Chapter Text
Katara had forgotten how unfathomably hot the Fire Nation was.
She was boiling in her fanciest parka—she’d learned over the years, through trial and much error, that she could not wear what was comfortable and practical in official entrances into a nation. She needed to command as much respect as she could. Even if that meant being miserably uncomfortable, she had to dress up.
Especially in the Fire Nation.
“Announcing Master Katara, of the Southern Water Tribe.”
Katara set her face, discreetly bending some of her sweat away into mist before she pushed forward.
It had been a long time since she had seen Zuko. Nerves kept her from smiling, as she bowed before the throne.
“Master Katara, welcome.” In Zuko’s coldest, most formal tones, the words rang through the hall. Katara felt the sweat on her body freeze as nerves were suddenly replaced by horror. Her worst fears had come true. Zuko hated her for hurting Aang.
Slowly, Katara stood straight again. She opened her mouth to respond some meaningless formalities when she caught sight of Zuko’s arm in a sling.
She forgot everything, darting forward fast enough to alarm the guards she could see in her peripheral vision. She ignored them, hunching over Zuko’s arm.
“What happened?” she demanded. She began swiftly undoing the ties, impatiently but carefully pulling back the wrappings inside. There, she found some horrible bruising around Zuko’s elbow. She grasped whatever water she felt around her, pulling it over and settling it over Zuko’s arm.
She didn’t miss the sigh of relief he let out as her healing began to set in.
“Just a sprain,” he murmured. The coldness and formality were gone, and Katara drew up her gaze to his, finding a slightly exasperated look of fondness on Zuko’s face. “It’s fine, Katara.”
“It’s not, obviously.” She frowned, continuing to bend and heal. “This seems recent. I thought you had healers from the Northern Water Tribe here.”
“They are spread thin enough as it is, managing Caldera City hospital and doing frequent visits to rural hospitals.” Zuko eyed her work with some consideration, carefully flexing his arm.
“I’ll need at least a couple more sessions to work on the area,” Katara said sternly. “There’s bad damage.”
She realized that she had broken several major rules, shoving herself forward. Katara took a step back, feeling the eyes of everyone in Zuko’s throne room on her. She tried to fix it, dipping into a bow. “I am sorry if I have offended the Fire Lord.”
Zuko’s voice slipped back into formality, but there was an undertone of amusement that kept any of Katara’s nerves from returning.
“I thank you for your care, Master Katara. I will meet with you later to discuss your visit.”
Katara bowed again, happy enough to leave the prying, gossiping eyes of the court. She followed Zuko’s attendant, Botan.
“Your former room has been prepared for you.”
Katara blinked, jogging slightly to catch up to Botan’s long stride. “My former . . . but aren’t we going towards the Fire Lord’s living area? I thought I would be in the guest dorms like the last couple times.”
“The Fire Lord’s request.” Botan gestured her through heavily guarded doors, into the red hallways that Katara had known intimately after the war. She’d refused to be moved to where her friends were, wanting to be close for Zuko’s healing sessions.
Katara entered into her old room.
“Botan,” she said. “Do you know what I am here for? The letter was vague.”
Botan’s heavy face did not change. “That is for the Fire Lord to discuss.”
Katara inclined her head, not offended. She liked Botan, though Aang had always grumbled about how he was too serious and boring. She’d seen in the early days how Botan had stepped in, teaching Zuko certain elements of being the Fire Lord that no one else would have mentioned. He was smart, wise, and most importantly, loyal.
Once she was alone, Katara eagerly changed out of her formal robes. After living in the South Pole for the last year, she’d outgrown all of her old lighter tunics she’d used while traveling around with Aang. The letter had come in with urgent summons, leaving her no time to make any clothes beyond the practical clothes she wore in summer or under her parka. She glanced into the gilded mirror on the wall, wincing. She looked particularly worn and plain. Out of place, as usual.
It wasn’t long before there was a knock on her door. She expected Botan, but instead Zuko was there. He smiled, seeing her, and Katara instantly did what she’d wanted to do after healing him; she rushed into his arms, wrapping her arms around him and gripping tight.
“It’s good to see you, Katara.”
The words and the comforting, familiar rasp made Katara forget all her insecurities and worries. She let the strength of her hug convey her own feelings on the matter. Reluctantly, she finally released him, stepping back and tilting her head.
“Why do all of you keep growing?” she groused. “Did you know Toph’s even taller than me now?”
Zuko’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Poor little Katara,” he teased.
Katara stuck her finger up in his face. “I will spar you and I will beat you,” she promised.
“I’ve no doubt.” Zuko smirked. “Now, would you like some dinner?”
“Yes, I—“ Katara hesitated as Zuko half-turned towards the door. “I don’t really have any appropriate clothes.”
“You’re fine, Katara.”
She frowned. “Really, Zuko. Your court already has too much ammunition, and now that I’m here alone, I—“ She froze. They hadn’t really discussed the elephant-mouse in the room.
Zuko turned back into her room, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and opening his hand. Katara mutely followed the suggestion, sitting down next to him.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently. “I wrote, and you never answered. You’d never done that before. I should’ve written again, but I was . . . I didn’t want to overstep.”
Katara ducked her head, shame curling in her belly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was scared you . . . hated me.”
The noise Zuko made was a strange one. Katara inhaled as his large hand settled on her upper back.
“Katara, I could never hate you.”
She lifted her eyes, searching his face and finding only a settling earnestness. “The letter, you talked about . . . you talked about how Aang was with you, here. I couldn’t bear the thought of sounding like I was making excuses and . . . and blaming Aang, while he could tell you everything in person.”
Zuko let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry as well. I didn’t think of that.” He groaned, rubbing at his forehead. “I should have written again. I can be such an idiot, still.”
“That doesn’t matter now,” Katara said.
He grinned at her wryly. “That I’m an idiot?”
“No. That you should’ve written. I was a mess, who knows if I might have misinterpreted something else. It just matters that I’m here now, and you don’t hate me.”
Zuko’s eyes were liquid gold, soft as he gazed at her. “Of course. And while Aang is my friend, I’m afraid that I always rather thought it wouldn’t work out. His perspective was . . . not clear.”
Katara made a face. “I think everyone knew we were doomed, after the first year. I was just too stubborn to let go. Of course, no one ever said anything.”
“You’ve always had the biggest heart of any of us,” Zuko said. “Aang just took advantage of that for too long.”
Katara sagged where she sat, so much weight off of her shoulders that she felt boneless. “That means a lot for me to hear, Zuko.”
“I’m glad.” His hand hadn’t left her back, rubbing somewhat awkwardly in circles.
“I’m okay,” she said. “Promise.”
“Okay. Let’s get some food.”
“Clothes,” she reminded him.
“Katara, it’s fine.”
“You’re royalty, Zuko.” Katara gestured to herself. She suppressed the strange urge to shiver as his eyes followed. “These are the clothes that I killed an elk-bear in last week.”
“That must’ve been a sight. Did you use your waterbending?”
“Of course not.” Katara turned her nose up. “I’m a proper warrior now. I had to prove I was competent in that way, too.”
Zuko frowned, but didn’t press.
“We’ll get you new clothes for your stay, but tonight you are having dinner with me. The only other people will be Uncle and the household, anyways.”
Katara relented. “Very well.”
A year without communication to Zuko had been difficult. After the war, she’d done her best to write to all of her friends. Most of them were horrible about writing, even though they’d all had their own messenger hawks, gifted to them by Zuko. Zuko was the only one who had written constantly. Now, after one year of silence, Katara found herself babbling on about everything; her current work in the tribe, the places she’d been with Aang before that, anything that came to mind. Zuko didn’t seem inclined to give much of himself, even when she gave him openings, so Katara was content to chatter on. The palace was large, so it took some time for them to reach the dining room.
Once they were there, Katara immediately shut up. Iroh was there, but Katara also saw several of the nobility present, conversing lower down the table. Zuko probably hadn’t intended to lie, but she was pretty sure that having been Fire Lord for four years had skewed his perspective on that.
As she feared, they rose formally, everyone bowing at their entrance, even Iroh. Katara tried to keep her shoulders straight, and took the seat next to Zuko with as much grace as she could muster. It was funny, she was pretty sure that four years ago, when the war had ended, she wouldn’t have even spared a thought to ranking and nobility and opinion. Time had given her more self-consciousness . . . as well as her time with Aang.
“Katara, lovely to see you as always.” Iroh welcomed her with a gracious smile and a bowed head. At least he seemed to realize more than Zuko the dictations of formality. If they had been in his tea shop, she would have received a large hug in greeting.
“Of course, Uncle,” she said, smiling as well. “How is your health?”
The early course of dinner revolved around brief summaries of the prior year, dancing around topics such as Aang. Zuko finally contributed some of his own information, discussing the difficulties with the colonies and strategies going forward, though little about his own personal life.
Katara finally worked up the courage to ask, nerves making her phrasing too blunt: “so why am I here?” She clasped her hands together under the table, trying to think of how to soften it. “Sorry, not that it isn’t lovely to see you. But the letter was more of an emergent demand, and you don’t seem to be in a state of crisis.”
Zuko scowled petulantly, suddenly transporting Katara back to four years prior. With his Fire Lord regalia, his hair back and crown in place, he was Fire Lord Zuko; with the scowl, he was the grumpy boy who had yelled at her across a battlefield.
“I told Uncle not to demand you, and they shouldn’t have been so urgent,” he said.
“We will discuss further after dinner,” Iroh said. To Katara’s concern, she saw his eyes briefly flit down the table to the rest of the company. All of them were chatting away in their own conversations, but Katara felt the attention from them nonetheless. She worried suddenly about what she had said so far. Hopefully she hadn’t blundered into something she was unfamiliar with. She’d done that plenty of times in the past few years.
Dinner passed, as did dessert, which she consumed eagerly. While trade had vastly improved their diets in the South Pole, nothing beat fresh mango.
Tea and pai sho were proposed next, and finally, the last of Katara’s self-consciousness could rest. She began her round with Iroh, waiting patiently.
Zuko paced nearby, occasionally stopping and staring out the window.
“There is an eclipse in two days.”
Katara set her tile down, lifting her gaze to Zuko. “I didn’t know that.”
Zuko nodded grimly. “After the invasion and Sozin’s comet, many resources have been dedicated to tracking the stars, understanding the moon and sun. While this one won’t be as complete as the one during the invasion, it will still have the same effect. Weaker firebending.”
Katara tried to connect the dots in her mind, but couldn’t, just as she couldn’t figure out the pai sho board in front of her. She gave up on the pai sho, surrendering to Iroh so she could focus on Zuko. “That doesn’t explain why you want me here.”
Iroh cleared his throat, taking a sip of tea. “While the rebellions that spring up from time to time are weak, we fear that they may take advantage of the eclipse.”
She turned that over in her mind. “So I’m a bodyguard?”
“And a healer.” Iroh’s face tightened. “In case.”
To Katara, it still didn’t quite make sense. There were plenty of their friends who were closer.
“Why me?” she asked. She nearly regretted the question, seeing the way Zuko stiffened. Iroh murmured something about making more tea and left.
“Uncle asked me who I trusted most,” Zuko said. There was no hesitation left as he kept his eyes on Katara’s. “Your name was first.”
Katara’s heart felt too big for her chest. She hugged Zuko for the second time that day, this time feeling closer for the lack of his more formal robes. She could hear the beat of his heart with her ear against his chest.
“I missed you,” she murmured.
Zuko didn’t answer, but Katara felt his fingers dig into where they rested on her back.