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When Iroh dies, Zuko is in a meeting with a dignitary from the Earth Kingdom.
Usually, he has a tacit agreement with his servants not to interrupt him unless it’s something important, like the palace catching fire (Sokka still brings it up, and strongly declares he had nothing to do with it). This time, though, he asked them to come to him at once if his uncle’s conditions were to change, even in the slightest.
Zuko and Minister Maeto are discussing a new oil pipeline that would run through the frontier when there’s a creak from the door, and a servant approaches bowing lowly. He apologises multiple times to the Minister, who dismisses him with a cut wave of his hand, for then turning to Zuko and handing him a little square parchment, before hurrying back out of the room.
Zuko unfolds the paper, and the neat handwriting of the royal doctor stands out from the page.
General Iroh passed away peacefully in his sleep.
Zuko stares at the little black characters for a moment or two, before exhaling a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and he turns once again to the Minister.
-My apologies for the intrusion, Minister.
The old man in front of him shakes his head. -No need to apologise, Your Highness, I know you are a busy man. I just hope nothing’s the matter?
It takes Zuko a moment to answer, plastering a small, fake smile on his face. -No, nothing’s the matter.
When Zuko’s messages reaches them, Katara and Sokka are in Ba Sing Se.
They left the South Pole a few months back, accompanying Hakoda on an official diplomatic trip. At twenty-seven, Katara’s all set to become the next South Pole ambassador; Sokka never wanted the job, Suki and he, with a baby coming, much preferred to stay put in the South, and occasionally going back to Kyoshi Island. Just the thought of permanently settling down this young, it gives Katara the shivers. Not for her.
It’s an imperial hawk, with the gold crest around its tiny chest, and the bamboo message container on his back. After these many years, Katara’s still amazed at how easily these animals can find you. Her face lights up when she sees Zuko’s handwriting, but quickly falls when she reads what’s written in the message. Sokka finds her crying, message crumpled in her fist. Iroh’s dead, she sobs.
Sokka is silent for a moment, the familiar mirth gone from his eyes.
-I’ll write to Aang, you go get Toph. There’s a ship sailing West in three days.
The day they arrive in the Fire Nation capital, the sky is full of thunderous, grey clouds. It’s the beginning of summer, and the first rains are on the way, the familiar thunderstorms washing away the last remnants of winter.
Katara leaves Sokka to gather their things and deal with the last things on the ship as she hurries off to the Palace, they agreed so. Aang and Toph will arrive a few days from now, Toph needed a couple of days to settle things in Ba Sing Se before leaving, so Aang – who was near Omashu – will fly her in on Appa with him.
The road to the Palace has never felt this long, Katara’s sweating in the thick, moist air when she reaches the gates.
-Katara of the Southern Water Tribe for his Majesty, the Fire Lord. I reckon he’s expecting us.
The guard eyes her from head to toe, and Katara wonders for a split second if she has to waterbend his thick arse through the wall to convince him of her identity. She’s about to speak again when, finally, a familiar face appears behind the guards.
-Let her pass.
Mai looks the same as the last day Katara saw her on Kyoshi Island, about a year ago. Only the lines of her face are hardened, sharp as one of her knives. There’s a hard set to her mouth. Even as stoic as she is, Katara thinks she’s just as affected by Iroh’s death as all of them.
Katara quickly walks past the guards, adjusting her satchel hanging from one shoulder. She nods to Mai, and together they walk through the red and golden halls of the Palace. There’s a smell of burnt incense, and fresh mangoes, and something that after all these years Katara still can’t identify but makes the knot in her chest unfurl and soothes just a bit the pain she feels prickling under her skin. They reach the antechambers of Zuko’s personal quarters, and Mai stops in front of one of the tall, carved columns.
-I have to see to some things, and in two days I go back to Kyoshi Island. Take care of him, please.- Katara has never heard her speaking so earnestly. Mai lets out a sigh. -It’s good to see you, Katara.
Before Katara has time to answer, she’s gone behind the corner; she stops a servant passing by and asks him to notify the Fire Lord that Katara from the Southern Water Tribe is here to see him. As much as she hates all this formality, the last thing she wants in this moment is to barge into Zuko’s rooms and make a big fuss. This way, he can take all the time he needs.
She doesn’t wait long, just the time it takes for the fresh incense stick to burn to ashes in the golden censers hanging from the ceiling. She has her back to the door when she hears it creak open, and when she turns Zuko is standing there. He’s not wearing his full Fire Lord regalia, but he’s still cladded in the red and gold royal garments he usually wears on a standard day. Katara knows white is the colour of mourning in the Fire Nation, but she doesn’t see not even a wristband of that colour on him.
-Hey, stranger.
It’s been months since they last saw each other in the North Pole. There are a million things Katara would like to say to him, but the only thing she can manage is a half-strangled sob as she covers the room in just a few steps and throws her arms around his neck.
-I’m sorry, mia kara. I’m so sorry.
It’s barely a whisper against his scarred ear, but from the way Zuko’s arms tightens impossibly around her torso he must have heard her. She holds him as tight as she can, his right hand in her hair, her arms around his broad shoulders, there’s not even a breath of space between them, but she feels like it’s still not close enough.
After what feels like ages, he breaks the hug, resting his hands on her elbows.
-Had a safe journey?- His voice is low, the little smile he gives her is sad, barely hinted.
Katara raises her hands to cup his face, thumb stroking just below the scar. -It was all right.
-You didn’t have to come, I just wan-
-Don’t be a goose, of course we had to come, Zuko.
At this he turns his face into her hand, kissing her palm and taking her hands into his. His thumb strokes across her knuckles, both of their hands rugged and calloused. He clears his throat and takes a step back.
-Let’s get you something to eat, shall we?
Lunch is a silent business in Zuko’s quarters.
The three of them makes the lightest small talk, like they would on any regular day – how’s the South Pole, how’s the trading agreements working so far, et cetera, et cetera. But Katara can’t help noticing the way Zuko pushes his food around, taking a solitary bite here and there, but getting nowhere near polishing his bowls, like he used to.
She’s about to speak but Zuko must sense it because he stands up abruptly and pats his knees.
-You will excuse me, but I have meetings and… things to attend. You know by now how everything works around here, just get a servant to show you the rooms. I’ll see you at dinner, maybe.
Before either Sokka or she can answer, he’s already out of the door, the sounds of his steps resounding sharp in the empty halls outside.
___
-Need help with that?
Zuko’s head turns quickly, and Katara flashes him an amused smile. She’s been standing there for quite a bit, looking at him trying to get his formal robes on by himself, grunting and exhaling small, angry huffs. It was entertaining enough.
-Thanks, Katara, I can do it by myself, there’s no need for y- oh, for Agni’s sake!
He lets his right arm falls to his side, his left hand clutching his midriff, still covered in bandages.
-I’ll pretend you didn’t say anything, your Fieriness.- Katara crosses the room, coming up in front of Zuko and helping his arm into the sleeve, careful not to jostle him too much. -Didn’t I tell you not to exert yourself?
Zuko is pointedly looking at somewhere behind her right shoulder, and Katara would comment on what is definitely a pout showing on his face, but she’s afraid it will send him into a fit, so she bites her tongue and checks the bandages. -How is this feeling? Pain?
Zuko huffs, and his pout falls away, a resigned expression taking its place. -It feels like I’ve rubbed an open wound with sand for hours, blast this. It’s been two weeks, I should-
- You should rest, as the royal healer and I have told you multiple times already. I don’t know if you do get that you jumped in front of lightning, Zuko. That is not something many people live to tell, you know?
She says it with half a smirk, but by the softened look he gives her she knows that he knows what those moments had felt like. The hours upon hours of healing sessions at his bedside. Uncle Iroh holding him down and murmuring encouraging words as she used his own blood to heal him from the inside. If he had felt even a fraction of the pain she had when healing him, then she guesses Zuko’s had enough for a lifetime.
She lowers her hands from his torso, avoiding his eyes. They still haven’t talked about those days. Maybe they should. He hesitates for a moment, but then takes her left hand, his touch feather-like. The silence stretches on, but it’s not awkward. It’s just a moment, for them.
Katara clears her throat, smiling once again. -I guess you have to do your hair as well. We can’t have the Fire Lord looking like a soaked polar bear dog puppy, after all.
She turns him and marches him in front of the small table in the corner, the one with the mirror mounted on it. He sits down with a huff, blowing his hair out of his eyes. -Is it that bad?
Katara laughs. -It’s not bad per se, it’s just… not very royal-looking, you know?
She searches the drawers and finds a comb, black with gold flowers painted on it. She moves to stand behind Zuko, and cradles his head in her hands, pushing the hair back. She starts at the front, slowly combing to get the knots out. Soon, he has a curtain of black hair in front of his eyes, and Katara can’t help the snort escaping her.
-Oh yes, please do laugh, Katara. I am a poor, wounded- Ouch! Wounded man, and you are laughing at me. I can’t even lift my blasted arms over my head, and you laugh.
-Oh, shush you. I have to make fun of you while I can, once you’ll be surrounded by Ministers and whatnot it will all be a “Fire Lord” this and “Your Majesty” that and-
He seizes her wrist, not hard but the grip sure enough to catch her attention. They lock eyes in the mirror.
-No. I won’t be that. Not to Aang, not to Toph, not to Sokka. Not to you.
She squeezes his shoulder, her thumb rubbing circles on the red silk. She flashes him a small smile.
-So, I could braid your hair, Water Tribe style, but I don’t think it will be much appreciated by your people. Not very patriotic, I think. So, what do we do with this?
Zuko snorts. -Just a top knot, Katara. Nothing fancy.
-Ay, sir.
That earns her another snort, and Katara laughs, combing away at Zuko’s hair. If he leans into her hands as she does so, she doesn’t notice.
__
The Fire Nation’s state funerals are nothing like the southern Water Tribe’s.
At the South Pole, when somebody passes away, the whole tribe gathers, bringing gifts, food, and trinkets for the family of the dead. It’s a moment for community, and celebration, to wish the dead a safe journey to Tui and La’s kingdom. They sing, and dance, and hold each other. Even in the middle of the glacier, it’s warmth itself.
In the Fire Nation, though, it’s all deadly silent.
There are the people, gathered outside of the Palace. Everybody is wearing white, a blinding white body in the sunlight, swaying slowly with the Head Fire Sage’s prayer. His words, Katara doesn’t understand: it’s old Fire Nation language, all harsh consonants and clipped vowels. It doesn’t feel comforting, it feels like a sharp nail raking down your spine. Katara has to suppress a shiver.
They are in the Palace main court. There are the people who work at the Palace, all the Fire Sages, the Ministers and pretty much everybody who knew Iroh. Katara, Sokka, Aang and Toph are standing on the side, next to some General or whatever, Katara never bothered to learn Fire Nation uniforms. They are all dressed in white, apart from Aang, who’s wearing his usual Air Nomad’s tunic; he still wrapped a white sash around his waist, out of respect.
And then there’s Zuko. He looks regal in his white and gold robes, standing at the top of the stone staircase leading to the main door of the Palace, hands behind his back. Even if she’s standing quite a few feet away, Katara can still see the hard set of his jaw, the hardness in his eyes, fixed on the burning pyre. He looks like a Fire Lord, but he’s never felt so distant.
With a sharp, final drum roll, the prayer ends. Zuko exhales, nods towards the Head Fire Sage, and leaves in a flurry of white.
__
He retches, again.
Katara sighs and bends some water into his mouth.
-Zuko, it will be alright, I’m sure.
He rinses his mouth – it tastes like the fish soup he had for breakfast, ugh – and spits overboard.
-You don’t know that, Katara.
She sighs again and starts rubbing soothing circles on his back. They have had this exact conversation five times already, in the span of two days. The nervous vomiting must be because they are just an hour away from making port.
-Look, I am here, Sokka is here. Tui and La, my dad is here. You know, the formal Chief?
-And everybody will still hate my guts, because in case you forgot, last time I was here I destroyed your village.
They have been sailing for almost three weeks, heading to the South Pole. It would have been faster with a steel war ship, but Zuko thought it best to take a “less threatening” one. It’s been only a month since Zuko got crowned Fire Lord, and he has already arranged to meet pretty much every dignitary in the world. He’d decided to start with the Southern Water Tribe. “For obvious reasons”, he had said. Katara can’t really disagree with him, as much as she wants to: he did destroy her village, and he did threaten pretty much everybody living there. But he wants to make amends, and he’s changed! Why can’t he see this?
-I’m not saying it will be easy, I know that. Just… have a little faith, will you?
Zuko sighs, rubbing his eyes. When he turns to look at her, she gives him her most encouraging smile.
The soldier in the crow’s nest shouts. -Land ahead!
Zuko takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. Katara stretches out her hand.
-Together?
A smile.
-Together.
__
Two weeks after the funeral, everybody leaves. Aang has to go back to the Eastern Air Temple to his acolytes, Sokka needs to be back with Suki on Kyoshi – her due date is getting closer and closer, and they still have to finish setting up their house in the village – and Toph has some metalbending school-related business to attend. Katara makes up some flimsy excuse, it sounds weak even to her own ears.
“I was planning a trip to the Fire Nation anyway, there were some treaties I needed to discuss with Zuko, and… other things, you know how it is.”
She doesn’t want to leave. Truth is, she’s worried sick about Zuko, and she doesn’t understand why the others don’t share her worry. They have seen him maybe for a couple of hours in two weeks, and he looked like the shadow of the man he is. Every time she sees him passing by in a hall, his cheeks look gaunt, the skin stretched and pale, and she doesn’t believe nobody noticed the purple circles under his eyes.
When Gran Gran passed away, he was there for her. He had made up some dumb motive with his Ministers – he had told her so – and sailed straight to the South Pole. Why should she leave now, when it’s so clear he needs someone?
__
-Can’t sleep?
Katara doesn’t even turn her head. -Not really.
She hasn’t been able to, not for the past week. The funerals in the South Pole are a celebration, but that doesn’t mean grief is any less painful. Not to her, at least.
Zuko makes a non-committal sound and sits down in the snow beside her. They are at the outskirts of the village, looking at the Polar Sea. It looks so calm, so still. Katara, she is raging on the inside, she just wants to scream and throw things and find a way to pull the stone she feels in the pit of her stomach out of her.
-What do you call that, again?
She turns her head. He’s looking up at the sky, at the flashing of green and yellow light.
- Nordaj lumoj. Gran Gran- she stops, swallows. -Gran Gran used to say it’s the spirits of our dead. Tui and La open the gate, and they come back in this world, for the night.
-They never really leave.
-No, they don’t.
A moment passes.
-Well, then I guess we can talk to them.- Zuko clears his voice, -Kanna, I know you’re listening, so please do something about your granddaughter. – He pretends not to see Katara’s jaw dropping open. -She keeps bossing around everybody, even me, a literal Fire L- Oof!
Katara pushes him. -Wow, rude!
-See? She’s just the biggest- he blocks Katara’s hand flying at him, -most annoying,- he pushes down the grin on his face as she tries to wrestle him, - peasant in the whole South Pole, I’m sorry but she needs to be stopped!
-Oh, it’s on now!
Katara lounges at him, and they wrestle in the snow, laughing. She bends the snow – “Hey, that’s cheating!” – and stuffs Zuko’s mouth with it, drowning his protests. He tackles her to the ground, spitting the snow.
-Do you surrender, Master Katara?
She gives a high laugh. -Oh, never!
Zuko tries, but wrestling a waterbender at the South Pole, close to a full moon, it’s like trying to befriend a Komodo rhino when it’s hungry.
He ends up splayed on his back, hands and feet encased in ice, Katara straddling him with a pointy icicle to his throat, a grin on her face.
-Say it, Fire Lord.
-On my honour, I won’t s-
His mouth gets stuffed with snow. Again.
-Apologies, your Majesty, I didn’t hear that, what was that now?
Zuko stares at her for a moment, before shaking his head in silent laughter, the snow in his mouth melting.
-Alright, alright, you win.
-That’s better,- she says, sliding off him and melting the ice around his feet and hands.
He takes her hand and pulls himself up, patting the snow off his furs.
-Do you think she’s really up there?
Katara’s voice is watery, eyes turned upwards to the sky lights. A tear rolls down her cheek.
Zuko hesitates, but it lasts a moment. He brings his hand to her face, thumb brushing the tear away before cupping her cheek. She turns her head into his hand, a small sob catching in her throat as she wraps her arms around his neck. Zuko holds her as close as he can, murmuring in her ear. He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he whispers:
-Let’s go back, alright?- Katara nods against his neck, but doesn’t let go. -Up.
He lifts her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. He kisses her temple and carries her back to her hut.
__
Katara didn’t mean to intrude.
She was looking for him, that much was true, because it was high time somebody talked to him. He was looking more terrible with each passing day, and he kept this stoic attitude which was driving Katara crazy. So she had gone looking for him, asking servants, until Misa, the elderly lady she knew had been serving the royal family for the past two generations, had pointed her to the garden at the back of the palace.
-But, my Lady, the Fire Lord-
Katara hadn’t let her finish, and had walked off. She would apologise later, right now her only thought was kicking some sense into Zuko’s head.
It had taken her quite a bit to actually find the garden, it could only be reached through a number of corridors and doors. It was pretty small, filled with peach trees, and against the fern-covered back wall there was what Katara was pretty sure was a miniature temple. Sloping roof, curled at the edges, red pillars beneath it. As she got closer, she noticed what looked like stone slates, chiselled, incomprehensible characters on them, and pictures hanging above them, the whiff of burning incense reaching her nose. And then, she noticed him. Kowtowing on the floor in front of the stone slates, head lowered on the floor. He was praying.
A cold uneasiness gripped her stomach. This wasn’t right, she was snooping. This was private. But, clearly, Tui and La were not smiling down on her, because as she turned to leave as silently as she had come, she put her foot on a twig, which snapped in the loudest way it could.
Zuko’s head snaps up and he turns around, a frown on his face.
A string of apologies falls from Katara’s lips before she can even think about it.
-I’m sorry, Zuko, I didn’t mean to intrude-
-Katara, it’s alright-
-Really, I’m so sorry, I will-
-Katara!
She stops, mortified.
-It’s alright, you can… you can stay, if you want.- Zuko stops, swallows, eyes fixed on her. -Stay. Please.
Katara opens her mouth to apologise again, but she takes in the expression on Zuko’s face. Tired. She nods.
-Alright.
She climbs up the few steps, toeing her slippers off as she goes – they are all muddy, the last thing she wants is bring dirt in. Zuko scoots, and she kneels beside him. She looks at the black stone slabs in front of her. There are three, all the same size but she can see the writing on each one is different. The one on her left has the picture of a young man on it: he looks a bit like Zuko, but the eyes are different, and his jaw is squarer. The one in the middle is of a woman, and Katara feels a stone settling in the pit of her stomach as she recognizes her: she’s the same woman she saw in a picture in the house on Ember Island. Zuko’s mother. She can see him in her: the softness in the mouth, the cheeks. The one on Zuko’s right looks the newest, and Katara knows why: it’s Iroh in the picture, smiling.
There’s an incense burner hanging from the ceiling above their head, thin wisps of smoke swirling in the air.
The silence grows heavy, only the soft blowing of the wind among the trees breaking it. Katara desperately wants to say something, anything, but her tongue feels heavy, and nothing seems appropriate. What can you say to someone who has lost so much?
It’s Zuko who speaks first.
-I don’t remember what their voices sounded like.
He says it lightly, like he’s commenting on the weather. Something snaps inside of Katara, a tear making its way down her cheek. She reaches out and takes Zuko’s left hand, squeezing. An idea flashes in her mind. It might be the wrong thing to do, and Zuko might take offence, but it is honestly the only thing Katara can think of doing in that moment. She wipes her nose on the back of her hand and jumps up, not answering to the startled “What-?” Zuko lets out. She can feel his eyes on her back as she walks to the nearest peach tree; she stands on her tiptoes, and takes a handful of small, pink flowers. They are in full bloom, soft and plush.
She carries them back to the temple and, sniffling, she arranges some of them at the foot of each stone slab. She knows she has never been the best singer in the South Pole, and her voice is a bit nasal from the tears, but in that moment she doesn’t really care. So she sings.
Amata mia,
Reen en la steloj,
Libera kiel la vento,
Ridetu al ni.
Amata mia,
Unu kun la luno,
Unu kun la suno,
Gardu nin.
Amata mia,
Restu kun ni,
Ĝis la fino de la tempo,
Ĝis ni denove renkontos.
When she’s done, she feels Zuko’s eyes on her face, and she slowly turns towards him. She doesn’t expect the small smile on his lips, the raw expression in his eyes. He slowly raises a hand, cups her face; when she doesn’t pull away, he leans his forehead against hers, closing his eyes.
-Thank you.
It’s barely a whisper, but Katara hears it. She moves her head, resting it on his shoulder, her arms coming up at the same time his do, holding onto him. She doesn’t let go for a long time.
__
-Do I have to burn his ass? I will do it, you know.
Katara laughs.
-No, you don’t have to, but I appreciate the sentiment.
She hears Zuko chuckling beside her. They are on a balcony in one of the Fire Palace wings, they took so many turns Katara’s a bit lost. It’s summer, rain pouring down just over the curled roof’s edge. The iced peaches are sweet and sticky in their juice, Katara licks the sugar off the point of her fingers.
-He might be the Avatar, grant you that, but breaking up with you in that way was very sh-
-I broke up with him.
Zuko perks up at that. From laying against the wall, he turns to face her, a genuinely confused look on his face.
-What?
Katara sighs. It would have come out eventually. Aang had already written a teary letter to Sokka about it.
-I… I broke up with him. I made the decision. Aang was not exactly thrilled about it.
-Can imagine, but… can I ask why? I mean, shit, everybody, including me, would have bet money on you two being two lovebirds for the rest of your lives, having a little army of airbenders for the cause of repopulation and whatnot. It’s just… weird.
-Well, you said it.
If possible, Zuko is looking even more confused. Katara still doesn’t turn to face him, even in the pale moonlight she is scared of what he might see on her face. She’s feeling too raw.
-I don’t understand, ‘tara.
-You said it, you said that… everybody expected us to act a certain way, and Aang kind of did too. He barely noticed me when I was there at the Air Temple while he was teaching his acolytes, he always counted me in when he needed to travel somewhere, and I just… - it’s a word vomit by now, Katara knows it, but she can’t stop – I just felt so tired of it! I shouldn’t be taken for granted, I deserve better than that! He never stopped and asked me what was that I wanted, it was always all about him and his needs. What about me?
She turns then, and she hates that her eyes are watery but can’t help it.
Zuko is looking at her.
-What do you want, Katara?
She huffs, chuckles sourly. -I don’t know, I… I want to do something. I want to put myself into projects I know will make a difference for the people in our countries, I want to see a time of peace. I want not to feel so stuck to the South Pole and my tribe because as much as I love them I’ve seen so much now I can’t go back to an ice cave like it was nothing. And… I don’t know, I guess I want a family someday, a family of my own, but it’s too soon and everyone is pressing me so much about it, I just need space to think about it.
A moment passes, two, three. A night bird sings, somewhere in the trees.
Zuko jumps to his feet, almost kicking the peach bowl. -That’s it, then.
He turns and quickly marches back into the corridor. It takes a moment for Katara to pull herself together and scramble to her feet as well.
-What?
-I am writing to your dad, ‘tara. Somebody has to.
-You what?
They are marching down the palace corridor, everyone must be asleep by now, but Katara doesn’t really care about the noise she’s making.
-I said, I’m writing to Hakoda.
-You will not!
Zuko stops walking, Katara almost crashing into his back. He turns and looks at her face.
-Watch me do it.
He turns and runs.
It’s a proper race what they have, Zuko sprinting through the corridors towards his quarters, Katara laughing at his heels.
They crash through the doors, sending an incense burner to the floor with a clatter. Zuko rushes to his writing table, grabbing his brush and sending ink all over the parchment.
Katara’s on his back, wrestling him to get the brush out of his hand.
-Esteemed Chief Hakoda, greetings! I-
-Zuko, stop!
Katara can see the characters on the page are all wonky and full of ink splatters, but Zuko seems to be ignoring all of it.
-…I am writing you this letter to talk about your daughter, Katara- Will you stop pulling my hair?!
Zuko laughs as he puts his free hand in her face, not really pushing her away, as he keeps writing his letter.
-She is one of the bravest, strongest – Katara stops, pulls back and crawls around to look at his focused face as he writes. -and skilled benders in our world. It only seems natural that she should be considered – and he turns, brush not moving anymore – to be your second in command as Ambassador for the Southern Water Tribe. She won’t tell you this, because sometimes she doesn’t really believe in herself, but I believe with all my heart she is what we need at this moment to finally, finally, see the light at the end of this tunnel.
Katara sniffs, looks down at her hands in her lap.
-Do you really think so?
Zuko rolls his eyes with an exasperated growl in the back of his throat before crawling forward and cupping her face with his hands.
-‘Tara, you are the reason Aang managed to do what he did in the war. You are the reason I’m here right now, alive. You are the one pushing for the reunification of the Water Tribes, you are the one working her ass off for people you don’t even know, every single day. There is no one more deserving of that role than you are. No one. – Zuko stops, licks his lips. -And if I can make you see all you’re worth by sending a stupid letter to your dad, for Agni’s sake watch me as I do!
__
Things change, between them.
It’s subtle, sometimes. Like when Zuko puts a hand on the small of her back to guide her through a crowd at the umpteenth party, like when he searches for her eyes in the middle of said crowd.
Sometimes it’s not so subtle, the balance shifting, like when they spontaneously take up meeting in the chrysanthemum garden in the west wing, after dinner, every night without fails. They just walk around, chatting, but there’s this closeness that wasn’t there before, this string pulling tighter. It takes form in Zuko brushing her hand with his, in Katara pressing her leg against his when they sit on one of the stone benches, looking at the stars.
And she ignored it, for months now, but the warm knot right under her sternum that makes itself known every time they are together is too much to bear now.
So, she tells him she is leaving the following day.
-Back to the South Pole?
He’s not looking at her, eyes fixed upwards, at the night sky.
-For a bit, then there’s the North Pole, Omashu, the Western Air Temple… there’re a lot of things to do.
He nods, sighs slowly.
When it’s clear he’s not going to say anything, she clears her throat, stands up and smooths the front of her tunic.
-I should go, it’s getting late.
As if snapping out of it, Zuko finally looks at her, stands up as well. There’s barely any space between them.
She looks at his face and she has to admit is not as surprised to see what he must see in hers: love.
He slowly raises a hand to her face, cupping her jaw, thumb smoothing the skin over her cheekbone.
-Katara, I-
-I know- She knows, she had hoped at least, that he might have been feeling even a fraction of what she feels for him. -I know.
He places a kiss, featherlight, on her forehead. -But this is not the right time, is it?
She knows this as well. It’s been only two months since Iroh passed, he’s hurting, and she still need to settle the last formalities before Hakoda passes her the title of Ambassador. It’s messy, she wishes it wasn’t, but it is.
-No, it’s not. But- He looks down at her. -it won’t last forever. So come back to me when the time is right. I’ll be waiting.
She goes on her tippy toes, places a kiss on the corner of his mouth.
It lasts a second, but it’s enough.
It’s enough.
3 months later
It’s officially winter in the South Pole.
Katara’s breath is a white cloud in the freezing air, she rubs her gloved hands together to warm them up.
She bends the ice around the rope keeping the canoe ashore before throwing in her sack and following suit. it calms her, hunting the old way. The same old rituals, the harpoon, the canoe.
She stays out the whole morning, it’s a good hunt. She comes back with her basket full of silvery fish and a small seal.
But when she comes back, there’s a frenzy in the air. Electric, like lightening.
She catches a few words here and there.
The Fire Lord’s here.
He came early.
And they are right, because Zuko wasn’t supposed to get here before the following week.
She quickly moves through the igloos and the tents of the village, basket full of fish on her back and dead seal trailing behind her on the snow, stringed to a rope.
When she arrives at the fire pit in the middle of the village, Zuko’s there.
He’s here, he’s here, he’s here.
He’s not donning his usual Fire Lord regalia; he’s wearing the furs Hakoda had gifted him a couple of years prior, smiling and talking with Sokka and Suki, little Kanna in Sokka’s arms.
She puts down the basket, lets go of the seal. Zuko raises her head and looks at her.
She must look awful, messy furs soiled with blood and fishy smell in her hair. She doesn’t really care, not when Zuko looks at her the way he’s doing right now. Not when he covers the distance between them in a few short steps and sweeps her into his arms.
He came back, and that’s all that matters.