Chapter Text
“Aang, come on!” Katara exclaimed. “The Summit's in three days, and it's a full day's flight for poor Appa. We need to leave today.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” he called, running out into the courtyard of the newly-completed school for prospective waterbenders and healers training under the skilled tutelage of Master Pakku and Princess Katara.
Her eyes flickered up to the inscription on the archway. Princess. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her father was Chief of one of the South’s many sub-Tribes. He’d been elected as the South’s Head Chief only a few months ago, when her and Sokka had informed him that one of the many changes being made to their new, peaceful world was an annual Summit, which required leaders from each of the Nations. Hakoda had been the obvious choice—who better than a war-hero with two war-hero children, closely associated with the Avatar and responsible for defeating Fire Lord Ozai?—and the Southern Tribe hadn’t had a Head Chief in centuries, so, here they were.
The title was, of course, entirely empty. No one treated her like a princess inside the Tribe or out of it, and she was fine with that.
Sokka and Suki were already in the Fire Nation—the obvious choice for the location of the first Summit, or so Zuko had argued. When the idea of a Summit had first been proposed, both Aang and Zuko had fought hard for the right to host the first one. The Fire Nation had finally won over the Southern Air Temple by virtue of the fact that the Southern Air Temple was not currently fit for mass habitation. Next year was to be the Southern Air Temple, Aang’s childhood home, and Katara had tried to mollify Aang by pointing out that the extra year of restoration time would mean the Southern Temple would be in all its glory, instead of a hurried and partly-finished rebuild. Sokka and Suki had been in Kyoshi most of the previous year and had been helping rebuild the island’s village. It seemed Sokka was an unexpected wealth of ideas for various building designs, machines, defences and so on. According to a letter from Hawky, they’d left for the Summit two days earlier.
Ever since getting that letter, saying were leaving for the Fire Nation, Katara had been eager to go, too. Her time in the past year had been split between the Southern Air Temple and the Water Tribe, though not evenly, and she was looking forward to seeing all her friends and basking in the Fire Nation’s balmy heat, even if she did think it got a little too hot, sometimes.
Of course, she enjoyed being back home, helping rebuild it into a proud, strong tribe that really did look like the North’s sister. One of her favourite parts was teaching waterbending and healing to the children—as it turned out, there were a fair few waterbenders in the Southern Tribe, but their bending had only emerged in the last two years or so; they’d been too young to know it before. It was heartening to see that the South’s heritage hadn’t been completely erased.
She supposed she had her mother to thank for that—which was why she’d named it (with the blessing of her father and step-grandfather) the Kya Waterbending School. The biggest reward, however, was seeing Master Pakku teaching the young benders—how he had been only too pleased to teach the girls, too. That made Katara smile, though she reckoned her Gran-Gran had as much to do with it as she did. Kana had turned down Pakku’s proposal once before because of those sexist laws, and they all knew she’d do it again if she wanted.
Being in the Southern Air Temple was… somewhat less rewarding. There were already a number of people (nonbenders, primarily) who wanted to learn about the ways of the Air Nomads and even take up the lifestyle themselves. And a troupe of earthbenders helping to restore the actual building. With their help, Aang was helping rebuild the Air Nation’s culture, both literally and figuratively. Katara was pleased to see that his way of life hadn’t died out—much the same as she’d been to know that hers hadn’t, either—but her time at the Temple was undercut with a distinct impression that there wasn’t all that much she could do.
She cooked meals, washed clothes, washed dishes—a lot of washing. She did chores. She played mother.
She played mother to her boyfriend.
It was uncomfortable to think about, sometimes. When they’d been on the run a year ago, she’d somewhat mothered all of them; Aang, Sokka, Toph, even Suki a little. In fact, the only person she could think she hadn’t mothered was Zuko. And it wasn’t because he was older than her, either—Sokka was her big brother, after all, and she’d played mother to him long before they’d met Aang, anyway. No, she’d come to the conclusion that she hadn’t mothered Zuko simply because he’d joined their group rather late, and for most of that time she’d harboured a thinly-veiled hatred for him. A hatred she knew, in retrospect, had been at least partly deflected from Yon Rha, Azula, and the various other Fire Nation citizens who had made attempts on her life and her friends’.
So, she’d been a bit motherly, but in a war, surely that was to be expected? She was as protective of Sokka as he was of her, and Toph was like the sister she’d never had, and Aang had been so sweet and lost, he’d needed that support. It was less justifiable, however, in peacetime. Aang didn’t need a mother—he could take care of himself, he was the Avatar. He didn’t need anyone, really.
And yet, there she was, mothering him.
Making things more complicated—or perhaps unsatisfactory was the word—were the chores. Sure, last year, she’d done chores, too. But the others had helped—Sokka hunted (but the Air Nomads were vegetarian), Toph kept guard (but they weren’t hiding anymore), Aang practiced his bending (but he didn’t need to practice anymore). She’d done the cooking because she’d been the only one who knew how, and everyone else had had other responsibilities. Plus, there’d been plenty of other things going on. She’d taught Aang waterbending, they’d had to fight off enemies and evade capture. It hadn’t just been chores.
It hadn’t just been chores since before she and Sokka had found Aang in that iceberg. But now, so long as she was at the Southern Air Temple, it was. And now that she’d directly experienced what life could be like—the adventures to be had, the changes to be made—the notion of spending half her life looking after the Air Acolytes and watching her boyfriend be important, whilst she sat in the background doing housework, was becoming increasingly dull.
She told herself it was only some of the time; she could teach at the Kya school in the South. But Aang was insisting more and more that the Southern Tribe didn’t need her like he did; he was the only airbender, but there were plenty of waterbenders—they could ask for some help from the North if they needed. He didn’t quite understand, she thought, that the North wasn’t just some carbon-copy of the South. They had their own culture, similar but nonetheless separate—for example, the outlawing of arranged marriage. Granted, the only form of waterbending she knew was Northern, because she hadn’t had a Southern teacher, but still. Aang wouldn’t like it if she called all four Air Temples the same.
She told herself he didn’t mean to belittle her when he said that she wasn’t needed in the Southern Water Tribe, and that he needed her more than the Tribe did.
She told herself that her boredom in the Air Temple was the same for Aang when they were at the South Pole, even though he was a waterbender and an earthbender; he could help in reconstructing the Tribe, too, or teaching, or simply entertaining people. Even though he was the Avatar, and had any number of important duties to conduct whilst she was teaching the kids how to heal and bend.
She told herself she believed all this.
Aang scrambled into the courtyard of the Kya Waterbending School, a bag slung over his shoulder, his glider-staff in hand. Airbenders could warm themselves from the inside almost like firebenders could, so he was still dressing like an Air Nomad monk, complete with one arm and shoulder completely bared to the cold. He’d grown a lot in the past year. At fourteen, he was getting much taller—taller than Katara, now. He was starting to fill out a little, too—not enough to not look incredibly gangly, but there was a broadness coming into his shoulders (even though she reckoned he’d always be slender) and a smattering of muscle tone along his arms. His boyish grin, however, hadn’t changed a bit, and she couldn’t fight the smile that crawled up her face at his delighted expression, even though she was annoyed.
“You ready to go?” he asked.
“I’ve been ready to go for an hour,” she told him, trying not to sound exasperated. “What were you even doing that took you so long?”
“Ah, the kids wanted a ride,” he admitted, wiggling his glider at her. “I’m gonna be gone for six months, I can’t leave without giving them all a turn.”
She smiled wearily. “I suppose that’s fair,” she replied. “They really do like you—what do you mean six months?”
He blinked at her. “Well, aren’t we going back to the Air Temple after the Summit?” he asked. “We still have a lot of work to do in rebuilding it.”
Katara blinked. “So does here,” she replied blankly.
Aang shrugged. “Sure, I guess,” he admitted. “But not as much—you have the school, Sokka’s watchtower, and all the huts. What’s left?”
“We still have to finish the meeting hall,” Katara told him. “And Dad wants all the huts to be rebuilt. They really weren’t that sturdy.”
“Hakoda’s the Chief, Katara, I’m sure he’ll manage without us. The Air Temple needs us more.”
That made Katara frown a little—there were still earthbenders working on it when they weren’t there, still Air Acolytes learning from the scrolls Zuko had dug from the Fire Nation archives. “What about the school?” she asked. “I teach there.”
Another shrug, and a boyish grin. “Don’t worry, there’s not so many kids that Pakku can’t cope. Besides, you can teach them when we come back.”
For whatever reason, that rubbed her the wrong way, but she let it slide, and exhaled deeply, calming herself. “Okay,” she said. “I suppose you’re right.” She climbed onto Appa. “Come on, I want to get to the Fire Nation by tomorrow morning. You think you can make that journey?”
Appa gave a low bellow. She beamed and hugged his soft fur. Aang grinned,
“Thanks, buddy,” he said. “Now, yip-yip!”
For several hours, they journeyed in silence—which Aang quickly found both disconcerting and a little uncomfortable. He was sat in Appa’s saddle for the moment, Katara on Appa’s head. Her back was turned to him, her shoulders hunched.
“You alright?” he asked her,
Katara didn’t turn around. “I’m fine,” she replied. “Why?”
He shrugged, though she couldn’t see it. “Nothing, I guess,” he said. “Just, you’ve been acting kind of funny since Hawky gave us Sokka’s message.”
“I’m fine,” she repeated, still not turning. “Just… excited to be going back to the Fire Nation, is all. A lot happened there last year.” She allowed a tender smile to spread across her face, and though Aang couldn’t see this, he saw her shoulders relax a little. “A lot of good.”
“A lot of bad, too,” he murmured with a slight frown, looking down at his hands. He missed Katara’s shoulders tensing slightly. “I know Zuko’s in charge there, but I’m a little worried about holding the first Peace Summit there. A lot of people aren’t happy that the Fire Nation isn’t in charge anymore—that Zuko’s in charge of them.”
“Well, what better message to send to them than this?” Katara challenged lightly. “The Air Temple isn’t restored enough for a Summit yet, anyway. This’ll be good.”
“It might’ve been if we’d spent the whole year there,” Aang pointed out. Katara turned to him,
“Excuse me?” she asked, not fully able to keep the irritation from her voice. Aang swallowed, noticing his mistake,
“I just mean…” he said carefully. “If we hadn’t spent so much time in the South Pole, building the Kya School and all the other new buildings, maybe the Air Temple would’ve been able to hold the first Summit.”
“So, you’re saying my home wasn’t worth rebuilding as much as yours was?” Katara demanded coldly,
“No, no!” Aang exclaimed. “Of course not! But the Southern Tribe is coming along so much further, there’s so many more people working on it, they don’t need our help, too.”
“And the earthbenders rebuilding the Temple do?” she challenged. “I’m the Water Tribe’s Princess, Aang!” she exclaimed, hating that word as she said it. “It’s not all that much but it means I’m their leader. I teach at the school, I helped Dad and Sokka rebuild. It’s my home, don’t you understand why I’d want to help restore it?”
“Of course I do!” Aang cried. “I only meant that the Air Temple deserves to be rebuilt, too, because there’s so little of the Air Nation left! We should be focussing all our efforts on the Temple. But for you, there’s still the Northern Tribe, and the Southern Tribe wasn’t gone—”
“Aang, when you came along the Southern Tribe was barely there!” Katara snapped. “It was a handful of children and old people, scattered into tiny sub-Tribes that barely survived. You saw the North Pole, you saw how large it was, how it wasn’t just a dismal little village in a frozen desert. Are you really calling me selfish because I wanted to restore my home?”
“Not at all!” he cried. “But you have more than I do, right now, is it so bad that I want to prioritise the Air Nomads when they have so little? You have the Northern Tribe to help you—”
“Stop saying I have the Northern Tribe!” Katara half-shouted at him. She was standing, now, facing him, fists clenched. “The North Pole is not the same, it’s not a copy of the South. The entire Southern way of waterbending was taken by the Fire Nation, and when I rebuild the South Pole I’m trying to give something back. I know how much the Air Temple means to you, Aang. How much the Air Acolytes mean to you. That’s what the South Pole means to me.”
“Then surely you understand what it’s like to have had the Air Nomads destroyed,” Aang protested, growing a little irritated himself, now. “They were almost wiped out, and if I don’t restore that culture they’ll be lost forever!”
“I know that, Aang!” Katara insisted. “And I want to help, I do, but I want to help the South Pole, too! It’s my culture, and it’s my style of waterbending that they should be learning, not Pakku’s! All he knows is the North! Those kids should learn their culture—and they need me to do it!”
“Katara, where is all this coming from?” Aang asked. “You were fine when we were at the Air Temple last time—”
“No, I wasn’t, Aang,” she said shortly. “And the fact that you think that really shows how little you were paying attention. I can’t stand it at the Air Temple!” she cried, and only as she felt the words spill from her mouth did she know they were true. “I’m everyone’s mother, I’m everyone’s maid. All I do is wash and cook and clean and sew—exactly what I did in the South Pole before me and Sokka found you. I don’t want that life, Aang. I’m a master waterbender, a master healer. I like teaching the kids, I like going on adventures and making change.”
“That’s what we’re going to do, Katara,” Aang insisted. “As soon as we fix the Southern Temple, we can do the others, and then we can go and restore balance.”
“You can restore balance, you mean,” she said. “You’re the Avatar. I’m the Avatar’s girlfriend. And it’s taken us a year to do maybe half a Temple? I don’t want to give up eight years of my life being a housewife. It’s a life for some people, but not for me.”
“We could do it in four if we were at the Temples all year round,” Aang said hopefully. This was the wrong thing to say, and she glared at him,
“You really think that would make a difference?” she asked. “There are whole teams of earthbenders working on the Temple. You’re only one bender, and most of the time you’re teaching the Air Acolytes, anyway.”
“I’m one bender but I’m the Avatar,” he replied, as if it were obvious,
“So you’d have me give up teaching at the South Pole?” she asked dangerously.
“I’m just trying to meet you halfway, here, Katara,” Aang pleaded.
“No, you’re not!” she exclaimed. “You want me to spend all my time at the Air Temple so I can watch you teach Acolytes whilst I wash all your clothes and cook all your food! You want me to follow you around the world and cheer you on instead of going places that need me.”
“I need you, Katara,” Aang said softly.
“Do you?” she asked bitterly. “You’re the Avatar. The South Pole? Waterbending students? My dad? They need me.”
“Not as much as I do,” he insisted. “There are other waterbenders, and your dad has a whole team of advisors—”
“Would you stop that?!” she snapped, glaring at him.
“Stop what?” Aang demanded, now getting angry himself. “Stop telling you how I feel?”
“Stop treating all my accomplishments like they mean nothing!” she cried. “Stop trying to make me seem like I don’t matter! Stop trying to make my decisions for me!”
“Since when do I make your decisions?”
“Since always!” she exclaimed. “When I wanted to stay in the South Pole and help rebuild, you said I was needed at the Air Temple, so I came with you, and to do what? Mother you! When I told you I was confused and didn’t know what we would be after the war, you kissed me without my permission, you refused to let me choose! When I wanted to go after the man who killed my mother, you told me to just let it go, and forgive him. You didn’t want me to go, you tried to take that choice from me! And you’re still doing it! You’re still treating me like some kind of… of prize!” she spat the word like it was acid in her mouth.
Aang glowered at her. “No, I’m not,” he said. “I love you and I want you to be by my side.”
“There it is again!” she cried furiously. “You want me to be by your side. Not: You want to be by my side. Who talks like that?”
“You know what I meant, Katara,” he protested crossly. “I—”
“Yes, I do,” she cut across him darkly. “You want me to be your trophy, your follower. You want me to ignore all my own choices and commitments and focus only on you, because you’re the Avatar, and you’re the leader and what you say goes.”
“Well, yeah!” he exclaimed. “I am the leader!”
Katara threw up her hands, screaming in wordless frustration. Just then, Appa bellowed. She rounded on him, projecting her anger and snapping, “What?”
“Don’t talk to him like that,” Aang said sharply, his voice cold. “He’s just telling us we’re arriving.”
Katara deflated. “Oh…” she said softly. She hadn’t expected them to arrive that quickly. It was nightfall, the last rays of the sun brushing against a purple-black sky, tinging it orange at the bottom. But there, glowing with thousands of tiny lights, the Fire Nation capital.
Without talking, they landed. When they dismounted Appa, he groaned loudly, and a minute or so later, a group of people were running outside.
Sokka was the first to reach her, and for a moment she forgot her anger and just beamed, running up to meet him and accepting his tight hug. He’d grown, too, in this past year, and started to fill out. He looked more like their father now; more like a man. It was a little weird, seeing her goofy brother starting to grow up. The immature chauvinist with a club and a guarded heart seemed like another person, now.
“Sokka!” she laughed, and he gave her a final squeeze before letting her go, taking a look at her. “How are you?”
“I’m alright,” he replied with a laugh that squeaked on the end, and he clapped a hand over his mouth, appalled. Katara giggled—she’d been wondering when his voice would break. It sounded the same, she reckoned, still Sokka, but it was undeniably deeper.
A flash of green then caught her eye. “Suki!” she exclaimed, pulling the other girl into an equally fierce hug. “How’s everything at Kyoshi?”
“Rebuilt,” the warrior girl replied. Katara still wasn’t used to seeing her out of make-up and uniform, and she’d grown her red hair a little longer. She looked beautiful, though, and happy.
Happy. Something inside her stung, painfully. She pushed it down and turned to another—considerably shorter—smudge of green.
“Hey, Sugar Queen.” Toph Beifong stomped over, a roughish grin on her face. She was no less square and stubborn, but she’d grown taller. Katara pulled her into a similarly big hug, which was met with a smaller amount of protest than usual. She’d taken to wearing her hair in two smaller odango buns, but still went barefoot. For now, she wore her normal clothing; a boyish tunic and cuffless breeches, but for the Summit, they both knew she’d have to dress up in all that fancy Earthrealm regalia she hated. Katara was looking forward to dressing up, despite—or maybe because—Toph hated it that much.
“Toph,” she grinned, as Toph returned the hug. “How are you? Is your school going okay?”
“You mean the Beifong Metalbending Academy?” Toph asked proudly. “It is okay, if by okay you mean slow,” she continued with a sigh. “Metalbending is just a kind of earthbending, y’know? Like healing to waterbenders. Anyone can do it with the right training and determination. I know my students don’t lack training, look who their teacher is! But they can barely make a knife twitch!”
“Not all earthbenders are as skilled as you are,” Katara replied. Toph huffed at the flattery, but her blush made it clear she was pleased, and as she stomped off to greet Aang with a hey, Twinkletoes! Katara turned back to her brother and Suki.
“Where’s Zuko?” she asked, and Sokka gave a shrug.
“Dunno,” he replied. “Probably in his office—the Fire Lord is a busy man,” he added in his trying-to-sound-wise voice. Katara frowned. She’d been hoping to say hello to everyone at the same time. But then, he would have duties. He was running an entire Nation—one on the brink of civil war, no less—and hosting the first ever Four Nations Peace Summit.
A gaggle of red-clad servants then bustled outside, looking haggard and irritated at the sudden night-time arrival—Fire Nation citizens did tend to rise with the sun, after all, and that meant they set with it, too—and ushered them all back into the Palace. It was with a polite but nonetheless firm tone that Sokka, Suki and Toph were directed back to their rooms by one of the servants.
“We’ll see you in the morning,” Suki said, kissing Katara on the cheek and then returning to Sokka’s side. He looped an arm across her shoulders and she hugged him around the waist. They went off in one direction, and Toph, huffing, followed.
“See you in the morning, sweetness. Twinkletoes,” she called over her shoulder. The servants then practically pounced on the two newcomers, lauding them with affected admiration that was clearly at least partly forced. Katara swallowed a cringe.
“We have prepared a room for you, Avatar,” gushed one of the servants. “This way, if you please…”
“Wait, I’m not in a room with Katara?” Aang asked, turning to look at her. Clearly he wanted to talk more about what’d been bugging them on Appa. The servants all blinked, seemingly in unison. Katara found it vaguely unnerving.
“Well… no,” replied the servant who had spoken blankly. “Would you like us to change that arrangement, it would be no trouble, Avatar, really—”
“No,” Katara interrupted calmly. “No, we won’t put you out like that. Thank you for bothering to prepare us both rooms.” She looked Aang dead in the eye as if daring him to challenge. He met her gaze coolly.
“I’m tired,” he announced. “Could you show me my room?”
The servants all nodded, and two broke away, bowing and scraping. “Of course, Avatar,” they preened. “Right this way, please…” Katara watched them glide down the hallway, a strange feeling in her chest, and made to follow until another servant caught her attention.
“Not that way, Miss Katara,” he said. “You room is this way. If you would be so kind as to follow—”
“Princess Katara,” came a voice, “Or ‘Waterbending Master’, if you want. But please, Chen, show the proper respect to our esteemed guests.”
Katara turned, and she almost didn’t recognise the boy—the man—who walked down the hallway towards her. His hair was loose, and had grown only slightly longer in the year since they’d last seen each other. But he was taller, broader in the shoulders, and there was a confidence to his proud features that she’d previously seen only hints of. He held himself with a surety she’d never seen before, and his robes—clearly meant for sleeping, but they were so unrumpled he couldn’t have slept in them yet—were rich and decadent. His sleeveless tunic was tied loosely at the waist, and breeches ended in fitted cuffs just below the knee. His arms, shoulders and feet were entirely bare, but there was no mistaking, even if he’d been a complete stranger, who he was. No other eighteen-year-old could hold themselves with such authority.
“F-Fire Lord Zuko!” exclaimed the servant—Chen—bowing low. “I-I was not aware you were still awake! Forgive me, my Lord, we did not alert you when the Avatar arrived. I beg your forgiveness, I—”
“That’s enough, Chen,” Zuko said calmly, raising a hand to silence him. Chen nodded and straightened. “You’re forgiven. But be sure to use the correct titles in the future,” he added with a warning tone. “I know which room was prepared for Master Katara. You’re dismissed.”
“Of course, Fire Lord Zuko,” Chen nodded. “You are most gracious, most kind, my Lord…” he continued muttering praise and bowing as he backed away from the pair of them. Once he was an appropriate distance, he turned to face the way he was going and walked off quickly. Zuko watched him go with a mild expression, one eyebrow raised.
“Sorry about that,” he murmured to Katara, when Chen was gone. “A lot of the servants are a bit funny about others’ titles—they can’t handle that the Fire Nation isn’t ruling the world anymore.” With a small, amused smile—it seemed so natural, did he smile more now? She hoped he did—he turned away from where Chen was headed and looked directly at her.
Only now did she see his eyes properly. They hadn’t changed, she thought. They were the same angular shape, the same orange-gold like flames themselves, smouldering with a fierce determination. “Let me know if anyone gives you any trouble,” he said. “You need to be strict, sometimes, or—”
“Zuko.” She spoke flatly, cutting him off. He stopped talking, and blinked at her. Then her face split into a grin, and she reached up, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. “It’s good to see you.”
He recovered from his surprise quickly, and hugged her back tightly. He chuckled against her shoulder. “It’s good to see you, too, Katara.”
When they pulled away, she kept her hands on his upper arms, and admired him. “Authority becomes you,” she said dryly. He raised an eyebrow, smirking,
“Really?” he asked. “I thought it exhausted me.” Indeed, the shadows under his eyes were still there, and just the fact he’d been awake to this late hour spoke volumes. He did, after all, rise with the sun, as he had reminded her one cold northern morning, surrounded by glittering ice and enmity.
“That, too,” she agreed. “Is that why you weren’t outside when me and Aang arrived—oh!” she said sharply. “Aang! Do you want to say hi to him? He’s just down the hall, I’m sure—”
Zuko waved a hand. “I’ll say hello to him tomorrow morning,” he said. “I’m tired.”
“Planning a Summit is difficult, huh?” she asked, her voice devoid of teasing. He groaned.
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he exclaimed. “And on top of everything else. I have to reform the entire Nation’s industry now that no one needs weapons, find jobs for all these soldiers, revamp our entire education program—and that’s not even considering my political opponents. You know Ty Lee is a Kyoshi warrior now?”
“Yes…?” Katara said hesitantly,
“Well, she’s my head of security,” he said. “And not a week goes by that she doesn’t tell me they intercepted a would-be assassin who wanted to kill me and put Azula on the throne.”
Katara’s eyes went wide. “Oh…” she murmured. “Are you… are you alright?”
“Well, I’m alive,” he replied, then sighed and dragged a hand down his face. He paused when it was over his mouth, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Sorry,” he then said. “You didn’t come here to listen to me complain about politics.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” she assured him. “Honestly, it’s nice to talk about politics for once. All I’ve heard for the past year is lessons about Air Nomad culture.”
“Sokka told me you and Aang were restoring the Southern Temple,” he said. “How’s that going?”
“Slow,” she replied shortly, but decided not to go into detail about how Aang had argued it would go faster if they were there full time, but it didn’t matter because only one of them could earthbend, and she didn’t even want to be there full time because she had other commitments that, yes, were just as important as you, Aang!
She forced herself to exhale slowly. “Slow,” she said again, calmer. “Believe me, politics is a breather.”
Zuko gave another small chuckle. These were more common than before, but a full-on laugh was still exceedingly rare. “Those Air Acolyte lessons must be dull if you think Fire Nation politics is refreshing,” he remarked.
“I wouldn’t really know,” she replied, a little sourly. “I’m usually just doing housework.”
Zuko stared at her, perplexed, but he was an astute young man, and put it together fairly quickly. “Katara,” he said gently. “If you—”
“Don’t,” she muttered. She looked up at him pleadingly. “Please don’t, Zuko.”
He nodded respectfully. “Okay,” he said softly. There was a short pause. “Your room is this way,” he said, extending an arm. They walked down the hallway together in comfortable silence until they came to a door. Katara opened it and stepped in, and her jaw dropped.
She’d been expecting a large, spacious room, all reds and golds and dark wood, heavy, sweet scents of Fire Nation spices, crimson silks hanging over a plush, oversized bed with countless pillows, Fire Nation insignias draped on the walls, and tapestries depicting great battles.
But no. Where red would be was blue. Where gold would be was silver. The wood was all the pale, sun-bleached stuff found in the forests of the Poles that were fertile enough for trees. The oversized bed had a bearskin draped across the bottom half to act as a second blanket if the first one—made of white fur—wasn’t warm enough. She could smell something fresh and almost minty, and salt like the sea air. Hanging above the bed was a banner depicting the Water Tribe crest—the Southern Water Tribe Crest. Out the window, she noticed she had a perfect view of the inner courtyard and the crescent moon high in the sky, its light shining off the rippling surfaces of turtleduck ponds. There seemed to be more than when she’d last been in the Fire Nation. Knowing Zuko, there probably were.
“You’re going to be here for a while,” Zuko said from the doorway, one hand on the doorknob. “And this Summit is all about the Fire Nation respecting other cultures. I thought you’d like if your rooms were… homier.”
“Oh, Zuko…” she said softly. “It’s wonderful,” she turned to him with a wide grin. After the day she’d had, hearing Aang all but denounce her culture right to her face, this was exactly what she needed. Her culture, her tribe. She ran back to the doorway and hugged him again, and this time he was very surprised, and hugged her back a little awkwardly with one arm, one hand still braced on the doorknob.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said gruffly, like he was trying to hide a blush.
“I love it,” she corrected.
“Good,” he deadpanned. “It’d be pretty bad if you didn’t.” He paused. “Your father’s room—it’s on the other side of the hallway, a few doors down, but it looks basically like this. Will he like it?”
Katara realised now that this was going to be the first time Hakoda would see Zuko since his crowning, and only the third time they’d ever seen each other at all. Those previous two meetings hadn’t offered much time for introductions and getting to know each other, however. Clearly, Zuko was nervous about making a good impression on the father of his two best friends, and the leader of what he hoped could be a strong ally.
She nodded. “He’ll appreciate the effort,” she said in a decisive tone.
Zuko nodded smartly. “Good,” he said. “Speaking of, uh, respecting other cultures, I was wondering if you could help me with something.”
Katara turned away from admiring her room to look at him, smiling warmly. “Of course, Zuko,” she said, “Anything.”
He nodded, and his expression suggested the words he wanted to say were difficult—they didn’t quite convey the nuance of his thoughts. “The Fire Nation… has a lot of… colonies,” he said slowly. “In the Earth Kingdom. They’ve been there so long that they’ve become quite… multicultural, which is making the removal of the Fire Nation military forces a little complicated. You’re Water Tribe, so I was hoping you could help me make preliminary plans to show to King Kuei—a neutral party.”
“You want me to do that?” Katara asked, frowning. “Why not Aang—he’s the Avatar. This is his job.”
“Aang will have a lot of other things to deal with,” Zuko explained. “And I will run this by him, when me and Kuei are talking at the Summit. But you… you have an eye for this thing, for fairness, and you’ve never been afraid to tell me exactly what you think.” He flashed a small smile, the corner of his mouth quirking up for a moment. As he sobered, he added, “Of course, if you don’t want to, I completely understa—”
“I’ll do it.”
He blinked at her, having not expected such a fast agreement. “Oh. Well… great!” He smiled. “Thanks.”
She returned his smile, though it was less awkward and stunned than his. “Like I said, politics is a breather. I think this is the sort of things I’d be good at.”
“I think so, too,” Zuko agreed. “In that case, I’ll leave you to rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Katara smiled at him warmly. “It’s good to see you again, Zuko,” she said, for the second time,
“You too,” he replied, equally warmly. “Goodnight, Princess Katara,” he added with a small smirk. She grimaced,
“Ugh,” she muttered. “An empty title if there ever was one,” she remarked, and Zuko nodded.
“I thought you’d think that,” he admitted. “I agree. Master Katara sounds so much more impressive.” He paused. “No one’s born a Master.”
“No, they aren’t, Firebending Master Zuko,” she replied with a grin. He smirked.
“Goodnight, Master Katara,” he said sincerely; the fondness of saying goodnight to a sibling or beloved friend.
“See you in the morning, Fire Lord,” she answered, offering a curtsey that made him snigger as he closed the door.
Looking around her fabulous room again, Katara felt a wash of homesickness, even though she’d been in the South Pole only a few hours ago. But if she was really not going to be there for six months…
Lying down on the bed, she marvelled at the attention to detail—this felt like genuine polarbeardog fur. It wasn’t just expensive to acquire, it was difficult; dangerous—but also the homage paid to the home style of the Fire Nation. Silks were still hung around the bed, making it look vaguely ethereal, but they were blue and white and silvery. Great tapestries were hung on the wall, but somehow Zuko had uncovered creations from over a hundred years ago, back when the Four Nations had lived in harmony, and she saw a scene depicting the start of a great unity between the Fire Nation and what was the Southern Tribe. The Southern Tribe.
With so little of her own culture remaining, something like this broke her heart and gave it hope all at once. She wondered for a moment if Zuko would let her take it home; hang it in her room in the Southern Chief’s Palace (Sokka had insisted upon it with the excuse that it made the Tribe look more complete, but she reckoned he really just wanted a nice big room to come home to. Either way, they’d built it, and either way, she was just waiting until they had the time to build her a small hut of her own, outside of any palaces). But no, that would be asking too much. She could see the craftsmanship, the choices in material and colour, this was clearly a Fire Nation piece. And who was she, anyway, to start packing up his things like her own?
Shaking her head, she stripped down to her sarashis—the Fire Nation was perpetually too warm to sleep in anything else—and snuggled under the white fur blanket. Her mind danced idly, lazy with sleep, about how eager she’d been to come to the Fire Nation. Because of the Summit and all its politics and culture? Or to escape her duties as the Avatar’s girlfriend? To put off returning to the Air Temple?
Or maybe she hadn’t been eager to come here to get away from anything, but to get to something else.