The new normal is… unsettling.
When Katara wakes up on the Fall Equinox, it takes her a second to remember. She's slept in a bed. There is a fresh meal on the table across the cage – not a great one, but certainly a step up from before.
She gets used to it after a while. The bed, the food, the clothes.
What she doesn't get used to is Azula.
The first time it happens, Katara tries to hide how startled she is.
Azula enters, wrapped in a thick coat. Soaked, shuddering.
"Terrible weather. Agni knows it's rained enough for a year."
She shrugs off the coat.
"I suppose that's normal weather for you. Not much warmth where your people come from."
That's Azula. Engaging her in conversation. Not an insult, not a provocation. Biting in tone, arrogant, condescending, constantly irritated, utterly pointless.
Small talk (if you can call it that).
Katara ignores it. Averts her eyes and remains silent.
It keeps happening.
Azula, returning from a meeting with the corps of engineers, talking about a new merchant ship design and asking for Katara's take on it (it's too large to effectively manoeuvre at full load, but Katara doesn't tell her that). Azula, complaining about some lord or general as if Katara is her confidante, asking Katara's opinion, and just continuing as if Katara had answered when she's not. Azula, commenting on a Fire Nation holiday. Azula, mentioning a flood or earthquake somewhere.
Katara never responds.
For Azula, the strategy is simple: one, acclimate Katara to her, like one does with a pet. Two, should Katara respond, see if she lets any useful knowledge or weaknesses slip out.
Three, she's fucking sick of the liars and the sycophants at court. Katara's open hostility has a certain appeal.
It's honest.
Azula likes people who are honest. They're so easy to manipulate. Easy to read. No pointless pretense that they know isn't honest. Like everyone in the palace.
Her generals, her servants, don't obey her and bow to her because they respect her, or value her leadership. They do it because she is the Fire Lord. They do it because they will die if they don't. They pretend to worship her because they believe it will gain an advantage. They hate her behind her back and they would jump at any opportunity to be rid of her. The only thing stopping them is the inability to select one of their own as a replacement, and the lingering fear of her fire.
Azula is sick of it. At least Katara doesn't hide how much she wants Azula dead.
It's refreshing.
Unbeknownst to her, the strategy is working. Katara hasn't had anybody to talk to for a year. No bad jokes from Sokka, no world-weary, prematurely-wise platitudes from Aang, no sass from Toph. There's a limit to how long a person can go without conversation, and Katara has nearly reached it. She turns her back to Azula, she keeps her mouth shut, but the more Azula talks to her, the harder Katara has to bite her lip to stay silent.
She's cracking.
She knows she's cracking.
It tears her apart.
As much as she tries to hide it, Katara finds herself looking forward to those little quips. Palace gossip. Irrelevant news. Azula is careful to never reveal anything too confidential, but even so, Katara slowly begins to soak up her words. Eat, wait, eat, sleep has become eat, wait, listen to Azula, eat, sleep, and Katara hates herself for how much she comes to look forward to Azula's little conversations (if you can call it that). Azula notices, of course. Reading people is what she does, and Katara's pai sho face is much worse than that of her generals and lords.
Azula, in turn, is much better at disguising that she, too, begins to look forward to it. Returning from an audience with some petitioner or other, returning from a disappointing meeting with the war council. Coming home after disciplining a commander or a disloyal servant. Leaving it all at the door, hurling meaningless talk at her prisoner. Reading the girl's reaction from the face Katara certainly believes is expressionless. It's certainly better than hearing more excuses for why the siege of Omashu still hasn't succeeded, or why the Eighth Fleet has lost more than half of its ships.
The war.
The war that was supposed to be won by now.
It makes Azula's blood boil.
The disappearance of Ozai has emboldened people. The loss of almost the entire airship fleet has weakened her position. The recapture of Ba Sing Se – treacherous, dishonourable uncle – and Omashu has thrown her back to square one. She should be ruling over the entire Earth Kingdom by now, or what was supposed to be left of it, and instead, a bunch of lazy lords tell her all about why their troops can't even hold a handful of pathetic colonies.
It makes Azula sick.
Katara can tell.
Not the cause. But the more Azula talks to her, however one-sided it may be, the more Katara gets used to her. Learns to tell apart, at least broadly, Azula's good days from her bad ones. More bad ones than good ones, lately. She's getting accustomed to this life. To Azula.
It makes Katara sick.
She spends days longingly staring at the windows from her cage. She sees the sun pass by and dreams. Imagines Appa flying by, or breaking the window, climbing out, and running. Knocking Azula out – when did she stop imagining the gory details of ending Azula's life? – and running until she finds her friends. Until she's home. Until she reaches the ocean. She tries to piece together a plan of the palace from her memories, from what she's seen the few times she's escaped or been let out. Analyses her previous attempts for flaws.
She doesn't make an attempt, though.
Azula's plan is working.
A warm meal and a bed are strong arguments against rain, cold, and certain death.
The transformation is so slight, it takes Katara a month and some to realise what's happening to her. How her thoughts of escape have faded into the background. How her hot burning hate, her dreams about brutalising Azula, paying her back in kind, have faded. How she looks forward to Azula's nonsensical small talk, her venting vitriol about members of the court, and how it's become the highlight of her day, on par with hot meals and her bed. She realises too late what Azula's motive for providing all these amenities is.
When Azula comes home one day, she can read the realisation on Katara's face.
That day is a good day.
The next day is not.
Earthbenders have destroyed the siege machinery outside Omashu. Northern waterbenders have sunk a resupply ship bound for the colonies off the Western Air Temple. Two previously lost airships have resurfaced commandeered by Earth Kingdom soldiers.
It is not a good day.
Azula has been sick for a few days. A cough. A stuffed nose. The physician has prescribed tea and bed rest, but Azula hates tea, and she will not sit idly by when her nation requires firm leadership more than ever. The court physician is a fool. Or maybe a traitor, trying to keep her away from the throne. She can never be sure. Nobody is above suspicion.
When she returns to her chambers a few days later, after a particularly fruitless strategy meeting, her cough has become constant. Give up the Yed Zhao colony? If Father had heard Zhen's suggestion, he would have killed him on the spot. Lazy, incompetent windbags, all of them. If there were any competent officers to take their places, she would banish the entire war council.
When she angrily hurls a plate at the wall, she coughs so hard she sees stars for a moment.
When she follows it up with a lightning bolt, she doubles over, falls to the floor, and doesn't get up again.
Throughout this tantrum, Katara has remained quiet and passive. Flinched at the lightning, but not said a word. Soaked up Azula's furious expletives and curses, listening carefully for any bit of useful information. She wasn't even sure if Azula remembered she was there.
But now?
Perhaps it's the threat that she will die if Azula does. Perhaps it's the knowledge that whoever succeeds Azula will not share her fondness for Katara.
Perhaps it's an attachment to her captor.
The full moon hasn't risen yet, but it's close. Already, Katara can feel the power of Tui fill her body.
It must be otherworldly intervention that the chi-blocker is late that evening.
Emboldened by the moon, Katara draws water. From her bowl. From the jug on Azula's dinner table. From the air, in the cage, in the room, in the adjacent rooms. A window shatters and Katara draws in the fog from outside. The first rays of the moon rise over the horizon. Outside, a pond across the lawn empties and follows Katara's call.
Half a ton of water rip the door of her cage clean off its hinges.
By the time the guards break down the door, Katara is kneeling over Azula. Feels the fluid in her lungs. The blood clumping together in her veins. The ruptured blood vessel spilling its contents where they don't belong.
That night, the full moon saves Azula's life.
At the sight of the savage prisoner kneeling over the lifeless Fire Lord, fists light up and palms catch fire. If Azula dies, Katara dies, slowly and painfully, that is the order. Sparks fly, flames reach for Katara. But for the first time in months, Katara speaks, voice hoarse from months of being unused.
"I saved her life."
Only slightly burned, she is dragged off, back into the prisons deep beneath the palace. For once, she lets herself. For once, she needs Azula to live. What the rest of the court thinks of her, what Azula's potential successors will do to her… she can imagine. The court physician is called while guards congregate around Azula's still body.
She spends the night in the cell.
No food. No water.
The next day.
A cup of water.
The night.
The next day.
A few slices of bread. A cup of water.
For seven nights and seven days, Katara fears for her life. For Azula's life, really, and her own life with it. Nobody speaks to her. The guards who bring her barely enough water look at her with a mixture of fear and hate. She can't see the sun or the moon, can't tell the time or the day, except by the guards' visits. Can't stop thinking of Azula's lifeless body, of the way she felt Azula's blood pulse through her veins, felt Azula's heart beat under her fingers. Felt Azula suffocating on her own spit and vomit, choking on her own coughs.
It felt powerful.
Disgusting.
Forbidden.
On the seventh day, the door is opened. Bound and shackled, Katara is led up sheer endless flights of stairs, back through the palace. Back into the Fire Lord's apartments.
A door is opened.
Inside, a bed.
In the bed, a person.
Azula.
With a wave of her hand, Azula dismisses the guards. The door closes. For the first time in who knows how long, they are alone in the same room, with neither guards nor cage to separate them.
Katara isn't sure what to do with it.
Azula isn't sure what to do with it.
Katara is relieved to see Azula alive, and anxious about her future.
Azula is apprehensive to be alone with Katara, and unsure about her intentions.
Neither speaks for a while.
Eventually, Azula seeks eye contact. Katara avoids it. No matter. She's the Fire Lord. Her power is absolute. She has nothing to be afraid of.
"You saved my life."
Katara nods. Nothing more. Just a nod.
"Why?"
Katara remains silent. It drives Azula nuts.
"This", Azula gestures at nothing in particular, "this doesn't usually happen, you know. There are people for that. The palace guard. The court physician. Not you. The people who protect my life owe me that service. I don't have to thank them."
She sighs.
"I… owe you. My life."
It's perhaps the hardest sentence she's ever had to say. Considering what she knows about Katara, she decides that honesty is probably a winning strategy here.
"I'm not used to owing people. I'm the Fire Lord. If there's gratitude to be owed, it's owed to me. This… this just doesn't happen. It doesn't."
Katara still hasn't said anything. It would be easier if she did, Azula thinks. If Katara confessed she only did it to curry favour, Azula wouldn't owe her a debt of gratitude. It would make everything Katara's fault. No longer Azula's problem.
"I suppose I should thank you. The doctor tells me he has no idea what you've done, but I probably wouldn't be here if you hadn't."
Still no reaction from Katara. Azula hates it. Hates being put on the spot like this. So long as Katara doesn't say anything, it's Azula who has to do the talking. That's also not supposed to happen. If there's awkward silence to fill, there are people for that. Not her.
"Are you gonna say anything, or are you just gonna stand there and look at the floor?"
It comes out a bit more annoyed than she intended it to, but at that, Katara finally makes eye contact. Lifts her head, stares Azula down.
"You owe me your life."
Azula overplays her anger, her frustration, with an eye roll.
"I believe I said that."
Katara shakes her head. Not what I meant.
"You. Owe. Me."
Azula doesn't like where this is going.
"If you had any honour", Katara simply says, "you would let me go."
Out of the question. Katara knows too much. About Azula, about the court, the war, the palace. She cannot be allowed to leave.
"Absolutely not", she shoots it down, albeit without going into the why. "But I suppose you're right, you do deserve a reward."
Whatever it is, Katara doesn't want it.
"That cage isn't really necessary now that you've proven your loyalty, is it?", Azula drawls. "I will have one of the spare rooms furnished for you. From now on, you will eat at my table and be served by my staff. Anything you need, they will provide. Within reasonable limits, of co—"
"I'm not your friend."
Interrupting Azula. That's not supposed to happen, either.
"What did you say?"
Azula's words are cold and cutting. Just because she owes Katara her life, that doesn't mean Katara should forget her place. Azula is still the Fire Lord and Katara the prisoner.
"I'm not your friend", Katara repeats. "I'm not Mai, or Ty Lee, or whoever else you surround yourself with. You can stop pretending. If you think I'm gonna be your… your playmate, your new friend you can order around, think again."
Two names Azula would prefer to never hear again. Everyone always lies. Everyone always leaves. Mai and Ty Lee are not her friends, clearly never were, and she's not gonna make the same mistake with Katara. The accusation is ludicrous.
"Keep your filthy mouth shut", she snaps, a lot more hurt than she means to show. "Just be glad you're alive. Shut up and show some gratitude."
Discussion over. She signals for the guards to enter and escort Katara out of the room.
When evening falls, Katara realises just how surreal her life is now. Azula's servants ask her what she wishes for dinner. They eat in silence, at opposite ends of the large dinner table in Azula's chambers, opposite her now-empty cage. She is led to a bed more luxurious than she has ever seen, in a room adjacent to Azula's, and when she sinks into its pillows, she sleeps without pain for the first time in well over a year.
It may be a golden cage, but it's golden.
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