked through the refractor, never cared to gaze at the stars.
"Take a look."
Katara apprehensively looks at the giant instrument. Doesn't move. Tests Azula's patience before she opens her mouth and speaks for the first time in weeks.
"What am I doing here?"
Azula sighs. Leave it to that stubborn nature to get in the way.
"Just look."
Without waiting for Katara's answer, she climbs the catwalk. Reluctantly, Katara follows her and reaches her just as Azula puts her eye to the lens, seemingly satisfied with what she sees, before stepping back and beckoning Katara closer.
What are you up to?
After a brief moment of hesitation, Katara obliges and presses her face against the eyepiece.
The view is… frankly, it's breathtaking.
"I had the sages orient it towards the moon. I'm told the magnification is more than any other telescope in the world."
Her beloved moon. If there's anything that can draw Katara out of her shell, Azula figured, this would be it, and she's proven right. Despite looking at it countless times in her life, never before has Katara seen it so close, so large, so detailed. She can see the craters, ridges and mountains. The full moon must be only a few days away, and she can faintly see the dark part, covered in the moon's own shadow, the circle close from complete.
It's beautiful.
She accidentally says the last part out loud, and behind her, Azula allows herself the briefest of victorious smiles. There is a meaningful reward she can offer Katara after all. The less she feels like she's indebted to Katara, the better.
I wish Gran-Gran could see this.
Worshipping the moon and knowing its nature is one thing. Seeing it up close, a chunk of rock, is another. She half expects to see Yue on its surface, despite knowing the spirits' seat at the North Pole. Either way, it's mesmerising. Katara soaks up the sight of the pristine silver surface, takes it all in until she has almost memorised every detail. Imagines she can feel Tui's power fill her, even without a full moon, just at the sight.
For how long she's captivated like this, she can't say. But when she finally tears herself from the telescope, the moon has begun to move out of sight.
She finds Azula outside, on a roof terrace overlooking the gardens. Katara sits down next to her, looking up at the moon again. With the naked eye, there is no trace of what she's seen just now, just a silver, bright near-circle.
"What was it like?"
Katara gathers her thoughts for a moment. "It was…"
Overwhelming. Captivating.
"It was a lot", she finishes. No words can do the experience justice. But she doesn't need words. Azula has seen the way she's reacted. She knows.
I wonder how Yue is. What's left of her.
Azula is studying her face.
"What are you thinking about?"
Katara laughs a joyless laugh. What do you care?
"A friend. From the North Pole."
"Who's got something to do with the moon?"
It's not a particularly big leap. She's looked at the moon, now she's thinking about Yue. Katara tries to find some hidden motive in Azula's face, some sign of deceit, but there is none. Before she can think further about it, she finds the words slipping out.
She tells Azula of Yue. Of the princess who nearly died as a child, who was saved by the spirit of the moon, healed by the spirits' sacred waters, imbued with Tui's own life force. The girl who grew up to be a beautiful princess, with hair as silver as the moon and a voice as gentle as a breeze in the night. She tells Azula of their stay at the North Pole, of her training.
"They refused to train women? I didn't take your people for so short-sighted. It's not like they can afford to neglect half of all possible warriors."
Katara agrees.
She tells Azula about the siege. About the hundreds of ships, the black snow darkening the skies. Tells of battling Zuko over Aang's spiritless body (Azula makes no secret of her contempt for her brother and his impulsive nature). Tells of Zhao fighting his way into the sacred oasis, threatening the spirits. Hearing how her uncle intervened to save the spirits elicits another comment from Azula, and she doesn't need words to make her distaste of Zhao clear.
If he had succeeded, of course… things would be different. But as it is, she holds the late general responsible for the waterbenders' entry into the war outside their own borders.
For the first time, Azula hears about what happened to the fleet, hears about how the Avatar merged with the ocean spirit and left no soul alive in his wrath, his attempt to avenge the fallen spirit. Hears how, when Tui was destroyed, the Water Tribe princess sacrificed herself to give back her life to the moon spirit.
She shakes her head in disbelief.
Katara, Azula has to admit, has perhaps lived through more unlikely adventures than anyone since the heroes of old. She wouldn't say that if she knew about the history of the Avatar, of course, but from what Azula knows, not since the legends dating many centuries before has anyone been privy to such events.
The moon has reached its zenith when Katara is done telling her story. The wind has picked up, and below them, the trees in the palace gardens are bending to the gusts. Katara shivers, and without thinking, Azula conjures up a small flame in her palm to keep them warm.
It's only when Katara visibly flinches that Azula remembers why Katara fears fire.
"What? Oh, right."
By the time she has extinguished the flame, Katara has already jumped up and put some distance between them. Her eyes are pained in a way that makes Azula's chest ache. But the moment is gone. There will be no more stories told tonight. Azula silently leads Katara back inside, down the catwalk, and out, back through the gardens, back inside the palace and into the Fire Lord's chambers.
This time, there is no expression of gratitude. No moment of vulnerability from Katara.
That night, the look on Katara's face weighs heavily on Azula.
She tries to deal with it the only way she knows: stoicism. Even as Katara slowly comes out of her shell, begins to eat with her again, she avoids talking to her. She spends more time than necessary in the war room and with her ministers, supervising every small detail. She spends more time than ever before on her throne, hearing thousands of people with petitions for their Fire Lord (and rejects most of them summarily). She trains with her bodyguards and defeats them all, because none of them possess Katara's power, or her willingness to go all out against Azula. None of them can hold a torch to her prisoner. Weak substitutes, all of them.
By the end of the week, she thoroughly misses Katara. Longs to spend time with her. A wholly, unfamiliar longing, and an unexpected one. Lately, she's spent so much time with her, this is her first opportunity to miss her. Effectively living with Katara, and trying to make her life in the palace more worthwhile than escaping is risky, means she has grown very, very used to Katara.
Once again, she lies awake late at night, haunted by Katara's fearful expression. It reminds her of many things. Iroh's face when Zuko was burnt and banished. Zuko's face as he left Katara behind to save his own life.
Her own mother's face the last time Azula saw her.
Just as she's about to extinguish the candles by her bed, she hears Katara scream.
She bursts through the door at the same time her guards arrive. After convincing herself there is nobody else in the room, she dismisses them. In the middle of the room, on the bed, lies Katara, writhing and screaming, sobbing in her sleep.
A nightmare.
Azula… doesn't know what to do. She approaches Katara, puts a hand on her shoulder. Tries to wake her. Calls out Katara's name sternly, as if ordering her to wake up. Shakes her shoulder.
Suddenly, Katara bolts upright. Eyes half-open, mumbling incoherently. Sees Azula standing over her… and screams.
Sheets go flying as Katara hurries to climb off the bed, somewhere, anywhere, just away, away from Azula. It's pure, naked fear Azula sees in her eyes. Katara grabs the next best thing, a jug of water, and swings it like a club. Doesn't know where she is or what's happened. Instinctively, she bends the water from the jug to form a shield around her.
"Calm down."
The commanding tone has no effect on Katara, at least no good one. Azula sighs and tries again.
"It's me."
How does one do this?
She vaguely remembers her mother, trying to calm Zuko down from nightmares. But she'll be damned before she takes any lessons from her, or any other unwanted memories.
Hostage situation, her military brain helpfully suggests, and she holds her hands out, empty palms turned up.
"I mean you no harm."
That, at least, seems to work.
"You're safe. It's just me. Nobody here is threatening you."
Gradually, understanding seeps into Katara's eyes. Recognition of where she is, and who Azula is. The water splashes to the ground, the arm holding the jug hangs useless by her side. Katara shivers, cries, is covered in tears and water. Azula slowly reaches out, as if Katara were a wounded komodo-rhino, and when Katara doesn't protest, she lays a hand on her shoulder. Guides her back to the bed, pries Katara's fingers from the jug and puts it back. The cries turn into sobs, and when Azula sits down next to Katara, she loses all tension and slumps against Azula.
Great. Babysitting a crying savage.
But the spiteful thoughts don't come naturally like they usually do. Azula's inner fire has gone out and she can't find it within herself to come up with any further biting remarks.
So she does what seems to work. Lays an arm around Katara's shoulders. Rubs circles into her back, the way her servants do when they're trying to massage the tension out of her muscles. Takes Katara's hand and gives it her best attempt at a reassuring stroking.
You owe me, she thinks. And then: No, but now I owe you less.
Katara doesn't talk about the nightmare. Azula doesn't ask. Judging by the awakening, she can guess well enough. It wouldn't surprise her if she's part of Katara's nightmares. It's just what happens. Sometimes, when people require a firm hand, they don't react so well to it. Like Zuko. Like Katara, apparently.
Already drifting off, Katara wonders if this is real. If it's just another dream. Eventually, the exhaustion wins, and she falls back into a slumber, still slumped against Azula's shoulder.
Eventually, Azula falls asleep, too.
When Katara wakes up, she finds herself enveloped in a warm pair of arms. For a moment, she can believe that everything was just a dream. That she's back in her tent, that Aang or Sokka has wrapped himself around her in his sleep. But when she opens her eyes, she sees red robes. Golden walls. Black hair.
Her heart shatters a little.
Azula is fast asleep, her arms loosely draped over Katara's body. It takes Katara a moment to fully realise the situation.
The first feeling is disgust. Azula's arms around her make her skin crawl, make her nauseous. It's different from sparring, where she has no trouble wrestling with Azula, or pinning her down. But the intimacy of the situation is wrong.
The second feeling is comfort. When she closes her eyes, she can imagine that nothing is wrong. Can picture digging deeper into the embrace, pulling the covers over them, enjoying the warmth. The feeling of being held.
The third feeling is loathing.
What am I doing? What have I become?
The events of the previous night begin coming back to her. The nightmare. She doesn't remember much, only flames. Pain. Fear. Waking up to find Azula over her. Fearing for her life. She remembers gradually coming to, letting herself be sat down on the bed. Remembers Azula's touch, more gentle than she could imagine Azula being capable of.
I must have fallen asleep.
With her.
With her.
The thought that she has managed to sleep all night in Azula's arms pales against the admission that, just for a moment, she has enjoyed waking up in them. That she is genuinely tempted to close her eyes again, to forget, to just hold on to that warmth, that comfort. Perhaps it's easier if she imagines it's someone else. But the fact that the embrace feels so comforting, even knowing who it's coming from…
What have you done to me?
She tries to disentangle herself from Azula. Lifts an arm off her, snakes her legs out from under the covers. She almost makes it to the door when she hears Azula stir behind her. Call her name.
"Katara?"
She freezes.
Azula… doesn't know what to say. What to do. This is not something that's supposed to happen. Nothing with Katara was ever supposed to happen. Owing her life to her. Sharing a bed (she shudders at the implications of the phrase). What does one say in a situation like this?
She settles on a slightly helpless "how do you feel?"
"I don't know."
It's an honest answer. The long answer would be: disgusted. Happy. Terrible. Conflicted.
Azula too crawls out from under the tangled covers. She too is almost at the door when she stops. She turns to Katara, almost as if to say something, but she doesn't know what. I don't know. She doesn't know either. Part of her wants more: more Katara, more sleep, more touch. The other part can't believe what she's thinking, the way her body betrays her. Wants to forget this ever happened, demand a vow of secrecy from Katara. Order her to forget, then walk out and never think of it again. She seeks Katara's eyes, and finds only shame and loathing.
"I'm sorry", she whispers, just as shocked about her own words as Katara. "I'm sorry."
She flees the room and lets the door fall shut behind her.
A/N: Praise? Concrit? Barely contained screams of delight or suffering? Leave 'em in the comments!