Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Part 1

Katara had to remind herself to walk calmly as she ascended the steps of the palace. There were more nobles than usual milling around due to the arrival of the Avatar and an emissary from the Northern and Southern Water Tribes. The last thing Katara wanted was for the people she had worked so hard to earn the respect of to see her running pell-mell through the marble halls of the Fire Lord’s palace. Still, her composure was hard-won. She hadn’t seen her brother or Aang since Sokka and Suki’s wedding.

“Hello, good morning, Your Excellency,” greeted noble after noble as Katara made her way through the public halls of the palace. Katara inclined her head and politely mumbled something in reply each time, but if pressed she couldn’t have told anyone who she’d spoken to. Finally, the guards opened the doors to allow her into the inner portion of the palace reserved for the royal family and guests. Then she broke out into a run. She rounded a corner and nearly collided with Iroh. The aging general caught Katara by her arms and steadied her with a chuckle.

“I was wondering when we would see you, Madam Ambassador,” he greeted her warmly. Katara grinned sheepishly.

“I saw Appa fly over the embassy,” she told him.

“Your brother and the Avatar retired to their rooms to change,” Iroh said. “But they will be joining the Fire Lord in his chambers for dinner shortly. I believe Zuko is already there if you’d like to wait with him.” Katara nodded.

“Won't you be joining us?” she asked. 

“I'm afraid I have other commitments this afternoon,” Iroh shook his head sadly, but there was a gleam in his eye. “But I don’t suppose you really want a dull old man like me hanging around.” 

“You are anything but dull, Iroh,” Katara laughed. “We’d love it if you could stop by.”

“I may be able to sneak away for some tea after dinner,” Iroh said, tugging at his beard lightly. 

“Great!”  Katara exclaimed. She started down the hall that led to Zuko’s parlor rooms. “I’ll make sure Sokka doesn’t eat everything. We'll see you then.”

“Please take care,” Iroh called after her. “I’d hate for our friends’ visit to start with you spending the day tending to broken bones.” Katara blushed but slowed to a walk. After all, Sokka and Aang probably wouldn’t even be there yet.

As she expected, the two new arrivals hadn’t made it to the parlor yet. But to her surprise, neither had Zuko. Dinner had already been set up though, and Katara plucked a plum from the basket of fruit on her way to the other side of the room.

The faint sound of music drifted in through the open window. It sounded like some sort of stringed instrument, but it wasn’t loud enough for Katara to identify what it was. She bit into her plum and listened. Soon, she could hear what sounded like a voice join the instrument. She thought it sounded masculine, but she couldn’t tell for sure any more than she could tell what the instrument was. It was haunting, though.

Katara didn’t notice Zuko arrive a few minutes later. He paused and watched her curiously for a moment. She was gazing contemplatively out of the window, with a plum dangling forgotten from her hand. Her head was tilted to the side, spilling her wealth of chestnut curls over one shoulder. The dimming sunlight gave her skin a bronze-like glow against the cream tunic she was wearing and picked out the various shades of reds and lighter browns in her hair.  He couldn't see her eyes, but Zuko knew that in this light, they would be as clear and blue as the tropical water around Ember Island. He didn't think any painter’s palette could ever do justice to all the colors that existed in Katara, though he thought he'd like to challenge someone to try anyway.  

Zuko stretched his neck to see out of the window, wondering what had captured Katara's attention. She finally snapped out of her daze when the plum fell from her hand and rolled under the table. With some surprise, she finally realized that Zuko was standing in the doorway when she went to retrieve it.

“Oh!” she gasped. “Hey! I didn’t see you.” She ducked under the table and snatched the plum up.

“I noticed,” Zuko told her with a smirk. They sat together at one corner of the table. “What were you looking at?”

“Um… nothing,” she replied. “Someone was singing outside somewhere. Didn’t you hear it?” 

Zuko shook his head before saying,“No. Do you know where it was coming from?” Katara frowned and cocked her ear towards the window again. The music was gone. She shrugged.

“I couldn’t really hear it that well, anyway,” she said. She blew a stray lock of hair away from her face. “Where are you coming from?”

“Another boring meeting,” Zuko replied. He reached out absently and tucked the offending strands behind Katara’s ear. “I just sat through an hour and a half of a roomful of nobles talking in circles before they finally got to the point. It turned out, they just wanted a tax break. That could have been a ten minute meeting, or they could have just sent a memo, but they insist on wasting my time.” Zuko was distracted and annoyed. Katara wasn’t even sure he realized what he had done, so she fought back the heat she felt rising in her cheeks.

“So… ah… so did you approve the cut?” she asked, mostly to distract herself. Zuko raised his brow at her.

“Seriously?” he scoffed. “You want a recap of the meeting?” 

Katara grinned at him and winked before she spoke,“What can I say? Your job fascinates me.” Zuko snorted derisively.

“How about we switch for a while then?” he suggested. “ You can be Fire Lord, and I’ll be the Water Tribe ambassador.” Katara patted his hand sympathetically.

“I think you’re finally old enough to hear this,” she said. “Ambassadors have to sit through boring, pointless meetings, too.” Zuko looked cross for a moment, then he chuckled and shook his head.

“No,” told her. “I didn’t approve the cut. I don’t know why they bothered to ask in the first place. If I passed the tax cut they wanted, the poorer and middle-class citizens would wind up carrying the weight of the nation’s budget.” Katara scowled at that.

“That’s cruel! How could they think you’d approve that?” Zuko scoffed and threw his arms up.

“You answer that question, you’d save me three-quarters of the meetings I have to sit through.” He sighed and ran his hands over his face. “We’re five years out of a war. You’d think they’d realize that we’re all going to have to tighten up in order to fix things. I’d hope that by halving my income, I’d be an example for the rest of them, but…” Katara nodded. Though the Fire Lord’s income was still high by just about anyone’s measure, Zuko had made a point to redistribute his family’s money not only towards making retribution to the Water Tribes and the Earth Kingdoms but to strengthening the Fire Nation’s economy from the bottom up. Much of the country’s tax revenue had been redirected to infrastructure and public services. Katara herself had had a hand in a few of the projects.

“Anyway,” Zuko huffed, “we’re not here to talk business. The guys should be here-“

“There’s my fancy little sister!” Sokka had flung open the door and rushed in, tackling Katara in a hug.

“-right now,” Zuko said with a smile. Aang entered behind Sokka, only less violent in his enthusiasm to see his friends again.

“Sokka!” Katara protested through laughter as her brother crushed her in a hug. “Cut it out! You’re suffocating me!”

“Sokka, look!” Aang called from behind him. “Dinner is already here.” Sokka set Katara down and spun towards the spread on the table. He grinned and rubbed his hands together eagerly.

“Wow, Zuko! You sure know how to make a guy feel welcome!”

“Bottomless pit,” Katara teased him as they sat down to their meal. “How’s home?”

Sokka launched into his report as he filled his plate. He and Suki were going to be in the Southern Tribe for the next two years to help with expansion projects and infrastructure. Suki and Gran-Gran were getting along just like old friends. Hakoda had mentioned preparing Sokka to take his place as Chief of the Southern Tribe, though Sokka said he and Suki would have to talk about it, and he hadn’t made the decision whether or not to accept it.

“She’s got the Kyoshi Warriors to consider,” he told his friends. “And she still has family on Kyoshi. Anyway, Dad says he’s not planning on stepping down anytime soon, so we have time to figure it out.”

“Is Suki not joining us?” Zuko asked. Sokka shook his head sadly.

“Not this time,” he said. “She had an accident on the ice and broke her leg last week. The healers say it’s going to take them a while to fix it, but she’ll make a full recovery.”

“Poor thing!” Katara gasped. She knew how difficult it was to heal bone. Depending on how bad the break was, Suki was looking at about two weeks without full use of her leg. The Festival of the Spirits would be over by then.

“Yeah,” Sokka said, shaking his head. “She’s bummed she has to miss this one, but she didn't think she could do three days on Appa. And with Toph not coming either, it just won’t be the same this year.”

 The Gaang had been meeting up in the Fire Nation for the Festival of the Spirits since the year after the war ended. After Katara had taken a position as Ambassador a year earlier, it had become an official ‘Gaang Tradition’. The six friends would stay at the palace for the week and celebrate the Fire Nation’s fall holiday together. But this year, Suki was injured and couldn’t travel, and Toph had just enlisted in the Earth Kingdom’s army and wasn’t allowed to take time off until after her probationary period was over.

“You’d think helping to save the world at 12 would get her out of probation and basic training,” Sokka grumbled.

“Yeah, but she loves it,” Aang said. “I saw her last month, and she said she’s having the time of her life.”

“Was she being sarcastic?” Katara cast a skeptical look at him, but Aang shook his head emphatically.

“Honestly!” he insisted. “I think they’re going to have her running drills for the next batch of recruits.” Katara was still dubious. Toph loathed authority, and the prospect of having a bunch of new recruits to boss around didn’t seem like much of an incentive for her to stick it out. That she had decided to enlist in the army at all had taken her friends by surprise, but Toph had assured them it was a means to an end. She intended to be a general in the Earth Kingdom’s army in two years. 

 “Well, since they can’t make it to the festival,” Katara said, “then, we’re just going to have to get together for my birthday. Clear your calendars.”  

“Ha!” Sokka snorted. “Yeah, let me get right on that. I’m sure I can get Dad and Pakku to let me have another two weeks of vacation. And of course, the Kyoshi Warriors can let us keep Suki.” Katara was unmoved. 

“I don’t care what you have to do to make it happen,” she told him with a haughty sniff. “I’m not waiting until the next Summit to see you all again. Zuko, come on, help me out!” Zuko grinned at his friends and shrugged. 

“In the Fire Nation, twenty is the year you officially become an adult,” he said. “You’re supposed to have a big party to celebrate.” Sokka waved his chopsticks at the pair. 

“That happens at 15 in the Water Tribe,” he insisted. “Katara’s been a grown woman for almost five years already.”

“But I didn’t get a chance to celebrate,” Katara reminded him. “We were too busy fighting a war.”

“You know,” Zuko cut into what seemed to be shaping up into a sibling bickering session, “if we make this a state thing—invite representatives from all the nations—you guys would have to come anyway.”

“That sounds great!” Aang exclaimed. Five years had done nothing to temper his infectious enthusiasm. At 17, he was still as exuberant as he had been at 12. “And we can have a fireworks show, and of course the circus tumblers, and tons of fruit tarts-” 

“So you’re going to make Katara’s birthday a national holiday?” Sokka shook his head incredulously. “Dude, you’re going to spoil her.” 

“Hey!” Katara protested. “I work hard, okay? I deserve to be spoiled sometimes.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. Sokka shifted his deadpan gaze from his sister to his friend. Zuko shrugged. 

“She’s right,” he confirmed to his friends. “She’s done more for international relations than any of my so-called advisors. And she’s helped shape a lot of public policy. Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without her. I don’t mind taking a day to celebrate her.”  Katara’s face flushed a deep red at Zuko’s praise, and she found herself walking back her earlier bravado. 

“Well, I haven’t really done that much,” she mumbled. 

“Sure,” Zuko drawled. “You only co-wrote the policy for free public education, oversaw the founding of the free clinic in town, and set up the first public library in Caldera.”

“And you got the Northern Tribe to stop bickering with Gaoling about trade,” Aang added. “Not to mention all the work you’ve done with the refugees.” Seeing his sister’s discomfort with so much sincere praise, Sokka slapped his hand against the table.  

“Alright, alright,” he said. “I yield. Throw your party. I’ll make sure Suki and I are here. And you had better have that carving station like at your coronation.”  

“Sokka, the sarcasm and meat guy,” Zuko smirked. Sokka jabbed his chopstick in Zuko's direction.

“Until the day I die!” he declared. “I won't change!”

Iroh arrived just as the friends were finishing their meal wheeling in a cart carrying everything he needed to make his famous tea and a tray of pastries. Sokka spared just seconds to greet Iroh before setting on the sweets. 

“You just ate!” Katara chided him. 

“There’s always room for dessert,” Sokka shrugged. “Besides, all I’ve had to eat for a week is Aang’s weird veggie nonsense. I’m half starved!”

“Hey!” Aang protested. 

“Are you all excited about the festival?” Iroh asked the young people, interrupting what was looking to turn into a squabble.

“Always!” Sokka replied around a mouthful of fruit tart. “The Spirits Festival is probably the best thing the Fire Nation has done. You guys sure know how to throw a party.”

“I’ll miss Toph and Suki, though,” Katara said. “Toph always manages to find the best after-parties.”

“Yeah,” Zuko scoffed.  “The best .” Zuko hadn’t quite forgiven his friend for leading them into what turned out to be an all-out brawl between warring gangs. It was all his advisors could do to spin the story into an intentional sting operation to bring the gang’s leaders to justice. Zuko seemed to be the only one who remembered what a disaster that night was, and he wasn’t certain that Toph hadn’t done it all on purpose. 

“I can’t wait to see the fire puppeteers,” Aang said excitedly. The show was always a dazzling display, and every year it seemed to get even more spectacular. The most artistic firebenders in the country brought some of the most entrancing Fire Nation lore to blazing life before scores of appreciative festival-goers. None of them was more appreciative than the young Avatar. 

“It is one of my favorite celebrations, too,” Iroh sighed contentedly. “It is a nice way to go into the long winter nights.”

“Well, I’ve been through longer nights,” Katara said with a smirk. 

“It’s very true that our Fire Nation winters aren’t quite so dark as the winters in the Poles,” Iroh admitted. “But for a people so connected to the sun, they can be difficult in their own way. That’s why the Spirits Festival is so important to us.” Iroh set his teacup aside and settled into his set. 

“Uh-oh,” Zuko groaned. “I feel a story coming on.” Iroh smiled at his nephew blithely. 

“The height of the Spirits Festival always falls on the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year,” Iroh explained. “Legends say that in the days leading up to the  Winter Solstice, the barrier between the spirit world and the mortal weakens, and the two worlds can touch each other. Many people who go missing during these days are said to be lost in the spirit world. 

“Uncle,” Zuko groaned over his tea. “You tell this story every year. We all know it by heart! Hey!” Zuko rubbed the sore spot on his arm where Katara had jabbed him with her elbow. 

“I don’t mind hearing the story again,” she told Iroh. She cast a pointed look at Sokka and Aang. Sokka’s mouth was still full, but he made some muffled noises that could be interpreted as agreement.

“It’s not the Spirits Festival without Iroh’s stories,” Aang announced with a wide grin. Zuko rolled his eyes, but there was a subtle, good-natured turn to his lips. 

“Alright,” he said, throwing his hands up in surrender. “I’m outnumbered. Uncle, go on, I guess.” Katara shot Zuko a smug smirk before she turned back to Iroh. 

“Please keep going,” she prompted Zuko’s uncle. 

“Thank you, Master Katara,” Iroh chuckled. He took a sip of tea and resettled himself. “Long ago, much longer than anyone can fathom, the spirit world and the mortal world were one. Humanity was only just taking its first steps among the great immortals. They were protected by the most ancient of the spirits, bearing the marks of Agni, and of Tui and La, and Jigu, and Rlung.”

“The spirits that gave us bending,” Aang piped up, acknowledging an unspoken cue. Iroh smiled and shot him a wink over his teacup. 

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you know your lore,” he said. “But this was a long, long time before benders were born.”

“Uncle, by the time you’re done, it’ll be time for breakfast,” Zuko sighed. 

“You will never outgrow your impatience, will you?” Iroh chuckled. “As I was saying, the young beings, the humans, had won the favor of the great spirits...and also the jealousy of the lesser ones. As the humans began to build their own cities and towns, some of these lesser spirits began accusing them of plotting a rebellion. They began stirring up the others against the protected humans, and soon the humans began to strike back. A war began between the spirits and the mortals, but the mortals couldn’t match the power of even the lesser spirits. They suffered heavy losses until there were only a few pockets of humans left. 

“The great spirits looked on with sadness and convened together to discuss a solution. They couldn’t step in themselves. The humans were under their protection, but they were bound to stand with their spirit brethren by deeper laws than any we know. Still, they couldn’t bear to see the humans destroyed completely. So they decided that the only way for there to be peace would be to separate the mortals and the immortals. Though the separation was never meant to be permanent, as humans have immortal souls, the great spirits were saddened at the thought of never having contact with their mortal children. So they left an opening for the mortals and immortals to see each other. Once a year, during the days leading to the Winter Solstice, the division between the mortal world and the spirit world weakens, allowing the two worlds to touch each other briefly. We celebrate the reunion each year with dancing and feasting, inviting the great spirits to join us. If one knows where to look, mortals and spirits can pass through the opening until the night of the Solstice. 

“Beware, though,” Iroh warned his audience. “If a mortal ends up on the wrong side of the divide on the sunrise after the Winter Solstice, they will be trapped in the spirit world forever.”

Iroh ended his tale by taking a long drink from his cup. 

“Wait a minute!” Sokka said suddenly. “ I’ve been to the spirit world, and it wasn’t anywhere near the Winter Solstice!” Iroh shrugged, unconcerned. 

“I was merely telling the tale of why we celebrate this time of year,” Iroh said. “There are yet many mysteries surrounding the spirit world.”

“You’ve been to the spirit world,” Aang said thoughtfully. “Did you get through on the Solstice?” Iroh shifted in his seat. 

“Well,” he grumbled. “I suppose that is a story for another time, perhaps. For now, I want to hear what you and Sokka have been up to.”

It was late by the time the group split up. The sun had long set and the moon was high, but the sounds of laughter and stories told just a bit too loudly disrupted the placid night. Katara was having too much fun to draw attention to the time. If she thought she could get away with it, she would have kept them in the dining room all night, trading stories and news. Every so often, she’d look around the table and notice, with a pang, the two empty seats. But then Sokka would launch into a new tale of his hunting mishaps, and then the laughter would start up again, and the absence of Toph and Suki wouldn’t feel quite as sharp. Eventually, though, Iroh and then Zuko began yawning. Sokka checked the time and shook his head. 

“I’m beat,” he said. “I haven’t slept since Omashu.”

“I’m ready to turn in, too, I think,” Iroh said. “But this evening has been lovely.” 

“I have some work to finish up,” Zuko sighed. Katara looked from the clock to Zuko in consternation. 

“When’s the last time you slept?” she asked Zuko pointedly. It was the third night that week he’d worked late - that Katara knew of anyway. He had at least the grace to look embarrassed.

“I know,” he said. “I know, but if I get everything finished tonight, I don’t have to even walk into my office for the next week.” Katara rolled her eyes. Her friend would make himself sick with work if he could. 

“Need any help?”  she asked. Zuko shook his head. 

“It shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.”

“Careful, man,” Sokka laughed. “If you keep playing around, you’ll end up with a bedtime.” Aang stood up from the table, stretching his arms up over his head as he let out a long, jaw-cracking yawn. Everyone paused to stare at him.

“Speaking of bedtimes,” he said with a sheepish grin. The group broke out in chuckles. Finally, they disbanded and went off to their rooms except for Zuko, who walked in the opposite direction to his office. 

Zuko had given Katara a set of rooms to use whenever she wanted, though she rarely had the chance to stay over. While ambassadors often had to attend meetings at the palace, most of their daily duties were carried out at the embassy where they all lived. It seemed a waste to Katara to have a whole suite to herself. Zuko assured her that most of the guest rooms went unused anyway, and it was nice to have a place to sleep when work or fun (usually work) kept her at the palace late. And Katara always stayed at the palace when any of their friends visited, so she wouldn’t have to make the daily trek across town with her team of personal guards. She really loved the suite. Her two rooms at the embassy were as luxurious as anything she had seen in the Upper Tier of Ba Sing Se, but her rooms at the palace were even more opulent. Iroh had planned them out himself, a project to keep busy while he helped Zuko adjust to his new role as Fire Lord, and he had done a beautiful job. Where most of the palace had been done in shades of reds and golds and dark browns, Katara’s rooms were much brighter. The sitting room was Katara’s favorite. 

The walls had been painted a warm cream with brown accents. The floor was covered in a soft navy blue carpet, and artifacts from the Water Tribes—gifts to the Fire Lord after the war—adorned the room. One wall was dominated by a massive fireplace which a surprisingly chilly Fire Nation winter had taught Katara to appreciate. Another wall was made of glass, with double doors leading out to a wide terrace overlooking one of the palace gardens.  Most of the rooms in the Fire Lord’s private wing faced east, the direction of the rising sun, but Katara had been given the only suite facing west so she wouldn’t be woken at dawn, to her inexpressible gratitude. On the rare occasions when Katara was able to actually stay at the palace, she loved to watch the sunset over the mountains. Sometimes Zuko or Iroh, or both would join her for tea and cakes on the terrace. More often, though, she was left to enjoy the spectacular sight alone. 

Tonight, Katara sat by herself, gazing up at the starry night sky. She wasn’t quite ready to sleep yet,  but she couldn’t think of how else to occupy her time. She was half-tempted to wander down to Zuko’s office, just to make sure he actually went to bed when he said he would, but thought against it. She worried about him, but he didn’t need her to nanny him. Sokka and Aang would probably be asleep, or on their way to it, and Katara knew she should do the same. Though maybe one of Iroh’s calming tea blends would help. A walk to and from the kitchen might be a good way to burn off a bit of her restless energy, too.

The palace was a different place at night. In the day, every part, even the private family wing, bustled with activity. There was always cleaning to be done, or a room to be prepared, or food to be brought, or something. Katara didn’t think the activity ever stopped, but tonight the hallway outside of her rooms was strangely empty. Only half the sconces were lit, reasonable for this time of night, but somehow the shadows seemed too deep. Katara forced back a shudder. 

She was being paranoid, she decided. It was a new moon, after all. There was no moonlight to supplement the low burning sconces, and that coupled with the lack of activity combined to create an air of eeriness. For a moment, Katara thought about turning back and chancing her luck without the tea, but the thought of being scared by shadows aggravated her pride. Imagine, the Southern Water Tribe’s only waterbending master, and the world’s only living bloodbender being frightened of the dark. With that thought, Katara stepped out into the hallway. 

One corner of the alcove was darker than it should have been. The light from the sconces should have been enough to at least show the outline of the alcove, but one corner of the bench had disappeared into the darkness. Katara peered into it, thinking maybe her eyes had just not adjusted to the dim light yet. But as she stared she started to make out the edges of the shadow. It was about two feet wide and went from the floor to the ceiling. Something about the shape made her think of a tall, slender man. There were his shoulders, oddly square and thin. At the top, the shadow curved, as if the man were ducking his head to avoid bumping against the ceiling. At the floor, the shadow spilled outward slightly, like a ground-sweeping cloak pooled around the shadow’s feet. If she stood still enough, Katara could see the shadow move slightly, it’s shoulders rising and falling in an even, steady breath. 

“Did you need something, Your Excellency?” 

Katara let out a startled yelp and rounded on a frightened steward. He bowed hastily several times.

“I’m so sorry, Master Katara,” he apologized breathlessly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“No, no, it’s fine.” Katara’s voice was unusually high to her ears. Her pulse pounded in her throat and temples. She managed a shaky smile as she tried to assure the man that she wasn’t going to accuse him of attacking her. 

“Were you going somewhere, ma’am?” 

“I was…” Katara cast a glance over her shoulder. The darkened alcove looked normal now. There was no shadow of a tall man in the corner, and she could see the shape of the bench. 

“Master Katara?” the servant’s voice called Katara back to the present. Her cheeks flushed with sudden heat. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was just thinking of going to the kitchen to grab something to drink.”

“I’d be happy to have someone bring you something.” 

“Oh! Um...sure. Thanks..” Katara was sure her face was visibly red, even under the dim lighting. The servant hurried off to get her tea, and Katara returned to her room, trying to shake off the lingering embarrassment.

Chapter Text

 Part 2

The Spirits Festival was always a somewhat chaotic affair. This one was not an exception. The four friends hadn’t been out an hour before the crowds separated them. Sokka found himself enthralled by a glassblower on the pavilion. He called over his shoulder that he was going to commission a piece for Suki as a souvenir. Aang found himself trapped by a gathering of admirers who recognized his Air Monk robes and allowed himself to be talked into an impromptu demonstration. 

“Should we try to rescue him?” Zuko asked Katara, as Aang’s fans herded him off. 

“Nah,” Katara replied with a grin. “He loves it! Look! The kite fliers are here!” Katara wrapped her fingers in the voluminous fabric of Zuko's sleeve and pulled him towards the field where there were phoenixes and dragons and koi fish dancing in the sky. It was Katara’s favorite event at the Fire Nation festivals. She had even once had a kite commissioned,a startling wolf’s head made of cloth  in shades of blue and grey and black,but her first attempt at flying it had ended with it broken and torn. Now it hung on a wall in her room at the embassy, waiting for the repairs it needed to get it flight ready again. Until then, Katara was content to watch the professional fliers and learn from them. 

“Do you want to try?” One of the fliers, an elderly gentleman with a kind smile, offered Katara his string, which she took happily. Zuko grinned at her enthusiasm, and leaned in close. 

“Careful you don’t crash it,” Zuko whispered. A shiver went down Katara’s spine, almost causing her to lose control of the kite, but she managed to nudge Zuko with her elbow. 

“Quit it!” she laughed. “I’m getting better!” And she was. The kite stayed aloft for a few solid minutes. Then the wind shifted faster than Katara could adjust for, and the kite fell towards the earth. The man who owned the kite took the string and managed to save the kite from the fate Katara’s had suffered. 

“Sorry, about that,” Katara laughed self-consciously. The man waved her off with a kind smile. 

“It takes practice,” he said. “You did very well for yourself.” He bowed to Zuko, then to Katara and waved the pair off. 

“You really are getting better at that,” Zuko said as they walked back towards where they left the guys. “You’re better than I am, anyway.”

“Yeah?” Katara grinned up at him. “Well, when my kite is fixed, maybe I can give you some pointers.” 

The first day of the festival passed in a swirl of sequins and silks and musicians scoring the chaotic mirth of Caldera’s citizens. Though the Fire Lord and his friends were occasionally obligated to act in their official capacities as global diplomats, they managed to enjoy themselves as much as anyone. The four returned to the palace exhausted but excited for the next day.

That evening, Katara wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and fall into the deep sleep that was surely waiting for her. There would be no midnight tea runs for her tonight. As she passed the mirror, though, she realized there was one more thing she had to do first. Her hair was sticking up at odd angles, mussed by the wind, dancing, and carnival rides. She could ignore it and go to sleep with it like that, but she knew she would pay for it  in the morning if she did. With a sigh, Katara went to her bathroom to wash quickly and change into her pajamas. Then she sat down at her dressing table and went to work on her hair. She brought her comb up to her scalp and froze.

Something was wrong. She turned to scan the room but saw nothing amiss. The room was big, but there weren't many places to hide. Still, to be safe, she shut her eyes and searched for any signs of someone else in her suite. The only rush of blood was her own. With a sigh, Katara turned back to her mirror, writing the ominous feeling off as fatigue. It had been a long day, after all. 

There were hands resting just beneath her shoulder blades. Katara froze as they ran up her back and settled on either side of her neck. She was alone in her reflection, but she could feel the damp, heavy breath on her neck. The sensation sent an icy chill down her spine. Slowly, invisible fingers tightened on her shoulders and sharp nails dug into her flesh with not quite enough pressure to break the skin. In the mirror, she could see her night shirt bunching oddly beneath the pressure. Katara gasped and leaped from her stool. There was no one there. Her eyes darted from corner to corner, but the feeling of not being alone was gone.

Katara took several deep breaths and tried to calm her racing heart. It had been nothing but a waking dream she told herself, brought on by too much excitement and rich foods and three cups of arrack punch. Still, the silence of her room suddenly felt heavy, and goosebumps broke out across her skin. There was too much space. Too many dark corners. Despite the fact that she couldn’t find any sign of someone else in the room with her, Katara suddenly felt the urge to escape. She very much did not want to be alone just then.

Katara had her hand on the doorknob when she stopped herself. She was being ridiculous. There was no one in the room. Her friends would be in bed already most likely, and though she was sure any of them would sit up with her a while if she asked, she couldn’t explain to them what had happened. Reluctantly, Katara dropped her hand from the door knob and stepped back into her bedroom. There was nothing out of the ordinary—no strange shadows, no signs of anyone lurking in her closet or under her bed. To be sure, she searched again for any source of blood that shouldn’t be there. Nothing. With a sigh, Katara put her hair up for the night and slipped into her bed. Despite her earlier exhaustion, sleep didn’t come for her until just before dawn. 

The next morning, Katara did her best to look as if she hadn’t gotten only three hours of sleep, but apparently, it didn’t work. Sokka noticed something was off immediately.

“Katara, are you okay?” Sokka leaned forward over his breakfast and peered into his sister’s face. Katara placed her palm on his forehead and pushed him away. 

“Quit it!” she snapped. “I’m fine. I’m just… tired. I didn’t sleep that well.” 

“Why not?” Aang asked, his face was twisted in concern. “You aren’t getting sick, are you?

Katara started to tell her brother and friend what had happened the night before, but when she opened her mouth, she couldn’t find the words. 

“Katara?” Sokka leaned towards her again, true worry in his eyes now. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Something wrong?” Zuko walked in and joined his friends at the table with a frown. “Are you sick, Katara?”

“I’m fine!” Katara waved her friends off with more sharpness than she meant. “I’m alright, honestly. I just… had a nightmare, and I had a hard time sleeping.”

“Maybe you should sit today out?” Zuko suggested. He poured Katara a cup of the strong morning brew tea that had been set on the table. 

“Not on your life!’ Katara declared. She drained her tea cup and motioned for Zuko to pour more. “I can handle one sleepless night. And we’re already down two on our team. You really think I’m going to let you three get into trouble without me?”

“Alright then!’ Sokka settled back into his seat and attacked the rest of his breakfast. “Eat up! We’re going to need our energy!”

On the second day, the friends decided not to separate. Katara clung to sleeves, shirt tails and hands through the pavilions and rides. They managed to get through lunch without losing each other. As the sun rose higher, and the Fire Nation’s oppressive heat began to settle over the crowd, Katara’s lack of rest began to tell on her. A dull ache began to develop behind her eyes. She would have welcomed a short, quiet break under the trees, but she wasn’t ready to stop the good time. 

After a quick lunch from the food stalls lining the main pavilion, Sokka excitedly led his friends to a new ride he’d heard about in the Earth Kingdom. Katara eyed it reluctantly. It was a wood and steel contraption about three or four stories high. Heavy chains drew a four cart train to the top of the first hill and then it went plummeting through the rest of the track at high enough speeds to carry it up and down four increasingly smaller hills until it pulled into a stop at the end of the ride. It reminded Katara of the time that Aang had taken her and her brother on the mail chutes in Omashu. On another day, she’d be as excited as her brother to ride, but now the thought of it made her headache pulse behind her eye and her lunch churn mutinously in her stomach. There was absolutely no way she could do it. 

“I think I’ll sit this one out,” Katara said. Sokka and Aang’s faces fell and they began to plead. It was,after all,her idea that they not separate that day. 

“They seat four to a cart!” Sokka insisted. “If you don’t come with us, one of us will either have to sit with some random stranger or have to sit alone. Do you know how uncomfortable that would be on the turns?” Katara didn’t want to admit she wasn’t feeling well, but she would have to if she wanted her friends to stop badgering her. 

“I’ll wait with her,” Zuko volunteered. He looked up at the ride and shrugged. “I’ve been on one of these before, and I honestly didn’t think much of it. Go on ahead without us.” Sokka seemed like he was going to protest more, but Aang tugged at his sleeve.

“Sounds good to me!” he chirruped.  “Let’s go, Sokka! The line’s getting long.” 

When Sokka and Aang had gone, Zuko led Katara to a miraculously empty picnic bench beneath a shady tree. She sank into a seat with a relieved sigh. 

“Are you okay?” Zuko asked. 

“I’m alright,” Katara assured him. “I just… didn’t get enough sleep last night.” Katara would never be able to adequately explain why she couldn’t admit what had kept her up the night before. It was a nightmare. A waking nightmare, but she’d had them before. Still, she found a smile and shook her head self-deprecating, and Zuko… Zuko seemed like he was going to ask more questions, but he sighed and accepted her answer. They’d all had nightmares, and short of suggesting sharing a room, there was nothing really to be done for it. He tried, though.

“I stay up pretty late,” Zuko told her. “If you ever want to talk…”

“You should be resting yourself,” Katara chided. “Mr. I-Rise-With-the-Sun.” Zuko flushed and shrugged.

“Old habits,” he said. “And even if you woke me up, I wouldn’t mind. Not if you really needed to talk.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Katara laughed. Then she pressed her thumb into the space where her nose and eye met, groaning lightly. 

“Hey, do you want to go back to the palace?” Zuko asked. “There are still four days of the festival left. You wouldn’t miss much.” Katara sighed and shook her head. 

“I don’t really want to go home yet,” she told him. Zuko seemed like he was going to argue against it, but refrained. 

“Alright,” he said. “But I can’t watch you suffer. There’s a stall nearby that’s selling that new coffee drink from the Earth Kingdom. It’s supposed to give you more energy than tea.” 

“That stuff is so bitter,” Katara said, wrinkling her nose. 

“Not if you put a bit of sugar in it,” Zuko insisted. He glanced over his shoulder at the roller coaster. Sokka and Aang were still in line for the ride. He took Katara’s hand and pulled her up from the bench. “Come on!” 

The line for coffee was a lot shorter than the line for the roller coaster. Zuko got them two cups of coffee with sweetened condensed coconut milk. 

“This is delicious!” Katara declared after a long sip. It was much better than the first time Katara had tried it on a visit to Ba Sing Se with Toph. That drink had come in a cup smaller than Iroh’s dantiest tea cup, and the dark liquid in it had been bitter and hard to swallow. This was cold and sweet, and it was doing wonders for her headache. 

“Good choice,” Zuko asked.

“Mmm,” Katara nodded. “A very good choice.” The pair walked slowly back to the bench by the roller coaster, taking the long way past other stalls. Katara lingered on a vendor selling Earth Kingdom hair combs. 

“See something you like?” Zuko asked. Katara pointed to a pair of bronze combs with filigree flowers. 

“I had a pair like it when I was in Ba Sing Se,” she told him. “But I lost them.” Zuko’s face flushed lightly. It had been years since Katara had forgiven him for that, and years since she’d brought it up, but even this oblique reference stirred his sleeping guilt. He almost said he was sorry, but Katara had made him promise to stop apologizing when she took the ambassadorship. Instead, he swallowed his words and motioned back towards the roller coaster.

“They should at least be on the ride by now,” he said. “Want to finish these at the bench?” Zuko allowed Katara to pass ahead of him. Sokka and Aang returned not long after that, chattering excitedly about the ride. 

“The mail chutes in Omashu are still more fun,” Aang admitted. “This was really close, though!”

“I need to get in touch with Teo,” Sokka said, with a gleam in his eye. “I think we can make a roller coaster that’s even better than the mail chutes. I’m talking fast turns and loop-de-loops! Hey, Zuko, do you think you can get me in to talk to whoever built this one? I want to see the tracks up close.” 

“Glad you guys had fun,” Zuko laughed. “I’ll see if I can introduce you to the engineer running this, but I don’t know if the actual engineer is here.” 

“Good enough,” Sokka said. “So what’s next?” Katara looked up at the roller coaster. The coffee drink seemed to have done the trick for her headache and now she eyed the ride with renewed interest. 

“You know,” she said, “I’m feeling better. Do you guys feel like going on the roller coaster again?” Katara didn’t have to ask twice. Sokka and Aang each grabbed one of her arms and dragged her laughing into the line. Zuko spoke to one of his guards before trotting after his friends. 

The sun had long since set when the friends returned to the palace. They’d had their fill to eat from the food stalls, but Iroh was still waiting with tea and rice crackers when they arrived. They sat with him and exchanged stories of their day. Iroh had spent much of his day with Piandao and Jeong Jeong, mostly in the artisan sections of the festival. 

After tea, fatigue caught up with Katara, and she begged off early. The warmth of Iroh’s chamvendar blend curled comfortably in her stomach and left her limbs pleasantly heavy. She was sure that she would have a good night’s sleep, vivid nightmare or not. 

She prepared for bed, hesitating slightly before going to her dressing table, the memory of the night before recalling itself to her mind. With a stubborn set to her shoulders, she steeled her nerves and sat down. Then she combed out her hair so quickly that she almost missed the small brown paper wrapped package near the edge of the table. The sight of it caused her heart to leap into her throat for a moment before she laughed at herself. It wasn’t as if a ghost had just lay it down beside her. One of the servants must have brought it in while she was out. 

Katara picked it up and noticed that there was a hastily scribbled note on a card beneath it. She didn’t recognize the handwriting, but the signature was Zuko’s. He must have written it in a hurry, because she didn’t remember ever seeing her friend’s writing look anything other than elegant and smooth. 

To replace the ones you lost. 

-Zuko

Katara opened the package and found the bronze combs she’d been eyeing earlier lying inside. Katara’s heart sped again, but not from fear this time. Now Zuko’s uncharacteristically sloppy writing made sense. The only time he could have written it were the brief minutes where they all separated to wash their hands before tea. She couldn’t imagine when he would have had time to buy the combs. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so tired after all. 

Katara smiled giddily as she tucked one of the combs into her hair, admiring how the bronze gleamed against her dark brown hair. The light from the sconces caught the filigree flowers and made it look as if there were a bit of their flames decorating her dark brown waves. In her head, she thought of how she would style the combs with her beads and braids. The combs would work, Katara thought, for every day and special occasions. She would wear them to the festival the next day...or maybe not. She’d be very upset if she were to lose them on a ride, or—

A knock at the door startled Katara out of her thoughts. She hastily snatched the comb out of her hair and shoved it, its twin, and Zuko’s card into her drawer. Why she felt the need to hide them she couldn’t say, but she wasn’t ready to share Zuko’s gift just yet. She crumpled the paper up and kicked it under the table before she went to open the door. 

Zuko stood in her doorway, leaning against the frame, his hair falling into his eyes. He must have washed and changed, because he was wearing new clothes. Nicer clothes than he had been wearing earlier, in fact. They weren’t quite on the level of the silks and linens he wore while working, but they were nice enough to make Katara very aware that she was in her most comfortable pajamas. 

“Oh! H-hey, Zuko!” Katara greeted him as she tried to subtly close her robe. It, at least, was a royal blue silk and made her look a bit presentable. 

“Hi, Katara.” Zuko straightened and looked at Katara with an odd intensity. Katara felt a blush rise to her cheeks, and she tried not to shift uncomfortably as she waited for him to say something. But he just stood there, with his shoulders slightly bunched up to his ears.

“I… um… I got combs,” Katara said, breaking the silence. “Thank you! I-I love them.” Zuko’s brows drew down momentarily—in confusion? annoyance?—and Katara wondered if she’d made a mistake bringing it up to him. He hadn’t given it to her directly, maybe he didn’t want to talk about what the gift meant... or didn’t mean. 

“I’m glad,” Zuko said, suddenly flashing her a bright smile. The mood shift almost gave Katara whiplash. “That’s actually not why I stopped by, though.” Katara blinked in surprise. 

“No? Is something wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Zuko promised, shaking his head vehemently. “Actually... would you mind taking a walk with me?” 

“Well, I was getting ready for bed…” Katara looked down at her robe. 

“Please?” Zuko pressed. “I’m sorry. I know you were about to go to sleep, but I promise this will be quick. I just wanted to tell you something. It’s kind of... personal.” Katara froze for a moment, uncertain how to reply. Zuko was behaving nervously, but it was different than his usual nervous energy. Katara couldn’t put her finger on what was off, though. 

“Can’t you tell me here?” Katara asked. There were a couple of servants at the end of the hall, but they were too far to hear if Zuko spoke quietly. Zuko cast his gaze at them, though, and shook his head. 

“I know a spot where we can talk privately,” he told her. “What I want to say...well, I’d rather be alone when I say it.” Katara’s heart stopped for a moment and then started racing in her chest. She swallowed hard once. Twice. Nothing would make her throat work again, though. Finally she just nodded mutely, agreeing to go with Zuko. He took her hand and led her quickly towards the west wing of the palace. 

About a year earlier, Iroh had had a fit of redecorating fever. He’d convinced Zuko—who himself had grown tired of looking at the same dour decor he’d spent his childhood with—that there was now time and money enough to update the palace. He’d started with the east wing, where the royal family and their inner circles lived, and now that that was done, Iroh had turned his attention to the west wing. When it was completed, it would be half hotel, half public hall, but at the moment, it was empty, and apparently the perfect place for Zuko to spill his big secret. Katara had expected Zuko’s urgency to abate once they’d gone farther into the wing than anyone would have reason to be in so late, but he kept moving deeper into the shadowy halls as if he thought they were being pursued.

“Zuko!” Katara planted her feet and pulled against his grip on her wrist. “Slow down! What’s the matter with you? Where are we going?” Finally, Zuko released her and raked his hand nervously through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I’m being weird. It’s just… I didn’t want to do this here.” He threw his arms about to the sides and motioned around the empty room. Dust cloths and painter’s tarps covered everything, protecting the antique furniture from the renovations happening in that wing of the palace. The sconces cast a dim glow that gave everything an oddly flat muted appearance. Even Zuko’s normally expressive honey brown eyes looked strange in this light. They looked almost a pale shade of yellow, and Katara couldn’t read anything in them.

“Would you please just tell me what’s going on?” she pleaded, feeling equally concerned and exasperated.  “Are you okay?” Zuko shut his eyes and sighed.

“I wanted to do this in the garden,” he said mostly to himself.  “Katara, I have been trying to figure out how to say this for the longest time and I came up with so many flowery speeches, but they were all so… I… I care for you, Katara. I care for you so much. I think I might be in love with you.”

“Zuko…” Katara breathed. She had no idea what to say Zuko put his hands on her shoulders, his black hair fell messily into his eyes as he gazed into hers imploringly.

“I wouldn’t have said anything at all, except… You feel it, too right? Have I been imagining things?”

It had to be a dream, Katara thought. Her mind reeled, and her blood raced. She had never been at such a loss for words before in these dreams but, she reasoned, there was a first time for everything. Katara brought her hand up to Zuko’s wrists and rested them there. Then Zuko closed the distance and proved it wasn’t a dream after all.

‘Or if it is,’ Katara thought hazily, leaning into the kiss,  ‘I’m okay with not waking up for a while.’

Zuko broke away, and Katara opened her eyes with a lopsided smile. Her heart was racing, and she could feel the warmth flooding her cheeks. She lifted her eyes to meet Zuko’s. Then she froze. From this close she could see that what she had taken for a trick of the light wasn’t after all. His eyes were cold. Flat. Yellow.

“Who are you?” she demanded, pulling away from the thing wearing her best friend’s face. He chuckled darkly, stepping towards her.

“You know who I am Katara. I’m the man who loves you. I’ve come to take you as my new bride.”

“Not interested!” Katara scowled and reached for her water skin. It wasn’t at her side, she realized with a rush of panic. She hadn’t thought she would need it when Zuko had asked to speak with her. Now she cursed her lack of foresight. The thing closed the space between them and grasped her arms.

“My dear, don’t be rude. I put in all this effort. I even chose this form because I knew it would please you best.” Katara fought against the vice-like grip of her captor. Finally, she used a move she had learned from Suki. Stepping one foot forward and yanking her arms towards her body, she was able to throw the thing off balance. As he stumbled forward, Katara reared her head back and smashed her forehead into the imposter’s nose.  His grip loosened. Katara took her opportunity. She yanked herself free and ran. She had never been in this wing of the palace, though. It had been under renovation for months, and before that, it had been abandoned. It wasn't long before she took a wrong turn and found herself in an alcove.

“Are you finished?” Katara whirled around to face the thing.  He had twisted Zuko’s mouth into a cruel smirk. It was jarringly out of place. Even when they had been enemies, Zuko had never looked at her like that. Katara felt like she was face to face with Ozai.

“I’ll give you this,” he said. “You are feisty. Luckily for you, I enjoy a chase.”  Katara whirled around desperately searching for a weapon. “But then, you’ve never really minded when I chased you, right, Katara?” She glared the imposter down, gritting her teeth.

“The real Zuko found out a long time ago I’m not someone you want to corner.” Her eyes flickered for a moment to a mop and pail at the end of the hall. Some forgetful servant had left it behind. Katara felt the familiar tug and smirked. “I guess you’re about to learn that lesson, too.”

She jerked her arms. The Zuko imposter doubled over as a thick icicle erupted from his midsection. Katara backed up to the wall, waiting for the thing to fall, but he never did. Instead he lifted his eyes to Katara. There was that cruel smirk again. Then he began… moving. His skin shifted and rippled as if something were crawling beneath it. He wrapped his hands around the tip of the icicle and pulled it out with a sickening squelch. Katara retched.  She fought down the bile rising in her throat.

The hole in his abdomen closed up. As he moved closer to Katara, he grew taller, lankier. His skin changed from Zuko's golden tan to an unhealthy pallor. Whatever this thing was, he no longer looked like Zuko. Katara gasped and pressed herself as far as she could into the corner. As far away as she could get from the creature.

He looked like a corpse now. Stringy black hair grew in patches on his mottled scalp. His yellow eyes seemed to glow in the dim light. Even the air around him smelled of grave dirt and decay. Katara’s stomach turned again. She had kissed him!

“I had hoped,” the thing said, “that by taking your friend's form you’d be more amenable to my offer. But in the end, my dear, it doesn’t matter. You will be my bride.” He reached for Katara. As his cold clammy hand brushed against her skin, Katara’s mouth fell open in horror. 

Chapter Text

 Part 3

A bloodcurdling scream echoed through both wings of the palace. Iroh's teacup fell from his hands, spilling its contents across the floor. Zuko and Aang leapt up from their Pai-Sho game. Sokka dropped the scroll he had been reading.

“What was that?” Aang yelped, scrambling to his feet. Zuko had already started for the door.

“That sounded like—“

“Katara!” Sokka rushed past him and took off towards where he thought the scream had come from. The others were close behind.

There were guards rushing towards the west wing, and Sokka followed. They all skidded to a stop at an alcove. Sokka pushed through the knot of guards and gasped. On the floor lay Katara, as still as death.

“ Katara! ” Sokka rushed to his sister's side. Zuko crouched on her other side. He took her wrist gently in his hands and pressed his fingers to the soft spot beneath her thumb. He held his breath.

'There's a pulse,” he said, relieved. Her pulse was weak, but it was there, and it was steady. Sokka reached for Katara's shoulders and tried to shake her. Zuko stopped him.

“What are you—” he started to demand. 

“She may have hurt her head,” Zuko warned him. Iroh turned to a guard.

 “Get a physician here as fast as you can,” he ordered.

“Is she going to be alright?” Aang asked quietly. Zuko turned to him sharply. The younger man stood as the edge of the alcove. His face was pale and his grey eyes were wide with worry and fear. Suddenly Zuko saw how young Aang still was. He dropped his eyes back to Katara. She would be alright. She had to be.

Sokka held his sister's hand firmly, but his attention was on something else. 

‘Someone attacked her,” he told Zuko. He pointed to something just beyond the alcove. The others followed his gaze to a long, vicious looking spike of melting ice. It was covered in what looked like gore. Aang flinched away from it with a horrified grimace. 

"She must have tried to fight whoever it was," Zuko concluded. He turned to the remaining guards. "Sweep the palace. Seal off all the exits. No one gets out or in until every area has been searched." With a bow, the guards split into two teams and fanned out to search. Iroh watched the go with a troubled look. He turned his eyes back to the weapon melting on the floor.

"That would have been a serious injury," Iroh said. "They can't have gotten far. They shouldn't have been able to walk away at all." A silence fell over the group as they processed the implication. 

"What could have survived that?" Sokka murmured. The physician arrived then with her assistants carrying a cot. Zuko and Sokka reluctantly stepped back and gave them space to attend Katara. After checking her for any obvious injuries, they shifted her over to the cot and the assistants lifted the cot between them. 

“Take her to her room,” the physician ordered. The assistants hurried to obey, with their Fire Lord and his friends hot on their heels. Iroh went to check on the guards who had gone searching for the mysterious intruder. 

A preliminary examination of Katara revealed nothing that should have knocked her out, but she didn’t stir. Her brother and friends hovered anxiously near the door while the physician tried to find an explanation for Katara’s condition. The young men left only when the physician announced she would need to look over her body for signs of internal bleeding. They reluctantly retreated to Katara’s sitting room to wait. Fear claimed all three in different ways. Aang retreated to a corner and watched the door to Katara’s bedroom, anxiously. Sokka perched at the edge of a chair, bouncing his leg up and down, his hands clenched tightly into fists. He seemed prepared to spring up at any moment for a fight. But there was no one to fight just then. Zuko paced from the fireplace to the balcony doors, something that ordinarily would have aggravated his friends, but tonight they were all lost in their own thoughts. 

Iroh arrived a few minutes later, his face drawn and pale. The three young men were on him in an instant. He saw the question in their eyes and shook his head solemnly. 

“The guards checked the palace from top to bottom,” he said. “There was no sign of anyone coming in or going out.”

“What about a blood trail?” Sokka demanded. “You saw the size of that spike! You saw the blood on it!” 

“There was nothing,” Iroh told them. “It makes no sense, but there was no blood trail.”

“That’s impossible!” Zuko snapped. “A wound like the one that would have caused should have killed whoever it was!”

“Maybe she wasn’t aiming to kill?” Aang suggested. “Maybe she only caught their arm or something.” Sokka shot him a dark look. 

“Even if that were the case,” Iroh said quickly, trying to disarm what seemed to be the beginning of an unhelpful argument, “the injury would have precluded escape.”

“So what happened to my sister?” Sokka demanded. “ Someone did something to her, and she fought back! So what in Koh’s lair happened?” Iroh shook his head slowly. 

“There’s something else,” he said slowly, almost hesitantly. 

“What?” Zuko leaned towards his uncle, impatient and expectant. 

“It seems to me,” Iroh paused thoughtfully, “that she knows her attacker.”

“ What ?’ Sokka’s face twisted in confusion and anger. “What are you talking about?” 

“Master Katara was in her night clothes,” Iroh explained. “She was getting ready for bed. Whoever convinced her out of her room must have been someone she trusted.” He turned to Zuko, and his face became almost apologetic. “Nephew, I must ask. Do you know if she was seeing anyone?” 

Zuko blanched for a moment, shaking his head. 

“Sh-she never mentioned seeing anyone,” he said. “I know she has friends outside of the palace, but if any of them were here, they would have been announced.”

“Not if they snuck in,” Sokka pointed out. Iroh’s observation had made sense. In the confusion of finding his sister and trying to figure out what was wrong, Sokka hadn’t even noticed she was in her pajamas. Katara had made friends since taking her post in Caldera. Sokka even knew a couple of them, but he also knew his sister was too cautious to not be suspicious of any of them showing up at her room in the palace unannounced. Of all the people who she wouldn’t be suspicious of had they done that, four had been together in Iroh’s study when she was attacked, and the rest were either in the Southern Water Tribe or in the Earth Kingdom. 

“What if she thought she was being called to heal someone?” Sokka was almost too quiet for the others to hear. “What if it were someone pretending to be a messenger or a servant or something? If they told Katara someone was hurt or sick, she wouldn’t have bothered to dress.” Iroh frowned thoughtfully and tugged at his beard. 

“It’s possible.” Then he sighed. “But I’m afraid without witnesses, speculating won’t help much. Master Katara can tell us what happened when she wakes up.” Sokka exchanged an uncomfortable look with Zuko. Neither of them wanted to voice their thoughts. 

The door to Katara’s room opened, and four sets of eyes swung towards the physician. She took a deep breath and shook her head slightly. 

“I can’t figure out what’s wrong,” she said. “There are no obvious signs of injury to her head or internal bleeding. I don’t know of any poisons that would act this quickly, either. Master Katara seems perfectly healthy, except that no one can wake her.”

“There’s got to be something you can do,” Zuko insisted. The physician turned to him solemnly. 

“Normally, in a case like this, I’d consult with the ambassador,” she admitted. “I’ll be keeping a close watch on her, of course. I’ll do whatever I can to help her. But at this point, I don’t know what’s wrong.” She stepped aside, giving the men space to enter Katara’s room. “I need some things from my office. I’ll be back soon, but maybe you’d like to sit with her until I get back.”

The drapes in Katara’s room had been drawn, blocking the moonlight. Sokka crossed the room and pulled them open so the light of the waxing crescent could reach his sister. 

“She’s a waterbender,” he explained, keeping his back towards the room. “The moon will give her strength.” His grip tightened on the fabric, and he took a deep breath. Finally, he turned and let his eyes fall on Katara. 

Katara was very rarely still. Even in sleep, she would toss and twitch and murmur all night. When they were small and shared a pallet, Sokka would often be awoken by his sister striking him in her sleep. Now, though… Katara had been laid on her bed, her sleep clothes neatly arranged, and her hair tied back in a simple braid. She was so still, and her chest barely moved with her breathing. It was as if she had been prepared for a viewing before her burial. Sokka choked back a sob. Katara would make it out of this… whatever it was. 

The chair at Katara’s bedside had been claimed by Zuko, so Sokka pulled the stool from Katara’s dressing table to sit on the other side. 

“She’ll wake up,” Zuko said, though Sokka wasn’t certain if he was speaking to his friends or to himself. In spite of his own grief, he felt a pang of sympathy for his friend. 

“The doctor said she’s not hurt,” Aang’s voice was small and timid. Sokka glanced up and realized that he had barely crossed the threshold, and was still hovering near the door. He seemed afraid to come too close. Iroh went over and put a comforting hand on Aang’s arm.

“Let us hope that’s true,” he said. “But there are injuries that even the best physicians can’t see with just their eyes.” Aang blinked rapidly and clutched the door knob with a shaking hand. Iroh steered Aang out of the room. 

“Wait, but—” he protested, even as he offered little resistance.

“The physician and her team will be back soon,” Iroh said. “They’ll need something to keep their energy up. Will you help me prepare a tray of tea and food for them?” Aang’s shoulders sagged in relief. He agreed to help with alacrity. 

Sokka and Zuko sat alone in the room. Neither of them seemed inclined to break the silence for a long time. It felt wrong to speak somehow. It felt wrong to be so quiet. It felt wrong to leave. It felt wrong to stay. So the two young men sat in silence across from each other with Katara lying far too still between them. They couldn’t meet each other’s eye, but the presence of someone else alive and awake and breathing bought just enough comfort for the moment. 

Around the time Zuko was starting to wonder where the physician was, Sokka leaned forward on his elbows and buried the palms of his hands in his eyes. 

“What am I going to tell Dad?” he groaned miserably. Zuko had no answer for him. 

The physician arrived not long after that. She was hesitant to order the Fire Lord and the Southern Chief’s son to leave, but they seemed to understand her request anyway. They stood reluctantly, lingering near the doorway. Sokka stumbled out of the room first, morose and deflated. 

“I’ll write to Dad tonight,” he said. “He’ll at least want a chance to be here in case…” 

“Stop!” Zuko hissed, guiding his friend out of the room by his elbow. “This is Katara we’re talking about. If anyone could pull out of this, it’s her. Don’t you dare give up on her!” Sokka yanked his arm free and scowled at Zuko. 

“Don’t you act like I’m the unreasonable one here!” he snapped. “I hope to the spirits that she’ll be okay, but if she’s not, and I’m the reason Dad didn’t get to say good-bye to… to someone else he loves…” Sokka couldn’t finish. His throat slammed shut around a body wracking sob and he pressed his fists to his eyes. Zuko put a hand on Sokka’s shoulder and, after a moment’s hesitation pulled Sokka into a tight hug. 

“She’s going to be alright,” Zuko told him. “She will be.” Sokka pulled back once he’d gotten his tears under control, and he met Zuko’s eye fiercely. 

“When I find whoever did this to her, they’re going to suffer,” he swore. As Fire Lord, Zuko knew that he should encourage Sokka to allow the authorities and the courts to handle it. Instead, he set his face grimly and stuck his hand out to Sokka. The young warrior took the Fire Lord’s arm at the elbow and clasped his shoulder. 

“You’re a good man, Zuko,” Sokka said solemnly. Then he turned and left the room. He had a letter to write. Zuko lingered just a moment longer, but there was nothing for him to do in that room just then. With a last glance at Katara’s bedroom door, he slipped out into the hallway. There must, he thought, be something the guards missed in their frenzied search for the intruder. If there were any clues to be found, Zuko would find them. 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Katara had never lost consciousness. Or, she didn’t feel as if she had. It seemed like in the span of an instant, she had gone from the abandoned wing of Zuko’s palace to… this place. Katara looked around and tried to orient herself.  

The room she found herself standing in was dark, but it felt cavernous. The silence pressed on her eardrums almost painfully as she struggled to gain her bearings. The hairs on Katara’s arms stood on end. There was danger in this dark room, but she couldn’t tell where. 

The sconces lining the walls flared to life and Katara found herself standing in what seemed to be the massive main hall of a palace. Katara had never seen anything like it. Not even in the Earth Kingdom. Two of Zuko’s main halls could have fit in the space and left extra room for a small village’s worth of extra guests. And it wasn’t empty. 

In the center of the impossibly large hall was a long table with ten figures down each side. As her eyes adjusted to the light, Katara’s horror grew. The figures down each side of the table were women in strange clothes. They seemed to be from all around the world with hair styles and clothes ranging from the finest damasks and silks to rich furs and wool. For a moment, Katara thought she was looking at a display of life-sized dolls. Then one of them suddenly snapped her head up and stared directly at her. There was something wrong with her face, but from this distance, Katara couldn’t place what it was. It was enough, though, that she stumbled back with a startled gasp, and bumped into something solid.

“Welcome home my dear.” 

Katara nearly leapt from her skin when she felt the brush of stale breath against her ear. It was him. The creature… spirit… whatever that had taken Zuko’s form to lure her away. Katara spun around, her teeth bared in rage. 

“Who are you?” she demanded. “Why did you bring me here?” 

“I go by many names,” the spirit chuckled as he stepped towards her. “But you may call me Shinrou.” 

Katara scrambled away from Shinrou. Instinctively she reached for any source of liquid. She could feel some at the table. There must have been a pitcher of water or wine among the plates. Katara knew she couldn’t kill Shinrou, but she hoped she could distract him long enough to escape this hall. She could figure out what to do then. She raised her hands and called for the liquid, and then…

Nothing happened. The liquid on the table didn’t respond to her call. Katara dropped her arms and looked at the table in confusion.  The figures at the table watched her blankly and Shinrou favored her with an amused, patronizing smile. 

“I do hope that’s out of your system,” he said, grabbing her arms. “Your bending won’t work here, my love.” The endearment sounded wrong on Shinrou’s lips — it was thick, rancid oil spilling over Katara’s skin, causing her to shudder in the spirit’s grip. 

There was a rush of wind and in an instant, Katara found herself suddenly at the table. Before she could react, several sets of hands grabbed her and forced her into an empty chair. Katara was momentarily overwhelmed by the sickly sweet stench of rot and decay, but she soon realized that the hands holding her belonged to the figures she had seen sitting at the table. From up close, she could see they were all women and all in varying stages of decomposition. The bony hands of one nearly skeletal woman held down one of her arms, while the other was pinned in place by a pair of hands so mottled in shades of green, blue, yellow and black that it was impossible to tell what color they had been originally. One woman loomed over Katara, her face a nightmarish death mask. Her eyes were nothing more than empty, black holes. Her desiccated skin was stretched tight and shrunken away from her mouth, leaving her with a permanent ghastly grin. A horrified shriek forced itself from Katara’s throat as too many sets of hands to count tore at her hair, her clothes, her limbs.

Just as Katara was sure she was about to be ripped apart by the women, they released her and backed away. She spotted one woman clutching her robe and pajamas triumphantly and she finally realized what had happened to her. She looked down and found herself in a long, blue robe lined in ermine and intricately beaded with scenes from stories she grew up hearing around the communal fires at home. It was a wedding outfit from the Southern Water Tribe, and it must have been breathtakingly beautiful once. Now it was faded, threadbare and smelled of mildew. The dank fur nearly made Katara gag, and she tried to tug it away from her reflexively. Two of the women grabbed her arms and forced them down.

“I admire the fighting spirit in you,” Shinrou stepped to Katara, close enough to feel his fetid breath on her cheeks. “But my patience is finite. I can be as cruel as I am kind.” Katara was going to retort, but something changed in Shirou’s face. It wasn’t anything that she could describe, and it was only the briefest flash, but it frightened her into silence. If it hadn’t been for the vice-like grips of her captors holding her in place, she would have shrank away. Satisfied that his point had been made, Shinrou took a step back, smiling slightly. 

“I’d like you to meet the rest of my brides,” he said, gesturing to the crowd of woman-like figures. Only a few of them had enough of their faces left for expression. One of them held Katara’s clothes clutched tightly in her hands. Her eyes were wide with either fear or concern, but the rest of her face was carefully blank. Shinrou’s eyes landed on her and his mouth twisted into a sneer. 

“Burn those,” he snapped, motioning to Katara’s clothes. “She won’t need those anymore.”

“She will not need them,” the woman agreed, bobbing a hasty half curtsy. “Husband provides beautiful clothes, and she will not need these.” She turned and the crowd parted to let her pass. Katara stared after her, too startled to protest the destruction of her clothes.

It wasn’t until Shinrou slipped behind Katara and wrapped his hands around her shoulders that Katara was able to tear her gaze away from the woman. Katara struggled against Shinrou’s grip, but his thin, lanky frame belied his strength. His hands were cold and hard as steel as he yanked her backwards. Katara thought he was taking her to sit at the table, but he dragged her through the crowd of ghastly figures and up first one flight of stairs and then another. Katara struggled against him, but it barely seemed to bother him at all. Shinrou stopped in front of an open door, and with very little effort, tossed Katara inside. A moment later the sconces flared up to reveal she was in a bedroom. Katara scrambled to her feet and spun around to face her captor, teeth bared and hands clenched at her sides. Shinrou watched her with a cruel smirk. 

“Please make yourself comfortable,” he told her. “Welcome home, my dear.” Katara launched herself at the spirit, but he shut the door before she could reach him. The sound of a lock turning echoed through the room, but Katara still threw her whole strength at it. She pounded the heavy wood and pulled at the iron handle, willing it to budge even a little. When that didn’t work, she shouted through the closed door, hurling insult after useless insult at the spirit who’d kidnapped her. 

Eventually, Katara’s strength gave out, and she sank to the floor in the middle of the room. Throwing a fit would get her nowhere, she told herself once she’d calmed down. What she needed was a plan. 

Planning had never been her strong suit. Katara tended to rely on her impulse, as she had with the pirates, and in the Northern Tribe, and when she’d incited the earth benders on the prison ship. Very often following her impulse worked out, but now she needed to be more shrewd. What, she wondered, would Sokka do?

She began by exploring the room she found herself in. The room had been opulent at some point. The bed was big enough to sleep a whole family. It was bigger than even her bed at the palace in Caldera. It was covered in dusty silk sheets that could have either been a shade of white or truly grey. It was nearly impossible to tell from a distance, and Katara wasn’t inclined to examine it any closer.  She turned her attention to the walls instead. 

There were velvet drapes and elaborate tapestries adorning the walls. Like everything else in the room, they gave the impression of having once been very beautiful, but they had long since fallen into the same state of decay as the bed and the carpet and the rest of the dilapidated furniture. That was no concern to Katara, though. She tossed the drapes aside to find a solid wall. With a frown, she tried another set of drapes, and then the tapestries. There were no windows. There were no doors leading to a balcony from which she might be able to escape. There was no way in or out of the room except for the solid wooden door with the iron lock. 

Despair threatened to overtake Katara, but she took a deep breath. She would find a way out, she promised herself. She would. 

Katara sank into a chair. The wooden legs creaked in protest of her weight, but it held. Katara choked back a sob as she buried her face in her hands. She took one breath. Then another. Her breathing evened, and she lifted her head up again. 

A timid knock sounded from the door. It was so soft that Katara almost didn’t hear it, but when it sounded again, Katara rose to her feet. She reached out for water instinctively and realized that even if she had been able to use her powers, there was no water to be found. The door opened and a woman, the only one who had any sort of expression, slipped into the room carrying a covered tray. The woman bowed slightly, keeping her gaze lowered demurely. 

“What do you want?” Katara snarled, but there was more confusion than anger behind it. This woman was almost trembling, and she gave Katara the sense that she was frightened of her own shadow. In spite of herself, Katara found herself pitying the stranger. 

“He has sent me to prepare you,” the woman spoke timidly but quickly. “I am to teach you what to expect so you are not tempted to escape him for he is inevitable, and he will not abide disobedience.” 

“What?” Katara reared back, shaking her head. The woman looked up, her eyes wide with fear. 

“Oh! I am not loud, and it is hard to hear me,” she said. Her cadence was odd and rambly as she explained herself. “I have not spoken to anyone except Husband in a very long time, and I do not remember how to do it well, and I am Se-eung.”  Katara’s head was reeling by the end of Se-eung’s speech. 

“Katara…” she introduced herself hesitantly.

“I know who you are, and why you are here,” Se-eung said sagely. “And that you are to become like me.”

“Like you?” Katara struggled to hide her distaste. In spite of everything, she found herself not wanting to hurt this strange woman’s feelings.

“A bride,” Se-eung explained. “Your Husband-to-be’s bride.” 

  “I don't want to be his bride!” Katara almost hissed as she turned away from Se-eung .

“Oh, no one ever does at first,” Se-eung said quietly. “There is always wailing and weeping and gnashing teeth and suicide attempts. But the spirit cannot kill itself, and he is persistent and demanding and immovable and in the end he gets his bride, always.”

Katara paced in short, agitated steps. She tugged at the rotting fabric of her wedding parka. 

“Why me?” she demanded, as she searched frantically for the buttons and ties binding her to the moldy fur. “Why did he bring me here?” She wasn’t expecting an answer. She hadn’t even really been speaking to Se-eung, but the small, pale woman clasped her hands tightly and bowed her head slightly.

“He admires strength,” she told Katara. “He will pick the strongest, or fastest, or smartest and he will make her his wife. And when she is spent and broken and weak, he will choose a new bride.” Se-eung lifted her gaze just slightly, and Katara could see a flash of bitterness in her dark eyes. “Husband says that I was the best of huntresses when he chose me to be his bride. He says I was faster than a bull hippo, stronger than a willow branch and as cunning as a hyena-leopard. I was among the most important in my village because I brought food and warmth and power. He says I was all of this, but I have forgotten. And now I am spent and broken, and now he has chosen you, and someday you will forget, too.”

The bitterness in Se-eung’s eyes softened into something like pity. The rest of her face remained unnervingly blank as she continued. 

“You are the most powerful bride he has chosen since long before I was wed to him. Master Waterbender, Avatar’s Protector, Kingmaker, Peacebringer, Peacekeeper, Beloved of Many Lands. You will be a jewel in his crown.” Se-Eung looked up at Katara, her face blank, and her expressive eyes full of tears. Katara’s hands went numb around the hood of her parka. She stared at Se-eung, trying to reconcile the woman before her with the description of the huntress she had once been. She thought with growing horror at what she herself might become after centuries trapped in this spirits’ palace.

“I have to get out of  here,” Katara gasped desperately. Se-eung shook her head slowly. 

“There is no way out,” she told Katara. 

“There has to be a way out!” Katara insisted. She spun and walked over towards Se-eung, but the other woman stumbled out of Katara's reach.

“There is no way out. You will try and try and  get nowhere. There is only wandering out there without a guide. And he will always find you.” Se-eung shook her head harder, and resolutely. “It is best to surrender to Husband.”

“I would rather die!” Katara declared angrily. Se-Eung shook her head sadly. 

“You will not die,” she said. “No matter where in the Spirit World you go, you will not die. And someday, you will forget. The oldest brides have forgotten who they were, and they have lost their voices and faces. They are ruined forever, and yet they will not die. And neither will you die.” Katara tugged at her parka again, uselessly. Where, she thought furiously, were the buttons and ties? She gave up after a moment and began pacing in agitation.

“I need to get out of this place!” she said, mostly to herself. “I don’t care if I end up wandering for all eternity. I will not stay here!”

“You do not understand what it is to wander the spirit world,” Se-Eung warned her. “You will go hungry and thirsty, but find no relief. You will stand on the edge of death, but death will not release you. To escape our Husband, you must return to your body.”

“Then I’ll do that!” Katara rounded on Se-Eung with her hackles raised. “I’ll find my way back.  There has to be a way!” 

“There is only one way,” Se-Eung said, giving her head that sad shake again. “But it is impossible, so I will not tell you and extend your fighting.’

“Please tell me!” Katara pleaded. “I’ll do anything !” Se-eung just shook her head harder. 

“I will not. It will give you hope and hope is cruel,” Se-eung’s voice faltered, and the emotion in her eyes reached her face for just a moment. “I am not cruel.”

“Se-eung, please.” Only the certainty that the older bride would bolt kept Katara from grasping at Se-eung in her desperation. “ I promise I won't think you're cruel. And I will fight this. Even if you don't tell me. I'll fight forever if I have to. I'll make him regret taking me.” Se-eung wavered.

“If I tell you, I will be a bad bride,” she said. “I have never been a bad bride. Not even when I was so much younger and so much more afraid. But I am not afraid now. I am a good bride.” Katara felt her heart sink. Against her will first one, then another tear slid down her face. 

“Please, Se-eung. I don't want to be here. If there is any way out of here, I have to try.  Please help me.” Se-eung considered Katara for a long moment before she replied hesitantly.

“I asked for help when I was young and scared and remembered the sun on my skin. The bride before me did not help. She did not speak to me. She was mean. She was sad. She was mean. I… I am not mean. But hope is cruel. I do not want to be cruel.”

“I won't think you're cruel,” Katara promised. “I will never think you're cruel if you try to help me. Please! If it's the only chance I've got, I have to take it.” Se-eung hesitated again.

“I have been a good bride,” her whisper fell even lower. “I have been a good wife. Maybe… I can be bad one time.” Katara's eyes widened. She held her breath and prayed silently. Finally, Se-eung nodded. She turned to Katara, and her whispering voice filled Katara's ear with the sweetest words she had ever heard.

“Alright,” Se-eung said. “I will be cruel and help you and give you hope. I will be a bad bride.” Katara let out a cry of joy and relief. She went to hug Se-eung, but she ducked Katara's touch again. Katara blushed and drew her arms to herself .

“I'm sorry,” she said. “Thank you, Se-eung.” Se-eung blinked in surprise.

“No one has ever said that to me before. Or they have, and I cannot remember. I cannot remember what I have forgotten, so it is possible someone once thanked me and I forgot. And you can leave if someone comes to get you.” 

“What…?” Katara's head was reeling,and she almost missed the last part of what Se-eung said.  Se-eung nodded.

“Someone from the dying world must come and bring you home. So you see it is impossible and now I have given you hope and I have been cruel.” Se-eung dropped her gaze to the floor and shook her head sadly. 

“No, Se-eung!” Katara clasped her hands together in gratitude. “It's perfect. I'm friends with the Avatar. He can help me get home… And you can come with me.” Se-eung's head flew up, her eyes widened in fear.

“Oh no!” She cried. “I can never go back to the dying world, for you see, there I am already dead. Without my body I will be a wandering spirit and I will be tired but never have rest, and be lonely and never be seen. I will not go back there. No, I will not .” Katara felt a pang for Se-eung. She didn't want to condemn Se-eung to be a wandering spirit, but she couldn't stand the idea of leaving her there either. There had to be a solution, but Katara would have to think of it later.

“What do I need to do?” Katara asked. 

“You must tell your friend you need help,” Se-Eung said simply.  Katara shook her head at that. 

“How?” She knew that Aang, Sokka, and Iroh had had contact with the spirit world, but she didn't know how contact in the other direction worked.

“You can reach out,” Se-eung explained when Katara asked. “When they are closest to death and open to the spirit world.”

“ What ?” Katara balked. Se-eung flinched at her sudden shout. Katara forced herself to calm down and spoke softer. “I don't want my friends to get hurt. Isn't there another way without them having to come close to death?” Se-eung shook her head sadly.

“Only when they are close to death and open to the spirits’ visions. It used to be common when I was alive in the dying world. We would get close to death every night and talk about our strange visions when Agni returned to his throne in the sky.”

“Like sleep?” Katara asked. “I can speak to my friend in his sleep?” Se-eung nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes! Yes! Sleep. I had forgotten the name because I do not need to sleep and I have not chosen to do it in so long. But now you have reminded me and I will remember that the dying are close to death in sleep.” Katara was starting to feel dizzy. It was difficult to follow Se-eung's odd way of speaking. 

“ Okay,” Katara breathed. “How do I get to his dreams?”

“There is only one place,” Se-eung began. “In the spirit world, there are many ways to communicate with the living, but here in the husband’s palace there is only one place to make contact with the dying world. You must go there to speak to your friend, and he may come for you if he will and he can.” Katara bit the inside of her lips to keep from snapping at Se-eung. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her nose before she attempted to speak again.

“Where is this place?” she asked as evenly as she could. If any of her annoyance seeped into her tone, Se-eung didn’t seem to notice. 

“It is in the tower,” the woman said. “I cannot and will not take you there, but I will tell you how to get there yourself. Then you will contact your friend and see if he will come for you.”

“That’s fine,” Katara assured her. “Tell me how to get there.”  Now Se-eung’s expression turned strangely smug. She was almost preening. 

“I have been a good bride,” Se-eung told Katara. “I am always respectful and obedient to my Husband. But I was once a bad bride. Almost as bad as you. I went all over the palace, which I was not supposed to do, and I found places I was not supposed to see. And I kept it secret until today.”

Katara leaned forward anxiously, her hands clenched at her sides. She was trying not to startle Se-eung, but it was getting harder to not give into the temptation to shake the information she needed out of Se-eung. Had she always been like that, Katara wondered. Or was this a glimpse into the future Katara could look forward to if she failed? 

“There is a staircase in the farthest corner west in the palace,” Se-eung said. “If you follow it to the highest tower, you will be in the Husband’s observatory. There you will be able to follow and speak with those in the dying world.” 

“Oh!” Katara gasped in relief. “Thank you!” Se-eung lowered her head and clasped her hands together. 

“Do not thank me,” she said sadly. “You will not succeed and you will realize that I have been very cruel.” Katara faltered at the certainty in Se-eung’s words. The timid woman took the opening and nearly fled to the door. With a quick bow she left, shutting the heavy door behind her. Katara held her breath for a moment and waited.

Chapter Text

Part 4

Katara sat by the door for nearly two hours after Se-eung left, straining her ears for the sounds of anyone else approaching. After what the older woman told her, Katara wasn’t certain if anyone in the palace slept, but she hoped that she could at least slip past Shinrou’s notice for a while. Finally, Katara found the nerve to pull the heavy wooden door open just wide enough to slip out into the darkened hall. She took a deep breath and gathered her long, thick skirts in her hands. She went over Se-eung’s directions in her head once more before she crept towards her destination. 

The skin on the back of Katara’s neck prickled, and she periodically glanced back over her shoulder. No one seemed to be following, but Katara picked up her pace nonetheless. 

Darkness settled over the palace like a shroud, but it somehow left Katara feeling exposed. Shinrou and his brides seemed to be used to the dark. There was no doubt in Katara’s mind that if she were caught, the danger would be upon her before she ever had a chance to spot it. Every few yards, a low burning sconce broke the shadows, and Katara would pause momentarily in the insufficient light to peer into the dark like a mouse trying to scent a predator. She never stopped longer than a heartbeat, but it felt like an hour before she reached the corridor that Se-eung had told her about. 

There was only one door at the end of the hall. It was the darkest corner by far that Katara had seen, but she could still somehow see the door at the end. She took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder. Se-eung had assured her that Shinrou wouldn’t be up this way that evening. He wouldn’t have use for this room until he was ready to choose a new bride, and that could take centuries, depending on how long Katara amused him. The anger the thought stirred gave Katara the last bit of nerve she needed to march the last few yards to the door and push it open.

The heavy door offered no resistance. It was mercifully and preternaturally quiet as it swung on its hinges. Katara took a deep breath and crossed the threshold. The door shut behind her, ruffling her hair and fur-lined collar. Katara spun around with a gasp. The door had disappeared in the dark.  Even running her hands over the space where she was certain the door was revealed no knob, no hinges, no seams. She was trapped. 

Katara stumbled backwards towards the center of the room, willing her panic to the back of her mind. She would figure out how to leave when she finished her task. 

The every surface of the room was panelled in dark obsidian, even the ceiling and floor. There was nothing else in the room, not even a sconce as far as Katara could tell. Yet there was somehow enough light to see by. Katara couldn’t tell where exactly it was coming from, but she could see her reflection everywhere she turned. There were thousands of her being reflected back from the dark walls. It made her head swim if she focused on any one area too long. 

“What do I do now?” she asked no one in particular. Every head in her thousands of reflections snapped up and started at her. A shudder of fear ran from the roots of Katara’s hair down to the base of her spine, and through the nerves in her legs. Her instinct was to run, but there was nowhere to go. Even if she could find the door, she had a feeling the mirror versions of herself wouldn’t allow her to pass. 

After an agonizingly long moment, one reflection caught her eye. This version of herself was almost, but not quite, glaring. Then slowly, it lifted one arm and pointed off to its side. Katara’s gaze followed the hand involuntarily, and she frowned. At first Katara didn’t know what it was she was looking at, but after a moment, she realized, the wall was blank. There was no reflection there at all. Katara turned back to her mirror self questioningly, but the reflection hadn’t moved. 

There was no other option that Katara could see. She stepped closer to the blank wall, and realized that it was a door. It didn’t lead to the corridor Se-eun had directed her too. It wasn’t a corridor at all. It was too dark to see clearly, but Katara got the impression of a wide space. Hesitantly, she stepped out, one foot then the other. She had just cleared the threshold when she felt a breeze in her hair. She spun around and froze. The room, and the door were gone. There wasn’t even a wall suggesting that there had ever been a palace on that spot. There was only grey mist and empty space. 

She was lost, Katara realized. Maybe Se-eung had led her into a trap. Maybe she had just doomed herself to being a wandering spirit, lost forever in some empty corner of the spirit world. 

Katara couldn’t even begin to fight her panic this time. With a cry of horror and despair, she sank to her knees. 

“Help!” she called to anyone who might hear. She didn’t care if it turned out to be an even worse spirit than Shinrou. The thought of being lost forever in this grey mist terrorfied her. Katara pressed her hands to her eyes and shook with deep, body wracking sobs. She had been arrogant to think she could outsmart a spirit, and now she would pay the price. 

“ Help!” she cried out again. 

There was no answer at first. All she could hear was the sound of the wind blowing across the plains. Gradually, the sound shifted and grew louder. Soon it sounded less like wind, and more like cheering. Katara held her breath, and tried to listen. It was cheering, Katara was certain. She scrambled to her feet and took off running in the direction she thought it was coming from. 

In the distance, she could see a reddish-orange glow begin to appear on the horizon. She picked up speed until she felt as if the wind were carrying her. That glow was where she needed to be, she knew with sudden absolute certainty. She would be safe if she could just reach that light. 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

He was on his knees, trembling in anticipation. Around him a boisterous crowd he couldn't see howled and jeered, but Zuko did his best to tune them out. He focused on his hands instead. They seemed smaller than they should have, his fingers splayed out on the dirt floor of the arena. They were a child's hands, but he wasn't a child.

The crowd stopped chanting and jeering all at once. There was an eerie stillness to the air now, as if everyone in the crowd were holding their breath.  Then the heavy wooden doors at the end opened with a creaking that cut through the silence like Zuko's dao swords. He knew what was coming, who he would see standing in silhouette in front of him. Still, when Ozai spoke, Zuko looked up in shock and horror. 

“You will learn respect,” his father's cruel promise seemed to echo inside Zuko's head. “Suffering will be your teacher.” 

Zuko couldn't move. He begged his legs to take him out of the line of fire, but he stayed frozen in a crouch with a sob lodged in his throat. Finally, he shut his eyes and waited for the searing pain to swallow him. 

“Zuko!” Instead of flames, Zuko found himself enveloped in strong, slender arms. He opened his eyes to a mass of dark brown curls . Ozai was gone. Instead of the Agni Kai arena, Zuko was kneeling in the center of a placid lake, so still it perfectly reflected the blue sky above. He bought his eyes back down to the figure embracing him.

“Katara?” She pulled away, looking him over in concern.

“Tui and La, Zuko,” she whispered. “Are you okay?” Zuko pulled her into a tight hug.

“Thank the spirits, you're alright!” Zuko felt strange in Katara's arms. He wasn't solid, but there was still an odd lack of weight to him, like the memory of holding him. She pulled back slightly after a moment and met his eyes.

“Is this what you dream about?” she murmured sympathetically, pushing his hair back. Zuko startled at that.

“...dream?” he repeated. “This is a dream, isn't it?” 

“No,” Katara said quickly. “Well...sort of, I guess. You're asleep, but I'm really here. Or my spirit is—”

“Katara, what are you talking about?” Zuko's brow creased in confusion. Katara huffed and sat back so she was sitting on the mirrored surface of the lake. 

“I'm sorry. I'm not explaining this right.” She looked at Zuko earnestly. “I don't have much time. I'm trapped in the Spirit World.”

“ What ?” Zuko gaped at her. Katara just waved him off impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah,” she huffed. “I know. It's really stupid. A spirit decided he wanted to get married again, and guess who won the booby prize!”

“Are you okay?” Zuko grasped at Katara's hands, as if that would keep her from having to go back. Katara was grateful that her incorporeal body didn't seem to be capable of blushing.

“I'm fine,” she said, sounding much more irritated than she felt.  “That guy. Spirit. Whatever. —got the drop on me. That pisses me off.”

“How did that happen?” Zuko asked. The incredulity in his voice caused Katara to blush. How could she tell him how Shinrou had led her willingly into his trap?

“That’s… not really important right now,” she told him. “I’m stuck here, but there's a way out.” Zuko leaned forward eagerly. “Someone has to come bring me back. The only way I can leave is if someone guides me out.”

“So Aang should be able to do it,” Zuko said with relief.  Katara nodded.

"That's what I was thinking,” she said. Zuko stared at Katara with an intensity that made her breath hitch. He shut his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers. 

“When I saw you…” Zuko gritted his teeth together to trap an errant sob. Katara wished she could really feel him as she reached up to hold his wrists. “You were lying on the floor and… and I thought you were dead. I… I couldn’t take it if you died, Katara. I don’t think I’d survive it.” 

“I’m not dead,” Katara promised him, clinging to him. Zuko opened his eyes, and luminous tears slid down his cheeks. 

“How do I know this isn’t a dream?” he asked her. “I was thinking about you before I fell asleep. And I dream about you so often.” Katara’s eyes widened in shock at the confession. She loosened her grip on his wrists and cupped  his face. Oh! How she wished she could feel him, truly feel him,  and not just the impression of him. 

“I’m not a dream,” she said desperately. “I swear I’m not! Please, Zuko, I need you to believe me.” Zuko met her eyes again, and the glimmering tears spilled over Katara’s hands, leaving sparkling trails down her arms. Zuko leaned into her touch, and Katara wondered if he could feel her. He reached up and wrapped a hand around hers. 

“I believe you,” he said. “But I need to be able to prove it to the others.” Katara sat back on her heels. Her free hand dropped to her lap, but she didn’t try to remove the one Zuko held pressed against his cheek. 

“You gave me a set of combs,” she said. 

“Well, I already know that,” Zuko scoffed. “I’m going to need more proof than that.” 

“You don’t know where I put them, though,” Katara huffed in annoyance. That got Zuko’s attention. He sat up straight, relinquishing his hold on her hand. Katara tried not to show her disappointment. She had almost been able to recall the topography of his scar beneath her fingers. Instead she clasped her hands together in her lap. 

“I hid them in a drawer in my dressing table,” she told him. 

“You hid them?” Zuko tried not to sound hurt, but it bled into his words. 

“I loved them!” Katara reassured him quickly. “I just wasn’t sure what it meant. And I… I wanted to talk to you first.” Zuko dropped his gaze and shifted self-consciously. 

“Oh,” was all he could muster in reply.  

“No one else knows about them,” Katara continued. “Well, not from me, anyway. I didn’t have time to talk to anyone before…” She gestured around them, and Zuko nodded his head. 

“I didn’t tell anyone, either,” Zuko said. “I put them in your room myself. So, I guess you and I are the only ones who know about the combs.”  

“And you can use them to prove to the others that you’ve seen me,” Katara nearly wept in relief. 

The lake around them turned black suddenly as dark clouds rolled over the sky and blotted out the light. Zuko gazed up in confusion, and Katara leapt to her feet. A voice like rolling thunder rumbled around them and through them. 

“I will not be disobeyed by my wife,” it said. Katara turned to Zuko, who had jumped up beside her. 

“You have to wake up,” she said. “You have to wake up now . ”  Zuko grasped her hand protectively. 

“I can’t let him hurt you!” he insisted. Katara shook her head. 

“My spirit can’t die,” she said. “You have to wake up, so I can get back to my body.” When Zuko hesitated, Katara put her hands on his shoulders and shoved him hard. The last thing Zuko saw was Katara being enveloped in a dark mist before everything disappeared. 

.*.*.*.*.*.

Zuko jumped to his feet and spun around wildly. It took several seconds for him to realize he was awake, and several more after that for his muscles to untense. The fright on Katara’s face as she was ripped away from him haunted Zuko. But was it real?

The sun hadn’t yet risen, but it had already begun to paint the sky a hazy violet colour. The palace would begin waking soon. For now, though, Zuko was alone as he sprinted down the hall towards Katara’s suite. 

Sokka was already there, sleeping on a couch in the sitting room. The sound of the door flying open startled him awake, and he blinked blearily at Zuko. 

“Wha’s going on?” His voice was thick and gravelly with sleep. Then the events of the night before caught up with Sokka, and he jumped to his feet, turning towards Katara’s door. He exchanged a glance with Zuko and by tacit agreement, they walked over softly and looked inside. 

Dr. Yuan  and one of her assistants had set up cots in one corner of the room and were sleeping Katara lay as she had been left. The bedcovers lay neat and straight over her still form. Sokka’s breath hitched in his throat. 

“Why are they sleeping?” he hissed. Zuko pulled Sokka back out of the room, signalling him to be quiet. He stayed long enough to reassure himself that he wasn’t imagining the slight rising and fall of Katara’s chest before withdrawing himself. 

“Why isn’t anyone watching her?” Sokka demanded as soon as the door was closed. “What if something had happened? What if she had...what if she needed help, but they couldn’t hear because they’re asleep??” The sound of Katara pleading him for help echoed in Zuko’s head

“They need to sleep, too,” he told Sokka distractedly. He walked towards the door of the suite, not noticing Sokka’s confused expression. 

“Where are you going?” he asked. Zuko stepped hurriedly into the hall.

“I have to speak to Aang,” he called over his shoulder. Sokka followed him to Aang’s room, still confused. 

Aang was groggy and disoriented when he answered Zuko’s frantic pounding at the door. He stared at the young Fire Lord blearily for a moment before he gasped and clutched the frame to keep from sinking to his knees. 

“Is Katara-” Aang’s eyes were already filling with tears.

“She’s still sleeping,” Zuko quickly assured him. He made to go into the room, and Aang stood aside to let his friends in. “I need to speak with you.” Aang shot Sokka a questioning look as he shut the door, but Sokka just shook his head. He had no idea what had gotten into Zuko. 

They didn’t have to wait long. As soon as the door clicked shut, Zuko rounded on his friends. 

“I spoke to Katara,” he blurted out. Sokka and Aang blinked in surprise and exchanged confused glances. 

“What?” Sokka asked. “When?” 

“Last night.” Zuko ran his hand through his hair and brought it to rest on the nape of his neck. He explained how she had appeared to him in his dream and asked him for help. 

“Trapped in the Spirit World?” Aang sounded absolutely mystified. It was not the reaction Zuko was hoping for, but it wasn’t disbelief, at least. 

“That’s what she told me,” Zuko said. “She can’t leave by herself. Aang, you can go after her, right?” Aang nodded slowly, but frowned slightly. 

“Are you sure it wasn’t just a dream?” he asked. Zuko nodded firmly. He had no doubt that he’d really spoken to Katara the night before. Sokka and Aang exchanged dubious glances, though. Zuko saw the beginnings of pity in Sokka’s eyes. Sometimes Zuko hated his friend’s pragmatism. He understood Sokka’s philosophy of preparing for the worst, but not now. Not with Katara’s life on the line. 

“Zuko,” Aang said cautiously. “It’s not easy to cross to and from the Spirit World. Especially for a mortal-”

“It’s the Winter Solstice,” Zuko reminded his friends. “Remember Uncle’s story?”

“That’s just a legend,” Sokka shook his head slowly. 

“And so was Aang at one point!” Zuko gritted his teeth in frustration. Suddenly, Zuko brightened. “I can prove it was real!”  Then, to the surprise of his friends, Zuko hurried out of the room and back towards Katara’s suite. Sokka and Aang exchanged confused glances and took off after him. 

“What’s going on?” Sokka asked, as he struggled to keep pace with Zuko. The young Fire Lord hesitated a moment at Katara’s door.

“Last night,” he started uncertainly, “in my dream, Katara told me that she had put the combs I...that she got from the fair in her vanity drawer.” 

“Katara didn’t buy anything at the fair,” Sokka said, wrinkling his nose. He wracked his brain, trying to remember if he’d seen his sister carrying any packages the night before. He was fairly certain that he hadn’t. Zuko waved him off. 

“She got new combs yesterday,” he assured his friends. “While you guys were on the rollercoaster, she said they reminded her of a set she lost in Ba Sing Se.” 

“I remember those!” Aang pipped up, helpfully. “She was upset when she lost them.” Sokka just shrugged listlessly. 

“Alright,” he relented at last. “I’ll bite. It’s better than trying nothing.” Zuko swept into Katara’s rooms, his friends close on his heels. Dr. Yuan and her assistant were awake now and checking on Katara’s vital signs. They started when the trio entered the room. 

“How is she?” Zuko asked anxiously.

“There hasn’t been any change,” the older woman said shaking her head. “She isn’t worse, which is something to be thankful for, at least.” Zuko glanced over at Sokka. The young warrior’s face was drawn and pinched tight with worry. He seemed to be holding his breath as he watched the far too subtle rise and fall of Katara’s chest. Zuko turned back to Dr. Yuan.

“Is there anything you need to do right now?” he asked. The physician hesitated for a moment and cleared her throat before she replied. 

“I want to run some more tests.” She swept her clinical gaze over Katara’s still form with a frown. She murmured mostly to herself, “I must have missed something. ”

“Can we have a few minutes alone?” Dr. Yuan’s brows quirked briefly in confusion, but she nodded. 

“I need to stop by my office to check my medical texts,” she said. “While we do that, you can stay.” Zuko nodded once sharply. Dr. Yuan bobbed a quick bow, once to Zuko and then to Sokka and Aang, before sweeping out of the room. As the door shut behind her, the trio set upon Katara’s dressing table. Zuko went straight for the drawer that Katara told him about. He yanked it open so hard, it almost came off of it’s tracks. There, resting on top of the card Zuko had hastily scrawled, were the bronze filigree combs. Zuko lifted them out and closed the drawer before his friends could see the card and get curious about it. Fortunately, they were too distracted by the existence of the combs to notice Zuko’s actions. They took the combs from him and examined them closely. 

“They do look like the ones she had in Ba Sing Se,” Aang admitted hesitantly. “I don’t remember her having anything with her when we came back from the fair.”

“The guards brought the package back,” Zuko told him. 

“How do you know that?” Sokka asked, wrinkling his nose. Zuko fought down a slight blush from his cheeks. 

“I...um....well, she didn’t have any packages when she came home,” he explained. “A-and the guards will make purchases for you and bring them to your room. If you ask them to.” That seemed to satisfy the curiosity of Aang and Sokka.

“This….this doesn’t prove that you spoke to her,’ Sokka said quietly. He turned the comb over in his hands thoughtfully, tracing his fingers over the flowers. “But...I guess it’s worth a shot.” He and Zuko turned to Aang.  The younger boy considered the comb in his hand for a moment, and then met his friends’ gazes with a determined nod. 

Chapter Text

Part 5

“Who told you how to find that room?” Shinrou demanded once again. Katara clenched her jaw tightly and glared off to her side. She had denied that she had had help over a dozen times by this point, and she didn’t see a reason to repeat herself again. Shinrou loomed over her, his eyes flashing dangerously. Katara didn’t care. As far as she was concerned, Shinrou had already done the worst thing he could do to her when he brought her to this place. 

Her silence angered Shinrou. The atmosphere seemed to contract and cool in his fury. Katara noted this with satisfaction. Let him stew, she thought. Let him learn that she intended to be a misery to him for as long as he held her prisoner. Let him —

Suddenly, Katara was caught up in a vice-like grip on her arms. Her feet dangled above the floor as Shinrou drew her close. She could smell the sour, dank stench of his breath, and see the small veins criss crossing his sallow eyes. 

“Do you really think that you’re the first of my wives to test me?” he hissed. “Eventually, they all break. And I will break you . I will break you like the stubborn ostrich horse you insist on being.” 

“Let me go!” Katara struggled vainly in Shinrou’s grasp. 

“You will respect me!” The room darkened to an inky black. Dread filled Katara, forcing her breath out in short, panicked gasps. Shinrou released her, but instead of hitting the floor as she was expecting, Katara found herself falling endlessly through a void. Around her, she heard horrified screams. The sound of it echoed off of walls she couldn’t see; rang in her ears painfully. She thought her lungs would collapse under the pressure. In the dark, Katara felt invisible hands pulling at her clothes, her limbs. Then finally, Katara realized the screams she was hearing were her own.

.*.*.*.*.*.

It was a simple plan. Aang would enter the Spirit World, have someone point him in Katara’s direction, and bring her back. The first part of the plan worked. He made it to the Spirit World, and even found Avatar Roku waiting for him. That was when the plan began to go sideways. When Aang returned to his body, face crestfallen, eyes full of confusion, he turned to Zuko. 

“Roku says you have to be the one to go,” he said. Zuko blinked in surprise. 

“ Me ?” he repeated. “But why? You’re the-”

“I’m the one who has to be the anchor,” Aang explained. “Katara was taken by a spirit.,” Zuko, in spite of himself, shot Sokka a slightly smug look. “A powerful spirit.”

“As powerful as Koh?” Sokka asked. Aang shook his head. 

“Worse. She was taken by an elder spirit. Roku says those guys have been around longer than time itself. And they are strong and petty. If I failed and got caught by the spirit that has Katara, he could end the Avatar cycle for generations until my spirit could escape. But both Zuko and I can go into the Spirit World, and I can just stay behind to guide them out.” 

“Okay,” Sokka huffed. “That’s all well and good, but why does it have to be Zuko? Why can’t I go? I’ve actually been to the Spirit World.” 

“Roku says that because Katara’s spirit reached out to Zuko, he’ll have an easier time finding her. I don’t completely understand, but somehow her spirit energy is connected to Zuko’s now.” Sokka, folded his arms but nodded. It made sense. Kind of. But he wasn’t in the mood to quibble over who went after Katara. As long as it got his sister back safely, he didn’t care who went after her.

“What do I have to do?” Zuko asked. Aang sat down, folded his legs into lotus position, and motioned for Zuko to do the same. Then, taking a deep breath, the two young men fell into the familiar path of meditation.

.*.*.*.*.*.

Roku, Zuko had discovered almost immediately, had been right. He had worried that he would waste precious time trying to figure out where Katara was and how to get her, but when he and Aang entered the Spirit World , he spotted what could only be described as a path on the ground before him. The cord began at Zuko’s feet and wound off into the distance with a faint red glow. On the horizon, he could see a spot where the same red glow lit up the sky. Aang couldn’t see it, but Zuko was certain that the path would lead to Katara.

The Spirit World was...frustrating. It felt like hours had passed since he left Aang behind, but although he could no longer see his friend, the scenery was the same. There was a mountain to his left that never seemed to change position. The sun stayed fixed directly overhead. Zuko had even noticed that the clouds seemed to move overhead in a repeating pattern. First one fluffy one. Then a pair that looked like a rabarroo chasing a firefly. Then a rolling bankhead that covered the sun for a few brief moments. Then a few minutes of clear blue sky before it began again. Zuko couldn’t tell if he was making any progress at all, and all he wanted was to sit and rest awhile. 

Katara’s frightened eyes flashed in his mind, and Zuko found a second wind. He would find Katara. He had to, even if it took walking  this bizarre path for eternity. 

After another few hours of walking, things began to change. Subtly at first, but then Zuko began to notice that the sky had begun to darken, and stars were starting to appear overhead. The glowing red path he was following suddenly began to wind less uniformly through scrub brush and scraggly bushes. In the distance, he heard what sounded like wind blowing. It got louder as the sky grew darker. A tall thin figure appeared on the horizon. Then another, and another. Soon there was a group of them just ahead of Zuko. They hovered over the ground, and at first, Zuko thought they were rags hanging from something, but there was nothing that they could be hanging from. And they were moving right towards Zuko. 

The wailing grew louder, and finally Zuko realized he wasn’t hearing the wind, but voices crying out in misery. The sound swelled and blended like some discordant melody, frightening and heartbreaking at the same time. The voices were coming from what Zuko had taken for rags. They were upon him at startling speed, and suddenly Zuko was surrounded by a dozen desiccated corpses. They swirled around him, creating a funnel of wind that tore at Zuko’s clothes and hair. Soon, bony, rotted fingers joined the wind, yanking painfully at him. Zuko tried to fight back, but his fire bending didn’t work in the Spirit World , and he had no other weapon with him. Each fruitless swing of his fists connected with nothing, and only seemed to make the attack worse. Eventually the wailing entered his mind, making his head ache with a blinding pain.

In his mind, Zuko saw scenes of horrible abuse—balled up fists raining down blow after blow; gruff voices screaming vile insults; he felt the pain of the worst violations in his own body. They were memories, some part of him that held on to his sanity whispered. The things surrounding and attacking him were once living women, and they had died at the hands of abusers. Zuko stopped fighting them and fell to his knees. Memories of his father sprang up along with those of the women. The neglect of his childhood intertwined with the marital neglect. The pain of scorching fire was joined by the pain of broken bones. 

Zuko thought he would die of the memories, but suddenly, the attack abated. The memories of pain were replaced with memories of love. Zuko could feel the weight of suckling babies, and the glaring eyes of abusers were replaced by trusting, wide-eyed gazes of children. He saw the compassion of family and friends and even strangers who had tried to help. Finally, he saw himself as the women were now seeing him. Not as another abuser, but a child who had suffered the way they had. 

The memories withdrew from Zuko’s mind, and the pain faded. When he dared to open his eyes again, the women had stopped circling and were now gazing down at him. Some with empty eye sockets, and some with blank clouded over eyes. He climbed to his feet cautiously, but the women made no move to attack and parted slightly to let him pass. Zuko watched them nervously over his shoulder, but they seemed to truly be letting him go. 

“Not bad, kid!” Zuko wheeled, his hands already raised defensively.  He yelped when he found himself staring into the grinning face of a new spirit. He hadn’t seen her arrive, but somehow she was nearly nose to nose with him. Her wide smile revealed a set of predatory looking teeth, and the pupils of her emerald green eyes were narrow, feline slits. Her russet brown face was covered in stripe marks like a tiger-seals, and Zuko couldn’t tell if they were tattoos or natural. She leaned back a bit, and Zuko realized she was wearing a fur lined, brownish grey pakra. 

“I…what?” Zuko stammered. The spirit’s grin widened, and her unnerving eyes sparkled with amusement. 

“Nicely handled back there,” she said. “A lot of people would have kept fighting, which would have just pissed them off, and their souls would have been cursed to live in that awful place for eternity. Using your own memories to gain their sympathy? Smart. Real smart. They have a soft spot for abuse victims. Especially women and children.” Zuko blinked, shaking his head slightly. He hadn’t done that intentionally. Still, he was grateful that it had worked. 

“Who…?” Zuko started to ask. 

“Name’s Pikpak,” the spirit said. “And you’re Zuko, ruler of the Fire Nation, come to rescue the poor girl who’s most recently caught the Bride Stealer’s eye.”

‘I...yeah.” Zuko shook his head in confusion. “How did you—”

“Spirit,” Pikpak shrugged nonchalantly. “And I happen to know more than most. The fact that Katara is the most interesting woman to come out of any of the Water Tribes in a long time just makes me want to know more. You’re running out of time, you know.” 

“What?” Zuko yelped. 

“Or maybe you’re not,” Pikpak’s grin widened. “Time flows differently in the Spirit World. But you should get to her sooner rather than later.” 

“Can you help me find her?” Zuko asked. Pikpak considered Zuko for a long moment. 

“I like a good story,” she said at last. “And this is shaping up to be a very good one.” Pikpak swept her eyes over Zuko critically before she nodded. “Alright. I’ll help you out.” Then, before Zuko could ask another question, Pikpak reached out and grabbed his arm with a strong, taloned hand. The vast plain disappeared.

.*.*.*.*.*.

Shinrou released Katara from that punishing place after what felt like years. She was deposited onto the damp flagstone floor in a heap, but Katara couldn’t find the strength to climb to her feet. Shinrou had asked her once more who had told her about the room with the mirrors, and Katara, shaking from the cold, and her voice raw from screaming, had bowed her head.

“No one showed me,” she sobbed quietly. “I found it by accident.” She squeezed her eyes shut and waited to be thrown back into that horrible place. It never happened. With a disgusted huff, Shinrou swept out of the room and left her crying on the floor. 

Sometime later—Katara couldn’t tell how long—the door to her bedroom creaked open slowly, and Katara heard the sound of furtive steps crossing the floor. Se-eung knelt beside Katara’s quivering form and brushed her sweat-dampened hair off of her forehead. 

“I told you that hope was cruel,” she said quietly. Sadly. “And it was cruel of me to get you in trouble with Husband. But you were kind and did not tell Husband that I am the one who told you of the room. I will be kind to you now.” Se-eung grabbed Katara under her arms and hauled her to her feet. Then she helped the younger woman to the bed. 

“Perhaps,” Se-eung hesitated and bit her lip. “Perhaps it is better this way. You have failed, but have not yet courted the worst of Husband’s anger. You can stop fighting now and he will not need to break you as badly as he has broken...others.”

Katara lay on the bed with her legs and arms drawn close around her. The musty blankets were tucked in around her, mixing with the mildewy scent of her fur lined wedding clothes, but none of it was enough to chase the cold from her bones. She shivered uncontrollably hours after Shinrou had released her from...wherever he had sent her. All the warmth seemed to have bled out of her, and she learned that while her spirit may not die, it could feel pain. Still, she managed to meet Se-eung’s eyes. 

“I didn’t fail,” she said fiercely. Her jaw was clenched both in anger and in an effort to stop the chattering. “My friends are coming for me. They are. ”  She curled up, and pulled the blankets close around her, ignoring the smell of them as she repeated the words mostly to herself. 

Someone was coming for her. They were .

.*.*.*.*.*.

Zuko hated the Spirit World. More specifically, he hated travelling through it. Pikpak’s hold on his arm seemed to be the only thing keeping his body from flying off in all different directions as she hauled him through this odd, dark liminal space. It didn’t stop the sensation that he was on the verge of that rupture, though. As they traversed what seemed to be some sort of tunnel, Zuko thought he saw flashes of lights and figures in the dark walls. When he tried to look closer, though, he was rocked by extreme vertigo. He had no physical body in this place, but he could still feel his stomach roiling and threatening to expel whatever remained of his dinner the night before. 

It was over as suddenly as it began. In the span of a breath, Zuko suddenly found himself in a grassy field. There was no shift between that dark space and here. Zuko hadn’t even seen a light at the end of the tunnel. 

“How do you feel, fella?” Pikpak asked, grinning a sharp toothed grin. Zuko favored her with a deadpan gaze before he looked around. The glowing red cord he’d been following lay on the ground before him, leading towards a large, dark castle several yards away. 

“Is that where Katara is?” 

“Sure is!” Pikpak’s grin widened.

“What do I do now?” Zuko turned to the spirit. He hadn’t planned this far ahead. He hadn’t expected a castle or the long journey, and he had no idea how to get him and Katara home safely. Pikpak just shrugged. 

“I suggest you knock.” She turned and motioned to the door. Zuko gasped and stumbled backwards, nearly falling down the wide stone steps he suddenly found himself on. Yes, he truly hated the spirit world. 

Zuko took a moment to collect himself, and then with just the slightest hesitation, he raised his fist and knocked at the door. After an agonizingly interminable moment, it swung open into a dark room. Zuko peered inside, but the light from outside revealed nothing of the castle. 

“Well…?” Pikpak nearly whispered from behind him. “Aren’t you going to go in?”  Zuko suppressed a shudder. Her voice felt like something very cold had been poured down his spine. He was very aware that he had trusted one spirit blindly while trying to rescue his best friend from another. Still, there was nothing else for him to do. He crossed the threshold into the pitch darkness, Pikpak close behind him. Once they were inside, the door slammed shut with a reverberating boom. Zuko gasped and spun around, but the light was completely gone. The only thing Zuko could see were Pikpak’s glowing emerald eyes a couple of feet away. 

“What’s happening?” Zuko’s voice trembled nervously. Had this been a trap after all?

Sconces lining the walls blazed to life, revealing the large hall of the palace. Zuko flinched away, raising his hands defensively. The shadows of one corner coalesced into a tall figure, gliding to the center of the room. As it drew closer, Zuko’s face twisted in disgust. This man—no, this spirit —looked and smelled like death. 

“Shinrou.” Pikpak’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile, and wasn’t quite a sneer. 

“Pikpak,” Shinrou greeted her just as warmly. “To what do I owe this intrusion?” Pikpak motioned towards Zuko. 

“He’s here to annul your latest marriage,” she said wryly. 

“Where’s Katara?” Zuko demanded. Shinrou seemed to notice him for the first time. His scowl shifted into a look of surprise, and then to an amused smirk. 

“Ah, yes,” he scoffed. “The young Fire Lord. Run home, little boy. This no longer concerns you.”

“You have my friend,” Zuko said, squaring his shoulders. “It is my concern. Give her back to me.” 

“Or what , mortal?” Shinrou hissed. His yellow eyes flashed dangerously, and he seemed to stretch and fill more space. The room grew colder, and the lights dimmed. Shinrou glided across the room to loom over Zuko. From this close, Zuko could smell the stench of rot and decay on the spirit, and he bit down hard on his tongue to keep from gagging. 

“Maybe I should allow you to stay,” Shinrou’s voice was saccharine, and his thin, pale lips stretched into a gruesome smile. “I could use a valet. And you can stay and see your friend as often as you’d like. It will make what I do to her more fun if I know you’re watching and powerless to stop me. I will break her, and that will break you.” Shinrou’s eyes gleamed with a malice that both infuriated Zuko and chilled him to his core. 

“Let her go!” he demanded of the ancient spirit. “Give her back to me, or I’ll—”

“You’ll what, mortal? ” Shinrou’s figure seemed to grow larger in the dark room as he glared down at the young ruler. Zuko stumbled back a couple of steps before he got his shaking legs under control. 

“Easy there, tiger,” Pikpak put her hand on Zuko’s shoulder and held him firmly in place. It made standing easier, but it also cut off any chance of escape, he noted. 

“Why are you here, Pikpak?” Shinrou’s displeased glare landed on the other spirit, but she just met his displeasure with an amused smirk. 

“You know how I love a good story,” she said. “How often does the lover of one of your conquests actually come to the Spirit World on a rescue mission? I can get centuries’ worth of legends from this alone. It’s Oma and Shu levels of epic.” 

“I-I’m not actually…” Zuko stammered. “I mean, Katara and I are just…”

“Quiet, kid. I’m working!” Pikpak hissed. Shinrou dragged his gaze from Pikpak to Zuko and back. 

“Remove this pest from my presence if he means anything to you,” he warned Pikpak at last. “He’s no threat to me, and you can get your worthless stories from elsewhere. Katara is mine.” Zuko began to lunge at Shinrou, uncertain of his own end goal, but Pikpak held him back with a deceptively strong hold. 

“He came all this way,” Pikpak pointed out. “It’d be a shame to not even give him a chance to win his girlfriend back.” 

“Then tell him a story about the virtues of learning from disappointment.” Shinrou began to turn away, dragging the shadows of the room with him like a cloak. 

“How about a wager?” Pikpak’s words halted Shinrou in his tracks. He didn’t quite turn back towards them, but his ear seemed to lean in their direction. 

“What kind of wager?” 

“The kind where if the kids win, you let them both go home.” Pikpak shot Shinrou her toothy grin, and her predatory eyes gleamed in the odd half light of the room. 

“And if I win?” Shinrou asked. Pikpak shrugged carelessly, but Zuko felt her grip tighten on his shoulder. 

“If you win you keep them both,” she said. “And I’d owe you one favor.” The second part caught Shinrou’s attention. He turned to face the pair once again. In a blast of cold air, he was suddenly standing in front of them, still oddly tall, but no longer looming. He stood nose to nose with Pikpak, scanning her face for...Zuko wasn’t sure what exactly. Pikpak seemed unperturbed by Shinrou’s proximity, but Zuko found the stench of death coming off of him nearly unbearable. 

“One favor?” Shinrou repeated Pikpak’s words. “Any one I want?” 

“Within reason,” Pikpak promised. “I’m not opening any new dimensions for you. Not after last time.” Shinrou’s mouth twitched down in displeasure, but finally he nodded sharply. 

“Of course, if you lose, that means you’ll owe me a favor, too,” Pikpak said. Shinrou scowled at her, baring rows of broken, yellow teeth. 

“Letting the mortals go is your favor,” he snarled at her. “You’ll get your precious story.” Pikpak was unmoved. She shook her head firmly.

“Letting them go costs you nothing,” Pikpak said, “and it’s barely a prize for me. Story notwithstanding. If you lose, you owe me one favor to be collected any time I choose. If you win, you keep these two and I’ll owe you a favor with the same terms.” Shinrou wavered a bit, but only for a moment. Then he nodded once again. 

“Agreed.”

Shinrou widened the space between them, making room for a swirl of shadows and mists. It dissipated, leaving a figure huddled in the middle of the floor. Katara leapt to her feet, her hackles raised as she realized that she was once again standing before Shinrou. 

“I can still walk,” she snapped at the spirit. Shinrou smirked at her and motioned to the room behind Katara. 

“Is that any way to behave when we have guests?” he asked. Katara glanced over her shoulder hesitantly. Pikpak caught her eye first, but she forgot the odd looking spirit when she saw who was standing beside her. 

“Zuko!” she cried. She rushed over, her arms outstretched, before she had even completely registered she had moved. Still, Shinrou managed to stop her just before her fingers could graze Zuko’s shoulders. 

“Not so fast,” Shinrou chuckled at Katara’s enthusiasm. “It seems our friends have come to wager on your release.”  Katara’s fear and anger were momentarily forgotten. She looked around in confusion.

“Wager?” she repeated. She turned to Zuko with her brows furrowed. “What wager?” Zuko shook his head helplessly. 

“It’s really my wager,” Pikpak said. She stepped back a couple of steps, keeping her hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “It’s fairly simple, too. All you need to do is choose correctly.”

“Choose what?” Katara asked. Pikpak leaned forward and blew on Zuko as if he were a ball of dandelion seeds, and suddenly, there were dozens of him. Katara balked in surprise, nearly stumbling into Shinrou’s arms before she righted herself. 

“What…?” She looked over the crowd of Zukos in confusion. 

“All you have to do,” Pikpak said, “is choose the right Zuko to go home with. If you choose wrong, you’re both stuck here with Shinrou until he decides to let you go. Sound fair enough?” Katara’s hands balled into fists around the fabric of her robes. She didn’t see that she had any other choice. At last she took a deep breath and nodded sharply. 

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll do it.” 

The room seemed to spin as the Zukos settled into a large circle around Katara. It was disorienting being surrounded by so many copies of her friend. The lights brightened to allow Katara to see better, but all she could see was that every copy of Zuko was identical to the original. They were all frozen in place in different poses, but they were all so uniquely Zuko. Katara had long ago memorized his face. Here was the quizzical arch of his brow that he did when he was amused, but trying not to show it. There were his lips pursed with worry. Several Zukos had the strange look that Katara sometimes caught him with when he thought she couldn’t see it. It was all Zuko. Every last face was Zuko. 

Dread coiled tightly in Katara’s stomach. How could she choose when they all looked like her Zuko? If she got it wrong, he would be stuck with her. Katara couldn’t allow that. She couldn’t allow him to be hurt for her sake again. 

Katara walked slowly around the circle, looking into each Zuko’s face for some clue. One had to be the right Zuko. She would recognize him, Katara told herself. She just had to trust her instinct. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes. When she opened them again, she scanned the faces surrounding her once again, then resolutely crossed to the other side of the circle and stood in front of one Zuko, leaning forward to study his face. After a moment she leaned away and smiled. She spun towards the spirits.

“I know which one is my Zuko,” she declared. Then, she pointed across the circle to where she had been standing earlier. “That’s him. That’s the real Zuko.” 

Shinrou fixed her with his cold gaze, Katara couldn’t tell if he was angry or amused. Zuko was still frozen in place. He hadn’t so much as twitched an eye. Katara’s stomach twisted nervously. 

“Are you sure?” Shinrou asked in his oil slick voice. A shudder ran down Katara’s spine, and her fingertips went numb as her pounding heart pulled the blood away from her extremities. Keeping her eyes on Zuko, she nodded slowly, but certainly. 

“It’s him,” she nearly whispered. “I know it’s him.” 

Nothing happened for what felt like a small eternity. Was she wrong? Why hadn’t Zuko been freed yet?

“Well, you heard the lady.” Katara turned to find Pikpak grinning broadly. The spirit lifted her eyebrow at Shinrou. “Tell her what she’s won.” Shinrou stared at Katara coldly for a long moment. Then his mouth curled up slowly into a cruel smile. Fear gripped Katara’s heart. 

“You’re free to go,” Shinrou said. 

“What?” Katara stared at him, uncertain she’d heard correctly. 

“You chose correctly!” Pikpak threw her arm around Katata’s should and waved her hands. The extra Zuko’s disappeared, leaving only the true Zuko standing in the middle of the room. He blinked, trying to reorient himself. 

“What happened?” he asked, looking around wildly. When his eyes landed on Shinrou, Zuko put himself between Katara and the spirit who’d kidnapped her, a half snarl on his face. 

“Your girlfriend won,” Pikpak told him. “You get to go home.” Katara reached out and took Zuko’s hand, pulling him away from Shinrou. The spirit looked down at the pair with a sneer. 

“Yes,” he drawled. “You’re free to waste the rest of your short time on earth and end up here for eternity anyway.” 

“Don’t be a sore loser,” Pikpak chided Shinrou. Then, turning to Katara and Zuko, she smiled. “Are you ready to go home?”

“Yes!” Zuko said immediately. Katara started to agree, but movement caught the corner of her eye. Se-eung was watching from beyond the hall, shrinking into the shadows to avoid notice, but Katara had spotted her. Shinrou saw her too. 

He moved with startling speed and dragged Se-eung into the middle of the room before the woman could attempt to escape.

“I know it was you who told her,” Shinrou hissed. “She may have escaped, but you will take her punishment along with yours.” Se-eung didn’t plead or cry. She cowered at Shinrou’s feet, her face bowed to the ground, but her shoulders were set resolutely. 

“You can’t do that!” Katara protested. “She had nothing to do with it. I found that room on my own.” Shinrou rounded on Katara, his yellow eyes seeming to glow with rage. 

“I am an elder spirit,” Shinrou hissed. The castle air dropped suddenly, and the cold seemed to slip into Katara and Zuko’s bones.  “I was here before the foundations of your world were laid. Did you really think I wouldn’t know what happened in my own castle? You have your freedom. Now go, and leave me to deal with my wife on my own.” Katara turned from Shinrou to Se-eung with a look of helpless determination that sent an electric thrill of fear down Zuko’s spine. He turned to Pikpak.

“Can you help?” he pleaded. “Please, Pikpak!” Pikpak hesitated for a moment and then shrugged. 

“Be a shame to come all this way for nothing,” she relented at last. “Shinrou!”

“ What ?” he snapped. “What could you possibly want now?” Pikpak smirked at his anger, which only caused Shinrou’s scowl to deepen. 

“Unbunch your panties,” she said. “You owe me a favor.” Whatever Shinrou was expecting, that wasn’t it. 

“What?”

“Part of our wager, remember?” Pikpak said. “They go free and you owe me a favor.”

“I remember,” Shinrou spat. “Why are you bringing it up now?” 

“I know what favor I want from you,” she told him. “Since it’s not within your power to do anything for me that I couldn’t do for myself, I’ve decided I want a gift from you instead. I need a new handmaid. She’ll do.” Pikpak nodded towards Se-eung. The trembling bride looked up for the first time, too stunned to say anything. 

“No,” Shinrou said. He folded his arms and turned all the power of his glare on Pikpak. “I will not lose two brides in one day.”

“You have thousands of brides,” Pikpak snorted. “What’s two less?” Still Shinrou refused. 

“Take your mortals and leave my home.”

“You owe me one favor,” Pikpak insisted. Her face twisted into a feral grin, revealing her razor sharp teeth. Hackles raised on her neck, and from the back of her throat came a low, warning growl. “You may be ancient compared to the mortal world, but you are bound by laws more arcane than you. You promised me one favor, Bride Stealer. I named what I wanted, now give her to me.” Shinrou had shrunk away from Pikpak. Fear flashed across his face, quickly, but plainly. He straightened up and scowled down at Se-eung.

“She has been a disappointment to me,” he said at last. “May she be as useful to you.” Shinrou grabbed a handful of Se-eung’s hair, ignoring her terrified shriek, and threw her at Pikpak. Then he turned away, disappearing into the shadows as suddenly as he had appeared. 

Se-eung stared after him before turning to Katara and Pikpak. 

“I did something stupid and disobedient, and I should have been punished, but I have not been,” she said. Zuko started back, bewildered. 

“You saved my life,” Katara said. “I don’t know how to thank you for what you did, but I will never forget you.”

“I may very well forget you,” Se-eung admitted. “I will be here for very long, and memories do not last as long as mortals think, but I am grateful, and I shall try to remember you for as long as I can.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Pikpak assured Se-eung. “Stories like theirs tend to be repeated for generations.” Katara’s eyes widened, and she gasped. 

“Pikpak,” she repeated the name she’d heard Zuko call her. “The Storyteller. We invoke your name at the Recital of the Elders.” 

“That’s me,” Pikpak confirmed. 

“But why did you help us?” Katara asked. 

“I’ve been watching you both for a while,” Pikpak said with her half wild grin. “I want to see how your story ends.” 

“What does that mean?” Zuko asked. Pikpak shook her head. 

“No spoilers,” she said. “You’ve been in the Spirit World for long enough. See you at the next Elders festival.” She waved her hand, and Katara and Zuko were enveloped in darkness. 

.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Zuko jolted upright, startling Aang and Sokka. 

“Woah!” Sokka gasped. He reached out and touched Zuko’s shoulder. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine,” Zuko said, climbing unsteadily to his feet. 

“What happened?” Sokka asked again. “Why did you come back so quickly?” Zuko stared at Sokka as if he’d grown a second head. He felt like he’d been wandering the Spirit World for days. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You were barely gone for five minutes,” Sokka told him. “What happened?”

“Time works differently in the Spirit World,” Aang explained to his friends. “Did you see Katara?”

“I did,” Zuko spun around wildly until his eyes landed on Katara still lying on the bed. “She should be awake. Katara?” He hesitated a moment before shaking her as gently as his frayed nerves would allow. The air grew heavy as nothing happened. Zuko’s mind raced over what could have gone wrong between Pikpak sending them away and now—

Katara arched up in her bed, taking in a deep, terrifying gasp. Sokka screamed for the physician. Aang stumbled back in surprise. Then Katara’s eyes opened and she looked around the room dazedly. Zuko breathed a sigh of relief. 

“We made it?” she asked Zuko. 

“Yeah,” he replied, swallowing hard against a lump in his throat. “We made it.” 

The next few hours passed in a blur. The physician was called and gave Katara a thorough examination. Iroh stopped in to express his relief at her recovery and sent for a banquet’s worth of food for the young people. As they ate, Katara explained to her friends what had happened, taking care not to give too many details on how Shinrou had managed to catch her off guard. No one thought to question her any further, to Katara’s great relief. Day wore on into evening, and although Katara insisted that physically she was fine, she humored her friends and rested. 

Iroh was the first to leave as the sun disappeared below the horizon. He had letters to respond to that couldn’t be put off. That, of course, reminded Sokka of the upsetting letter that was on its way to Hakoda, and he hurried to write a follow up letter assuring him that his daughter had survived after all. 

“I hope it catches him before he hops a ship here,” Sokka muttered. Aang followed his departure shortly after. He hadn’t had a chance to check on Appa all day, and he wanted to do it before bed. 

“I can leave, too,” Zuko said once Aang was gone. “I’m sure you want to rest.” 

“I’ve been resting all day,” Katara snorted. “What I want is some fresh air.” 

“Are you sure—?” Zuko started to ask, but Katara waved him off.

“He didn’t do anything to me physically,” she told him. “I feel fine. But if you’re really that worried, you can come with me to the garden.” 

“That I can do.” Zuko waited for Katara to throw a robe over her pajamas and held out his arm to her. Katara hesitated, a protest forming on her lips. She didn’t need help walking. But then he stepped closer, and Katara caught the scent of his cologne—a day old, and mixed with his own familiar smell. Slipping her arm through his was like settling beside a fire after a long, cold day. It felt like coming home. 

There was no one between Katara’s room and the garden. It felt so jarringly like the night that Shinrou had come for her, but Katara banished the thought from her head. This was the right Zuko. 

The night air was pleasantly cool, and Katara took a deep breath. After Shinrou’s palace and then spending a day inside, the fresh night air was soothing to Katara’s nerves. This was already doing her more good than the unnecessary bedrest her friends had insisted on. Zuko led them over to a bench not far from the pond. Ordinarily, Katara’s focus would be on the water. Either the turtleducks would have caught her attention, or she would be absently bending her element between her hands. Tonight, though, she turned towards the sky. The moon was waning, but there was a sky full of stars. There hadn’t been stars in the Spirit World that she had been allowed to see. Her mercifully brief time there had given her a new appreciation for them, it seemed. 

“How did you know it was me?” Zuko asked, cutting through Katara’s musings. She turned her gaze from the stars to Zuko. 

“It was easy,” she told him. “None of the others had the right eyes.”

“What do you mean?” Zuko’s nose scrunched in confusion. “All the others looked exactly like me.” Katara shook her head. 

“They had the right shape and color,” she explained. “But they weren’t your eyes. There’s something in your eyes that, I don’t know, you can’t fake.” Katara tilted her head to the side and looked into Zuko’s eyes. She smiled as she studied them. “You have the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen.” 

“I need to get you a better mirror for your room, then,” Zuko joked with a shy, self-conscious smile. He started to look away, but Katara surprised him by placing her hand on his cheek and bringing his gaze back to her. The nerves in his scarred flesh were mostly dead, but the gentle touch sent an electric jolt down his back all the same. Zuko gaped at her, uncertain of what to say.

“Why did you come for me?” she asked quietly.  Zuko blinked in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. 

“What do you mean?” 

“There was no guarantee that you’d make it back,” she reminded him. “You risked your life to come get me. You risked all of this—” Katara took her hand off Zuko’s face and gestured to the palace and grounds and beyond the walls, “—to save me?” 

“Of course I did,” Zuko said. He was taken aback. Why would that surprise her? “You’re worth more to me than any of this.” 

“More than your throne?” Katara pressed. “More than your people?” Zuko froze. He finally understood what she was getting at. He ducked his head to hide a blush. 

“Well...yeah, if I’m totally honest,” he admitted. “I mean, yes, my people and my country are important to me, but they have Uncle. He’d make sure to find someone who could take over the throne. I’m not worried about what will happen to the Fire Nation if I’m gone. There are plenty of people who could do what I’m doing. Probably better than me. But I couldn’t not go after you if there was a chance I could bring you home. You’re important to me, Katara.” 

He chanced looking back up and found Katara staring at him intently. He was worried for a moment that she was upset with him. There was already an apology on his tongue when Katara leaned in and pressed her lips against his. Zuko was stunned, but he recovered quickly enough to bring his hands up to her cheeks. She pulled away much too soon and looked up at him with a shy smile. 

“You’re important to me, too,” she whispered. Zuko’s heart thudded in his chest almost painfully. When he didn't say anything, Katara leaned away, red-faced and stammering.

“Sorry,” she said. “I shouldn't have—” She was cut off when Zuko's lips found hers again. He lingered for a long moment. Then he deepened their kiss, hoping he wasn't dreaming, and hoping he wouldn't wake if he was. 

“Just so we're clear,” he told her when they broke for air, “feel free to do that anytime you want. Seriously.” Katara laughed and laced her hands behind his neck.

“Okay,” she agreed. Then she pulled him in for another kiss.