This one is also...erm, dark. It got dark. And a bit more Katara/Azula as a romantic couple than maybe originally intended, but it's based off the interest a lot of you had for Katara to go with Azula at the end of TWG. So, this is an alt universe piece in 'A Delicate Subterfuge' series.
Chapter Text
Fandom: AtlA
Couple: Non Specifically
Request: ADS! Verse Azula/Kat banter
Chapter Text
"No, Katara, I'm offering you my hand. Sit at my right hand, be my advisor. You are the only worthy one of such a high position, we both know it," Azula insisted. "We all know you've never been like the rest of those girls."
Katara's throat sprung to spit at Azula, but she paused.
Once, not so long ago, she would have known this to be true. She wasn't like everyone else. She was Katara. She was not a princess, hardly 'civilized' by the means of the Fire Nation, a warrior…who would do anything for her Tribe.
Well, that was still true, wasn't it?
She closed her eyes, giving a quick apology to her father that had always taught her to be loyal to those she deemed worthy, until the bitter end.
She was doing this for her tribe.
Katara would be no use to any of them dead.
She opened her eyes, smiling up at Azula.
"I'm glad you finally see me for my worth…" Katara said evenly, forcing a pleased smile, "Fire Lady Azula."
The breath of relief, of almost incredulity that Azula let out surprised Katara. For a moment, Katara thought that this in itself was a trick. That Azula was testing her loyalty and would not want anyone who switched sides so quickly. She should have read the room better. She should have been smarter.
She should have-
Azula was offering her a hand.
On shaky, newborn foal legs, Katara stood up. Azula kept her at arm's length, examining her. Auzula tutted.
"We must fix…" Azula made a motion, "All of this before we go to greet our public. You look terrible."
"Not everyone can look like they stepped out of a salon while throwing a coup," Katara said dryly. Azula snorted out her nose, motioning for her guards to come forward.
"Find Katara a suitable room. And some clothes. Have someone draw her a bath." Azula commanded, "And we will address our land together." Azula leaned in, her breath tickling against Katara's ear, "Rules, side…by…side."
As Katara was led out of the throne room, Azula made a noise of surprise.
"Yes?"
"Don't you wish to know what's to happen to poor Zuzu?" Azula questioned. Katara blinked. While she had been dying to know, every step screaming to whip around and demand that Azula tell her.
But she'd seem far too eager. Too revealing. She'd be playing her hand in the first round.
So, she shrugged, "I suppose."
Azula looked pleased as punch, "So it was just a scam?" She asked, "You never really did love him, did you?"
Katara squared her shoulders, "I will do anything for my tribe," was all she responded.
"Well, then you might care -or maybe not- to know that he will have a public execution. The Fire Nation doesn't look too kindly on murders, especially family murderers." Azula said. Katara choked the angry question back, ' Then what does that make you ?'
Azula was examining her for any sense of anguish, any hint of despair.
For as crazed as Azula was, she was just as cunning as anyone else, if not more.
So Katara knew, that she knew, that this could just be a way for Katara to try to save herself and save Zuko too.
Katara did not give her the pleasure of confirming such things.
It became abundantly clear when the room she was escorted to was a glorified cage. She was watched at all times, by someone in her room.
Azula was no fool.
Luckily, neither was Katara.
Their announcement was set for the next morning. Katara was bathed, brushed, and attended to and dressed in bright red finery, an embroidered cape spread out behind her like the wings of a phoenix about to take flight.
And she stood by Azula's side as the Mad Fire Queen took her throne, grasped around the throats of the nation, and squeezed until there was no denying her place.
Katara was not asked to come to the execution. Perhaps Azula was giving her kindness, but she was unsure. All she knew is that on the day after while sitting in her room and plotting how to get to Zuko, she was given a message.
Three words that hardened Katara of any emotion; Zuko is dead.
When Azula saw her next, at the meeting to quell the sympathizers, she was surprised.
"I thought you'd be screaming and kicking. I thought you'd be going for my eyes." She commented.
Katara smiled placidly, "Why? It was all for my tribe, anyway."
"And your tribe," Azula promised, grasping her hand, "Will profit for the rest of eternity. I swear it. My gift to you."
As the weeks spun into moons, Katara heard the whispers.
They said that if Azula had been born a man, Katara would have been her perfect match. It would have been the most logical union to ever occur. They wondered if Azula was like Lu Ten, who was kept as a lesser advisor, whose shame and sexual preferences were always the talk of the town.
But no one questioned too much, because of then their heads found themselves detatched from their bodies at the slightest question of any of that.
Katara only allowed herself to think of Zuko at night. Never to cry for him. She could cry when her work was done. She would lay down in the gardens for a fortnight and not get up, but mourn everything she was bottling up inside when things were finished.
Instead, she thought of the great women that came before her. The ones with hearts of steel, the ones with the drive of a man that had nothing to lose. She thought of her grandmother, making the treacherous journey for a better life. She thought of the women that helped her. She thought of Hama, who would bend the life out of those she saw as a threat.
In the shadow of the moon, Katara would practice her forms until she was dripping with sweat and exhaustion, and she would think of nothing more than doing her utmost duty to herself, her tribe, and to Zuko.
Zuko was part of her tribe in her heart. He always was, and always would be.
Once, while Azula was having Katara join her for a picnic in the gardens that Zuko used to love so much, she admitted this; "I was sure it was a trick. A way to gain my trust and kill me. But even I was wrong of that, wasn't I?" Azula questioned.
"Yes, very much so," Katara pulled her legs to her chest, "The Fire Sages wish to have me married off." Azula had already married Chan as a diversion, but hardly paid attention to her dolt of a husband.
"You will not," Azula said sharply, "Unless you wish to. Do you?"
Katara shook her head. She would never marry anyone, her heart always aching for the one that left her, always looking for Zuko in whatever his next life was, "No."
"Then you will not. Men are a nuisance at best and there's no reason to muddy your purpose to me with things that will drag you down."
"You've kind, Fire Lady," Katara said.
"I am not kind," Azula replied, catching her expression, "I am the fire that will burn through the ineptitude of worthless men," She spat.
It was a year.
A year of delving into Azula's life, deeper and deeper. Making herself indespeisble. Turning on those that could help her get ahead. She knew that people saw her as unkind, as no better than Azula herself. She knew this just as well.
But they did not consider this; the will of a woman who lost the love of her life. And what she'd do to get revenge.
Men always took revenge too quickly. Women sat on it and waited, like a spider, for the exact. Right. Time.
On Azula's anniversary, she sent Chan away and instead invited Katara to partake in the very expensive wine that had been sent as an anniversary gift to the pair. A bottle in, Azula was looking at Katara in a way that she couldn't figure out.
"What?"
"It was the gods," Azula whispered, "That sent you to me. For a reason."
Katara smiled, taking Azula's hand, "Yes, for a reason," She agreed. She was sent on the mission. No one else could do it; countless others had tried and failed to kill Azula. She told herself that this was her goal, her entire purpose. It was a reason, indeed.
She'd thought long and hard about how she would go about doing it. She'd fantasized about it often, and only one wondered if this made her not dissimilar to the queen herself. No; Katara would take no additional joy from ending this life, only the release of guilt, of failure, of letting everyone down. She would not enjoy doing so, not how Azula reveled in watching life drain away from the bodies of her enemies.
Would it be by poison? By bloodbending? Fire?
She had assumed by bloodbending. Katara had thought about squeezing all her veins until they popped. But as Azula fell asleep, Katara knew she had to feel it, physically, for the act to be completed as it should.
Chan carried an ornamental knife with him that he was gifted at his wedding.
And it was left on the writing desk.
Katara expected herself to shake as she held it, to feel guilt and personal turmoil at what she was about to do. She expected hesitation.
As the metal cut through Azula's throat, there was none.
Only resolve.
Azula opened her eyes as Katara finished, dropping the knife onto the bed beside her. As blood poured out, and Katara coaxed it out like a snake charmer, she saw Azula's eyes flicker towards her, reading her face.
And, Katara may have been dreaming it, but she was almost sure that Azula managed a wicked smile as she died.
She almost heard the words whispered in her head, a final gift of blackness from Azula; Now you're just like me.
Katara stripped her gloves off. The fire was burning on the hearth.
As Katara threw the gloves into the flames and watched them eat away at the fabric, she saw a curled edge of yellowed parchment.
Frantically, almost in a frenzy, Katara dove for it. Her heart turned to stone so long ago, began to crack, and she could not help herself and ignored the stinging to her palm as she clutched the paper tightly to her chest.
Zuko's name; dated recently.
A letter from him, begging for Katara. Saying he'd trade whatever, do whatever.
Just please…let Katara leave with me.
She let a sob rip from her throat.
Was Zuko alive…somewhere?
Azula always lies.
Katara was not sure if Zuko would take her, now that her heart was as black as a starless night for what sins she'd done, but she knew there was no place for her here. She had to find him.
Chan stumbled into the room in a drunken stupor at the exact right time, exactly as she'd hoped. Ply him with expensive alcohol. Pay off some girls to get him drunk beyond his senses, before sending him stumbling toward his chambers.
Katara slipped into the shadows as he entered and he made it a few steps before collapsing on the chaise lounge, snoring gently.
Chan was not a bad person, but he was an asshole. It was not a reason to die, but Katara couldn't have anything tying her back to this.
Katara needed to die too.
It had been her intention at first. She'd known the moment that she'd traded her fate instead of fighting for Zuko, she was taking a gamble. She never intended to live past the completion of her task. In fact, her death, sealing it, would be the final piece of the puzzle.
But with Zuko alive…
Katara, having completed her duty, was weak in the aftermath.
She still slipped the knife into Chan's fists. She attempted to make it seem like Katara had been in there too; she cut her hair off, hacking it. She cut her arm and dribbled blood to make it seem like a fight. She tore her dress to shreds, singing it in the fire, like Chan had tried to do away with some of the evidence.
She left a love letter on Azula's desk.
When morning came, she hoped that it would play as this; Chan, on his anniversary, came back early to find Azula in a compromising position with Katara. In rage and fury, he killed them both.
Katara was not sure if it would do, as her own body would have cinched the illusion, but her heart gave out.
Zuko is alive…he's alive…he's alive…
It was like a North Star, leading her to the curtains swaying in the wind. Katara jumped out of the window into the cool night, blood on her fingers and a letter clutched tightly in her hands.
Somewhere…Zuko was out there.
So Katara must be as well.