Fire Lord

Boredom is the worst of torments. And Katara knows this firsthand. As a teenager, she endured endless days of waiting, nights in such wilderness that even animals were rare guests at their tents, and the same faces — unchanging, so tiresome that there wasn’t a single topic left to talk about. But all that is left long behind, in the past. And Katara remembers those times with warmth. Back then, in uncertainty, she was not alone. Now everything is different. Now there is no one beside her. And there is no goal either. She should be glad that the world is recovering, that the land is finally at peace, but she feels no joy. She has absolutely nothing to do. Day after day she sits at home, only venturing out for minor household chores, and such an existence simply sickens her. This is not what she dreamed of when she set out on a journey with the Avatar… She called her state boredom, because it was easier that way. The word sounded mundane, familiar, almost harmless. Not as frightening as emptiness. Aang is constantly on the move now. She can’t even remember the last time she spent a whole evening with him without work getting between them. Of course, he labors for the good of the entire world, but sometimes it seems to her that she is not his wife at all. The train signal announces her arrival at the station. Katara sighs heavily, picks up her light suitcase, and steps down the creaking iron stairs into the bustling crowd. The capital of the Fire Nation greets her with garish outfits, the sight of which makes her head spin. Everything is awash in shades of red and orange, carrying the smell of hot metal, and it seems as if the temperature outside rises a couple more degrees. The same feeling led her here — the feeling she stubbornly called boredom. If someone had told her a couple of years ago that she would travel to the Fire Nation of her own free will, she would never have believed it. If necessity had brought her here, she would have boarded the stuffy carriage packed with heated bodies without hesitation. If it had been needed… It’s terrifying even to think about it, but she used to be needed. Now she is so lost that she strides through hostile streets, not knowing what to do, and even seems glad to be here. Katara immediately heads for the palace. In her blue clothes, she stands out indecently from the crowd, and people keep casting unfriendly glances at her. The war is over, but it will be a long time before true peace arrives, and Katara does not feel completely safe. The Fire Nation people still evoke genuine fear inside her. The memories of the pain this country once brought to her home are still too vivid. So she will stroll around the city some other time. Will she be welcomed at the palace, at least? She asks herself this question too late. Huge gates rise before her. With unusual awkwardness, she hesitates before gathering her will and approaching the guards. But she is allowed into the palace without unnecessary questions. They even bow, which Katara did not expect at all. To think that these pompous turkeys would… “Welcome! We are pleased to receive the Avatar’s wife in our palace…” Katara flinches. The Avatar’s wife. Even here. She turns to the short man in servant’s clothing. “We awaited your arrival. I will escort you to the throne room.” She follows the servant, and a pleasant excitement rises in her chest. It’s strange to think about, but she sought and eagerly awaited a new meeting with the Fire Lord. She is happy to touch that past where she was still free, where she was still herself. Happiness is what she also feels when expecting to see Zuko. How much time has passed since she last saw him? Anticipation tugged in her chest. It was with Zuko that she felt a special connection. Neither Sokka, nor Toph, and certainly not Aang could understand her. She hoped to find support in the Fire Lord’s palace. The massive door to the throne room swung open before her with a heavy creak. Several officials sitting in the hall immediately turned their heads toward her, examining her with clear disapproval. But Katara’s eyes sought only the man seated on the throne. Zuko slowly tore his gaze away from a scroll. His bored face reflected nothing but irritation and fatigue. Not a shadow of joy at the meeting. He barely glanced over her before immediately lowering his eyes to the next scroll. Silence hung in the hall. The crackle of fire in large braziers slightly offset the whispering of the officials. The servant who had accompanied her immediately jumped up, chirping apologies: “The Fire Lord cannot receive you right now, but we have already prepared chambers for you, allow me to escort you!” At that moment, she regretted only controlling water. Right now she would take great pleasure in incinerating these impudent faces. Clenching her fists tighter, Katara turned on her heels and quickly strode away.

***

She slammed the door behind her louder than necessary and, without unpacking her suitcase, collapsed onto the bed. If Zuko didn’t want to see her, he could have told her personally. Or has his self-importance swelled so much that speaking to people like her is now beneath his dignity? Why then did he answer her letter? Why did he allow her to come and stay at the palace? And then stuffed her in some back rooms. No, she wasn’t complaining. It was quite… cozy here. A gorgeous huge bed, a window with a wonderful view of the garden. But these chambers were located practically in the farthest wing. They didn’t force her to sleep with the servants, and she was grateful for that. Not that Katara had grown soft. She could sleep on the ground under the sky, as she had for many nights during their travels, but such disrespect would have put an end to her attempts to diplomatically visit the Fire Nation. Is she really no different to him than any other ambassador or guest? Does she also have to request an audience with the Fire Lord and wait endlessly? She hoped that the time spent together meant something to him, but she was wrong. For some reason, it felt bitter in her soul. She thought that here she would find an occupation to her liking. The Fire Nation people are still hostile, and she wants to show by her own example that they are no longer enemies. That people are ready to forgive offences. Katara laughed bitterly. Even on this mission, she drags the burden along with her. The Avatar’s Wife. A symbol. Something people must believe in. Her, Katara, is not in this. Any other woman sharing Aang’s bed would have all the same privileges. Would be received in any city of the world, would be welcomed everywhere. And the Fire Lord accepted her in the palace only because of this. Not because she was his friend, but because it was politically advantageous. She sighs heavily, rolls onto her back, staring at the dark weave of beams on the ceiling. What is left for her to do? If she wants to spend her whole life in her husband’s shadow, she can continue feeling sorry for herself. But she came here to prove at least to herself that she is worth something. She hoped she could establish contact with the local people through the Fire Lord, as Zuko was still her friend. But it seems she was hasty in her conclusions. She always trusted people too much and was easily deceived if they showed her even a little kindness. Once, Zuko was kind. But when the war ended, they scattered across the world and hardly communicated. Katara was too busy with Aang — more precisely, with attempts not to fall behind a man who, with each passing year, went further — to where she could not follow. And yet some part of her hoped that Zuko would understand. That of all people, he would notice her weariness. But the way he looked at her in the throne room spoke louder than any words. No, if she is not welcome here, she will not linger. She will find some guest house, stay there a couple of days — until the next train, and leave. She will look for something to do in another city. She didn’t come here to beg for a bed and certainly not to wait at the door, as if she needs to earn the right to be noticed. Katara jumped up from her spot, grabbed her suitcase, and walked out.

***

Her nervous steps echoed through the silent vaults of the palace. Guards followed her with their eyes, silent as statues. As if they can dare try to stop her! Katara abruptly turned a corner and nearly collided with a procession hurrying in her direction. She had been so deep in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard the approaching noise. Once, such inattention could have cost her life, and she sharply checked herself, slowing her pace. She raised her head, feeling indignation rise inside her again. At the head, barely listening to the fussing advisor beside him, walked the Fire Lord himself. Zuko stared ahead absently, not seeing her. Katara froze for a second, foolishly waiting for him to greet her now, to at least smile at her. But he didn’t even notice her right away. And as soon as he saw her, he stopped for a moment, glanced briefly at his retinue, and irritation flickered in his golden eyes. “I don’t have time for you, Katara. Do you need something?” He didn’t let her answer. He immediately turned to his people and shouted: “Why is she still with a suitcase and not in her chambers? Someone escort her already!” A servant immediately detached from the crowd, bowing and apologising. The same one who had escorted her before. She didn’t even have time to say a word before the suitcase disappeared from her hands again, and the servant scurried off towards her chambers. “Did you not like something? You should have said! I am ashamed to admit, but wandering around the palace alone is unsafe for you. If you need anything, ask the guards to call me. I will be right here. You are probably tired from the journey, I won’t disturb you…” Katara was no longer listening. She stood in the middle of the room again, looking out the window opposite, outraged to the point that she couldn’t decide on anything. Zuko dismissed her like an annoying fly. How dare he! The door closed softly behind her. Katara was left alone with herself again. The absurdity of the situation dulled her anger. Was she a hostage here? She wasn’t even allowed to leave. Now she would wait until the Fire Lord deigned to spend a couple of minutes of his most precious time on her, and tell him everything to his face before demonstratively leaving the palace. In the meantime, she would rest a little. The journey had indeed exhausted her greatly.

***

Katara opened her eyes. The sun was slowly sinking below the horizon, painting the sky with orange flashes. She immediately jumped up on the bed. Had she fallen asleep? There was a fog in her head, her mouth was dry, her skin damp with sweat, and her dress was now horribly wrinkled. To have slept through the whole day! She was supposed to find a guest house for the night, and now it was too late to go anywhere. She wasn’t going to wander around the Fire Nation capital at night, was she? She didn’t want to run into trouble. But she was unlikely to fall asleep now either. Besides, during all this time no one had disturbed her, which meant no one had cared about her. She was getting used to being nobody. And she did not like it at all. No, she wasn’t expecting special privileges, just human decency from someone she still considered a friend. Would she really remain an empty space here in the farthest wing of the palace? It was as if she had been deliberately hidden away from prying eyes, as if to emphasise how little they all cared about her presence. Katara slid off the bed with a groan, awkwardly smoothed out her dress, and opened her suitcase. She at least needed to take a bath.

***

Refreshed, changed into warm colours more suitable for the Fire Nation, she calmed down a little. But why did Zuko’s coldness affect her so much? Why did she expect something different from him? How else should the Fire Lord have met her? And yet, she felt uneasy. During the time spent together, they had grown very close. They were teenagers then, children, but had everything been forgotten? It seemed to her that he would sense in her what she so diligently hid from Aang, what she was afraid to admit to herself. But she shouldn’t have hoped so strongly. He had his own affairs, and she had hers. That was all. Tomorrow she would go for a walk around the city, put on something more suitable to the Fire Nation fashion, and find herself an occupation. She wouldn’t leave the Fire Country so quickly. Then her foolish grievances would fade into the background. She was the Avatar’s wife who had arrived on business. At least that is what she kept telling herself. The sky was sprinkled with the first pale stars, when Katara finally decided to go out into the inner garden — to take a walk after the nap that had so inopportunely overcome her. The coolness of the summer evening pleasantly tickled her skin. The alleys smelled of fresh, sap-filled grass. Unusual for a hot country with a scorching sun. The height of summer in the Fire Nation was the worst time for traveling. From the mere thought that Zuko and the officials were working in a hall flooded with flames, she felt hotter. “Thinking about nonsense again,” Katara dismissed, strolling along the paths of the palace garden strewn with small light pebbles. What did she care if it was comfortable for Zuko to sit in layers of clothing before the fire? A waterfall rumbled deep in the garden, and she moved forward, wanting to be near her native element in this alien place. By the fountain, it became even cooler. Katara sat down on the damp stone of the ledge, lowering her hands into the cold water. The murmuring soothed her, helped her sink into thought. Small splashes settled like dew on her hair. A shadow twitched behind the thick curtain of the murmuring water. Katara became alert. She hadn’t seen anyone on the way here. Perhaps she imagined it? But the shadow stirred briefly, hinting that it was not a figment of her imagination or a mirage. Even in the palace, it was unsafe. The servant said it twice. Zuko hinted at the same thing. And Katara hadn’t even eaten during this whole long day. Would she have enough strength to stand up for herself? Several years had passed since the Fire Nation declared a ceasefire, but not everyone was happy with the changes. Especially those who were closer to power and loved to commit outrages. The new order was far from pleasing everyone, and someone could well have sent an assassin to get rid of her. She mustn’t forget for a moment that she is the Avatar’s wife, and Aang has many ill-wishers. Katara immediately drew a stream of water towards her, pulling enough to be able to defend herself against fire. The shadow no longer moved. Maybe it was just a bush on the other side of the garden? It would be very embarrassing if someone saw her defending herself from bushes. But she was used to the fact that one can never be too careful. Katara slowly walked around the murmuring fountain. With each step, her heart began to beat faster, the tension grew, began to ring in her ears, but she kept going. Her senses sharpened so much that she even caught the faint smell of water. If she attacked first, she would gain the advantage. “Katara?” A familiar voice made her stop. “Zuko?” She took a couple more steps forward, and only then did she see the bright clothes of the Fire Lord, and him. With a noisy splash, she dropped the water back into the fountain, sinking weakly onto the cold stone. She quickly looked Zuko over, as if not quite believing he was really here. He had been avoiding her so diligently, and she had so wanted to pour her anger on him that now she didn’t know what to say. Zuko cast a fleeting glance at her before burying his gaze back into the water rippling with splashes, stroking the surface with his thin fingers. Her anger was fading. Zuko looked terribly tired. He squinted, as if in pain, and was silent. He was never particularly talkative, like her brother, but something was wrong. The Zuko she knew was not like this. And only his scar, as ugly as it had been years ago, still pulled down his eyelid. Katara wanted to touch him, to offer help again, to heal… But she immediately dismissed the thought. Why should she help him? He had already refused her help several years ago, and now, it seemed, he didn’t really want to see her. “You scared me. I thought…” “You’re right to be cautious,” Zuko interrupted her. “One can never be too careful.” He repeated her own thoughts. For a moment, Katara wondered if coming to the palace had been the right decision. She could have made far less noise if she had told no one about her arrival. But now it was too late to think about that. She was silent for too long, and Zuko finally raised his eyes to her. Bright, golden, glistening in the dim light of the moon, they expressed such weariness that Katara simply did not recognise him. Finally, he broke the hanging silence: “Am I bothering you? I’ll leave now.” Zuko rose from the ledge, brushing the water from his hand, and Katara stared at him in bewilderment. What did all this mean? Did he want to dismiss her a third time? Had she offended him somehow, or had they grown so far apart that he no longer even wanted to see her? All day she had been waiting for a meeting, and now, when they were alone, and the Fire Lord’s business could be left behind, he wants to run away again? Is he completely uninterested in how her life turned out? Doesn’t he want to tell her about himself? “Are you avoiding me?” Katara straightened up abruptly, rising after him, reaching out a hand to stop him, but immediately dropped her wrist. No. She had no right to detain him. She was in a position where she no longer even seemed like his friend. But Zuko stopped. For a fraction of a second he froze before answering: “No. Sorry you weren’t met properly. You’re probably angry.” “No,” Katara forced out, despite the fact that everything was boiling inside. “Don’t lie, it’s written all over your face.” “Nonsense. Why would I be angry at the Fire Lord?” “Ha. Actually, you have many reasons, come to think of it…” “Don’t change the subject.” Katara folded her arms over her chest. This was not how she imagined this conversation. She didn’t intend to argue. What was the point? She was only a guest here, and she couldn’t understand why such inattention made her feel bitter. She should be indifferent. She should be happy that no one bothered her. The Fire Nation had already caused her enough pain. But she couldn’t stop talking now. She looked at Zuko and saw his weariness. No single hard day could do this to a person. It had been accumulating for more than two or three days. Katara saw the same thing she observed at home every time she was alone with Aang: a heaviness, as if the weight of the whole world rested on his shoulders. “You look tired,” Katara finally said, smiling faintly. She was a healer, the Avatar’s wife, she must take care of the people around her. Especially her friends. Even if they were annoying. He didn’t answer right away. Zuko had clearly learned to weigh every word before saying anything. But why was he being cautious with her? “I haven’t been at the palace for a couple of weeks. And now I’m back, and it feels like I haven’t sorted out my affairs for several years. So much has piled up that my head is splitting. And I’m not avoiding you.” Zuko sank heavily onto the ledge of the fountain. His words made her feel ashamed. She lowered her head, peering into the clear water. Katara was used to her boring and monotonous everyday life and hadn’t even considered that Zuko was truly very busy. With important matters. Not cooking or going on trips to the market. He had to decide the fate of an entire nation. He and Aang sometimes worked together, and when Aang called Zuko for help, he would come. He would forget about his duties and come. She could have shown more sympathy. He sacrificed his peace for Aang, and she should be grateful for that. But for some reason, she felt no gratitude. As if it had only complicated everything. What was she even thinking? There were no complications in their relationship. She just remembered him a little more often than she should have. And went to the Fire Nation just to see him again. “Let me…” Katara said, reaching her hand toward Zuko. He immediately recoiled from her, and she flinched, pulling her palm back, as if burned. “What’s wrong with you? I only wanted to…” What did she want? To touch him? Katara was surprised by this thought, but immediately calmed herself — she had healed her friends many times. There was nothing special about it. “It’s not worth it.” “Why? You’re in pain.” “It’s not my biggest problem,” he answered vaguely, and Katara frowned. Sicadas buzzed noisily in the garden. A cool breeze grazed her skin. Water splashed on her, and she broke out in goosebumps. Chilly. “If you’re tired, I can leave you. I don’t want to bother you.” “No, it’s fine. It was me who didn’t want to disturb you.” “You’re in your own palace. How could you disturb anyone?” Zuko smirked, and suddenly, her soul felt warmer. With a slight smile, he seemed like the same guy Katara remembered: complicated, with a hard fate, but with a kind heart. He was the person she once hated with all her soul, but who continued to help her, proving his loyalty again and again. But his smile quickly faded, and he turned away again, staring at the water in the fountain. Katara also turned away. “You didn’t speak to me all day. I felt uneasy. I thought I had done something wrong.” It was not easy to say this. Talking about her feelings with Zuko was strange, unfamiliar, especially now, after years of separation. “It’s better this way. For you and for me.” “Why?” Zuko turned around. She felt it and turned her head too. He looked at her from under his brows, saying nothing more. Katara was not particularly foolish, but naivety sometimes played a cruel joke on her. She already understood what it meant for Zuko to receive her. She was the Avatar’s wife. It was a gesture of goodwill. A political move to show the people that the Fire Lord supported the new order. She, once again, had no significance. And yet, special attention from the ruler himself could reflect badly on both of them. Zuko was simply being cautious. Katara suddenly became acutely aware of the night coolness, the low trees of the garden hiding them from prying eyes, and the fact that they were completely alone in this garden. “Tell me, why are you here?” Katara raised her head at him. What a silly question? “I came out for some fresh air.” “No. Why did you come? Of all places, why did you choose to come here?” Something shuddered inside. As if Zuko saw in her what she had tried so hard to hide even from herself. Katara was silent. What was she supposed to answer? She had stated her reason in the letter. A silly one. Such that Aang would just nod at her packing and go off on his important business, thinking no more of her. Such that Zuko would easily receive her at the palace. Zuko kept peering into her face, as if truly trying to get to the real answer, and hope warmed inside. Maybe, if she told him, he would be able to understand her? “Will you think it strange if I say I’m lonely?” “No.” Katara exhaled forcefully. Should she tell him everything? Or would it sound foolish? She hesitated a little, but finally spoke: “Aang is constantly traveling. Sokka is busy with his machines. Toph… We don’t actually get along that well, even if it doesn’t look that way from the outside.” Zuko arched an eyebrow, as if he didn’t believe it, and her heart pounded with anxiety. What was she trying to admit to him? “Aren’t you supposed to wait for Aang at home, like a model wife? Why do you need these travels?” “Want me to hit you?” “Got it, got it. Just asking.” “Silly question.” “I know…” Silence hung in the garden again. Katara frowned. The conversation was not going smoothly. The bond that had held them together many years ago had not existed between them for a long time, but the tone of his voice, the way he spoke to her, gave hope. Katara herself didn’t know why she had really come, what she was trying to find here, in this once-hostile country, and why she hadn’t just stayed home, with Aang. Aang was not a bad husband to her. He was kind, responsive, gentle. Any other woman could only dream of such a man. But he always looked not at her, but somewhere further — at the world that needed him, needed his help. And Katara simply remained beside him. Because she loved him. Even though she had long felt that he had forgotten about her. “I shouldn’t have invited you,” Zuko suddenly said, and something broke inside. Katara was angry. So she was right. He didn’t want to see her at all. It was all for show. She was just that very symbol of the new world. And why did she think Zuko had accepted her for some other reason? What was she hoping for? And why did his words hurt so much? “I’ll leave first thing in the morning.” Katara nervously rose from the ledge, stepping forward. She didn’t understand herself. She longed for something else, something she was afraid to voice. Heck, even to think about. And Zuko’s closeness only made it worse. Loneliness gnawed at her from the inside, and the only person who could understand her had turned away. Warmth enveloped her wrist. Zuko grabbed her hand, not letting her leave. “No, wait, that’s not what I wanted to say…” “What did you want? Should I repeat your own words?” “No, it’s just…” “Nothing’s just! You don’t understand!” Katara flared up, turning to him. Resentment boiled in her chest. Tears filled her eyes. The last attempt to prove to herself that she still meant something had failed miserably. It was time to accept her position and slowly wither in the shadow of the Avatar’s greatness. “I understand.” Zuko’s voice softened. Velvety, mature notes she hadn’t noticed before caressed her ear. Katara caught herself thinking that she wanted to listen to him, that he had softened only for her. He released her fingers, and her arm fell limply. A chill ran over the spot his warm fingers had just touched. “I have a huge country on my shoulders, full of people who don’t want this peace. Who don’t want a ruler like me. And every morning I get up with the thought that I hate doing everything right. But I have no more choice. Since the day this crown was placed on my head, I no longer belong to myself.” Katara smirked. Choice. Of all the people she knew, Zuko was one of those free to choose. He chose this crown. Katara, on the other hand, still wavered between equally unpleasant options — trying to prove something to herself, or accepting the role of a woman she had run from for so many years. “You are the Fire Lord, Zuko. You have a name, you are important. I am the Avatar’s wife. That’s all that’s left of me.” “That’s not true.” “How else? Does anyone else still remember that Katara exists? That I am worth something too?” She was almost shouting now, ignoring the fact that someone might hear them. It didn’t matter. She would leave this place very soon. “I remember. And I’m very glad you came.” Katara was silent. She breathed heavily, looked at his calm face, disfigured by the dark scar, and tried to understand if there was something in his answer she could cling to, something she could use to justify this unbearable desire to stay a little longer, even if nothing in this garden held her. “I feel as if I’m just another problem for you. Something that needs solving. And you stuffed me who knows where. The farthest chamber! As if you regret agreeing to receive me, it’s written all over your face!” He tiredly ran his palm over his face, as if shielding himself. “Katara… There are not many things left in the world that I regret. One of them — is that I let you go.” His eyes suddenly widened, as if he had said something he shouldn’t have. Katara should be angry. Should tell him never to utter those words again and not even to think about it. That it was all nonsense, and he probably didn’t mean it, but her heart begged him not to take his words back. “What are you talking about?” she asked cautiously. Zuko was silent. Cicadas chirped in the emerald grass, merging with the noise of her pounding heart. She thought Zuko would get up and leave any second, and her life would remain meaningless, but he suddenly spoke quietly: “When I ascended the throne, you left with the others. I gave myself my word not to think about you anymore. I saw how you look at Aang, and I know I was right. But now, looking at you, seeing how you suffer, I’m no longer sure I did the right thing.” Katara stared at him dumbly. The meaning of his words refused to imprint on her consciousness. If she began to understand them, then her whole world, everything she had so diligently built within herself, would crumble in an instant. She always believed she had only one destiny. Aang loved her, and she had to follow him, just as she had at the very beginning of their journey. She hadn’t even thought of another. Or had she simply preferred not to notice? “I think about you all the time. I know it makes no sense, I shouldn’t have told you any of this at all. But I can’t forget you. And I can’t let you go either.” “Find yourself another girl to think about,” she tried to object, but her voice wavered, and the phrase came out uncertain, shaky, easy to ignore. And for the first time, Katara wished Zuko wouldn’t listen to her. “I tried. When you wrote to me, I didn’t sleep for several nights, kept thinking about what to answer you. I should have refused to receive you. But I couldn’t. I wanted you to come.” He raised his bright eyes to her again. Resolve. That was what she saw in them now. Her heart quivered. He… wanted to be with her? Why had he never told her? Why confess only now, when it was unbearably late? “That’s why I think it’s better for you to leave. I thought I was above this. Stronger.” Katara tried to defend herself from a new feeling awakening deep in her soul, the one she never wanted to acknowledge, dismissing it as a silly idea. It seemed to her that she was going mad from loneliness, emptiness, and boredom, and she wanted someone to fill that emptiness. “Zuko… I’m… married.” “Do you think that changes anything for me?” Katara didn’t know what to answer. Her heart pounded faster, her breath hitched. She was scared and excited at the same time. If she turned around and left right now, which she was supposed to do as a model wife, she would never escape the state she had been living in for the last few years. She could leave. Return to her habitual, empty life. To the place where she would be forgotten as soon as she disappeared from sight. Or she could stay here, where a pair of radiant bright eyes looked at her nervously. “That’s why I’m asking you to leave. Not because I don’t want to see you. But the opposite…” Now everything made sense. His coldness, these chambers impossibly far from him. He… was trying to be a good friend? But for whom? Foolish thoughts crept into her head. What if she hadn’t married? What if she had gone to the Fire Nation? What if she had stayed by Zuko’s side? How would her life have turned out then? Would she be just as lost and unhappy? She couldn’t find an answer, but she could at least change something. Act selfishly for once. And instead of going to her chambers, she took a step toward him, slowly, either afraid to scare him off, or fearing for herself. Despite all the “buts”, she could no longer deny that she was drawn to Zuko. She could continue telling herself that she was merely taking care of an old friend, to soothe her conscience, and, obeying this impulse, Katara carefully touched his head. “What are you doing?” Zuko intercepts her hand, looks at her with a plea, but Katara cannot understand: does he want her to leave, or to stay after all? “I’ll heal your headache. At least this much I can do for you.” Zuko releases her wrist, sits motionless, as if giving her the right to choose. A sphere of water gently floats out of the fountain, glows in her hands, rolls over with silver reflections. Shimmering patterns slide across Zuko’s face, illuminating him in the dark garden, and Katara carefully moves her hands around him, easing the pain. Zuko’s face gradually relaxes. Katara feels his breathing calm down. He is sitting impossibly close. She feels the heat of his breath near her chest. Katara cannot help but study him. It is as if she is seeing him for the first time: how much broader his shoulders have become, how proudly he holds his back, how long his hair has grown. In the sharp lines of his face, there is more regal sternness, a frighteningly familiar determination, but in his gaze remains the same warmth. Zuko follows her every move. From under half-closed lashes, golden irises glide over her hands, her body. She feels uneasy from his gaze. Thrilling. His hand rises toward her, as if intending to touch, and Katara holds her breath for a moment. His fingers are a chi away from her waist, but Zuko clenches them into a fist, as if forcing himself to retreat. Katara sees this. Sees how hard this stop is for him. And instead of stepping away, she steps closer. It is as if a glass wall shatters between them. His hot palm slides along her waist, pulls her to him, forcing Katara to move closer. She falters, and the glow in her hands disappears. The water falls back into the fountain with a splash. She should be indignant, push him away, but she cannot. Doesn’t want to. “What are you doing to me…” Zuko whispers, burying his face against her chest, exhaling hotly. His lips gently touch the skin where the fabric of her dress ends. Her breath catches. A fine shiver runs through her body. Truly, what is she doing? What is she allowing him to do? She should be home, should be beside Aang. Even if he himself is somewhere far away. She can still step back. Turn everything into a joke, hug him, like in the good old days. Just heal his headache and leave. And tomorrow, leave for a guest house. But she doesn’t want to. She wants to remember, if only for a moment, what it is like to be herself. Not someone’s wife and not a symbol. But if she lets Zuko come even closer, there will be no way back. How will she be able to return home, to Aang’s bed, and look him in the eye? Katara shook her head. Does it matter? Will he even notice the change? He hadn’t noticed that Katara was turning into a shadow of her former self. He kept going further — to his duties, to his hopes, to a future where there was less and less room for her. He shone, and his light blinded her. Zuko’s fire, on the other hand, was dangerous, but it promised not pain, but warmth — a chance to thaw her frozen, stagnant soul. It didn’t matter. Zuko pulls her closer, slides his hands over the fabric of her dress, tracing the contours of her body. His touches are burning-pleasant. She is tired of waiting. Tired of begging for affection. She doesn’t want to betray her husband, but what is a heart starved for closeness to do, when the desired is here, near? Zuko slightly squeezes her thigh, and she shudders. Her legs weaken. She sinks into his arms, and his lips carefully touch hers. He kisses slowly, as if tasting her, and Katara responds, touching his face with her hand, feeling the rough burn with her fingertips. She parts her mouth, allows his tongue to slide deeper. The kiss becomes more insistent, Zuko feels her compliance and suddenly, greedily, as if trying to satiate himself, deepens the kiss, intertwining his tongue with hers. She wants to forget herself, to think no more of anything, and to feel alive, desired, if only a little. His lips slide along her cheek, descend to her neck. Zuko’s hands stroke her body, explore, and Katara trembles, casts a fleeting glance at his face, and their eyes meet. Zuko is full of desire, looks at her with admiration, and her body responds instantly. Katara feels a sweet pull in her lower abdomen. She must not answer the kisses. Must not feel attraction. But she does feel it. And it both frightens and excites her. Zuko scoops her up in his arms, carries her to the rooms, as if completely unconcerned about them being seen together. She doesn’t notice how they reach her chambers, how the door closes behind them, and how she ends up in bed, pressed by his heavy body to the soft sheets. Zuko pins her hands above her head, kissing her hotly. She is still trying to understand if she is doing the right thing, but casts these thoughts aside like unnecessary trinkets. Tonight she wants to be alive, significant. She wants to be noticed, to be looked at only, and Zuko breaks the kiss for a moment, just to look at her again, as if giving her a pause, a chance to go back. But there is no way back. Aang hasn’t been like this with her for a long time, loving and persistent. She missed the feeling of light exhilaration. She turns her head to the side, pushing away thoughts of her husband. She is in another’s arms and doesn’t want to stain Aang with this. Zuko strokes her arm with his fingers, leads them lower, to her chest, touches her through the thin fabric, as if trying to memorise every part of her, and Katara frees her hands, touches his face, pulling him to her. He kisses her hotly, holds her tighter; Katara slides her hands over his body — trained muscles roll under her fingers. Zuko has not wasted time, kept himself in shape, and Katara liked feeling his strength. He rubs against her thigh, and she feels how strongly aroused he is. She pulls back, and Zuko rises on his arms, attentively watching her movements, as if afraid she will jump up and run away, as if not understanding that she no longer has the desire to hide from herself. Katara pulls the sash of her dress upwards, and the ribbons easily unravel, the fabric parts, revealing her body. Zuko freezes, studying her so intently that it grows hotter below. She sees that he needs her now just as much as she needs him. Katara no longer waits, reaches for the sash of his garments, unties it hastily, slips her hands under the outer robe, and it slides off his shoulders in heavy folds. He handles the rest of his clothes himself, and Katara cannot take her eyes off him: he has a beautiful, toned body. Strong, nothing like how she remembered him. And had she ever had a chance to really look at Zuko? She had always been too absorbed in another. Zuko looks at her with adoration, runs his fingers over her chest, touching the sensitive nipple on one, drawing the first gasp from her lips. It’s as if a spark runs through her body, and Katara is not sure Zuko didn’t send a tiny lightning bolt through her. With a trail of kisses, he descends lower, to her pubis, and his hot tongue passes over her excited clitoris. Katara arches up to meet his lips, reaches her hand down, touching the long hair on his head. Unusually long, soft. He caresses her, and arousal tightens inside her stronger. She wants to feel him more and more, and she arches, exhaling with each of his movements. Zuko holds her hips tightly, digging his fingers into her tanned skin, as if he himself enjoys what he’s doing. But this is not enough for her. She wants more. Wants to feel that she is his. Katara pulls his face to hers, forcing him to rise, and Zuko retreats. His lips glisten moistly in the darkness, his eyes flash with desire. Her fingers touch the scar on his abdomen, slide lower to the trail of darkish hair, and further, to his aroused cock. Zuko breathes heavily when her hand lands on him. Katara slowly moves up and down, teasing and exciting him further, and Zuko furrows his brows, closes his eyes. How much longer will he endure? He touches her below, strokes the wet folds, and his fingers easily slide inside, move unhurriedly, stretching. Katara pushes toward him, moves her hips. She wants him not to be silent, to say something, anything, so that she understands — this is not a mirage, not a vision, not a dream, that she is truly in the Fire Lord’s bed of her own free will, and that his touches actually feel good. Zuko removes his hand, leans over her, kissing more insistently, hotter. His tongue slides over her lips and deeper, across her palate, quickening her pulse further. He presses between her legs, rubs hotly, and slides forward in one motion, drawing a long moan from her lips. Zuko no longer holds back: he moves quickly, abruptly, and Katara barely manages to gasp for air while moans are torn from her chest. It is hot and wet below, and Zuko moves demandingly, as if that tenderness with which he kissed her a moment ago never existed. And she likes it. His body heats up, she feels the temperature rising in the room. It becomes unbearably hot, and a silly question pops into her head — will he set the sheets on fire beneath her? With a new thrust, everything tightens inside, clenching around him, and Katara reaches her hands to Zuko, embraces his broad back, and he presses her into the bed, thrusting again and again, abruptly covering her with kisses. He looks at her with such adoration that Katara is about to shatter into hundreds of pieces. She has not felt this gaze on her for a long time. Katara feels that he is at his limit, Zuko presses into her, exhales hot air into her neck, tickles her skin, and she whispers to him to slow down, she wants to share this moment with him, wants to shatter in pleasure together. Zuko obeys, rises slightly, slowing the tempo. The gaze of his golden eyes full of yearning gently slides over her, and Katara cannot bear it. With a sharp thrust, Zuko enters her one last time, and everything clenches around him, trembles, contracts in rhythm with her heart. She wants to dissolve in this moment, not to think about what will happen next. She doesn’t want to return to reality, where regret and shame will inevitably envelop her. She feels how Zuko pulses inside, how his breathing calms, how his hot, too hot of a body begins to cool. He pulls out of her, falling beside her, and Katara clings to him again. She doesn’t want to regret. But what has she done? It’s terrifying to admit to herself that here, in the arms of the Fire Lord, she feels very good. Time stretches infinitely long. Zuko strokes her tangled hair, holds her close, is silent, as if understanding he won’t find the right words. Katara herself didn’t know what she wanted to hear, just as she didn’t know what she herself should say. She betrayed Aang. His trust, his kindness, but divine forces did not strike her down with lightning or surrender her to fire, only the heat of new, unknown feelings still burned in her chest. “I dreamed of you for so long. Probably ever since the end of the war,” Zuko whispered quietly, and everything inside her shuddered. “But you were with Mai.” “I believed it was the right thing to do. That I should be with her. But I was wrong again.” “I saw you two right before your coronation. It didn’t seem to me like you had problems.” Zuko sighed heavily. “I was young. It was difficult. I confused duty with what was right. Back then, I did as honour demanded. And I made a mistake. If I could change it…” “It’s too late now.” “I know.” “I can’t stay.” “I know that too.” It seemed to her that he did not fully understand what had happened between them. She would not be able to leave Aang. She had never intended to. But what happened, she could not consider a mistake. Her heart flutters joyfully from this warmth, and she doesn’t want Zuko to leave at all. But she is risking too much. As is he. They both are silent. But the summer night is not filled with silence. Cicadas chirp loudly in the garden, the wind rustles the green foliage, stars sedately twinkle in the endless blue. “You better go,” Katara whispers, and tears come to her eyes. She is confused. Zuko rolls onto his back. He’s silent for another moment, and then rises from the bed. “Yes.”

***

Katara has things to do. But in the morning, she sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, unable to rise. The room looked the same: the same beams under the ceiling, the same green garden, the same neatly packed suitcase, prepared for a quick departure. Only Katara was no longer the same. Zuko’s warmth still lived on her lips, on her skin — the memory of hes hands, and this made her want to either cry or laugh. Shame on her. But regret never came. She thought she would be in pain. That she would suffer because of what she had done. But nothing, except the blush warming her cheeks, betrayed the night with the Fire Lord. Then she washed her face with cold water, tightened the sash of her dress, and went out to people as if nothing had happened that night. Around her, there are crowds of brightly dressed people: the Fire Nation lives, thrives, despite the new order. And Katara is glad of the victory for the first time. Day after day, she visits noble houses, important officials, schools and shops, collects information, wishes. Speaks about Aang, arranges aid with hospitals. She is a healer. The last of the Southern Water Tribe. Her knowledge will definitely be useful in the new world. Time flies by unnoticed, and later, in the evening, shrouded in darkness, she hurries to Zuko and eagerly awaits his embrace. He is also waiting for her. The daytime meetings exhaust her, remind her of who she must be, but next to the Fire Lord, Katara forgets about everything, becoming who she wants to be — a beloved and desired woman. Someone to be admired. And Zuko gives it all — admires both her body and her mind. He listens to her stories about the past day, gives advice, tells her how to approach his people, how to teach them to trust her. For the first time in a long time, she is happy. She feels like herself, feels noticed, when Zuko softly whispers her name, pressing her into his bed. The days fly by, but Katara prefers not to think about returning home. The letter came on the twelfth day. Aang wrote that he had found an ancient relic of the Air Nomads, but everything turned out to be more complicated than he thought. He needed Katara. Needed, of course. Only now, for some reason, this word no longer warmed. She had to return.

***

On the morning of the fourteenth day, the sun beat down mercilessly, as if trying to drive her off the platform as soon as possible. Zuko and his retinue gathered at the station to see her onto the train. For this, the entire waiting hall had to be cordoned off, and crowds of disgruntled people were looking at the Fire Lord and Katara — the Avatar’s wife, Aang’s envoy, who had finally managed to earn favour, only slightly marred by the public farewell with the Fire Lord. She felt uneasy from such attention. She was afraid that someone would notice something, and then they would be in big trouble, but at the same time she understood: they had been as careful as possible. “Until we meet, Zuko,” she said, smiling softly. “Take care of yourself,” he replied. They shook hands reservedly. His palm was warm, almost hot. This warmth burned with the memory of the touches of past nights, and Katara was afraid she would blush in front of everyone. She hastily withdrew her hand and climbed the creaky steps into the heated belly of the carriage. She turned to look at him: Zuko stared at her intently, and in his gaze were the already familiar sadness and boredom. Only now, she herself had become a part of his melancholy. Zuko peered into her face for a moment longer than decency required, and she turned away, not allowing anyone to notice anything. The train pulled away with a creak. The landscape outside the window blurred as if smeared by a wet brush, and the train carried her home like an arrow. Katara knew she would return to the Fire Nation capital. But never again to her former self.