Content warnings: food


The next day, to Katara's surprise, Azula suggests eating out in town.

"You can't be serious. I thought we were trying not to attract attention!"

"And we won't", Azula calmly counters. "This is the biggest resort in the Fire Islands. Another pair of faces won't attract attention."

"You're the Fire Lord", Katara incredulously states, as if it's obvious. "People will recognise you."

In response, Azula disappears into the bedroom and emerges a few minutes later in her simplest kimono, without her hairpiece and her hair let down. Someone who only knows her from propaganda prints or in her official robes and make-up probably wouldn't know they're talking to the Fire Lord, Katara has to admit.

"We'll give you a topknot and some of my jewelry", Azula announces, "and you'll pass for a colonial. No problem."

A brief makeover later, Katara follows Azula into town. The topknot feels weird, the golden jewelry too fussy for her, but after catching sight of her reflection, she secretly agrees with Azula: she looks nothing like herself. Even though she feels like all eyes should be on them, though she expects someone to shout Azula's name in reverence at any moment, nobody pays them any mind.

Azula leads her into a restaurant that looks more expensive than anything Katara has ever seen with a naturalness as if it's a simple fire flake joint. A server rushes up to them, sneering at their simple clothes, but after Azula drops a couple of gold coins into his hand, he bows deeply and leads them to a table. Azula picks up a menu and Katara mirrors her, but the sheer amount of options overwhelms her. She's sure to have eaten some of the dishes before, most of them, probably, after three years in the palace, but she realises that she knows none of the names.

"Azula", she whispers under her breath. "I don't know what to order."

Azula gives her her best what, really? eyebrow raise. "Do you want me to explain them to you?", she hisses back. "That might take a while, not to mention draw attention."

"Just take a guess", Katara admits defeat. "You order."

The eyebrow raises even further, if possible, but Azula complies.

"We'll have some hippo-ox tail skewers, sizzle-crisps, and bean cakes for starters. I'll have the elephant koi filet, my friend will have the smoked sea slug, and we'll take a mixed mochi platter and some hotcakes for dessert."

The server notes it down, bows towards Azula, and hurries away.

"He probably thinks I'm some rich girl who's showing off to her friend from the colonies", Azula quietly explains. "Some of our nobility enjoy keeping colonials around as a sort of friend, although maybe an exotic pet would be more apt. It excites them."

"That's… gross."

Azula shrugs. "We're dressed in simple clothes, so it looks like I'm trying to get away from mommy and daddy's mansion for a while and feel like a commoner, but in a wealthy environment. It's not so uncommon."

The people of the Fire Nation – no, the rich of the Fire Nation never fail to disgust Katara. She lets her eyes wander, and among the people clothed in the finest silks around them, among the officers proudly wearing their uniform on vacation, she feels more out of place than in the palace. It's a strange realisation.

When the appetisers arrive, Katara decides that letting Azula order was a great idea. The hippo-ox tail tastes great and the bean cakes are spicy bliss. The sizzle-crisps are not unlike puffin-seal bacon, but they're covered in the usual spices that Katara has come to appreciate so much about Fire Nation cuisine.

Shortly after, the main course is brought out, and although it's not as good as Gran-Gran's sea prunes, the smoked sea slug is pretty good.

"Want to try the elephant koi?", Azula asks. When Katara nods, she picks up a piece with her chopsticks and offers it up.

"Not bad", Katara admits after she's swallowed. "Definitely not how we'd make it at home, but not bad."

"You'll have to prepare something colonial-style for me some time", Azula remarks, careful to uphold their implicit cover story to anyone within earshot.

They end up sharing their main courses back and forth, to the point where they place their plates between them and eat from both. The elephant koi filet is perfectly done, falling apart in Katara's mouth, while the fiery spice crust heats her up enough to start tearing up just a little.

"Your desserts", the server announces.

Azula isn't usually one for desserts. There's little time in her life for it, has been for years. After Zuko's banishment, her increased training left no room for indulgences, and she had a ffit physique to maintain. Then, once she got old enough to carry out missions for her father, she would often eat on the road or in whatever army barracks she was staying for the night. The grande dinners with nobility had always been her father's domain.

But now… she's on leave, more or less. Nothing to kill but time. No duties but waiting.

"Hmm, these are great", Katara moans when she takes the first bite of her hotcake. Azula herself is more partial to the different mochis – strawberry-cherry, ash banana, all sorts of flabours –, but even so, the hotcakes are good.

"They are, aren't they?"

"If we ever have the chance", Katara lowers her voice to a whisper, "I'll have to make Gran-Gran's shark-whale ice cream for you."

"Shark-whale ice cream?", Azula whispers back. "What in Agni's name is that?"

When they've eaten up, she knows more about the process of Southern-style ice cream making than she ever wanted to know. It sounds awful to her ears, but Katara seems to love it, so it cannot be entirely terrible, she reckons. After she's paid more than generously for their meal, she leads Katara towards the exit.

"Hey there, ladies!"

The man – boy, really – who puts himself in their way has the typical cocky smile and overly confident attitude of the common rich, Azula thinks. Probably the son of some admiral or a wealthy family without noble heritage. The lords and their offspring know to be a little less obvious about their… skirt chasing.

"Are you and your friend looking for a good time? Maybe I can help you out."

Despite the disguise, Azula's posture and demeanor still clearly mark her as the leader, But before she can think of a snappy comeback, Katara takes the guy's arm and, faster than the eye can follow, twists it behind his back, brings him to the ground, and plants her knee in his back.

"Listen here, you filthy—"

"That's enough", Azula cuts her off before she can draw the wrong kind of attention. She smiles her deadliest smile at the boy's friends.

"You'll have to excuse her. She's from the colonies and her manners are somewhat lacking. But", she bends down to loudly whisper into the boy's ear, loud enough to be heard over his cries of pain, "I think she might break your arm if I don't keep her in check."

They leave without further incident. If they weren't in town, if her restraint permitted it, Azula doesn't know if she could withstand the temptation to kiss Katara right there and then. It's not just the commitment to her safety, although that's part of it – for some reason, seeing Katara get violent, assert herself and showcase even a fraction of her abilities, it does something to Azula, makes her desire Katara even more than she already does.

They go out again a few times over the next week, now that they know they can without being recognised. As they do, Katara realises to her dismay that she's gotten accustomed to the palace lifestyle. Food being brought, beds being made, laundry being done – each time she has to cook herself, do the dishes, wash their clothes; things Azula has never had to do nor learn to do, Katara feels an uncomfortable pang of wishing they were back at the palace, where there's people who do those sorts of things. The thought of what her past self would think of her fills her with shame. The golden cage that Azula has locked her in has worked its magic, ensnared her with its comforts.

The more time they spend on Ember Island, the more restless Azula grows, and she too wishes she were back at the palace. The lack of news, the lack of being involved, drives her crazy, even though she tries to hide it from Katara (unsuccessfully). When a hawk arrives after a week, she devours the contents of its message, a collection of trivial status updates by Captain Meiyo and the head of the chamber of ministers. As the days pass by, she finds herself trying to prepare for the negotiations, still unconfirmed as they are; pores over the papers she's brought, tries to plan strategies, counter-arguments to any demand she might be faced with.

Ceding territory will be impossible. The losses would be unacceptable and cost me the court's support if the wrong families have to give up their overseas estates. But if I want to limit it to a pure ceasefire, it'll be an uphill battle. I'll need to prove my sincerity to the enemy without giving back land or pay reparations. It will be a fine line between peace and surrender.

Exasperated, she buries her head in her hands.

"Stop moving so much."

"What?" Azula turns her head.

"Stop moving so much", Katara repeats. "I'm drawing you."

Azula is vaguely aware that Katara has been sitting across from her for the past hours, but she'd been too focused on her work to pay attention to her. But there Katara is, paper in her lap, quill in hand.

"You've been drawing me?"

"That's what I said, isn't it? Just sit like you've been doing and hold still, I'm almost done."

Azula tries to, even though the impatience is eating away at her. After what feels like hours, Katara announces that she's done, and Azula jumps up as fast as dignity permits and sits down next to Katara. She hasn't drawn her just once, she realises – there are half a dozen sketches and drawings of her. In the year she's been doing this, Katara's skills have increased greatly, and some of the pictures are almost as good as the court painters', Azula finds. The realisation that the drawings put her in a line with Katara's old friends is humbling.

"What do you think?"

"They're great", Azula answers. "You've really improved."

Katara beams at her in the way that only she can. "Would you like to have one?"

It's not the relationship Azula usually has to gifts. It's not a symbolic gift, an appeasement, a gesture of servitutde. It's not something she wants that the previous owner feels compelled to offer her lest she take it. This is Katara, looking at her expectantly with no hidden motive or agenda, only sincerity in her eyes, offering her something because she would like Azula to have it. A lesser person than herself, Azula thinks, would probably tear up now, and even she is touched by the gesture.

"With pleasure."

She takes several minutes to decide. Eventually, she settles on one of the more detailed drawings that shows her over a stack of papers (Katara has taken some artistic licence with the amount and pose), brows furrowed and lost in thought.

"Thank you", Azula says, unsure how to react to the gesture. "This is…", her words fail her, unequipped for the intimacy of the moment, "this is very kind of you."

A single tear stings in the corner of her eye, just barely not slipping out. Thankfully, Katara pretends not to see it, pretends not to notice it rolling down Azula's cheek after all when they kiss. It's a restraint Azula is grateful for.

"If you'd like me to, I can make dinner", she offers on a whim, hoping to lessen the awkwardness of her unexpected sentimentality by offering some sort of repayment for the kind gesture. Katara laughs.

"No offence, but I'd prefer something edible. But you can help me if you'd like."

Chopping vegetables next to Katara proves more satisfying than Azula is willing to admit, even to herself.