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Chapter Text

It’s cold is the first thing Zuko thinks as he walks on board the deck of his ship. He glances around and sees white all around him and so he sighs. In his home, there are many colors, washes of red silk and glittering green canopies all around him, but here, there is only the barren white of death.

“We are approaching the Southern Water Tribe, Prince Zuko,” a voice says at it approaches.

“How can you tell?” Zuko asks. “Everything looks the same here, Uncle.”

“Once you are there you will not think so.”

Zuko turns around. “How long until we make port?”

His uncle sighs. “It is difficult to tell. But it will be today, if we are to believe our maps.”

“No one has been here in almost a hundred years, Uncle.”

“So we must keep faith in our navigation.”

Zuko huffs and turns back around. The ice seems to be thickening around him as the ship pushes through. What if we get stuck, he thinks, but quickly brushes the negative thoughts away. They will find the Southern Water Tribe and the natives will surrender. It is their destiny as much as his.

“I’m going back to my quarters,” Zuko says and he turns and walks back towards the door. “Alert me if we find anything.” He yells over his shoulder, and with that he leaves, not waiting for his uncle to respond.

Zuko walks through the dimly lit corridors as he makes his way to his quarters. They aren’t anywhere near as luxurious as his chambers in the Palace, but they are sufficient and he has grown accustomed to their confining nature. He pauses after he opens the door. Soon, he will not be staying here. He will be in the hands of a potentially hostile and virtually unknown race of people- people no one has had contact with in almost a hundred years. Zuko would be lying if he said he was not afraid, but he certainly would not admit that to anyone.

From what little resources he was able to obtain regarding the Southern Water Tribe, they are supposed to be generous people who would deem it a great dishonor to harm a guest. Zuko takes little comfort in that knowledge, though, since the texts are ancient and one hundred years is plenty of time for a culture to change its practices. Hopefully the presents he brought will be enough to pacify them once they make port. If the stupid savages even have a port.
Briskly, Zuko makes his way to his bed and lays down. He probably won’t go to sleep since the sun is up. For the thousandth time this trip, he curses his firebending capabilities because the sun is up all the time in this horrid place. He should be out like a light, but the light never ends. He hasn’t gotten enough sleep recently and he can feel it draining him. He will have to find some sort of sleeping draught for him and the rest of the Firebenders if he wants to stay alert during his time in the South Pole.

He must have dropped off, though, because far sooner than he would have expected there is a banging on his door.

“Prince Zuko,” a male voice calls through the metal.

“What is it?” Zuko asks, harsher than he intended, sleep curbing the edges of his voice.

“We have spotted the Southern Water Tribe and will make port soon.”

Well, at least he was awoken for good news.

“I’ll be out shortly,” he calls and hears footsteps retreating. Zuko sighs and grabs his thickest coat before he begins his trek to reach the bitter cold, again. He wishes that he was back in his warm home with every step.

He opens the door leading to the outside and pulls the coat tighter around him. As much as he hates to admit it, he is probably going to have to wind up buying something warmer from the savages. He can only regulate his body temperature for oh so long, and with such little sleep and energy, he can see himself freezing to death very soon.

“Where is the Tribe?” He asks, knowing that someone will answer him.

“Just in front of us, Prince Zuko,” his uncle answers.

“When will we be making port?”

“When we find a suitable place to keep the ship.”

“They don’t have a port?” Zuko asks incredulously.

“It appears not,” he responds slowly. “But,” his uncle’s tone picks up again, “the tribe has not had visitors for many years now, so it was expected.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Patience, Prince Zuko. If you are to persuade the Southern Water Tribe into agreement, then you must not speak so poorly of their way of life. You must be understanding.”

“I am understanding!” Zuko replies angrily. “I understand that these savages are under-developed and in desperate need of saving. I have come to provide them with a better way.”

Zuko stares ahead, focusing only on the city he cannot yet see. Just outside of his peripheral vision, his uncle slowly shakes his head.

“Your Highness,” a sailor says as he approaches the prince. “An envoy has been spotted.”

“Ah,” his uncle begins. “It seems our welcoming party awaits us.”

“How many are there?” Zuko asks.

“It is difficult to say,” the sailor responds. “Ten, maybe a few more.”

“Well, at least they had the decency to meet us.” Ten people is not much, but it is a bit better than Zuko expected, even if he is used to crowds of people welcoming him wherever he goes.

“Have the gifts prepared,” Zuko orders without looking at the sailor.

“Yes, sir” The sailor left with a bow.

“I hate this place,” Zuko murmurs as he tries to suppress a shiver. Despite his being a Firebender, it is still desperately cold and he doesn’t like to use all of his energy trying to maintain his body temperature when he feels exhausted as it is.

“I do not think it is so bad,” his uncle replies. “The white shines in the sunlight-”

“The constant sunlight,” Zuko interrupts. The ship suddenly lurches, throwing him off balance. “What was that!” he yells up towards the ship’s tower where the captain stays.

One of the crewmen leans out a window. “Sir, we have reached the edge of the glacier. We cannot go any farther.”

Zuko huffs out a breath that steams out his nose. “Are we just supposed to leave the ship here then?” He asks to no one in particular.

“It appears so,” his uncle answers before gathering up his many layers of coats and cloaks and walking towards the bow of the ship. Zuko begrudgingly does the same.

“Where is Tian?” Zuko asks a nearby sailor.

“She is still in her quarters, sir,” he replies.

“What?” Zuko whirls around to face the sailor. “Why is she not here awaiting arrival?”

“Sir, she does take some time to get ready.”

“I want her out here in the next ten minutes or she will be punished. Tell her this. Go!” The sailor scurries away quickly, fearing the Prince’s wrath.

“Prince Zuko-” Iroh begins, but Zuko stops him.

“Uncle, please. Not now.” The two men are silent for several minutes until the tension passes.

“You asked to see me?” a female voice says from somewhere behind Zuko.

He turns around. “Yes.” He scans her body briefly. Her face is painted in a pleasing way, and though she wears more clothes than she is probably used to, she looks acceptable. “We are approaching the Southern Water Tribe, Tian.” He doesn’t look in her eyes when he speaks to her. “You are to prepare for your presentment to the Chief.”

Tian bows low and her long hair almost brushes the ground. “Yes, my Prince.”

Zuko turns back around to watch the sailors prepare for unloading the ship.

The wind picks up as Zuko and his crew wait on deck. It picks out tendrils of his hair and makes them fly around his face. He wants to brush them out of the way, but he is too focused on the group of people waiting on the ice to really be bothered by his hair.

His guards are in front of him, leading the way and making sure these natives aren’t going to attack him. Normally, he is grateful for the barrier the guards present, but at present he dislikes their prolonging of the inevitable. He wants to just walk down already, get it over with. He takes a deep breath to calm himself.

“Are you nervous, Prince Zuko?” his uncle asks with a knowing tone that Zuko does not appreciate.

“Of course not!” is Zuko’s quick reply.

“I would not think less of you if you were, nephew. This is uncharted land with a people that we have never encountered before. A bit of nerves would be expected."

“I am not nervous, Uncle,” Zuko says slowly, trying to control his temper. “There is nothing to be nervous about because this will be easy. The Southern Water Tribe will surrender and then I will return home.” His uncle remains silent.

Zuko briskly makes to way to the stairs leading down from the deck. He absently hears the footsteps of those behind them but he pays them no mind. Instead, he focuses on the stairs-the many stairs-and not falling down them. Oh, what a great first impression that would be.

The stairs go by too quickly, though, and he is suddenly standing in front of several people clad in furs. Their dark skin is the first thing he notices since it is so different from the alabaster faces of home. They stare all stare at each other for a moment.

“Greetings,” one of them says. “Welcome to the Southern Water Tribe.” The words are a bit stilted, though, and Zuko immediately understands that there will probably be some degree of a language barrier between himself and these people.

Zuko bows, fist in palm. “I am Prince Zuko of the Fire Empire. My crew and I thank you for your welcome.” This is easy. This is basic emissary work that he can handle. This is not hard.

“Prince Zuko,” his name sounds strange on this foreigner's tongue. “Might I inquire as to your business in the South Pole?” The same man speaks to him every time. Zuko wonders if the others speak a different language.

“I am here to speak to your King-err, Chief.” Zuko quickly corrects himself. He read just enough about the Southern Water Tribe to hopefully not insult the Royal family.

“Yes, but why?” The man inquires.

“I believe that business is between me and your Chief. We must speak immediately. Take me to your meeting place.”

“In House.” The man says turns to the others in his party and speaks to them in a strange, flowing, but percussive language. They nod, apparently agreeing with whatever the man is saying. He turns back to Zuko. “We shall take you. Now.”

The men turn and begin to walk away without waiting to see if Zuko is following them. He glances at his uncle, who nods, and the Fire Empire entourage follow the fur-clad natives through the great gate and into the city of ice.

While not as tall and grand as the gates, the buildings along the main street are wide and tall, casting shadows along the beaten down paths. Beside the paths are the canals, with long boats for transporting different goods and large groups of people. The paths are crowded with people looking into stalls and toting wheeled carts full of furs and cloth. Zuko expects the envoy to move people out of the way as they pass, but the group stops often as it waits for peasants to pass by them. Whether or not the people take notice of the red and gold colors of the Fire Empire, Zuko could not tell. The closer the group walks to the center of the city, the richer the people appeared and the taller the buildings. All the buildings, however, are dwarfed by the immense ice structure surrounded on all sides by water.

“This is the Royal House,” one of the natives says. Zuko didn’t know his name, nor did he care to know it, but he seemed to be expecting some sort of a response.

“It is...very large,” Zuko manages to say.

“And very beautiful!” his uncle supplies. “The workmanship that went into creating this work of art-we do not have this in the Fire Empire.”

“It was entirely built by Waterbenders,” the man says proudly.

“Thank goodness the Fire Empire Palace was not built by Firebender, right Prince Zuko?” His uncle chuckles at his joke and gently nudges the prince with his elbow.

“Yes, General Iroh,” Zuko begins slowly and pointedly. “What a blessing.”

The envoy exchanges curious glances with each other before continuing towards the Royal House.

“How long has this structure been the home of your Chief?” Iroh asks..

“As long as anyone can remember,” the man vaguely answers and thusly ends all conversation between the natives and their guests.

The group crosses a bridge that links the paths and the Royal House and Zuko can’t help but marvel at the intricacies of the design. It appears to be made out of ice and packed snow, but it does not feel wet or slippery. He makes a mental note to ask about that to determine if it wil be useful in the northern Earth Provinces.

“The Chief will meet you in the Great Room,” the man says.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Iroh replies with a bow. Zuko quickly follows suit despite the indignity. The natives leave the prince and general in front of a large door. Once alone, Zuko gestures to his soldiers to tell most of them to wait outside while three will follow them into the house. Tian simply stands clutching her hands and not speaking or looking around.

The doors open without announcement which startles the prince much more than the general, to his ire. Standing before them is an imposing figure; tall and muscular, even though most of his body is hidden under furs. He gazes down as if waiting for an excuse to cause something horrible to happen to them. Finally, he speaks.

“I am Navuq,” he says as he bows his head only. While it is not the greeting Zuko is used to receiving, he doesn't comment. He speaks in a much heavier accent than the man from earlier.

“I am Prince Zuko of the Fire Empire. This is General Iroh, The Dragon of the West, the savior of the Fire Empire, the-”

“Save introductions for Chief,” Navuq interrupts. Zuko is left with his mouth slightly open at the audacity of this man interrupting the Crowned Prince of the Fire Empire. He moves forward slightly to confront this man, but Iroh’s and on his arm stops him. “I will take you now.” Navuq turns and begins to walk away. the group quickly follows.

The Royal House is empty except for the occasional random person who spies the group and quickly scurries away. The difference in atmosphere between this building and the rest of the city is not lost on Zuko. In his mind’s eye, he begins to form illusions about what sort of man must live in a palace such as this. Unfortunately, due to the grandeur of the palace and the sense of fear and stress that permeates the passageway, Zuko creates the image of a massive man-bigger than Navuq-who strikes fear into the heart of all who meet him. One who makes the servants quake in fear and subjects shield their eyes so as not to accidentally offend. Zuko is still pondering when Navuq stops abruptly in front of a rather inconspicuous door. It is thanks to Iroh that Zuko does not slam into Navuq’s back.

“You will meet Chief now,” Navuq says. He presses his hand against the door and it opens. He walks through the doorway and Zuko turns back to tell Tian to stay out here with one of the soldiers. He will call for her when they are ready. Zuko follows Navuq, pressing down his sudden onset of nerves and worry. He is the Prince of the Fire Empire. He will not be afraid of this chief of a small tribe in the middle of the South Pole.

Zuko glances around the room, trying to get a feel for it and see if there are any other exits. The room is lit by sconces attached to the walls. They are the only light in this interior room. At the end of the room is a dias smaller that that in the Fire Empire, but still several feet off the ground. Navuq is blocking his view of what could only be the royal throne and the man who sits upon it. Suddenly, Navuq holds out his hand and everyone stops walking. He points to the ground, obviously wanting Iroh and Zuko to bow, but the prince is hesitant. He turns to look at his uncle, but he is already on the ground, prostrating himself before the Chief. Resentfully, Zuko does the same.

Navuq speaks to the Chief in the same fast, percussive language as the man from the envoy and try as he might, Zuko cannot make sense of it. He assumes, given the circumstances, that Navuq is telling the Chief who they are, but he can’t be sure. The Chief does not respond.

“Rise,” Navuq says, finally addressing them. Zuko does, but keeps his eyes on the ground.

“Your Majesty,” he assumes that the highest title beneath Fire Lord will be sufficient here, “I am Prince Zuko of the Fire Empire. I am travelling with my uncle, General Iroh, the Dragon of the West, the Savior of the Fire Empire, the Conqueror of Ba Sing Se.” The practised words slide off his tongue. “We have travelled from the Fire Empire to speak with you and to negotiate your unconditional surrender to Fire Lord Ozai and the Fire Empire to become the Southern Water Province.” Zuko waits. For several moments there is only silence, then high pitched, feminine laughter. Zuko jerks his head up to find the source of the unexpected sound.

On the throne before him sits a woman. Half of her long, curly, dark hair is piled atop her head in what Zuko assumes to be an intricate bun, with the other half down and flowing well past her breasts. Her face is painted, but not like the Tian’s. This woman’s face is painted with blue and black. Her eyes are heavily lined in black wings that come to a point near her eyebrows. Her white painted-on eyebrows arc dramatically and in between them is a black widow’s peak. White stripes on either side of her face mark her cheeks and along her jawline, triangles like that of a tigerbear have been painted on. As fantastic and intimidating as all that, though, Zuko cannot help but have his attention drawn to her full, bright red lips. They stand out against the muted but fierce colors on the rest of her face and are opened slightly from her laughter and slowly curl into a near smirk as she takes in his reaction.

He makes a noise as if he’s going to say something, but nothing comes out. He can’t form words because he’s so utterly shocked. The Northern Water Province would never have allowed a woman to be Chief, especially one painted like that, and since the Northern Water Province is Fire Empire’s only real source of information regarding climate, food, and culture of the Water Tribes, he assumed that the Southern Tribe would feel the same way. Obviously he was wrong.

She smiles. “My presence startles you, Prince Zuko?” The sentence lilts out of her, her accent adding a odd music to the simple sentence that he was sure wasn’t part of the language before. His name, though. The way she said his name was...wrong. The ‘z’ too sharp and the ‘k’ too hard. It didn’t sound like the same name when she said it. He wants her to say it again.

She took his continued silence as invitation to continue. “You come here, unannounced, after years of silence from your people. You come here, to my city, to my home. You come here and you ask me to surrender. To surrender unconditionally to your people. Your people whom we have not seen in almost one hundred years. Unconditional surrender. Why? Why now?” When he does not answer, she slams her hand against the arm of her chair. “Answer me!”

Zuko narrows his eyes. “I owe you no explanation.”

“You will tell me why you have come!” She isn’t yelling, but there is command in her voice. He can tell that this is a woman who does not meet opposition kindly.

“I came here to negotiate the terms of the Southern Water Tribe’s unconditional surrender to Fire Lord Ozai with Chief-” He realizes he doesn't know this woman's name and leaves his statement open for her to finish."

"Katara," she says. "Chief Katara."

There is more tense silence. Iroh stands, but makes no move to speak. The woman stares at the visitors. “You came here to negotiate terms of an unconditional surrender." A slight twitch develops on one of her eyes. "Why.”

“It is the will of the Fire Empire that the Southern Water Tribe join with the rest of the world in entering the modern age. An age where all nations are equal in wealth, knowledge, property-”

“Stop.” When Zuko looks at her again, he sees that her eyes are closed and her hand raised. He feels his body temperature rise. “Upon presentment of a written document outlining all details deemed necessary, the Council and I will meet and discuss. Until that time I have no more interest in hearing about the Fire Lord’s grand plans for the future of the world.”

Zuko remains silent. Though he is unhappy with her...flippancy, but there is no way he can argue with her order. He chances a glance at Iroh and becomes impossibly angrier at seeing his completely calm face.

“Navuq will escort you to you chambers where you will stay until the feast in your honor at sunset.” Zuko looks perplexed and opens his mouth to speak, but quickly stops once he sees the Chief’s hard expression. Navuq appears seemingly out of nowhere and the group turns to follow their guide in this intricate and magnificent palace. Zuko stays looking at her for a few more moments, but turns away when he sees that her expression isn’t changing and that she isn’t even looking at him. She seems to be miles away now, contemplating something that Zuko couldn’t understand at this particular, infinitesimal moment.

----

The Southern Water Tribe is rather large, considering their limited resources and isolation from the other lands. Similar to the Northern Tribe, there is a large gate made of ice, artfully constructed by the Masters of old and maintained by the tribe at large. The tribe functions almost exclusively on trading among themselves since they have no use for currency. There are many igloos for families that vary in size and larger buildings for storing supplies. In the center of the city is the Royal House for the Chief, his family, and those allowed to live with them. There are many rooms in the House, including a large training facility that is used for the training of warriors and Waterbenders alike. However, the Chief’s daughter prefers a smaller room that is specifically for the Chief’s family.

Jumping out of the way of an oncoming water whip, Katara shifts her weight to her toes. Gathering water from the nearby vats, she covers her hands in blades of ice and charges at her opponent. He moves out of the way a second too late, her blades grazing his sides to form a shallow cut, but the movement sends him down to the mat quickly. Sweat from both of them drenches the mat, some of it turns to ice and other particles hang in the hair like dust. They had been sparring since high sun, and Katara can now feel the faintest touch of the moon coming out from the horizon. It’s a sliver away from full. She feels its power course through her veins.

“Set.” She calls out to the body laying on the mat. Pathetically he raises his hand to the ceiling, a sign of surrender.

“Set.” Laughing in exhaustion, she pulls his outstretched arm and helps him up. He immediately goes slack and falls on Katara. Managing to stay up from the added weight, she complains loudly.

“Karan! Get off of me!” The man is a full head taller than her, years of training adding lean muscles to his body. He’s still heavy, as Katara finds out.

“Can’t. You’ve absolutely pulverized me. I’m finished.” Sighing dramatically, Karan slips off Katara and flops back onto the mat. “Tell my mother I love her. Tell Munna to be a good girl and as her almost-mother, make sure you take her out for walks.” Crossing his arm over his eyes, “I cannot believe you killed me before we got married. I thought you would at least wait until after. A week, a month at least.”

Too tired to put up with him, Katara forms a slab of ice in her hands and holds it agaisnt the back of her neck. She’s too low on energy to bother healing the small bruises she has. Instead, Katara lays back on the mat and focuses on her breathing and the cold relief from the ice. Karan turns his head to look at Katara. “Are you all right?” He asks with genuine concern.

Katara manages a smile as she looks at him. “No thanks to you.”

Karan props himself up on his elbow. “I thought a Master Waterbender would be able to hold out against little old me for a while.”

“Well, you underestimate yourself.” Katara turns her head back towards the ceiling.

“Hey,” Karan begins and reaches out to press his fingers against her hand. “You’re not worried about anything, are you?” His voices takes on a more serious tone and Katara instantly knows that he, like her brother, has instantly read through her calm facade.

She takes a deep breath. “Of course not, why would I be worried?”

Karan scoots himself closer and takes her hand in his. “Well, if I was acting Chief, I would be a little worried about the big boat spotted off our shores.” As he speaks, Karan traced designs on the palm of her hand.

“It’s a good thing you’re not acting Chief, then because I’m not worried at all.”

Karan gives Katara a knowing smile and tilts his head. “Of course not. That’s why you spent all morning in meetings and all afternoon sparring with me.”

“Chiefs have a lot of meetings they must attend,” Katara defended.

“Of course they do,” Karan laces his and Katara’s fingers together.

“Karan,” Katara says in a tired tone and he gently removes his hand from her’s.

“I’m sorry,” Karan says, looking just a little hurt.

“Karan,” Katara pleads, but he’s already standing.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says and walks towards the exit.

“Karan, wait, come back!” But he’s out the door. Katara bangs her head against the ground in frustration, but that only makes her headache worse. She sighs. “What am I going to do?” she asks out loud, even though there’s no one there to answer her.

----
She has finished cleaning up the main training room when Navuq walks in with news.

“Chief Katara, the ship-” He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to. Katara knows exactly what he means and she is running towards the exit. She rushes to her chambers and her servants are already waiting. She quickly strips off her clothes and waits for them to tell her what to wear. They are infinitely better at choosing clothes to match the occasion than she is. Navuq appears at the door while she is behind her changing screen. “Speak,” she commands.

“The ship is close, and much bigger than we had anticipated. It is not one of the usual ships.”

Katara considers this. “Do we know where it is from?”

Navuq hesitates. “Well, we are not sure. The elders were consulted and…” he pauses.

“And what, Navuq?” Katara asks pointedly as she walks out from behind the screen fully dressed.

“We believe it is a Fire Navy ship.” The room goes silent.

After a moment, Katara speaks. “Well. If the Fire Nation is gracing us with their presence, then we must greet them accordingly. Send out an envoy to meet them.” Navuq quickly regains his composure now that he has specific orders to carry out. “Prepare a feast, and rooms for them, too, as many as we can. It would not do to seem inhospitable”

“Chief Katara, you are not planning on keeping them here in the House?”

“Of course,” Katara responds quickly as she sits at her vanity and one of her servants comes behind her to fix her hair. “They are our guests. We cannot leave them on the ice.”

“Your father would-”

“My father is not here," her voice is as cold as the ice she summons, "I am Chief until his return and you will do as I command.” She softens. “My father would respect my wishes and he would not leave them on their own ship where we will have no idea of their intentions. It is best to keep them here where we can keep an eye on them.”

“Of course,” Navuq says with a bow. “Will you be joining the envoy, Chief Katara?”

“No. Have them meet me in the throne room after they are settled. Now, leave me.”

The servants and Navuq bow before exiting. Katara dips in fingers into her face paint and looks at herself in her mirror. She begins to paint her face and does not wander about the Fire Navy ship. She will find out soon enough what they want and worrying will do her no good. She repeats this over and over in her mind, but the mantra does not stop her forehead from creasing and her lips from press into a thin line. When she is finally ready, lips rouged and eyes outlined, she makes her way to the throne room and seats herself in her father’s chair.

She doesn't think about how wrong it feels every time.

Chapter Text

Katara makes her way back to her room and sits. She thinks she’s on the floor, but she’s not sure. She can’t move, it took all her energy just to make it back to her room. She isn’t prepared for this. She thought the blubber shortage last month would be the biggest problem she would face as Acting Chief, then the Fire Empire-it’s an Empire now!-shows up and demands surrender. This is something that her father should handle. It’s his job, not her’s. She’s just supposed to be here to make sure the city doesn’t descend into chaos while he’s gone. This is far beyond her abilities and she has no idea what she is supposed to do. She feels a hand touch her shoulder and she slowly moves her head to see who’s in her room.

“Katara.” Karan’s voice is calm and cool. She would normally take solace in the sound, but the thoughts of the world possibly falling under one nation is too distracting. “Katara.” His voice is stronger now, obviously meant to get her attention. When she doesn’t answer, he continues talking. He grabs both her shoulders and Katara’s vision is suddenly full of Karan’s face. “Katara. You need to look at me and calm down.” She takes a few breathes. Feels the air move into her lungs and out for a few minutes. “Whatever happened in that room... Will you tell me?”

“The Fire Nation-Empire,” she corrects herself. “They-” she tries to force the words out, but her tongue hasn’t caught up with her mind yet. Another few breathes make her feel more centred. She carries on, her voice stronger now. “They want us to surrender.”

Karan frowns. His hands shift from her shoulders to holding both her hands. “What for?”

“Complete world domination? Our resources? Bragging rights? Who knows. Zuko certainly wasn’t offering information,” she says bitterly. She understands that he would never tell her everything, but it is irritating nonetheless.

“Zuko?” Karan asks.

“The Prince.”

There is a pause as the obvious question hangs in the air, waiting to be asked. “So, what are you going to do?”

She doesn’t know, but she can’t tell him that. She can’t be some pathetic girl crying on his shoulder.She is the leader of her tribe and she must be strong. She pulls her hands out of his. “I need to get ready for the feast.”

“Feast? You’re giving them a feast?”

“Of course. They are our guests.” Katara frowns to show Karan she isn’t as happy with the situation either. Karan watches her as she moves to her closet. “While I might not like the idea of entertaining our possible enemies, we still have a duty as the Southern Water Tribe to make sure all those that seek hospitality receive it.” She picks up two dresses from their ivory hangers. One is of a dark blue sheen, netting and lace covering the cloth underneath. The next is a number she saved for only the most important, life-altering, occasions. White foreign silk that glows like the full moon. The last time she had worn it was at her and Karan’s engagement party. Both are appropriate, but neither feel… right. What does one wear when having dinner with the Fire Empire’s Prince?

“Katara.” She hums in acknowledgement. “What do you want me to do.” Katara lowers her arms, previously raised to view the dresses in full. She glances back at Karan.

“Try to get in touch with my father. If you manage that, I’ll marry you in a heartbeat.” Karan’s face does not change much from the bland sort of expression he was alreay wearing. She can see the disapproval in his eyes though. She knows he hates it when she jokes, especially in bad taste, about their betrothal.

He nods, salutes her as is customary when leaving the presences of the Chief, and strides out of the room.

She sighs heavily and closes her eyes. She doesn’t have time to worry about her and Karan’s relationship, she has a much bigger problem stowed away somewhere in the House.

She turns back to her closet. She needs to make an impression. She needs to show these people just how cultured and royal the Southern Water Tribe can be. Her hands run over fabric after fabric as she flips through her clothes.

Katara turns her head when she hears a polite cough from her doorway. There stands Puja, Nija, and Daja, her triplet attendants.

“Do you require our assistance, Chief Katara?” Puja asks. Katara’s face breaks into a smile and she feels instantly relieved now that they’re here.

“Yes, please.” The girls smile and each go to their respective stations. Puja takes Katara’s place at the closet, so Katara sits in front of her vanity. Nija takes down her hair and begins brushing it out while Daja wipes off her facepaint.

“The meeting went well?” Nija asks.

Katar snorts. “Not exactly. I don’t think I’ve offended the entire Fire Empire, though, so that’s a start.”

“I’m sure you made quite a statement showing up in full warrior paint,” Daja comments.

“Yes,” Katara smiles a bit. “I suppose I did.” Katara remembers the look on that prince’s face when he first saw her. He was shocked, obviously, but it was the awe that she really remembers. He looked...almost afraid of her. Good, she thinks to herself. He should be afraid.

“There is not an outfit here that will work,” Puja states loudly and thereby making the decision final.

“I had thought that might be the case,” a new voice from the doorway supplies. All four heads turn to see Atuta, the head of female staff, standing and holding a large bundle of fabric. Katara freezes.

“What is that?” she asks, even though the knows the answer.

“The perfect dress for tonight’s events,” Atuta replies and and unrolls her bundle. In her hands is a dress made of the softest lilac material, fur-trimmed and old-fashioned. Her mother’s dress. Atuta approaches Katara, the hem of the gown sweeping the floor. As she gets closer, Katara can begin to make out the intricate pattern sewn into the bodice. Tears well in her eyes.

“I can’t wear that,” she manages to say. Atuta lays the gown across her lap anyway and Katara’s hands immediately grip the fabric.

Her mother, still alive, twirling around in front of her mirror, smiling and laughing.

Her mother, regally sitting at the table next to her father, her pearl necklace catching the candlelight.

Katara, running down the corridors, crying, running to her mother’s room.

The room is empty. She runs to the closet and the first thing she manages to pull out is the lilac dress. She lays it on the bed as her mother would when she was getting ready for dinner. Katara climbs on the bed and fists her hands into the fur. She curls up and closes her eyes, crying.

Someone touches her, nudges her awake. She didn’t know she’d fallen asleep. They try to pull her away, but Katara grips tighter. They keep trying to pull her away. She starts yelling, screaming, crying, kicking. She doesn’t want to leave. Sokka is there. He is crying, too, but much quieter. Eyes wide, he watches Katara fight everyone who comes near her. Finally, her father gathers the dress up and carry both Katara and the dress out of the room. Katara buries her face in the material. It still smells like her mother.

“It will look perfect on you,” Atuta says, cupping Katara’s cheek. Katara looks up and sees Atuta’s much older eyes. The eyes that saw her mother grow up. “She would want you to wear it.” That is all that Katara needs to hear.

She nods quickly and a few tears fall. Atuta wipes them away and helps her stand. Katara slowly walks behind her screen and takes off her clothes. She slips the dress on and almost bursts into tears. It fits her perfectly. The silk lining slides down her body and the v-shaped neckline that is so unlike all of her other dresses shows off her bust just as it did her mother’s. Katara always thought her mother never looked more beautiful than when she wore this dress. However, she doesn’t think she could ever compare to the strong, beautiful woman who first wore it.

Finally, she walks out from behind her screen. The sheer outer layers flow like water behind her with every step and the fur on the sleeves brushes against her arms. She sits at her vanity, again, and Nija begins fixing her hair while Daja applies foundation to her face. Beside her, Katara can hear Atuta softly crying. She reaches out and grasps her hand. It has been many years, but Kya’s passing still hurts everyday.

----

Zuko decides that he truly does hate this place. He is sitting, not in a chair, but on a pile of furs at a table covered in dishes he has never seen before. He glares around the room. Sconces, again, and a raging fire pit in the middle of the circle of tables. He sits directly across from an empty table where he assumes the Chief will sit. She, however, has yet to arrive, and so Zuko is sitting next to his uncle in awkward silence since all the people around them are speaking to each other in a different language. Occasionally, people will look over at them, but Zuko just looks back at them and they turn away.

Zuko picks up the...utensil-he hasn’t figured out how to use it-and pushes the food around on his plate. He looks at the dishes in front of him, most of them look less than appetizing, and picks what he thinks is fish. Fish seems safe, since it is a staple dish on the islands of the Capitol. He stabs the meat with his utensil and places it on the plate, but now he doesn’t know what to do with it. It doesn’t matter, though, because the doors fly open and everyone turns their attention to them.

The Chief walks in-no, she’s not walking. Zuko is pretty sure she is gliding in. She is wearing a beautiful purple dress trimmed in white fur. Her hair flows behind her in wild curls with pearls scattered throughout it. With her war paint gone Zuko can see her face. She is still intimidating. The light from the fire casts shadows on her face that make her look as though she could freeze the hearts of everyone in this room of she pleased. She matches the ice walls with her serious, powerful, unyielding expression. He realizes that it is going to take more than trinkets and gold to win over the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe.

Out of sheer habit, Zuko stands as she approaches her table. This, however, is apparently not a custom of the Southern Water Tribe because every pair of eyes swivel to look at him, including the Chief’s. Awkwardly, he sinks back down onto his furs. The silence deafens him. A man comes in after her and sits to her right. He seems important and Zuko waits to be introduced, but everyone has begun talking to each other again. Zuko should probably say something, but he has no idea what would be appropriate here. At home, he would make some perfunctory comment about how beautiful she looks, but he is certain that that is not something that would go over well here. Instead, he focuses on the food in front of him and trying to eat it. He surreptitiously glances around the circle and tries to mimic what everyone else is doing, but his utensil is so different from chopsticks that he can’t really make himself use it as effortlessly as everyone else. He gives up and tries a broth instead. Spoons, he knows how to use.

Zuko glances up at the Chief and sees that she looks just as miserable as he does, but in a sad way. Zuko isn’t sad. He is furious. He hates this land with its frozen tundra, strange foods, and customs that don’t make sense. He doesn’t want to be here, and if he had to be here, which he does, he would much rather be in negotiations instead of enduring the forced pleasantries of these savages.

Beside him, his uncle is easily working his way through his plate filled with a little bit of every dish around them.

“Uncle,” Zuko hisses under his breath. It’s enough to get his attention. “How are you eating right now?”

His uncle just looks at him.

“We are essentially prisoners, trapped here until they decide what to do with us.”

Iroh swallows his mouthful of food. “Prince Zuko, you must have more faith in the leadership of the Southern Water Tribe. They have thrown us this wonderful feast to show us their hospitality. You should be grateful.”

Zuko huffs and sinks lower on his mat. Absently, he realizes that Tian is sitting next to him and wonders why they placed her here and not with the other servants. He glances at her and sees that she is also pushing her food around her plate. She seems nervous for some reason, but he can’t fathom why.

Across the table, Katara sits next to Karan. He keeps trying to comfort her, and after their disastrous meeting in the hallway she can’t hate him for trying, but she doesn’t want that right now. Every time he reaches for her hand she pulls away and shrugs off the hand on her shoulder. He doesn’t understand. The food tastes bland in her mouth and her drink slides down her throat without notice. On some level, she hears the chatter of the other people, but she doesn’t pay them any attention. Finally, she grows tired of the meaningless banter and decides to address the sealionwhale in the room.

“I apologize for my bad manners,” Katara begins, speaking in the lesser-used common language makes her feel stupid compared to her perfectly eloquent guests. Zuko and the General instantly look up at her. “We have not all been properly introduced.” Everyone else at the circle of tables turns their attention to their Chief. “This is Karan,” she gestures to him. “My betrothed,” she is pleased at how easily she says it, and she’s sure that Karan is pleased, too.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” General Iroh replies with a large smile. Katara instantly decides she likes the old man.

“I am pleased to see how well you like our food, General Iroh.”

“Oh, please,” Katara thinks she can see a bit of a blush. “Just Iroh. I have not been a general in years.” The Prince sighs at that, and Katara smiles.

“All the same, we have not seen someone eat our food before with such...gusto.”

“It is an old man’s duty to eat all that he can when he travels to a new land.” Iroh pats his large belly.

Zuko seems to be getting more and more uncomfortable with each word, so Katara decides to shift the conversation to him. “Prince Zuko,” Katara begins, taking her cup in her hand. He jerks his head up to look at her, an odd expression on his face that Katara chooses to ignore. “Who is the beautiful lady next to you?” The girl doesn’t look up.

“This is Tian,” he seems unhappy about introducing her.

“And how long have you been married?” The effect of her words is instant. Zuko’s face pales and his mouth opens a bit in indignation.

“Excuse me?” he asks, disgust evident in his voice.

Katara continues, confused as she is. Did I say something wrong? “You are married, are you not?”

“Definitely not!” He all but yells. Katara is shocked at his outburst, but her confusion about the whole situation is greater.

She places her cup back on the table. “I apologize if I offended you. I assumed she travelled with you because she was your wife.”

“You should not assume. It does not suit you.” He takes a sip from his cup and it is Katara’s turn to be offended.

“Well, if Your Royal Highness wouldn’t mind, I’m sure we would all benefit from an explanation as to why you brought her here.” Katara also sips her cup, her eyes never leaving the Prince's face,

“She was intended to be a gift to the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe,” he says easily.

“A gift?” Katara questions.

“You must understand,” he begins in a condescending tone. “We did not expect the Chief to be a woman, Chief Katara.”

Katara pauses before replying. “I understand.” She sets her cup down on the table. “How was she intended to be a gift?”

Zuko pauses, also setting his cup down. “I...She...Uncle?” He fumbles for words and looks desperately at Iroh, who makes no indication that he will intervene. He takes a deep breath. "She was intended for...personal company." This is the best phrase he can think of saying without offending Katara and her people. She sees through his half-truth easily enough. Her eyes narrow and a tightness is present on her face.

"She is a concubine, you mean,” she says with a flat tone.

Zuko hesitates. "Yes. We were under the assumption that chieftains kept such practices."

"You should not assume. It does not suit you." Katara picks up her cup. She's beginning to formulate a proper picture of this foreign prince now.

Zuko’s mouth opens in shock. “How dare you-” he begins, but is interrupted.

“How dare I? How dare you!” Katara raises up to her knees. She feels Karan stiffen beside her. “You come here and offer me this girl as if she is some sort of gift, a possession. She is a person, Fire Prince Zuko,” she spits his title as though it were a curse. “She is not to be traded between leaders like a token of appeasement.”

“I thought-” She doesn't let him continue, though she can see he is growing angrier.

“You thought wrong.”

“I will not be spoken to as a commoner! Stop interrupting me.” He is fuming.

“I will let you speak when you have something of value to say!” She realizes that they are both standing. There is a pause where no one in the room speaks. Katara straightens out of her aggressive posture. “I accept your gift.” This throws Zuko, but Katara continues speaking. “I accept Tian as a permanent refugee citizen of the Southern Water Tribe and she is hereby granted all the protections permitted under that title.” Her tone is final and Zuko balks in a very un-princely way. Karan is making a similar face. Katara looks at Tian who still has not spoken. Her expression is open, her mouth parted a bit. She is obviously shocked, but she seems much happier than Prince Zuko. Katara can see the beginnings of tears in Tian's eyes. Katara nods slightly at her, acknowledging her. Tian quickly looks back down to her plate.

"Y-You can't do that!" Katara looks back at Zuko. He is in full rage, a human geyser about to erupt. "She is a citizen of the Imperial Fire Nation!" Katara frowns at the Prince and turns back to Tian.

"Do you accept the status of Southern Water Tribe refugee?" Her voice is soft, as if Tian is a wounded animal. Tian nods slowly, carefully looking anywhere but at Katara. "Then your citizenship to the Imperial Fire Nation is irrelevant.” Her tone is final. “Tian, if you could please follow me.” Katara gathers the rest of her robes and signals the end of dinner. “We have much to discuss." Not looking back, Katara glides her way out of the dining Hall.

The rest of those in attendance also stand and make their way out of the hall. Zuko turns to his uncle, still in shock, but Iroh simply shakes his head and stands. Together, they walk out of the hall and to their chambers. Zuko forges ahead, leaving his uncle behind. He is absolutely furious as he throws the door open. He stands in the middle of the room, eyes closed, trying to contain the fire that is burning to escape from every possible outlet. He breathes in, then out, over and over, trying calming himself down. It doesn’t work as well as it is supposed to, and he soon hears his uncle enter the room.

“Zuko-”

“She can’t do this,” he turns to look at Iroh. “She can’t really do this, can she?”

Iroh frowns. “The Northern Water Tribe used to be a haven for those seeking asylum and refuge. It is entirely possible that their sister tribe has maintained the practice.”

Zuko roughly sits on his bed and leans back, resting his head against the wall.

“I think,” Iroh begins, “that it would be best if we simply went back home.” Zuko stares at his uncle, mouth agape. “They hate us, Prince Zuko! It is clear that they will not surrender to those they think are brutes. It would be best to cut our losses and go back to the Palace.”

“No,” Zuko says quickly. His tone is definitive and he stands slowly. “I cannot face my father in disgrace.” He straightens his posture. “I will simply have to prove to them that we are not conquering brutes.” Zuko walks to the desk at the other end of the room and sits. He takes the brush and ink and lays out the parchment. He will personally write up the requests of the Empire and hand-deliver them to the Chief herself. He knows this will be a battle, but it is one he is willing to fight. The Imperial Fire Nation has achieved all that they have set their sights on, and Zuko would rather die than fail now. Iroh smiles. He lights more of the candles they brought with them and heats water for tea. It is going to be a long night for them both.

----
In Katara’s chambers, Puja, Nija, and Daja quietly ready her for bed. There is an awkward silence in the room that no one seems willing to break. Nija finishes removing the pearls from her hair and Katara waves everyone out, leaving her and Tian alone.

“I am sorry we do not have chambers ready for you yet. We had thought that you would be staying with Prince Zuko. Since that is not the case I have asked that you be moved here until your own room is ready.

“Thank you,” Tian says in a quiet voice without looking up.

“I have a separate bed prepared for you, if that’s all right.” Tian does look up at that.

She is smiling. “Thank you, Chief Katara, for your kindness.”

“It is no trouble at all, and please, call me Katara.”

“Of course, Katara.” She is still smiling.

“I had some of your things brought here for the time being. Just make yourself at home.” Katara can feel eyes on her from the doorway and she instinctively knows who it is. She walks to her doorway and looks up at Karan who is leaning against the frame.

“Katara-” he begins.

“Karan,” she speaks in a low voice. “Can we please do not this right now?”

“Katara,” he says in a tone that she knows means that he won’t be leaving until they talk.

Katara glances back at Tian who is rummaging through her trunk and actively not listening to them. She turns back to Karan and ushers him into the hallway before closing the door.

“Katara, what is the matter?” Karan asks.

“Well, the Imperial Fire Nation showed up at our door today and commanded that we surrender and then their Prince tried to give me a concubine and made a scene at the feast, and-” Karan stops her.

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

She sighs. “Karan…” she doesn’t finish.

“Katara, how long have we been engaged?”

“Three years,” she answers.

“Exactly. Three years. And how long have we been friends?”

She smiles a bit. “Since that time I pushed you off the igloo you and Sokka were making because you wouldn’t let me help.”

“Precisely.”

“You were a mean child.”

Karan laughs a bit. “Yeah, I was.” He pauses. “Apparently I haven’t changed much.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, why else would you be distancing yourself from me?” He waits for an answer, but she doesn’t give one. “Katara, we used to talk all the time, and then tonight before dinner you just… you just brushed me off! The only thing I can think of is that I must have done something, but I can’t figure out what it was. Katara,” he reaches for her hand. “We used to talk all the time, and now…” His searches for an explanation. “Is it the engagement? Because if it is I’ll-I’ll call it off, the whole thing. I’ll talk to my dad, and I’ll-”

Katara interrupts. “Karan, stop. That’s not-It’s not the engagement.”

“Katara, you’re my best friend. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” she assures him. “I just...I’ve had a rough day.”

“Tell me about it. Talk to me, that’s why I’m here.”

Katara bites her lip. “It was my mother’s dress.”

Immediately he understands. “Oh, Katara,” he says sympathetically.

“I just,” she feels like a dam inside her is breaking. “It was her favorite dress and I just-I couldn’t.” Tears are leaking through and Karan wraps her in a hug, his cheek against the top of her head.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks.

“I know I should have. I’m sorry, I just-”

“Shh, it’s okay.” She grips him tighter and he rubs her back in soothing circles. “It’s okay.”

Eventually, she stops crying and releases her hold on him. He takes a step back. “Are you going to be okay now?”

She nods. He takes her face in his large hands.

“You make a wonderful Chief, Katara. I’m sure she would be very proud.”

“I’m only Acting Chief.”

He smiles. “Nonetheless.” He wipes a stray tear from her cheek. “Get some rest. You need it.” He releases her and she slides back to the door. “Goodnight, Katara,” he says.

“Goodnight, Karan.” He turns his back and walks down the hall to his own chambers and Katara opens the door to hers. She keeps her back to the door as she leans back to close it. She sighs heavily.

“Boy troubles?” Tian asks from her seat at Katara’s vanity.

Katara grins at her. “You have no idea.”

Tian smiles back. Her relationship with Karan is...complicated, but that is not her immediate concern. She is much more worried about the angry Fire Prince she has stowed away in the East Wing. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to give the visitors chambers so close to her own.

Chapter Text

Katara wakes up early the next morning, groggy and disoriented. Typically, she sleeps late into the morning and her attendants have to force her awake and into her routine. Today is not one of those days. Perhaps it’s the lack of sleep from fretting about the Fire Empire, or perhaps it’s the waning moon. Whatever it is, she is awake now and she can tell she won’t be going back to sleep any time soon.

Reluctantly, she gets out of bed and stretches. Her back and shoulders pop and crackle with tension. She strips off her night clothes in the dark and effortlessly moves to her closet and pulls out one of her robes. She won’t be gone long.

She walks through her room in the dark. She has lived here since she was just a girl, she knows the way.

She decides that it’s cool enough for an outdoor warm-up today. Her furs have been brushed down this morning while she had bathed, and there was hints of smoke and leftover warmth in them - a sign that Daja had cleaned them by the fire earlier in the morning. Pulling up her fur hood, Katara steps out into the ice courtyard. There are a few workers outside cleaning freshly fallen snow off the icy ground and another on the roof across from her checking the strength of the ice - the warmer seasons usually lead to deformations in building structures (she doesn’t want to relive the year that half the West Wing warped and melted down).

She closes her eyes and immediately feels the pull of the water that rests in the pond several feet away. Stretching her bending a bit further, she can sense the mounds of snow piled up by the sweepers. She shifts into a basic stance and pulls a stream of water from the pile. With a small flick of her wrist, Katara forms an endless loop of water mid-air. A harmless little warm-up. She lets go. The water drops and she freezes it on top the ice in a sheet. She begins her stretches. Arms raised above her head, and legs parted until she feels a line of muscles stretch and loosen properly. Down she goes, stretching her arms to each individual legs.

Katara’s mind travels inward to her body. She feels for the blood in her veins, and finds it willing to bend to her wishes. She directs blood to the tightness in her back and feels the pain ease. She holds, letting blood circulate, relieving the aches and healing the damage. She breathes out and her blood resumes its normal flow. She touches her hand to the ice layer in front of her and it melts in a perfect handprint. Her hand moves easily through the ice, melting and refreezing it as she makes pass after pass. It is calming and exactly what she needs. She is forming and shaping, creating half-realized images of people, things, buildings in the ice before she moves onto the next movement, destroying the work.

In a flurry of movement, she raises back up and pulls the melted ice with her and shoots it straight out. It barrels through the air and then stops. Katara’s muscles tense as she keeps the water suspended. Her arms move upward and the water follows. It makes a graceful arch towards her and she turns around to form it into a tree at the other end of the courtyard. She breaks off two of the branches and pulls the sharpened blades to her. She isn’t as good at hand-to-hand combat as Karan or Sokka. Her control lays in the masses, the movements of large bodies of water. She can bend away shores and suck a pond dry, but the littlest of poison in the blood is always a challenge. But she believes she is getting better with practise. Katara thinks Karan is proud of that, the way he smiles when she finally manages a hit on him during their training, and that fills her with an unidentifiable emotion. She shakes her head, bringing her focus back to her movements and out of the memories of faces.

She throws the daggers into a pile of snow where they stick easily. Nearly perfect aim, but not quite. She fans her arms and pulls snow from the ground and stops it mid-air. She can feel each individual snowflake as it trembles, caught between the forces of gravity and Katara, but she doesn't let them fall. Slowly, carefully, she pulls her hands together and forms a large snowball. She melts the snow, making a ball of water, and investigates all the ways she can make it twist and rotate.

“Katara!” A voice shouts and she loses her focus. The water sloshes onto the ground and she whirls around to see who interrupted her. Navuq stands at the entrance to the courtyard, hands clenched together.

“What is it, Navuq?” She asks. It must be important if he couldn’t wait until she was finished practicing.

“The Council has called for a meeting regarding the Fire Prince.” There is urgency in his voice.

“Now?” The Council is never up this early, much less calling for a meeting.

“Yes. I was sent to get you immediately.” He twists his hands nervously even though his face conveys only a quiet reservedness.

“No time to change?” She asks.

He shakes his head gently. “I am afraid not.”

Katara looks down at herself and cinches the robe tighter. It’s revealing, low cut of the shirt and the slits of her training skirt is very high, but it’s better than showing up to the meeting in just her wrappings. “Let’s go,” she says and walks past Navuq, knowing he will follow. “Have you heard what they are thinking?” Katara asks as they walk through the dim hallways.

He hesitates before answering. “It’s not good Katara.” His speech is more informal now that they’re away from other people. “After last night’s...feast,” she winces at the mention of it. “They do not think too favorably of him. Or of you.”

“Me?” She asks, a bit insulted.

“Yes. I am afraid they think your actions rash and childish,” he speaks with a firm tone as he tries to simply relay information without taking sides. “Especially with the girl.”

“Tian,” she corrects firmly.

“Yes, Tian.” He sounds apologetic and she is glad for that.

“They don’t want a former concubine in the city,” she guesses.

“No, they do not.”

She pauses. “They’re idiots, all of them.”

“Yes, they are.” This causes her to smile and look at the older man-her advisor. He is also smiling, but the moment doesn’t last long. They have reached the closed doors of the Council’s chambers. She takes a deep breath, bracing herself, and opens the doors widely.

No one looks at her as she enters the room, they are too busy arguing among themselves. She can tell this is going to be a long and tiring meeting. She walks to her seat in the circle and Navuq stands slightly behind her. The arguing stops.

“Chief Katara, please explain to Miqsa that allowing the Fire Prince to remain in the House was the best decision available?” Ikiaq asks in a pointed tone.

“I disagree! Allowing the Fire Prince to stay in the House allowed him to-”

“Was she supposed to leave him in the tundra?” Sedna asks.

“Sending him back to the ship would have been a better option.” Miqsa defends. The Council members all begin speaking at once and Katara can feel her patience growing thin.

“Stop!” she shouts. The room goes quiet and everyone looks to her.

“I allowed the Prince to stay in the House so that we could keep an eye on him,” she says in a firm tone; the tone of a leader her father would call it.

“I am told he has not left his room,” Sedna supplies. “He and the General have remained in their chambers since last night.”

“Thank you for that information, but I hardly think that is our greatest concern,” Ikiaq, again.

“I agree,” Katara begins. “Our most important problem is why he is here.” She pauses, finding the right way to say this so as not to cause panic. “He comes bearing a message from the Fire Empire.”

“Empire?” Someone asks, but she isn’t paying attention.

“They want us to surrender.”

Chaos. "What? Why now? What do they want from us? We should have sent him back when we had the chance. And what good would that do?” Their words muddle together, half-shouts and hastily spoken arguments blending together, until Katara can’t take it anymore.

“Silence!” She yells. She is growing more frustrated. “The point is: what are we going to do about this? Any answers?” Silence. She sighs. “I thought not.” She sits back on her furs and looks up to the ceiling, biting her lip.

“Well, we obviously decline.” It is Qimmiq, quiet and reserved Qimmiq, that voices the thought in everyone’s head. Katara looks at him.

“And bring war to our tribe?” Katara questions.

“It would benefit us to know why they have decided to ask for our surrender.” Sedna.

“The Fire Nation is now the most powerful nation in the world. They have already annexed the Earth Kingdom and the Northern Water Tribe to their Empire,” she informs them.

“What of the Air Nomads? And the Avatar?” Miqsa asks.

“I don’t know. But the Avatar would have stopped this. We have to assume that the Avatar and the Air Nomads no longer exist,” she has to look away when she says that. The idea is too awful.

“Surely we would have heard of this, had it occurred!” Tonrar yells.

“From whom? The Earth Kingdom traders are not known to be great sharers of information.” Ikiaq says. Katara nods, as Minister of Finance, Ikiaq is the only one that knows what their secret trading partners decide to share.

“This postulation is irrelevant.” it’s Tonrar. “We need to focus on our strategy. How many ships do we have?”

“You cannot be asking for war!” Miqsa.

“They would destroy us! They have Firebenders and we live in ice. It would be no contest.” Katara adds.

“Let’s keep the boy here, then! We have their Prince. They wouldn’t attack us if we threatened his life.” Ikiaq.

“I will not allow the Southern Water Tribe, a place of peace and a refuge for those who seek it, to become a place where hostages are kept.” Katara says, ending discussion on that topic.

“Perhaps we should surrender,” Qimmiq says. The room goes quiet and all attention is turned to him. “The Fire Empire is very strong and we cannot defeat them. We cannot ignore their request. We cannot keep their prince hostage. Our only option is surrender.”

“No,” Katara shakes her head. “There must be another option, something we are overlooking,” Katara asserts.

“Katara, I don’t think-”

The doors slam open “Chief Katara!” A voice booms through the room. The Council stands, shocked at the intrusion, which is furthered once they see who stands in the doorway, clutching either side of the door frame with both hands.

“This is a closed Council meeting, Prince Zuko. You are not allowed to be here,” someone says, their voice anxious at the breach in conduct. There is a brief pause of all motion. Katara stands slowly. The prince eyes her. His breathing a bit heavier than usual, as if he ran a long distance, and he looks exhausted. One of his hands drops to his side and he straightens his posture. She notices how unkempt he looks. His hair, previously pulled into a tight top knot now freely hangs around his face. The dark strands of his hair that frame his face are in contrast with the light gold shade of his eyes. He is also missing his crown, and his shirt is open at the top, exposing his collarbone and some of his chest. She looks back to his face to see that his eyes are not meeting hers. Suddenly self-conscious, she pulls the top of her robe together and puts on the fiercest face she can muster.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” he has started towards the circle, slowly, like a predator. “But I have a very important document for the Council to consider.”

Katara’s eyes narrow. “What document is this?” She questions.

“The terms of your surrender, of course.” A smirk plays at his lips like he has won some great prize. Despite his appearance and obvious fatigue, he seems more in control of himself and confident than he had at the feast.

He holds out the rolled parchment easily and she takes it. When she sits down to read, the other members of the Council follow suit. In her peripheral vision she sees the Prince glance around for a space that the Councilmembers have not provided for him. Let him stand, she thinks.

Her frown deepens as she reads. When she finally reaches the end, she looks up. “What is the Southern Water Tribe to gain from this...agreement?”

His hands are behind his back as he speaks and he looks down at her, as if standing over her gives him some sort of power. An image flashes in her mind of her knocking him down until he’s on his back, but she quickly wills it away. “You would become a part of the Empire,” he begins. “Therefore you would receive seat on our Council, access to our technology, and full trade with the rest of the world,” is his obviously rehearsed reply.

She rolls up the parchment sharply. “The Southern Water Tribe has less people than the other provinces, so I doubt we would receive equal representation, and we have no use for your technology. We are doing just fine on our own, so I must ask you, again, Fire Prince Zuko, what would be my people’s benefit if we surrender?”

“We have gold,” he supplies easily.

“We have no use for gold,” is her quick return, “we have lasted over a century trading among ourselves without it and have thrived.” The last word, voiced with parts venom and pride, adds another strike to Zuko’s confidence.

He tries again. “You would have contact with your sister tribe.”

“We have not had contact with them in decades. We do not miss them.” She sees eyes flutter and heads turn at this statement but she pays them no mind. Zuko didn’t see them, his eyes are locked on hers.

He scrambles for another token to entice her.“Well-we could...I…” Sweat breaks lightly at his hairline, confident shoulders now shaking in vain hope.

“Prince Zuko,” she stands, her voice even and strong. “Might I suggest that instead of barging in on closed meetings and acting as if you already rule the world, that you stop and consider how other people would benefit from your nation ruling over the rest of us.”

“How dare-” he begins, his shoulders rising and his head held high, well, higher, Katara thinks, but she has had enough of listening to him say that phrase that she doesn’t let him continue.

“This meeting is over,” she decides. “Navuq, if you would see our guest back to his chambers.”

She notices that he flushes a bit when he’s frustrated. “No!” he commands. “These are the terms given to you by the Imperial Fire Nation and you will accept them!”

“No,” she says firmly. Over the course of their yelling match, the two have closed in on each other until Katara notices she is standing closer to him than what is comfortable (or proper).

She can see him trying to contain his frustration and anger when he speaks. “At least allow your councilmembers to read it. Isn’t that what they are for- making decisions?”

“They are here to assist me when I do not have an answer,” she corrects, “and I have an answer: No.”

“Chief Katara,” his voices takes on a different tone. Not pleading, but coercive. She doesn’t like it. It’s too firm to be nice and gentle as he obviously wants it to sound. It’s almost as if he wanted to tempt her, to sweetly strong-arm her, into agreeing. “I beg of you to reconsider,” he reaches out and grasps her hand. It is a mistake.

Her eyes light up in anger and she instantly twists his grasp so that his wrist and fingers are bent back in a dangerous angle, threatening to break. The sudden pain makes fear register in his eyes and his knees bend slightly so that her head is above his.

“Do not,” she begins slowly, not relinquishing her grip. She wants him to hear every word. “Ever touch me again, or your pretty face will not be the only thing you have that is ruined.” She lets him go, but keeps eye contact as he clutches his injured hand. He is angry now.

“You just attacked the Crowned Prince of the Fire Empire,” eyes full of the fire she knows he possesses, Zuko straightens himself, crowding her field of vision. She scoffs internally at his attempts to intimidate her. “And you will be punished,” he grabs her arm roughly and she, without much thought, bends tea from the council table and fires a whip that strikes his face. It is enough to break his grip and she returns the tea to her hand and creates a sharp, jagged piece of ice. She grips the makeshift knife in her hand, intending to pose threateningly at him as well, but in a slight shift of movement, the ice dagger slices the inner part of his forearm.

There is a tense, silent moment where he stares at the injury in shock before looking back up at her. His jaw clenches and she can feel the heat from the fire in his hands transferring to her skin. She pulls more water to her and drenches his hands. Her leg kicks out towards him and he loses his balance, showing his back to her. She pulls him, his hands held together behind him with palms touching. She presses against his back and holds her knife against his throat. She has to stand on her toes to reach his ear.

“Try that again,” her breath tickles the side of his neck and the hairs on the side of his neck stand up, “... and you will not leave the room alive.” She can sense the blood oozing from the wound on his arm, but she doesn’t spend much time thinking about that (that is a thought and memory of later, hands coated and glowing with blood, dead wolves around her).

The air is thick with tension, many breaths held and eyes wide. The Councilmembers have scattered across the room and the guards stand with weapons ready, waiting to see if their Master Waterbender needs help. She holds the Prince there for several moments and then releases the knife, ice turning to water that soaks his front. She shoves at his back to put distance between them.

“Leave,” she commands. He turns back to look at her, holds her gaze for a moment, then his eyes sweep downward and he exits the room. There is a beat where the rest of the council doesn’t not know what to do. Then, one by one, they all leave.

She is alone in the room now and stands for a few minutes, the rapid succession of events playing through her mind. She glances down at herself and realizes that her robe has come undone, the long silk belts of her robe touching the ground. She thinks back to the prince’s face when he looked back at her. Lust, she realizes. She scoffs in disgust and closes her robe. Her heart is still pumping from their altercation, her face flushed, and her fingers itch for some use. She rubs her hands together and bites her lip, debating what to do. She should go to her room, she decides, and walks toward the small hall that leads to the Chief’s chambers.

----

Her room smells of spiced fried fish and tea. When she opens the door, she can see why. Karan and Tian sit across from each other on a bed of furs, food steaming between them on the low table. Karan throws his head back in deep laughter and Tian smiles and pushes food around her plate. Katara stands in the doorway. She doesn’t want to intrude on this private moment, but this is her room and her betrothed and she is Acting Chief, so shouldn’t she be able to go wherever she pleases? She does not have to ponder long. Karan sees her and grins, motioning her to sit with them. Tian moves to make room, her long silk sleeve is a graceful signal to the spot beside her.

“Do you want some?” Karan asks, holding out his full plate.

Katara shakes her head. “I’m not hungry.”

Karan gives her an odd look, but continues eating.

“How was Prince Zuko at your meeting?” Tian asks as she stares at her plate. She casually pops a piece of fish in her mouth. How Tian makes eating Foxfin fish look graceful is a wonder for Katara.

Katara gapes openly at Tian. “How did you know about that?”

She swallows and shrugs. “The maids talk.”

“How did the maids know?” Katara questions, single eyebrow raised.

“The Councilmembers talk,” she says with a conspiratory smile.

Katara scoffs. “Of course.”

“Katara did something happen?” Karan asks, obviously unhappy to be out of the loop.

“No,” she says firmly, hoping the subject will drop.

Tian gives her a look. “I mean, yes,” she begrudgingly admits.

“Well would you care to elaborate?” Karan probes.

Katara takes a deep breath. “I might have threatened the Fire Prince. But just a little!”

“I heard you held a knife to his throat,” Tian easily adds, as if it was not a big deal that she had violently threatened the Prince of their potential enemy.

“Katara!” Karan exclaims, sitting up straight and looking as though he wants to shout more.

“It was necessary!” Katara defends.

“I cannot believe that you would do that! Wait,” he stops himself. “Actually, yes. Yes, I can. That is completely something you would do.”

Katara just glares.

“What, did he pronounce your name wrong?” Karan taunts, obviously trying to pull up the most trivial thing he could think of.

“No, he touched me.” Katara says it like a challenge.

“You attacked him because he touched you?” Karan is getting more and more exasperated with her.

“Grabbed me!” She corrects, loudly.

Karan is suddenly serious. “He grabbed you?”

“Yes, sort of. He…” She fumbles for words. The exchange was so fast.

“Did he hurt you?” He sounds concerned.

“No, of course not. He’s not an idiot.” Anyone in her presence for two second could realize that she is not one to tangle with, and despite his shortcomings, the prince is not a complete idiot.

A pause. “Did anyone see?” Karan, of course, has to ask that.

“Everyone saw,” Tian supplies, “and everyone’s talking about it.”

“Perfect. This is just perfect,” Katara slums against the furs. Now the entire tribe will be calling her “violent” and “rash” and calling for her to step down even though her father isn’t back yet.

Another pause. “Maybe you can fix it,” Karan supplies, trying to sound helpful.

“I doubt it. His royal highness is one to hold grudges.” Tian sips her tea, holding the cup with both hands.

“And he’s furious with me,” Katara adds.

“You could talk to him. Apologize.” Karan supplies.

“I don’t really think he’d listen,” Katara admits.

“Give his highness some time to cool down, then go talk to him,” Tian sets her tea down, a grimace on her face. There’s blubber in it.

“He’ll probably just shoot fireballs at me,” Katara ponders.

“Only if you deserve it,” Tian says seriously. There is a moment of silence before Katara bursts into laughter. Of all the decisions she made in the past two days, helping Tian has been one she hasn’t regretted.

----

The afternoon is dreadful. Meetings with the ministry of fisheries, settling banal disputes over property, and broken agreements. As much as Katara loves her people, listening to them bicker is her least favorite part of being Acting Chief. She did get a chance to change clothes after Karan left, though, and she feels much more comfortable in her thick pants and coat than in her flimsy robe. She keeps thinking about the Prince.

Never before has anyone interrupted a council meeting like that. Those meetings are private and only for those allowed to be present. One does not simply interrupt a council meeting, especially looking...however the Prince looked (the image won’t leave her mind. Get out, get out, get out). She tries to steer her mind away from that, but she can’t. She wouldn’t call it attraction, she just noticed. She noticed the way his hair shines in firelight, the way his cheeks tint pink when she makes him angry, the way that flush spreads all the way down his neck when she makes him very angry. It’s unnerving. She doesn’t like having her thoughts focus on the Prince, it makes her feel like he has some sort of power over her and he doesn’t. He is the enemy and he wants to destroy all that the Southern Water Tribe stands for. It makes her feel weak.

“You need a break,” she hears someone say near her. She turns to the voice and sees Karan standing next to her, looking down at where she sits.

“I need the people of my tribe to stop arguing over fish and seals and bowls. I need my father and brother to come back so that they can do their duties and I can go back to reading and compressing and making sure Sokka doesn’t make mistakes in his paperwork. I need the Fire Prince to leave and I need to maintain the integrity of my tribe without raining fire down upon them.”

“You have a lot of needs,” Karan comments.

She laughs a bit. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

“So, is there anything you want, Katara?” He asks, actually interested in the answer.

She pauses, thinking. “Some stewed sea prunes?” she asks childishly, her eyes large in a parody of innocence. She rapidly blinks a few times to push home the point.

Karan smiles and lightly laughs. “I have the kitchens bring some up to you.”

“Thank you, Karan.” She looks at him earnestly. “I appreciate that.”

“It’s nothing. But if you don’t mind my asking, why were you sitting alone here staring at the wall?” There is a smile behind his words, and Katara blushes, only just realizing where she is.

“I don’t know. I just sort of...wound up here.” She glances around, glad that she made it to the Royal Halls, but embarrassed that she is not near the Chief’s Chambers. She is about halfway between her residence in the Chief’s quarters and Karan’s guest room. Between them are the rooms meant for the Chief’s family - her original room, her brothers, and her mothers (occasionally dusted and cleaned but never moved around or disturbed). She knows what this must imply to him.

Karan just looks at her. “Katara,” he begins gently and reaches out his hands to pull her up. She places her hands in his. “You shouldn’t sit alone in the hallway.” She rolls her eyes. “You say you need to work, so go somewhere. Go to the library,” he encourages. She looks down, considering.

“Will you send my sea prunes there?” She aks.

“Of course. The North Wing?” He asks.

“International texts and treatises,” she answers, obviously not extremely excited to be heading to such an academic and boring section of the library.

He smiles. “Have fun!” She smiles back and they both walk towards their respective rooms.

Katara grabs what she can from her room. A small satchel, a few brushes and a coal-ink stone, a leather bound book she keeps for her notes as acting chief (she has never been one for journaling, but she has found that it is often more prudent to angrily scribble down her thoughts than blowing up on innocent, undeserving people. Besides, her father might need them), and a wrap to keep her warm in the lesser-used wing of the Library. Items in hand, she makes her way down the corridors to the North Wing.

----

The door bangs open. “Uncle!” The cloth hanging between the two sleeping areas burns. “UNCLE!” He shouts again. Iroh appears behind the mostly incinerated barrier.

“Nephew,” he begins, a look of extreme hurt and betrayal, as if he was the one burned. “That was a tapestry given to me by the Lord-” Zuko cuts him.

“I DO NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR PRESENTS FROM DIGNITARIES!” He all but screams, his breathing irregular and his shirt sliding off one shoulder. Sparks of fire spew from his panting mouth, floating in the air and catching on the ice ground, carpets, and furniture, licking the items before dying out.

Iroh glances over him. “Did you go to the meeting, Prince Zuko?” he asks.

“Yes,” Zuko hisses.

“And what happened?” Iroh asks, trying to glean more information out of his furious nephew.

Zuko doesn’t answer, just breathes heavily and closes his eyes tightly.

Iroh clasps his hands together and sits down on a nearby, unburned cushion. “Why don’t you tell me from the beginning? And please, Prince Zuko, pull your shirt together. I hope you did not present yourself looking like that,” he gestures his hand up and down Zuko’s disheveled ensemble.

Zuko is still out of breath at the double-door entrance. One hand leaning on the door frame and the other tightly grasping the piece of paper he had (unsuccessfully) presented less than an hour ago. Saying the meeting went horribly would be grossly untrue. It was bad, almost as bad as his first meeting with his father in the war room. He had done this before. Shown the power, shown the logic. The out-posts in the Earth Kingdom, the last peoples of the North-Eastern shores, the edges of the deserts. He worked them, appealed to their needs and wants, bent their culture to his will. The Yushou of the northern plains had fallen once Zuko had shown him the technology they could have - simple things like roads and exotic spices from the south, abacus and advanced star mapping, they could have all this as long as they promised to become a state of the Fire Empire and surrender their land. You get as much as you gave.

The Dunain of the East, Zuko recalls, were his greatest trouble. His second expedition into the unclaimed and undiscovered parts of the world. Half there to get away from his family and half there to see if he could repeat his previous success - show the other nobles that violence was not the only way. It took him a year to win them over. A year in battle is nothing - it took his uncle two years to breach the outer walls of Ba Sing Se - the entire takeover of the kingdom had taken six years of tireless charge. A year of playing court in another culture was a complete other beast compared to battle.

He received letters from his friends and enemies from the Fire Nation court - advice from generals long hoping to arrive there quickly to steal his thunder, and mock advice and special blends of teas from Azula, who constantly asked how dinner with the Dunain leaders went and if he had found a bride in their inbred clans yet. Dunain tea was flavourless and left a bad taste in his mouth, and their food was just as bland, he would write back. But time with the Dunain taught him much. How their class hierarchy stayed intact so long gave the secret scholar in Zuko a thrill, and he realized their numbers and their classes would be how he won.

It was first the poor he looked too - largest and most disadvantaged. Those that lived in the slums. He sent his teachers and herbal women to them. He cleaned them, feed them, and healed them. The slums, the underground caverns and homes, cleaned and fixed. Soldiers found themselves nailing more furniture and fixing broken walls than they did training. Once the great, unfed masses saw the generosity of the Fire Empire, as it was now called, they fought their leaders to submit and join. Zuko saw it as one of his greatest triumphs. But the Southern Water Tribe- he had no idea.

There were no great, unfed masses. There was no strict caste system. They didn’t want technology or medicine or gold or anything else. “They don’t want anything,” Zuko finally says.

Iroh looks on, unfazed. “Nothing?” he asked.

“Nothing! I offered them gold, jewels, everything! She completely disregarded it.” He wipes a hand down his face in frustration.

“Well, can you be surprised?” Iroh asked.

“What?” Zuko asked, taken aback.

“The Southern Water Tribe is strong. They are proud people that have lived on their own for almost a century without all that you have offered them. They do not need medicine, their waterbending is enough, and fine fabrics would be a waste here in this cold environment.”

“Well, then what am I supposed to do!”

“You can’t keep attacking them like this,” Iroh places his hands in the sleeves of his robes. “You must be slower, see that you can find what they need. Read their histories and learn all you can about them.”

“I doubt she’ll let me leave this room.” Zuko turns and slumps against the door frame.

“Why would she do that?” Iroh asks, reaching out to pour his tea.

“Because she’s crazy!” Zuko’s hands gesture wildly.

“She is not crazy.” Iroh sniffs his tea, but puts it back on the table.

“Yes she is! She attacked me at the Council meeting!” Zuko holds out his injured arm.

Iroh places his hands back in his sleeves. “She hardly seems like the type to strike without provocation. What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything! She’s insane!” Zuko comes off the doorframe and stands in the doorway.

“Like your sister?”

Zuko pauses, his hand resting against the doorframe. “No, not like Azula.”

“Well then what did you do to provoke her?”

Zuko drops his hands and approaches his uncle. “I just showed her the treaty.”

“Yes,” Iroh leans back slightly in his chair-brought to him from the ship. “Loqua was telling me about that in the kitchens.” Iroh sees Zuko cross his arms. “She makes a lovely prune tart, Prince Zuko. You must go there and try-” Zuko interrupts him.

“I don’t want a prune tart, I want the Southern Water Tribe!” He throws his hands down, covered in flames. The force knocks Iroh’s tea off balance and it falls. Iroh stares at it, but Zuko appears not to have noticed.

“You want the Southern Water Tribe, Prince Zuko,” Iroh turns his head to look at his nephew. “But what is it that you need?”

Zuko crosses his arms again. “I don’t know, Uncle, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“You need a break. Try to see this acquisition as a…a vacation.” Zuko scoffs, but Iroh continues. “Go shopping, try the local food, see if you can find me better teas!”

“I don’t need a vacation, I need to restore my honor.” Zuko turns his head away.

“And how is the Southern Water Tribe going to do that?”

Zuko turns his head towards Iroh slightly. “I will have gained the trust of my father, the faith of my grandfather, and the support of the nobility.”

“But is that what you really want?” Iroh questions.

“It is what I need!” Zuko yells and his hands spark.

“Well, getting what was needed is what got you that scar, Prince Zuko. Remember that.” Iroh stands up to leave and makes his way past his nephew to the door. He stops and looks back. Zuko stands where he is, back rigid and shoulders tense, but his fire is extinguished. Iroh leaves, satisfied that he has given something for his nephew to ponder on.

Zuko turns his head and sees the spilled tea. He looks around the room, but his eyes settle on the lone mirror hung up on the wall just behind him. He stares at himself for a moment before his face twists in anger. With a shout, he smashes his fist into his reflection. The glass shatters, but he can still see himself multiplied in the shards. He feels tears threaten and he forces himself to look away. He takes off his shirt and rubs it across his face, mopping up any water that managed to escape before throwing the material onto his bed. He walks to his closet to pick out a more suitable outfit.

Chapter Text

Zuko takes a lantern, partially out of fear he’ll melt a pillar or something on accident and partially out of laziness, when he leaves his room that night. The moonlight in minimal, a sliver of white gold in the sky gives him very little to see by. He quizzes the servants that stopped by during dinner as to the location to the library. Their knowledge of The Common Language is minimal, and they direct him to a footboy passing by. In a rush, the boy leaves him complicated directions, with many lefts and rights, but Zuko is frankly too agitated by this to seek additional help.

Walking down the Hall of the Natti, named after what he assumed are seal etchings on the ice walls, Zuko finds the double archway the boy had said the library would be in. The inside is obviously old, and very odd to his eyes. The shelves and bookcases are a mixture of wood and ice, scrolls housed in sealed off cubes of ice. Sheets and sheets of maps in and on top of the desks.

He walks further into the room, seeking a place where he can sit and read. He notices a light and walks towards it. The place seems mostly unused and he would really rather be alone than have to deal with stares or aggression from some random Water Tribe peasant.

He keeps walking and comes upon a low desk piled with maps and scrolls. Someone sits on a pile of furs (do these people not have chairs at all?) and he quickly realized who it is. Her hair is what gives it away. It is completely down, for once, and wild with curls. Her hands work the rolled ends of the scroll to move the text along the parchment. He stands still, conflicted. He can’t just kick her out of the library, but he knows that if he walks out now she’ll notice him. Besides, they need to talk. And like adult leaders of the world, not...whatever they’ve been acting as. Figuring confrontation is best, he coughs gently and she swings her head around.

She stares at him for the briefest moment as she realizes who it is. “How did you get here?” she questions, almost insulted that he is here.

“I asked where the library was and was told it was here,” he answers, caught off-guard by her tone.

She continues to stare at him. “Who told you?”

He makes his way from behind her to stand beside her desk but several paces away. “Do you think I cared for his name? Just some errand boy.”

“About this tall?” she holds her hand up above her head. “Shaved hair on one side and missing front tooth?”

Zuko looks at her, puzzled. “Yes?”

“That’s Ekiaq. He’s a page for the councilmen exclusively. Of course he sent you here.” Katara sighs and plants her head on her folded arms, leaning forward on her desk.

“He’s a what?”

She turns her head to the side to speak to him. “A page,” she emphasizes as if that will make him understand her better. “He must have thought you wanted to talk to me.” She ignores him now, picking her reading back up.

There is a pause. “What’s that?”

“A scroll,” she retorts. Zuko tries not to roll his eyes.

“Are you serious?”

She looks up at him. “This is a library,” she states as if he were an idiot.

“You don’t have books?” he asks, incredulous.

“We do.”

“Then why are you reading a scroll?”

“Because the information I seek is written on a scroll.”

He can tell the conversation is going nowhere, so he changes tactics. “What are you reading, then?”

“Just some old Fire Nation rhetoric,” she says flippantly.

He’s taken aback. “What?”

“You seem surprised,” she says, a smirk starting on her lips.

“Why would you read that.”

“I happen to find Fu Zhao Min,” Zuko cringes when she butchers the name, “quite interesting.”.

His expression changes once he realizes what she’s said. “You’re reading what?”

“Do you have problems with your hearing?” She asks seriously.

“Is that a copy of Fu Zhao Min’s Rhetoric and Answer? In almost mint condition?” He moves closer to the desk as he speaks, unable to contain his amazement and excitement. He slides himself to sit beside her, leaning towards the desk where the scroll is resting, along with others he suspects are just as rare.

A pause. She lifts the scroll to her face and sniffs. “The scroll does not smell of mint.”

Zuko can’t help but smile warmly at that. “If it's as old as I think, it wouldn't be. I will give you 100 gold pieces for it.”

She gives him a blank stare. “No.”

“That,” he points at the scroll, “belongs in the Fire Nation. Lost in the beginning chaos of the Eastern Conquest, it’s probably one of only a few left in the world. It belongs with his other works." He is having a difficult time suppressing his excitement at discovering an ancient text here in this terrible place. He's itching to dive into the rest of the stacks not encased in ice, to see if any other age-old texts and tales have wound-up here.

“Really?”she asks. Zuko nods eagerly. “Then no.” Katara says with a full blown smirk.

Zuko sighs forcefully and rubs his forehead, the small signs of a headache appearing. “Why wont you give it to me?”

“It is not mine to give. The library belongs to the people of the Southern Water Tribe.”

“Yes, and you are their Chief!”

Katara puts the scroll down and folds her arms in front of her. “You do not understand at all.”

Zuko huffs angrily and stands.

“Sit down, Fire Prince,” she commands. His head whips around to look at her, obviously confused. “I cannot offer you the scroll, but perhaps I can give you something else.”

Hesitantly, he sits back down.

“Show me your arm,” she requests. He starts to hold one of his arms. “No, no. The-” she points to his other arm, unable to find the right word. “That one.”

“My left arm,” he supplies.

Katara nods. “The one I cut.” He holds it out for her.

Gently, she rolls up the sleeve of his shirt to his elbow. She gently traces the cut with her finger before calling the water from her cup to her command. It flows to her easily in a thin, serpentine stream. He wrenches his arm back.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a tight voice.

She fixes him with a stare. “I am going to heal you,” she, again, speaks to him as if he were an idiot. She reaches for his arm.

He leans further back. “How do I know you’re not going to kill me?”

Her head tilts. “If I wanted to kill you, I would have left you stranded on the ice. Now," she says coldly. “Give me your arm.”

“Why?” He asks, suspicious.

“Because I hurt you. Here, in the Southern Water Tribe, you have to fix any damage you cause in whatever way possible and suitable. I am a Master Healer.” She holds her hand out expectantly.

They lock eyes, staring the other down until one concedes. He places his arm back into her hand. She gloves her hand with water and presses it against the wound, the other holds the arm close in her lap. She closes her eyes and concentrates. The water glows.

In her hand, she can feel him. She feels his energy with every measured breath in and out of her body. She takes hold of it, gently, and urges it to pool into the cut. His energy flows through her as she gently moves it to critical areas first to make sure the bleeding won’t start again. It’s not deep, thankfully, so it doesn’t take much time. Finally, she feels his skin knitting back together and she lets go. She hasn’t even broken a sweat. She looks back up at him. His eyes are wide and unfocused, breathing heavy. There’s a small bead of sweat descending down the unmarked side of his face. Katara worries, as none of her patients have shown signs like this before to her healing.

“Do you not have Healers in the Fire Nation?” she asks, hoping it will distract him.

“We have medicine. Waterbenders are not allowed to… to do that. Witchcraft like that was banned long ago.” Katara raises an eyebrow.

“Witchcraft?” The word tastes funny on her lips. She mouths the word a few times to get a good grasp of it.

“Magic.” Zuko clarifies, tone set.

“Healing isn’t Magic,” she corrects gently. “It is waterbending.”

“It’s unnatural!” He stands up quickly and she’s so shocked she falls backwards and has to brace herself on her elbows. “It’s evil magic,” he huffs, “and I should not have let you draw me into it!”

“What are you talking about?” She hastily sits up.

He turns away from her. “You would be punished for that in the Fire Nation. Attacking the Crowned Prince is-”

“Attacking? I helped you!” She stands too.

He whirls back to her, face furious, but he doesn’t look at her, not really. “How dare you use your vile water magic on me!”

“Stop calling it magic!” she steps closer to him.

His face flushes. “You’re nothing but an evil sorceress-a dark temptress here to lure me to-”

“Dark tem-? To do what!?” She yells.

He finally looks right at her.“To seduce me!”

She doesn't speak. She stares at him, obviously shocked. “You think I healed you to seduce you.” The sharpness of her tone could cut ice. It is not a question. When Zuko doesn’t answer, she moves closer. “You are an arrogant, self-absorbed, spoiled Prince who only thinks about himself. You came here, to me. I let you into my home, gave you hospitality, and then you insult me. You insult me like I am nothing, when I am your everything. I am your judge, your jury, and if the time comes, your executioner. I hold your continued existence in my hand and you call my bending evil magic and me a temptress. I should kill you where you stand.”

He leans forward. “Then do it,” he challenges.

She tilts her head up. “I wouldn't want your dirty blood staining my furs.”

He shifts back slightly. “How dare you insult-”

“Do not speak to me of ‘how dare you!’”

“I am the Crowned Prince of the Fire Empire!” He gestures wildly.

“You shout your title as if it gives you power!”

“I have all the power! I am a firebender!” His hand lashes out and a great stream of fire whips its way above Katara’s desk and strikes the wall, instantly melting a large hole all the way through. Katara screams and her hands curl, instinctively seeking water. Zuko takes a step back, eyes wide and mouth open in shock. Guards appear at the door.

“Chief Katara, is everything-”

“Take him away.” She doesn't look at him. Her eyes are focused on the gaping hole.

“Chief Katara,” Zuko begins.

“Do not speak,” she orders as the guards swiftly move to the prince. “Take him to his chambers.” She is calm, her voice almost inflection-less. Zuko has no choice but to walk with the guards out of the library. He looks back as he leaves. The hole is large, and Katara stares at it, almost afraid of it. He quickly faces front and walks in front of the guards, head low and ashamed.

Chapter Text

The House whispers. The cleaning staff talks to the scribes, the scribes talk with the pages. The pages literally run to everyone. Did you hear what happened - straight through the wall - almost destroyed the Library - could’ve burnt down the whole place!

Scandals are few and far between in the Southern Water Tribe. There is only so little one can do to tarnish their reputation when there is so much to do just to survive. The arrival of gossip, of a scandal, leaves everyone a little giddy, ready to jump in with their opinions and known half-truths. By the end of the first day, there are as many different versions of the truth as there are people on the streets and fish in the sea.

Karan walks through the kitchens the next morning. It’s something he does often and he smiles at people as he walks, picking pieces of almost prepared foods and laughing when the cooks smack his hand away. He hears them whispering. The older cooks don’t join in or seem to hear, but the younger ones talk. They look away when they catch his glance, but that doesn’t make them stop. He stands near them, just out of sight. He hears their conversation.

“He didn’t!” one says excitedly. She has long, dark hair pulled back in braids.

“Yes, he did! The Fire Prince blasted a hole through a wall last night,” the other one, a young boy says. He has an apron on over his blue tunic with his hair pulled back in a bun. He’s holding a large bowl and stirring a brown sauce. The smells in the kitchen mix too much for Karan to tell what it is just by sight. “In the Library. With Chief Katara,” the boy finishes. Karan nearly drops his nicely cut piece of fish.

“And this is all after that meeting in the Council Room,” the girl says. “Oh,” she sighs, “it’s all so romantic!” She leans against the counter where various ingredients sit, waiting to be used. Karan can name some, but the rest he only recognizes by sight, not by name.

“Anaaya” The one with the bowl starts with a harsh almost-whisper. “You shouldn’t talk like that!” He’s reprimanding her. Karan likes this one. Anaaya barrels on anyway.

“Come on, Arnaq, you have to think he’s attractive! So tall, strong. And he’s a firebender. How exotic! I’ll bet you he’s incredibly handsome, too.” She has her back against the counter now, looking towards where Karan hides. Thankfully, she doesn’t spot him.

“You haven’t seen him?” Arnaq asks. layer of judgement hides beneath his words, like he’s waiting to ruin a great dream for Anaaya.

“Well...not exactly. I saw his back as he walked down the corridor to the Council Room. Oh, it was just too much!”

“Well I heard that it was an assassination attempt,” Arnaq says, as if that will change Anaaya’s mind instantly. Karan bites his tongue to stop from saying something.

“No, no, no! They were caught together! He was just trying to scare them off! You know that’s how they make peace in the Fire Nation-Carnally. I wonder what he would be like…” She sounds so wistful. Karan could throw something.

He walks away then, deciding he’s heard enough. He needs to talk to Katara. That’s the only way he will get a straight answer. Ideas of secret trysts and assassination attempts run through his mind, but he’s not worried about the rumors of the Prince and Katara being true. He’s worried about her, about what the people are saying, and he’s worried about what he’ll do if he gets his hands on this Prince if he discovers his intentions are what his people seem to think they are.

----

“Chief Katara, Chief Katara!”

Katara looks up from cleaning her face by the washbasin. Councilmember Sedna bursts through her doors, a small train of lesser advisors and pages behind her. Katara simply raises her eyebrow at Sedna, who leans against the door she almost tore down, breaths coming up short. Her hair is tousled, half-up, half-down, as if she was partway through doing when she made her way here. It’s not a good sign. Taking the visual queue, Sedna dismisses her entourage with a wave and closes the door. Katara waterbends the remaining water from her face and puts it back in the bowl.

“What’s this I hear about an assassination attempt?” Sedna demands more than asks, hand on hip-the whole deal. Katara is shocked. She knew her little encounter with the Prince wouldn’t be secret for long, but honestly, this must be a new record.

“That’s not exactly what happened.”

“Did he fire at you?” Sedna asks impatiently.

“No, well I mean. I don’t know.” Katara leans against her vanity. She doesn’t know exactly what happened, but she was in danger and it was because of him. “He offended me, we got into an argument, and he melted a part of the International libraries wall. I don’t think it was planned, but he definitely bended because of me.”

Sedna crosses her arms. “You know, if the guards didn’t blab, we wouldn’t have to give him a trial.” Katara gives her a look and she looks surprised. “You want to put him on trial anyways?”

“Yes?,” too much of a question. Try again. “I mean, he could’ve killed me! I was in danger.”

“Katara,” Sedna approaches her. “He’s not from the Water Tribes. We don’t have an international court. You can’t put him on trial.”

Katara sighs and stands. “Sedna, I value your friendship and insight, but half the city already knows something happened that caused a wall to melt. Not only do I have deal with that, but now I have to deal with whatever the guards are saying happened, and go out and find some clear-water bender to fix the wall! That thing is ancient.” Katara flops herself down on the small couch located at the bottom of her bed. Sedna joins her. “I don’t know how to deal with that water, sculpt like that, and you don’t either.” Katara’s voice is as small as she feels.

Sedna reaches over and rubs Katara’s shoulder. “Katara… don’t try to carry this entire burden. The council and I have said you can come to us if all this gets too hectic. We can take care of this. I’ll send one of my hands to find a bender. You don’t have to do everything yourself.”

“It’s my fault.” She tries for strength, but it comes out sad instead.

“Katara,” Sedna begins, taking the side of Katara’s face in her hand and turning it towards her. “This isn’t your fault. You didn’t ask for him to come here and blast a hole in the library.”

“Why did he have to come at all?” Katara asks. “Why couldn’t he just leave us alone?”

Sedna hears the edge in Katara’s voice and pulls her closer into a hug. “I don’t know.”

Katara presses her face into Sedna’s neck. “I want him gone. All of them. I want my father back.”

Sedna smooths her hand down Katara’s hair. “I know. I know you do,” Sedna sympathizes. She wishes Hakoda were here, too. He would know what to do with this Prince.

The door bursts open, breaking the silence. “Katara!” a voice shouts, causing the two women to jump in surprise.

“Karan! You scared me,” Katara says, still startled.

“Is it true? What they’re saying?” He asks. He’s walking towards them a bit fast, nervous fast.

Katara looks away and crosses her arms, bracing for the worst. “Which part?”

“Are you-did you two...The Prince, he didn’t…?”

Katara looks back at him and sees the struggle on his face. “Karan…” she prompts.

Karan trips over his words.“Because you can tell me. I mean, I won’t be. Actually I probably would be, but...I want you to tell me.”

Katara begins to get frustrated. “Karan, what are you-”

He interrupts her. “Were you with him?” His face is so serious.

“Yes, of course I was with him,” Katara answers, confused.

“No, Katara,” he runs a hand through his hair. “Were you two...In the Library...Did he kiss you?”

Katara physically shifts away from him in shock. “What? No! I-we weren’t-I would never!” She turns to Sedna. “Is that what people are saying?”

“I heard the kitchen maids talking about it just now,” Karan answers.

Katara’s head drops into her hands. “This is awful. This couldn’t get any worse.”

“But, I mean,” Karan squats down next to the couch and put his hand on Katara’s back. “You didn’t. So you have nothing to hide,” he puts his hand over her hand resting in her lap. “We just have to show them you’re committed to your engagement.” She freezes. She knows what those words mean.

“I don’t want to have this conversation,” she says in a low voice.

“What? Katara-” Karan begins, but Sedna stops him.

“Karan I think you should go,” Sedna says. She’s using the voice she normally reserved for her children. Katara has never been more thankful for it.

Karan resists anyway. “What? No, I’m not leaving. Katara is-”

“Perfectly capable of dealing with this herself,” Sedna finishes for him.

There is a tense moment. Karan stares at Sedna, not wanting to leave. He wants to help, Katara knows that, but she...she just can’t right now. “Fine,” he concedes and stands up. Sedna follows him to the door and he looks back, confused and a bit upset. Sedna closes the door after him.

There is a moment where no one speaks. “Katara…” Sedna begins, breaking the silence.

“Don’t,” Katara says, but there isn’t much force behind it.

“Katara, you have to do something.” Sedna says, still standing by the door.

“What would you like me to do!” Katara shouts, sitting up and facing Sedna.

“I don’t know! Something!” Sedna can’t fix this for her, Katara knows that, but, La, does she wish she could.

“It would break his heart,” Katara says firmly.

“That would be better than this,” Sedna gestures towards where Karan left. “Katara,” she begins, gentler this time. “He loves you.”

“You think I don’t know that?,” Katara shoots back. “You think I can’t see that? I do! I see it every day, every time he looks at me. He’s my best friend, Sedna. I can’t just…” Sedna sits next to her. “I can’t do that to him. I love him, I do. We wouldn’t be happy. Not...not like that.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Sedna agrees.

Katara looks at her, sees the truth in what she says. Katara hugs her tightly and feels tears prick at her eyes. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Sedna replies, hugging her back. “You’ll figure it out. You’ll do the right thing.”

“I hope so.”

----

“Prince Zuko…” Iroh begins, but can’t seem to finish. He is astonished.

“Please, Uncle,” Zuko says. “Don’t. Not right now.” He is sitting on his bed, head hanging. He hasn’t moved much from when he woke this morning.his Uncle tried to broach this topic last night after hearing Zuko’s short and angry explanation of what happened. Zuko hadn’t slept well despite the “soothing jasmine tea” his uncle managed to force him to drink.

Iroh tries again. “I don’t think you understand what you have done.”

“I burnt the wall. Pay someone to fix it,” Zuko says flatly.

“No,” Iroh approaches. “What you have done...You have insulted the entire Southern Water Tribe.”

Zuko looks up, confused. “What?”

“You have attacked their palace and nearly assassinated their Chief. I am surprised they do not consider this an act of war,” Iroh admitted.

Zuko goes on the defensive. “I didn’t almost assassinate her-”

Iroh interrupts him. “Then please, go and explain that to the Council! I am sure they would love to hear the technicalities of your altercation in the Library.”

“Everyone is blowing this out of proportion.” Zuko is exasperated. He considers asking his uncle again to just stop talking about it.

“Are they? You blasted a hole in their wall!” Iroh counters.

“Can’t they fix it? Aren’t they waterbenders?” They built it in the first place, shouldnt they be able to fix it?"

Iroh shakes his head and sits back down in his chair. “At least they’re giving you a trial.”

“A trial?” Zuo asks, hopefully. “Shouldn’t that clear all of this up then?”

“Prince Zuko,”Iroh begins darkly. “This is not a trial like in the Capital. You are in the Water Tribes now.” The warning is clear.

“What are they going to do? Kill me?” Zuko scoffs.

“You are too valuable to them to kill,” Iroh admits. He believes that is really the only thing keeping the two of them alive at this point.

“Then what’s the problem?” Zuko throws up his hands. “ I go to trial, pay someone to fix the wall, I don’t-”

“You do not understand! It is a matter of honor, Prince Zuko.” Iroh isn’t yelling. Not yet. “You have insulted the Water Tribe, their Chief personally-they will be out for blood!”

“Honor…” Zuko says quietly, almost to himself.

“Yes. Honor.” There is a pause. Iroh decides to try a different, but related topic. “Do you know what they are saying about you two?”

“What?” Zuko asks, but it is clear he doesn’t care about the answer.

“They’re calling it...what did she say? A midnight rendezvous.”

“A what?” Zuko is shocked.

“They think you’re having an affair with their Chief,” Iroh explains. “Who is engaged, I might add.”

“I am not!” Zuko is indignant and a little appalled at this insinuation.

“That is what it looks like to them.” Iroh sits. The conversation is finally going in his favor.

“I would never!” Zuko says, the perfect picture of scandalized. “The Chief of the Water Tribes,” he scoffs, “A peasant. I am a Prince-The Prince!”

Iroh picks up his tea. “It would not be the first time, Prince Zuko. Especially for you.” He stares at Zuko while he takes a sip, watching every movement of his face.

Jin. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zuko spits back.

Iroh tries a different approach. “Prince Zuko, please-”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Zuko says, effectively ending this conversation.

There is a knock on the door that saves Zuko from any further attempts at conversation. They have a tense moment, each one looking back at the other, before Iroh goes to the door.

“He comes with us,” the man at the door says. They all know who he means. Zuko is just glad he has on decent clothes this time.

He stands and walks toward the door. They don’t grab him this time, thankfully, and he doesn’t ask where they are going. They probably wouldn’t answer him anyway.

----

It’s a big room. Not as big as the throne room in the palace, but definitely the largest room he’s seen so far in the horrible place. He looks around and see what must be half the tribe crowded around the edges of the room. The guards make him keep walking. The Council sits in a line and she is in the middle. He swears under his breath. She looks unhappy, but she isn’t looking at him so he assumes something else displeases her. When they reach the middle of the room she turns her head and her eyes lock onto his. Her hair is braided back and she isn’t wearing makeup. It doesn’t make her look less intimidating.

The guards stop him about ten paces from her dias and make him kneel. One of the Councilmembers stands to address him.

The man speaks slowly and with a heavy accent. “Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation-”

“Empire,” Zuko corrects.

The Councilperson looks at the Chief nervously. “... Empire. Prince Zuko of the Fire Empire. You stand accused before the Council of the Southern Water Tribe. What have you to say of this?”

“What am I accused of? What are the charges?” Zuko is honestly confused. He had expected a lecture, especially from the Chief. He hasn’t known her for long, but she seems very fond of speeches. Especially about how important she is.

There is twittering from the Council, but she keeps her eyes on him. She speaks. “Destruction of property.” One of the Councilmembers opens their mouth to speak, but she holds up her hand. “Royal property,” she amends. “And therefore also the property of the entire Southern Water Tribe.” The twittering sounds much more pleased this time.

“What of the attempt on your life?” A Councilmember asks her.

She’s still staring at him. “What attempt?”

The room erupts with noise. She lets it go on for a moment before holding up her hand. The room goes quiet. “Sedna,” she says and a girl to her right stands up.

“In the Southern Water Tribe,” she begins reading from a scroll. She also speaks slowly, but much more surely than the man. “We have laws. Laws that are regarding the fixing of damages. When one does damage, especially to person or property, it must be fixed by the perpetrator,” she struggles a bit with the more complicated word. “But,” she continues. “You are not of the tribe. You come from foreign lands seeking to conquer and destroy. Our laws do not apply to you.” Here, she looks out at the gathered crowd. “Our Chief, Katara, daughter of Chief Hakoda and the Honourable Kya,” she says something more here, but it’s in their native language and Zuko doesn’t understand. Everyone there repeats it, and it reminds him a bit of Fire Nation tradition. He doesn’t have time to think more about it, though, because the girl (Sedna?) keeps reading. “Has read the ancient texts and laws. They read that outsiders who break our laws are to be punished, in this case, by death.”

A hushed murmur rolls through the crowd. Zuko’s blood freezes. He doesn’t know if he really is important enough for them to bend their own laws to save him. He’s not the Heir. Not yet anyway. And would his grandfather even send warships if he was killed? He hopes he would. He would like to think he would be avenged. Killed in the fucking Southern Water Tribe. Azula would visit his grave everyday to mock him, after she burns this palace down. It would be a shame to lose such beautiful craftsmanship and architecture. He really hopes they don't kill him.

Zuko glances up to the dias. She looks so smug sitting up there above all of them. Her words from last night ring in his ears. I am your judge, your jury, and if the time comes, your executioner. Executioner. That would make her too happy.

“However,” the girl continues. “The Council is willing to give some privilege to you in good favor. What have you to say about these accusations Chief Katara has brought against you?”

Zuko looks down at the floor and thinks for a moment. He has no idea what his sentence will be or even what he’s supposed to say. This isn’t how trials are conducted in the Capital. There’s not really a way to deny that he blew a hole in their wall, but what does admitting it mean? He looks up and meets her eyes. She helped him. He has no idea why, but she dismissed the most serious charge against him. It probably really does look like they’re having an affair now because there is no other reason he can think of that she would help him. He decides that this could work in his favor in the future and will therefore play along with their games. They said they wouldn’t kill him. He hopes this is the right thing to say. “Guilty.”

It must be, because the room erupts again. The Councilmembers all look at each other, but her eyes are still on him. He’s not sure if she’s blinked this entire time.

Sedna is still standing. “Your sentence,” the Chief smiles now, anticipating her words. “Is to join the Hunt.”

Sedna sits down quickly and the Chief stands up. She shouts something in a different language that Zuko assumes means “What?!” The guards make him stand and the Council all converges on the irate Chief. She keeps shouting at them and pointing at him, but apparently there’s nothing she can do now that the Council has made their decision. Guess she really isn’t my judge, he thinks. She looks back at him and he smiles. He knows he got out of this one so much better than he should have.

She glares at him and he almost expects her to bare her teeth and growl like an animal. Unfortunately, she doesn’t and the guards escort him out the room. The Hunt. That can’t be too bad, especially if she reacted against it so harshly. It should be easy. He is a Master Firebender afterall. He walks out of the room back straight and proud, every inch the Prince he is. They’ve bent their own rules to accommodate him. He wonders what else he can make them do.

Chapter Text

She can only feel heat in her veins. She glares across the room, meeting the eyes of her council, before closing them to center herself. The chatter dies, and the sound of feet shuffling out of the courtroom echoes. When she looks up, it’s just her on the raised dais, several feet above the ground, and her council standing before her. Their faces are blank masks she is unused to seeing.

“Explain.” Her voice is deep, deeper than how she normally hears it. It is an attempt to bring out what bit of her father she can. They need to remember she is more than the administrator given the seat for the moment. She is the blood of the Sea, from a line of both Spiritwalkers and Chiefs. While the chiefdom may not put emphasis on succession lines, it has remained in her family since the time of The Wall, by the choice of the people. Her family and her ancestors have never led them wrong for over a hundred years. It is worth remembering, and she will help them remember, Tui guide them all.

No one breaks their mask. Sedna wavers, but holds her gaze at her Chief (and Katara is Chief now in her mind - no stand-in would be able handle the conflicts that have arisen these past weeks and stand here now as her does).

“How I am supposed to present a united front to our people when the council goes behind the back of the Chief and disregards our laws in the face of foreign power!?” Katara’s voice raises as she continues. The guards standing at attention by the door visibly flinch, her voice echoing off the floors and walls of the room. Light filters through the little glass skylights that litter the ceiling.

Someone is brave enough to answer her. “We did not make this decision to denounce you, Kata-”

“Chief!” Katara yells and brings herself to her full height, back straight and head held high. She feels her ire for her council grow. “For as long as my father is away, I will be afforded the respect and power that comes with the title!” She does not remember her father or brother ever having such trouble with the council before, ever such disrespect.

“We humbly apologize, Chief Katara.” It is Sedna who steps forward, her voice unwavering. “As we said, we did not do this to demote your power or bring question to your decisions.”

“Then explain how you all came to the same conclusion concerning the fate of the Fire Prince? Last I remember, we were in unison on the terms of his banishment from the land.”

“We…” Sedna begins. “We felt that the punishment was too harsh.”

“And you did not bring this concern to me?”

“We felt that, from your… dealings with the Prince, your opinion would be clouded.” Katara abruptly stands. Sedna and the rest of the council step back on reflex.

“You assumed, my council, that your Chief would be too emotional or biased to make a decision that would affect the entirety of the land? Am I to assume here that the council no longer trusts the Chief to make decisions that are for the good of the tribe?” She takes a step forward onto the stair leading up to the dias. “I give you one moment, and only one, to explain why you believe this… outcome, is better than the one where we get rid of the source of the problem completely.”

“We do not believe his banishment would end it all.” Tonrar’s gravelly voice carries up to where she stands, still above them. “He would only return with an army. Then we will be defenseless against the onslaught. Chief Katara, we do not have an army, and we do not have enough fighters to stand against firebenders. Our allies, traders on the mainland, will not stand with us against a member of their royal family.” Katara grimaces at his point. She knows that her people have not known war for almost a century. The Tribes have been mostly at peace since the early days of The Walls. She has never seen the blood of her countrymen outside those hurt on the hunt and those she heals.

“His banishment would have left him wounded,” she tries, “a man such as him would leave with wounded pride and never return - never mention his defeat to his people.”

“His banishment would have brought an army! This is why we did not want to tell you of our overruling!” Tonrar is loud. It leaves a ringing in her ears.

“So you felt that this needed to be discussed without me? Was it your plan to shame your Chief in front of our people and the foreigners?”

Tonrar’s face grows red. “You are not Chie-”

“I AM CHIEF.” Her voice echoes, and she is certain that the guards across the building in the Hall of Remittance can hear her. She sighs, suddenly feeling the aches in her bones and the muddled thoughts that come with arguing and yelling. She sits back down. She muses she should have eaten something before the trial. “You are all excused,” she says without looking at them.

There is a cough, a shuffle, and then no one but her in the room. She melts into the chair, sliding her back against the wood, and takes long, deep, breaths. Her mind is cluttered and she contemplates what it really means to have this power but… not.

Sokka and Father are not to blame. Shriekpoint Bluff is important. A land as far and wide as theirs needs to be in harmony. These meetings are vital to the lifeblood of their unity. Sokka is to be chief, he needs to go. Someone needs to see to their city. She chants these thoughts through her head. It calms her briefly, before she hears the creak of the door opening.

She looks up to see the elder foreign man that came with the Prince. He is greying, his body hinting to years out of service, but his stance is strong. He nods in a greeting manner to her, which she reciprocates. He waits at the door. At least he is well-read in our customs. Unlike a certain boy I can think of.

“Please enter, Fire Nation Nobleman,” she instructs.

“Please, call me Iroh, Chief Katara,” the man replies gently, with a hint of a smile even. She already likes him better than his prince.

“Iroh, then. What brings you to this room? Your Prince was escorted back to the West Wing after the...” What was the word she was looking for? She knew she should have brushed up on the Common Language. This is embarrassing. “The meeting,” she decides to call it.

Iroh does her the courtesy of pretending not to notice her grasping for words. “I did not attend the trial,” That’s the word! “but heard from him a few moments ago. If I may be so bold to ask, what caused this moment of mercy? I know my nephew,” Nephew? Penguin droppings, “to be rash at the best of times.” The Prince has a rash? Is she supposed to pity him because of this? Does he need ointment? “But trying to harm you is a serious offense -- capital punishment would be his sentence in his own nation.” Katara does not know what to say to this.

She pauses for a moment, trying to come up with some explanation. Showing the divide between her and the Council to this foreign conqueror would be unwise. “We believed the Hunt to be… inspirational.” If Sokka could only see the things she was pulling out of nowhere. “We… value our people too much to ever... sentence their death.” Talking around the truth wasn’t exactly lying, she muses, and taking the moral high-ground always looks good. “As the Prince’s trial was through us, he must submit to our laws.”

“Your nephew,” the association feels odd on her tongue, “did not harm, but attempted. Had he managed success, the worst punishment would be banishment in the tundra: living his life in the cold, alone and exiled from all.” Katara walks down the steps. The courtroom has cooled considerably since the excitement only an hour prior. She has trade reports to read, and now a hunting party to appoint, routes to map out, and provisions to organize. All because some Prince couldn’t keep his fire in check. Magic water. Pfft.

“But we do punish those that do wrong. The Hunt will be grueling. He will be tested in ways I do not think a Prince, would have been. He has caused destruction, and must atone by assisting the tribe. If the Prince was a waterbender, he would help repair the wall. He cannot fix what has been damaged, so his task is to collect food for winter. His slate wiped clean, the village bettered by help, whatever crimes forgotten. A stronger village.” Katara can feel the cold start to creep onto her fingers. It is not uncomfortable, but being cold means she can feel the water in her veins. She needs her hearth and some whalebone soup. Passing the noble known as Iroh, she opens the door.

“Nobleman Iroh, the Hunt connects people together. Your nephew will either be accepted by his fellow hunters, the village with his help. Or he will be hated. There is not more I can tell you, but that he may forget the Hunt completely if he leaves now. Your people never to return.”

She walks out. If her council can overrule her decisions, she can create loopholes to get what she believes the tribe needs.

---

The hearth died while he was gone. Whatever servants that used to attend to his quarters have been missing since morning, since his trial. The small bench that sits in front of the hearth is covered in a thin shawl, bright red with blue, yellow, and white threads woven through to mimic a geometric pattern. It had been a gift from a tribe in the Si Wong desert, one of the few keepsakes he takes with him one his journeys across the empire. The colors look dull in the low light of the room, where under the desert sun they were bright and lively - the memory is an echo of a younger man in the making.

He sighs, and falls back on the bed. He had expected death, an execution from their Chief directly, especially considering what she said to him in the library. He imagined he’d see the pleasure in her eyes when she struck him down, taking joy in his death. But he would have fought back, and he would have burned her to a crisp.

But that is Azula’s way. Zuko shakes his head at the thoughts that come to him. Violence is only the answer when all other methods fail. An empire cannot be ruled by fear and violence alone.

He’s almost glad they aren’t barbarians. Barbarians are difficult, they don’t listen to reason and  they resist change. The public, though, they can change their minds,and are open to the new world.  They can have their loyalty bought, and their feelings adjusted. He knows how to work people, it is what all his years abroad have taught him.

Azula is better at manipulation, of course. But that’s not what will win him the South. She, after all, hasn’t conquered countries. He runs his hands through his hair, feeling the strands and noting their length. Haircut, soon. He sits up. Time to take stock of my situation.

He’s not dead, which is nice. The Chief hates him, which is not nice, but manageable. The public doesn’t know what to make of him. But the Council--the Council spared him. Apparently against their Chief’s wishes, if her reaction is anything to go by. This he can definitely work with. The girl is a complication, though. Tian, she knows a lot, too much probably, but he can’t get to her now. There’s no way to know what she heard on the ship, or in the Capital. There’s no way to know what she’s told the chief, what she plans to tell her. He must account for the Chief knowing a few things, even if it is just gossip and speculation about his country.

He runs his hands over the shawl beneath him, the rough-spun jute crinkles under his ministrations. The small sequins and bright red threads that decorate its front have been slowly coming undone -- wear and tear from the years he’s carried it around showing on the broken threads and missing beads. A few sequins have come away on his hand, and he flips his palm up to look at them. They’re small and white, a tiny hole for thread in their center. Their usual shine dull in the dark room. His mind flashes back to the endless sea of grass, and long, dark, matted hair tied up to stay out of the way. The way the wind played with the loose strands while they rode through the fields. The shine of sequins on her saddle. He balls the fabric up in his hand. The two women are alike, in a way. Both so full of passion and life. But Jin, Jin never had the status this Chief has, she never had a chance. Her life was fated before it even began.

The thought makes Zuko want to throw the bench across the room. It’s not fair that Jin, lovely, sweet Jin, was given nothing while this witch gets an entire country to preside over.

His ire for her only grows. He wants to make her suffer, wishes that she had sentenced him to death so they could have a fight, an Agni Kai if he could, and he would see the look in her eyes when he bested her. He would relish the shock and fear that would spill across her face. His fingers itch with the desire to bend, really bend. He bolts up, but falters as he stands -- unsure if he’s allowed to leave his room now. His uncle isn’t back yet, he notices. He lays down on his bed, focusing on controlling the candles that light his room. Meditation is key, Uncle always says.

He has to come up with a plan. He needs some way of obtaining this city, and it is truly a city. A pretty city he would hate to see destroyed. The workmanship alone would be enough for him to want to save it, but there is knowledge here. Information far more important than even the scroll he tried to buy from the chief. His people could only benefit from the information locked away here in the South Pole, he knows it.

He sits up, like lightning through his spine.

The Hunt.

It’s perfect, really. He goes on this little outing, butters up the hunters and warriors, impresses them with his firebending a little, and he’s got them. They’ll want to know more -- who really is the Prince? What’s the Fire Empire like? Their highly advanced steam heating system alone would win them over, he’s sure. From there, it’s just showing the people who he is, and eventually their stubborn chief will have to concede that joining the Empire is really the only way to keep everyone happy.

The Council has given him the perfect opportunity to plant his little seeds of doubt among the people.

He stands up and walks to the table where a pitcher of water and dish sit. Pouring himself a glass, Zuko swirls the liquid around. It’s pure, clear water. He expected no less. He downs the drink, wiping away the few drops that roll down his chin and pointedly ignores the broken mirror that now barely hangs on the wall.

If he’s going to go out into the wilderness for this hunt, he needs to practise. He pulls his shirts off his back and folds them up. His starts his stretches, facing the window and the cool light of the night. He turns his body sideways and catches movement out of the corner of his eye and turns quickly, hands raised and ready to bend. A girl is standing outside his window, clearly scared. He lowers his arms and she runs. He decides to finish his stretching on the other side of the room.

---

Katara looks over the papers at her desk, the lone candle at her side flickers. She doesn’t need it, light still peering from the windows being enough for her, but the small wax candle gives off a sweet scent that she is fond of. Some of the papers are about trade and she has them in a neat pile for her father when he returns. The rest are notes and letters addressed to her. She was working on dividing them into stacks, but quickly gave up. She has much more on her mind than petty arguments and advice from people who have no idea what’s going on in the Palace. She decides to pace instead.

She makes three full loops around her room before stopping, her mind not settled at all. She quickly bends water from her pitcher into a ball that she focuses on maintaining. It’s better. She glances at her door, hoping to see a courier there with a message. Nothing would please her more than to receive news that the Fire Prince and his General are leaving. It would save her from the amount of paperwork these foreigners have accumulated in the past week, and from having to organize a Hunt. She would spend the day organizing people instead for her father’s return, something she is much better at, and seeing the Prince and his group off. Then she would call it a day and celebrate with her council and friends. Instead she is supposed to pick the hunters whose job it will be to protect the Prince and ensure his survival.

It’s almost comical, and if the circumstances were different she might laugh. She has already saved his life once, is that not enough?

The spirits apparently do not think so, and she wishes they weren’t so hard on her. She stares out her window at the moon, a small white circle in the still lit sky, the sun on the horizon. It will set, but darkness will only last for a few hours. She stares out, clouds dotting the red and oranges of the sky, half-hoping for some sort of answer but nothing comes of course. She wishes she were as spiritually connected as Gran-Gran, then she would probably get an answer. Tui and La never speak to her. Not in the way they speak to her father and brother. Not even in the way they used to speak to her mother, Tui carry her soul. She never stops to wonder why, it only leads her to dark places in her mind where she dare not quell. Maybe when her father returns and this problem with the foreigners are over, she’ll take a month-long meditation with Grandfather. Gran-Gran would like that, and it would be good for her. She needs a reprieve from the city and all its politics.

Now having something to look forward too, Katara places the water into the pitcher and sits back down at the desk. Shifting through the piles of parchments and scrolls in front of her, Katara finds the dark blue files she needs, lodged under a hefty amount of literature and tries to fish it out. A few stray pieces of parchment fall to the floor, but Katara manages to get it out. She opens it.

There are names she's known all her life scattered in the dossier, and others she's worked with before she was named Master of the Hunt. She has to have the Prince return mostly unharmed, if there is to be some sort of peace between them both, a rambunctious and eager party is not what she needs to put together. She digs deeper into the files until she reaches the older, almost (if not already) retired hunters and benders.

The first name that jumps to her is that of Karan's mother - a skilled huntswoman and polar dog trainer. If she can handle teenage Sokka on a Hunt, she would be more than qualified to take care of a moody prince. It's just convincing her out of retirement for a single Hunt that's daunting.

Katara sets aside the first profile and tries to recall her usual format during hunts - she's just short two benders, a cartographer, skinner, and two more laymen for the kills. A total of eight people for the party - nine if she could fulfill her duties as Hunt Master and lead such a high profile hunt. But duty calls, and the sooner she can take care of this prince and the sooner her father gets back, the better.

She pulls the file for Nika Gremlik aside and continues shuffling. She pulls more names: The Hey twins and Avanta, She picks up two workers from the docks, their age and experience a needed factor to this hunt. She has all she needs, except for a cartographer.

If Sokka were here, Katara muses, she wouldn't even have to think for a cartographer or navigator. The amount of times she's gone with her brother down into the islands and tundra are numerous. They work together -- leader and planner. He would advise courses down the waterways and ravines, and she would make the final decisions. Never under her watch has anyone died or gone missing. A feat only accomplished by her and her grandfather, Kayuqtuq, a seasoned Master of Hunt before fate made him Chief. A hunt without either her or Sokka had not happened since they were young. It is strange for her to be creating a party like this, and the nervousness, the possibility that the wrong people could cause death, even war, shakes her a little.

But this hunt, which will lack both her and her brother, needs to happen before her father and brother return. The Prince’s punishment must be dealt with, she can’t have herself looking weak or indecisive. If it takes all night, she will put together the perfect hunting party so this precious prince doesn’t get himself killed in the tundra. Damn the Council for making this decision.

Names whiz by her as she shuffles through the parchment pieces. No one stands out, and Katara sighs. She gets up from her desk, and looks out the small circular window to her side. Her office is on the third floor of the west wing tower, her father's right above her. She can see the bay from her window, the Arctic birds flying around, the colourful banners of fish stalls and small wares open on the market floor. She can almost smell the tangy scents of the stalls, the salt of the ocean, filling her nose. Hears the returning horns of fishing vessels coming back to shore. Scrunching her brow, Katara can feel an idea come to her mind but slip away.

Fish? Something about fish. Fish are good navigato-

She can't believe she's having this thought. A fish as her cartographer. She must be more overworked than she had believed. Katara sighs and sits herself back down. Her tea has cooled considerably, and she plays around the edges of the liquid with the bending, making patterns along the rim to pass the time.

Fish. Fisheries? But who does she know at the Fi- Qimmiq.

Katara makes her way to the door and yanks it open. The attendant, dozing quietly beside the entrance, jolts upright. She eyes him, but chooses not to comment on his obvious lack of attention. The attendant clears his throat.

“Y-Yes, Chief Katara?” He asks, still a bit afraid. He is new. She won’t reprimand him.

“Summon Councilman Qimmiq.” Katara turns back into the office, not even checking to see if the attendant has run off yet. She quickly clears the mountains of parchment off her chairs and sofas and onto other flat surfaces where it won't seem as odd - low tables and bookshelves, the desk. Dust from unopened stacks fly into the air, and the nearby candles flicker from the rush of movement in the room. She pushes the thick, clear glass of the windows up, and a breeze enters the room. The smell of the ocean waifs in.

It takes as long as she had expected for the Councilman to enter her office. He’s still pulling on his robes when he addresses her. “You called for me, Chief Katara?”

“How are your cartography skills these days, Qimmiq?” she asks, not wanting to waste time with pleasantries. Qimmiq stills at her question, and gives the chief a puzzling stare.

He pauses. “Chief Katara, surely you are not asking...” She sighs.

“Qimmiq, you are the one who taught Sokka and me how to navigate this land, you are the best person to escort the Prince.”

“Chief Katara… I cannot accept. I am an old man now, and--”

She scoffs, “You are not that old.”

“And I have not been on a Hunt in many years,” he continues.

“Qimmiq you are the best cartographer, teacher to Sokka, my councilman--”

“Chief Katara, while I am humbled to be asked such an honour, I cannot attend this hunt. I know it is not the way your generation does things now, but when you have retired you generally stay retired.” Katara can feel a small ache form at the base of her skull. Fucking council politics.

“Then who, in your ever so humble opinion should I ask to guide and protect not only our people, but the Prince of the Fire Empire? Take Luava, my daughter, instead.”

“Luava?” Katara pauses, considering. “She would like to join a Hunt?”

“She has been hinting to be about it for months now. I am sure she would be honored.”

“And you believe she is sufficiently qualified to join the Hunt?”

“She is my daughter, Chief Katara,” he replies with a wry smile.

Katara pauses for a moment. “If you say she would be willing, then I will ask her. Tell her this hunt will be her probation period, and to come to me tomorrow before first bell for instructions.”

“Thank you, Chief Katara. She will be grateful, I am sure.”

“... Inform your daughter immediately, and help her pack. She may command fishing vessels, but a hunt in a different beast altogether.” Katara quickly pens Councilmember Qimmiq daughter’s name onto her growing list of huntees. “You may return to your evening, Qimmiq.”

She nods and Qimmiq exists the room, clearly thankful to go back to bed. She has a moment of regret that she woke the man so late, but that is quickly overwhelmed by the relief of finally organizing the Hunt. She still has to ask them all, but they will say yes. Asking is really more of a formality anyway. She sits in her most comfortable chair and allows her eyes to close, just for a moment. She needs a moment of sweet relief and quiet.

She opens them again when she hears a knock at her door and there is sunlight streaming in through the windows and a pain in her neck. She looks out the window she had left open and a chill travels up her spine. It’s much too cold in the first few hours of light, the warmth of the sun always taking too long to heat everything else. The candles she had used in the few hours of darkness had been put out at some point. The wind, she muses.

Katara groans and slowly makes her way to her door, trying to soothe out the knot that has formed at the base of her neck on the way. Sleeping in her chair, while not her intention, was a horrible mistake.

She opens her door to a much too cheerful Karan who is not a bit put off by her grumpy demeanor. She makes a motion to close the door in his face, but before she can, he is stepping into the room and glancing around.

“Put some clothes on, we’re going out.” He’s so eager, it’s annoying. She swears she could punch him right now if she weren’t so sore.

“No,” she replies quickly.

“Katara, as your best friend, I am asking you to trust me.”

She looks at him for a moment. “No. I don’t even know how long I slept.”

“Please?” He makes that face, the face he learned from Sokka that makes him look twelve and sad.

She just turns away and starts walking back towards her desk. That looks works wonders on kitchen staff and shopkeepers, but not grumpy, sleep-deprived Katara. He catches up to her easily. “Katara,” he tries again, more serious this time. “I promise that this outing will make you forget about all the stress,” his warm hands are rubbing her shoulders and she relaxes, “and the Hunt,” his arms wrap around her waist and his chin rests on top of her head, “and that awful Prince.” She tenses. She did not want to think about him this early in the morning. He lets her go and turns her around. “So. What do you say?” He’s grinning and he looks so happy that she can’t say no.

“Fine,” she relents, but grumbles small noises of discontent. His grin widens. “Now leave so I can get changed.” She makes shooing actions with her arms, though it is lackluster and a little pathetic given her current energy levels.

“Okay!” He walks to the door, but stops. “Wear something you won’t mind getting a little messy.” She gives him a look and he leaves. Whatever he has planned is sure to be better than sitting in her room all day wallowing in stress and an aching back.