Waking up next to Azula takes on a completely different meaning.

When Katara wakes up, Azula is still asleep, her head on Katara's chest, and for once, it doesn't feel awkward. Not like it usually does, when they'd go to bed apart from each other and wake up tangled.

I guess that happened.

She lets her mind wander.

Am I doing the right thing? Probably not. There's a million reasons why what she's doing is a terrible idea. Where it will lead, she has no idea. What if Azula wins the war and it will be Katara's fault? Or for that matter, what if Azula loses and Katara will be condemned with her, or will have to choose between Azula and her other friends? (And since when is Azula her friend, when did they cross that line?) And what if Azula tires of her? Casts her aside?

Am I assimilating? She thinks back on the past three years and decides, no, she can confidently say she isn't. She hasn't got any more sympathy for the Fire Nation at large than before, and as much as her feelings for Azula have changed, her resentment of Azula's actions has not. Sure, she's gotten used to Fire Nation amenities, to its cuisine, to life in the palace, as much as that's possible within the confines of her imprisonment. But when she thinks about the Fire Nation's crimes, about its soldiers and generals, she still finds nothing but hatred in her heart. Ironically, Azula's occasional fits of anger about her officers might even have helped keep Katara's hatred burning.

Am I doing it to survive? Troubling as it is, she can't rule it out. She did give me her word, she reminds herself, and I believed it. Still do. She promised I could refuse.

We're not so different, her and I.

It makes sense, Katara muses. Forced into an adult's role too soon? Azula has been a politician and a warrior since she was, what, ten? Twelve? And Katara herself, the last waterbender of her people, travelling with Aang, fighting in a war…

'The Fire Nation took my mother from me.'

'That's something we have in common.'

Zuko's words come back to her. His mother must have been Azula's mother, too. Absent mothers, dead or missing.

Trust me, I understand. But it doesn't excuse everything you've done.

So what now? Where do I go from here?

I don't know.

I haven't tried to break out in… a year? Two? Even before this relationship, oh how unfamiliar that word feels, I've been complacement. Is that what I want? Can I be a prisoner for the rest of my life? Have I given up? I don't know that, either. But it feels like I've made peace with it for now. I'm not sure how to feel about that.

And what of Azula?

After the previous evening, she's sure now that what she feels is actually romantic. It can't be good for her, that much is clear, and yet… imagining the alternative hurts more than she expects it to. Now that the dam has been broken and she's admitted her feelings to herself, has acted on them with Azula, the thought of taking it back is unbearable.

It's been almost three years. Longer than I've known any of the others, except Sokka. I probably know Azula better than Aang or Toph at this point.

It's an uncomfortable thought, but at the same time, it's comforting, warm, reassuring. She knows Azula. She knows what she feels, more than ever after last night. And Azula – Katara's heart wants to burst out of its cavity at the thought –, Azula returns the feeling. All her guilt, all her doubt, all her apprehension, every part of her screaming that she's setting herself up for hurt, can't be louder or stronger than that. Looking back, it's all so obvious. Her inability to hurt Azula. The ever-increasing liberties Azula has allowed her. Spending so much time together that Katara can read Azula's moods without looking at her.

For the last three years, my life has been Azula and not much else.

If she were used to thinking along those lines, Katara would say that it was inevitable. That spending so much time with nobody but Azula was bound to have an effect on her. That prolonged isolation does unimaginable things to the human mind. But nothing of the sort occurs to her.

Where will this lead? If she wins, what will that make me? Consort? Prize? Can I live this life forever?

I don't want to think about it.

That's what it all boils down to, really. She knows the problems. Knows, deep down, what she is. What she's doing. Knows why she's been beating herself up for months every time she's noticed the least bit of sympathy or affection for Azula. But the truth is, she doesn't want to know. Wants to forget why she's here, forget why she's scarred, wants to lose herself in Azula's arms and let the world be okay.

You've broken me. The least you can do is—

This entire time, she's subconsciously been stroking Azula's hair, and she only notices when Azula slowly begins to stir.

Waking up with her head on Katara's chest, Katara's hands caressing her, is… she doesn't know what it is. Unexpected. Disorienting, at first. Comforting, once she fully wakes up and the memories from last night come back. She remembers her breakdown, screaming, crying, and grimaces at the undignified display.

So. My tiles are on the table. The truth is out.

If she could take it all back, she would. For a second, she fights the urge to just jump out of bed, pretend it never happened.

'Will you still be here tomorrow?'

It's her own words that sway her. She's made herself vulnerable, poured her heart out for Katara, in a way she can't walk back. The damage has been done, the shame has been suffered. She's made her bed.

"Are you okay?"

She snaps out of it to find Katara's concerned face over her. Blue eyes, oceans of concern, and just like last night, she's ready to lose herself in them.

"I don't know."

For the briefest fraction of a second, her eyes flicker to Katara's lips and back. She leans in, then stops. Doesn't dare to make the first step, to risk being wrong, being mistaken.

What if she's changed her mind? We were both not thinking clearly last night. What if she doesn't want—

Katara leans in, their lips meet again, and Azula stops thinking.

"Hey", Azula whispers, and Katara smiles.

"Hey yourself."

She hasn't seen Katara smile a lot, come to think of it. Of course, she reasons, that's just an unfortunate reality; for the longest time, she didn't have a reason to give her prisoner anything to smile about. It's only since she's grown so used to Katara, since she's weakened around her, that she's started to care about it. But either way, Katara's smile… it does things to her, things she can't quite put a name on.

Is this the price?, she wonders while she leans in again. I've lost myself. I'm not strong anymore. Last night… I've gone against every ideal I've embodied, every standard I've held myself to. Is that the price for having this? Having her? Could I have achieved the same result without disgracing myself like that, even just in my own eyes? She's seen me cry and scream like a toddler, she's seen my fear and uncertainty. She knows my vulnerabilities. What in Agni's name compelled me to let all this happen?

Katara kisses her before Azula can ask herself whether it's worth it and the question stops mattering afterwards. Azula's hair gets between them, Katara brushes it out of the way, and Azula could just melt at the touch. Inside, her thoughts are screaming, decrying the impropriety, the betrayal of her nation's tradition, the fraternising, the sheer weakness of opening herself up to an enemy like that, and she kisses Katara like she's drowning to tune out the noise. Katara, plagued by similar thoughts, kisses back just as passionately. At some point, her tongue brushes over Azula's lips on accident, Azula instinctively opens up, and—

Wow.

When they're done, both of them are out of breath, dishevelled, and if the way Katara looks at her is any indication, Azula assumes she has the same ridiculous expression on her face as Katara does.

If letting you have the moon is what it takes for you to look at me like I put it there, she remembers thinking so long ago, I can live with that. She was wrong, she realises: this is what it takes for Katara to look at her like that. The apprehension, the mixed feelings, are still there, and may never go away, but there is more awe, more adoration in there, than Azula ever thought possible.

"I think this is the softest I've ever seen you look", Katara says into the silence, and she means it. She can almost believe Azula is a different person, one who doesn't kill and torture. "You don't have your usual scowl."

That 'scowl', Azula thinks to herself, is a carefully studied neutral expression, one that demonstrates distance, indifference, and superiority without betraying any feeling she wants to keep to herself. But that is only her second thought. Her first, much less elaborate, is… if she knew herself, her emotions better, Azula would call it joy.

Katara, it turns out, likes it when Azula looks like she's just Azula, without a care in the world. It helps her forget who Azula really is, and her own troubles. Their shared troubles.

"As pleasant as this little distraction is, I'm afraid I have a meeting with the war minister at ten, and I can't possibly show up looking", she gestures at her messy hair and rings under her eyes, "like this."

Azula bends down for a quick last kiss before climbing out of bed and disappearing into her dressing room.

When she emerges, half an hour later, there's no trace of last night's breakdown, or the morning spent in bed. Her hair is impeccable, her lips are precisely painted, and neither the rings under her eyes nor any traces their kissing might have left remain visible. She's wearing her formal robes, and an unexpected thought crosses Katara's mind:

She looks beautiful.

Powerful. Strong. In control.

It's an unfamiliar juxtaposition to see Azula in her official robes, as Fire Lord, without the ever-present arrogant, cold expression. In her face, Katara sees the Azula she's held through tears the night before, the Azula in whose arms she's fallen asleep. In her clothes and ceremonial armour, she sees the Azula who's burnt her, who's imprisoned her. She doesn't quite know how to feel about it. For a fraction of a second, a 'you look great' tugs at her tongue, but she decides against it. Azula knows that, and she's not sure if she's prepared for, well, smalltalk and compliments.

Azula reads as much in her face and secretly concurs. The last thing she wants to be is a stereotypical lovebird. She's better than that, and frankly, so is Katara.

(The thought that loving chitchat doesn't quite seem appropriate for the nature of their situation, not when Azula has sobbed in Katara's arms and Katara has the scars to attest to their tensions, occurs to both of them, and neither is prepared to acknowledge it.)

"One thing", Azula begins. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you that this…", relationship? Is that what I want to call it?, "that this will need to remain a secret."

Katara shrugs. "I know. Even if I wanted to shout out that the Fire Lord is doing sacrilegious things, I don't exactly have anyone to gossip with, remember?"

"Then we agree." Azula turns to the door, then stops. Struggles for words, rejects inappropriate declarations of affection, expressions of sentimentality that are beneath her. Eventually, she settles on a rather unspectacular "I'll see you later."

"You will."

It's a small promise, Katara thinks. If that's what Azula needs.