Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The water is steaming, fish-eye bubbles gathering at the bottom of the kettle. With a definitive nod, he breathes away the heat from his hand, placing it down on the stand and adding two pinches of dried jasmine and green tea leaves, before setting down two cups on the small table. He moves to sit, knowing she will return soon, and they would be able to share their afternoon tea before their walk along the bay.

A knock interrupts him before he is to the floor mat, and he turns a quizzical brow towards the door. Why would she knock? Did she need help with something? Or was this a stranger? Or worse, not a stranger? A sudden shot of anxiety forces him to quick action, and he is across the room in two long strides, the door opening quickly but only far enough for his solid frame to fill it. 

On the other side of the door, a broad, tanned man about his height is waiting, head bowed. 

“Can I help you?” Li's voice is sharp, unwelcoming.

The stranger lifts his head, and meets Li with a hauntingly familiar gaze.

“Hey, sorry to disturb you. Heard you don’t care for much company.” He shrugs loosely, as if smaller than his frame. “But I’m looking for someone. My sister.”

Somehow, impossibly, he’s here, Li thinks. For a supposed dead man, he looks pretty healthy.

“...and I’m just hoping you might have seen her. There was talk of a water bender—“

“Come on in, Sokka,” Li stepped aside, pulling the door open for the tribesman to enter, “I think we have a lot to discuss.” 

Sputtering, Sokka stumbled in the door. “How- How do you know who I am??”

As Li shuts the door, he keeps his eyes fixated on the floorboards. The words escape him forlornly.

“You have her eyes.” Sucking in a deep breath, he turns to look at the man whose existence should be a lie, and thinks of the woman who made his into a reality. “Would you care for some tea?”

It’s mostly silent as they drink, but the shock is slowly fading from Sokka’s face, and he’s studying Li's. 

“What’s your name?”

A shadow passes over his face, but Li answers easily with the omission. “I go by many names, but most here know me as Li.”

Blue eyes narrow, but he doesn’t press for the time being. 

“So how do you know my sister?”

“She saved my life.”

A soft smile pulls at Sokka’s face. “That sounds about right. But I have a feeling you’re leaving out some things.”

Li nodded slightly. “Yeah. A lot, honestly.”

A cup is placed resolutely down, and Sokka stares hard at Li. ”So why don’t you tell me?”

“Do you have time for a story?”

A dark brow arched. “I have a lot of time.”

“Very well.” With a deep breath, he begins. “There was a young man who had been run from his home at a delicate age…”

By the time he had finally come to, the sun felt like a fire across his cheeks and forehead. He raised a trembling hand to his face and flinched at the touch. Peeling skin that had already blistered and reburned stuck to his fingers, and bile rose to the back of his throat. It was only then that he recognized the sand at his back and the waves that lapped at his ankles. Turning, he expelled the rancid seawater from his stomach, over and over, until he was dry heaving, his body curled around his spasming abdomen.

He slipped into the black of unconsciousness like that, too weak to drag himself into the shade, too tired to scan his surroundings, too alone to care.

When he woke again, it was to the feeling of the water rushing under his head. A blissful coolness brushed over his marred cheek and thoughtlessly he turned into it, only to breathe in more saltwater. Gagging and coughing, he flung himself up and away, from the water that, while only a few inches deep, had soaked into his salt-baked clothing. 

Sputtering, he jolted away and onto the dry sand above, desperate to escape the water. On the cold sands, he collapsed again, this time his face to the sky. Above him the stars wheeled endlessly, as the nearly full moon crossed the night sky. He followed its trail through the sky, until it hung low over the horizon, as if waiting at the mouth of the bay he was washed into.  

He watched detached and numb as the sky erupted in the purples and oranges of a morning sky. Strength failed his limbs as the sun began its ascent, and it wasn’t until he felt the heat of the midday sun on his already blistered cheeks, did he attempt to move from his place on the sand.

Finally, he willed himself into motion, weakly, but doggedly, towards the shade and protection of the nearby forest. There was shelter from the heat and food to sustain him in its shade. The action of getting there, however, had worn his still exhausted body, and he slumped in the shade near a few bushes, hoping that they may contain something edible. 

The sun had begun it's descent when sleep finally claimed him. Even under the protection of shade, his skin was alight with pain. Before drifting to sleep in the blissful shade, he took stock of himself. A dozen or so small burns had pocked his tunic and pants. Barefoot, he could see that one ankle was purple and swollen. Salty and stiff, his hair seemed to stick awkwardly to his scalp, but when he tried to rustle it back, a shot of pain stopped him. 

He had survived the ship fire, though, as providence would have it. That was more than could be said of most, if not all, of the crew. As he slipped into the dark bliss of unconsciousness, he tried to recall all of their names.

A chitter nearby woke him from his slumber. Before him, the sun hung low in the sky, bracketed by the wide arms of the bay, and it cast orange and red in brilliant streaks among the clouds. While the moment was beautiful and breathtaking, a sudden hunger pain shot through his empty stomach, and he eyed the brush near him. With pure force of will, he dragged himself towards the nearest bush, desperately scanning it for fruitage. Deep purple fruit hung in bunches off it's limbs. He released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. 

Once more, the same chitter sounded, and he startled. This time it had come from within the bush before him, and he stopped, his fingers half a moment away from the delightfully plump berries. Blinking rapidly, he tried to peer into the bush, but jolted away when the bush suddenly seemed to peer back at him. If ever he was asked, he would deny it, but the sound that escaped him brought a blush to his already reddened cheeks. His heart was still pounding when the bright green eyes (along with its soft furry tan and brown face) emerged from the bush curiously. A flying lemur materialized from the black, but to him, more interestingly, was the pile of the dark berries in its hands. 

Its bright eyes peered at him curiously, before seemingly shrugging and tossing the entire handful back. 

He had been hesitant over the safety of the berries, but as the lemur tipped his entire handful into his mouth without hesitation, he decided to follow the guidance of the local wildlife.

Gathering them eagerly, he quickly denuded the bush, sporadically throwing the more ripe ones into his mouth with gusto. They were sweet and fragrant, filling his mouth with an almost perfume-like quality. The rest he gathered and stored them in a hollow near a tree he had claimed. As he settled back down against the trunk, he watched the final shades of the sun melt away to the velvety blue of the night, and his stomach almost felt full. Slowly, silver white pinpricks began to dot the sky. He considered his next course of action. 

Water was going to be the next requirement, he found, his mouth suddenly feeling thick like cotton. He shrugged and popped a few more berries on to his tongue. Abstractly, he wondered if the too-sweet quality of the fruit was exacerbating his thirst, but his stomach’s growl and pain quickly quieted his rational side. 

There was something happening though, and his world started to spin as time seemed to dip and shift, contract and dilate. The moon had once more arrived, he was surprised to find, and he wondered where the time had fled to. Its full light cast the bay in a ghostly mix of grayscale, the golden-white sands now a bone white and the sapphire waves now dark like ink.

At the mouth of the bay, the moon sat low, and he wondered when the world began turning around the moon instead of the sun. 

The sickly sweet perfume of the berries sat unhappily on his tongue, and he scowled at the dwindling pile beside him. As he watched, the lemur with its fingers dyed purple with juice, snatched up a handful from his pile. He would have protested, but it had seemed his tongue had chosen to stick to the roof of his mouth, while the world shifted its axis again, this time turning around his own skull. 

Fuzzily, his mind wondered if there was something about the berries, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it would be. His gaze returned, as it so often did when he was lost, to the sea and stars.

The moon now sat on the water caressed by a  bed of black silken sheets. In its full light, a silhouetted figure walked across the dark waves, and he blinked again, leaning forward, as if to see the mirage better. 

She stood on the water, her lithe figure a dark outline across the moon’s surface. Backlit, her moves were like a dance of supremacy, and he watched the waves bow to her as if a partner. They twisted about her before falling like glittering diamonds. They lifted her on their amorphous hands, before letting her fall once more into their inky embrace. She emerged, her body sparkling like her skin had been turned to argent scales. 

A spirit--she must be a spirit, he was certain. He had little experience with them, but this far out, this distant from the world of man, it would be irresponsible for him to deny their existence. His own uncle often spoke of them, telling him stories while still a child, while still clinging to his scarred cheek and his hope of return. That hope had died when he stopped looking in mirrors, stopped asking his uncle for his stories. Now, a man of 21, the days of impossible missions, endless searches and desperate pleadings were over, and with the sinking of his ship and the loss of his crew and uncle, the last vestiges of his prior life were gone. 

But still, he could hear his uncle’s rumble of a voice telling stories of air spirits and water sirens, of rock goblins and fire sprites. As the lithe figure danced in the moonlight on the water as if on dry land, he knew for a certainty that she had to be of the ocean, birthed of it. 

Her motions were hypnotic, and he raised himself unsteadily to his feet. He was surprised to find he had the strength to stand. It didn’t last him long, however, and within moments he plummeted to his hands and knees. The action forced a sound from him, and the figure stopped in mid motion, her body twisting towards him before freezing. The growl in his stomach was quickly replaced with an excruciating pain. 

Dark blotches stained the bone-white sand. He raised the back of his hand to his mouth, trying to stem the flow from his stomach, and was surprised to see something dark and thick on his skin. If the moonlight caught it just right, he could swear it had a crimson tinge. 

Funny, he didn’t remember the berry’s juice being red.

With that final thought, consciousness fled, and the last thing he felt was the dull thud of his shoulder on the sand. 

“So you ate some weird berries and had some hallucinations. Where’s Katara in all this?”

A smile pulls at Li’s lips. “You’re worse than she is.”

“Who?” Sokka presses.

“We’ll get to that. But if you want to know more about Katara, I need you to please be patient.”

Sokka sighs.

It was the gentle susurration of water near his face that softly lulled him from the black. Instead of the sands under his back, there was something soft and firm, and he felt none of the sun's cruel fire on his skin. Waves still crashed, but they were muffled and distant. 

The groan that escaped his lips felt like his soul escaping. Everything had started to come back to life in his body, and they were each mad at him for differing reasons. The loudest protestor of them all, he found, was his abdomen, and it protested with sharp pains through his core everytime he tried to breathe. Gritting his teeth, he tried to force down the shudder of pain that ripped through him at his breath, but instead found himself curling around his middle. Vaguely, he heard a soft lilt; ‘ oh is there still some left in your system? ’, and then again, the calming sound of softly flowing water. The pain started to ease, but he felt bile-tinged-sweet at the back of his mouth. 

The gentle press of something cold and hard against his cheek felt soothing, and he tried to bite back the growing sensation of nausea. 

“It’s okay." The words were soft, coaching. “Let it out. That’s what the bowl is for. The berries need to get out of your system.”

He opened his mouth, to say what, he wasn’t quite sure, but instead of words, the wave of nausea swelled and expelled what little remnants of food there was in his stomach. The pain instantly began to ease.

“There you go.” Her voice was soothing, kind. He wondered who would have come across him while he was hallucinating a water spirit in the bay. She sounded… warm. He tried to crack an eye, and his good one peaked open ever so slightly. Tan skin, made darker by the sun, with dark voluminous hair that cascaded down her back; he catalogued these features as a puzzle to solve later. Piercing blue eyes watched him closely. Around her neck, a blue stone. Her clothes were simple and rough hewn, but well tended, a color not so different from a cloudless sky. 

The sound of water disappeared, and she lifted the bowl away, using her other hand to dab a cloth at his mouth. 

"How are you feeling?"

When he spoke, his voice was raw, rough. 

"Better. But," he lifted a hand to push back his hair, and it trembled, "weak."

"Are the berries the only thing you've eaten?"

He nodded, and she shook her head in dismay. 

"It's a miracle you're still alive."

"But the lemur…"

A coy smile pulled at her lips. "Momo eats everything. Those berries are some of his favorites. But we can't always eat what a lemur can."

For the small batch of information she had given him, the thing that stuck in his pain-addled brain was…

"You've named the lemur?"

A small look of surprise lit her face, but it was quickly replaced with a giddy laugh. 

"Yes!" Her eyes sparkled when she laughed, he found, and he'd very much like it to happen again. "Yes, I named the lemur!"

His lips curled into a smile. 

"Who are you?" 

"I go by… Huanmei." Her face sobered. "But around here, they call me Majo."

Neither were her name, but then again--

"What's your name?" She spoke in a rush, as if to flush the air of her lie of omission.

“Li.”

His golden eyes challenged her to contradict him for his very Earth Kingdom name against his very Fire Nation features. A heavy silence sat between them. If she would allow his lie, he would allow hers. She broke away first and moved about the room. 

It was a small room, really an entire home in a single hut. He was on a small cot against the singular stone wall, something that appeared to be a natural feature, the rest built off of it. A fire pit sat in the center, its embers glowing softly. It was at that moment that he recognized the smell that wafted around the room as something warmly spiced and fragrant and his stomach growled loudly.

The sound was loud enough for Huanmei to hear it, and she turned a sly smile his way. 

“The stew is ready, if you want it. But you really should only have the broth for the first day. I’m not sure if your stomach can take more yet.”

She held up an empty bowl questioningly, and he nodded. Filling the bowl with rich looking broth, she brought it to him. 

Gathering his arms under him, he tried to right himself on the bed, but faltered under his own weight. A surprisingly strong hand helped him up, and she propped him against the cold stone wall. The world swam and a feeling of peakishness settled over him, before the world once more steadied. Her blue eyes were worriedly focused on his face.

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

Li raised a hand to push his hair from his forehead where it clung to the cold sweat that settled over him. He was surprised to find no pain in his scalp.

“I’m not really sure, but it’s been at least two days since the ship went down.”

“And the only thing you’ve eaten were those berries?”

He nodded morosely.

"No wonder your body reacted so poorly. I'll prepare more stew-- you're going to need it. Have you had any water?"

A hand went to the back of his neck and he refused to meet her eye. 

A bark of a laugh escaped her. "My brother would give me that same look when he used to get into trouble."

She turned away, before offering a water skin. He was surprised to find it's contents chilled, but before he could comment on it, she offered him the bowl of broth. He eagerly gulped it down, it's flavor rich, even if mild. 

Bowl empty, mouth properly sated, he spoke to her as she hummed while patching a fishing net on the floor. 

"You're not Earth Kingdom."

A dark brow rose as she looked up at him, her hands still working steadily at the tear. 

"Nor are you."

"Do I have a reason to worry?"

"No. Do I?" A new edge was in the woman's voice, and his heart didn’t  like it. Especially when it was directed at him. 

His mind, however, didn’t get the message. 

"Well, I'm a castaway off of a sunken ship. You're a random woman who is called a witch," He knew what 'majo' meant, but he was surprised to see her flinch from him when he said it. His heart screamed at him to stop, but his mind pressed on. "I don't know, but it seems like of the two of us, you might be the one to be worried about."

Her flinch quickly dissolved, and she met his gaze evenly, her eyes sparking challenging.

"If you were in danger, do you really think that I would have brought you back to my home and nursed you back to health, fed you my food and let you sleep in my bed?!" 

He opened his mouth to respond, but she jabbed her needle into the cushion she sat upon and threw down the net, before rocketing to her feet. Her finger stabbed at him in the air between his eyes. 

"I could have left you on that beach, to die from your own stupidity! Instead, I risked my peace and anonymity for you, and you have the audacity to claim that I might be a danger to you ??"

A frustrated growl escaped her, and she turned on her heel, storming out of the small hut. Li watched her leave, mouth agape. He could almost hear his uncle's words of chastisement. 

Women are like a gentle jasmine tea, Nephew. Boil it too hot and quick, and they'll just become bitter. Slowly warm them, however, and you'll be rewarded with the sweetest of teas. 

A smile started to pull at his lips, until the pang of realization hit him. His uncle, along with the rest of the crew--men he had come to view as friends over the past eight years--were most likely all dead. He was alone. 

Alone, weak, and thoroughly miserable. 

Slowly, he allowed the pain in his chest fill him, and it seeped from his eyes like tears and from his lips like sobs.

Chapter Text

"Huanmei. That's--that was one of her aliases."

Li nods."Yes. We didn't trust each other at the time."

Sokka eyes him over his now cold cup of tea. 

"I wonder why that would be."

With a sardonic smile, Li leans across the table and wraps his hand around the base of Sokka's cup. Steam begins to rise from it again. 

"Why do you think?"

He had slumped down back on to the bed, exhausted and spent as the tears had dried on his cheeks. When he awoke, the sun had long since vanished below the horizon, and the blue-white light of a waning moon streamed in the windows. Vaguely, he recognized that she had returned--the empty bowl was cleaned and replaced, a blanket was around his shoulders--but in the dark, she was nowhere to be seen. 

Rallying his strength, he righted himself on the bed, allowing his vision to grow steady again before forcing himself to his feet. He was lightheaded, and stumbled slightly as he tried to move, but he made his way to the door without falling or tripping over anything. Opening the door into the night, he stopped to gasp at the view. 

Whereas the first time he had awoken at the dead center of the bay, upon the white sands, now he stood perched upon one of the arms, at the peak of a cliff's edge. There was a small garden just outside the hut, well-tended, and a line that would catch the sun's rays to dry hung clothes. A small trail led off into the nearby forest only after splitting to head to the beach as well. The arms of the bay encircled the beach he had landed at, as if sheltering it from the rest of the world. At this height, he could see the dance of moonlight and cloud shadow on the water and trees, which made the immediate area glow, while casting the rest in deep shadows.

There was something ethereal to the moment--a caught breath, a stilled hand, a silence in the roar-- and the air was charged with energy. His thoughts wandered to the spectre of the night prior, and his heart thrilled at the chance that he might see her again.

As if reading his mind, he watched a small figure, dainty at this distance, step slowly across the water. It paused midway between the arms of the bay. 

The dance was just as graceful and beautiful from his new perspective, and his mind raced at the sight of it again. Stories of the Eternal Dance of Tui and La, of Kali, the Jealous Storm, of Agni's Blessing and the Promised Bride. He wondered who this spirit was, and where she fell into all of this, but his thoughts stopped when a glint caught his eye. 

At her throat, a blue gem. Even in the dark and at that distance, he recognized it as the one the woman, Huanmei, wore. 

Li's mind worked overtime to reconcile this information. Was she a spirit? He had never seen a waterbender before with such grace. But he had met her, argued with her. She had a home and shelter. Surely she was just a woman?

Then he remembered her eyes, the spark that danced behind them, and he wondered if she could be both. 

He watched her until she finished her dance, and used the water to raise herself to the cliff. She gave a small start at the sight of him, straight-backed, sitting at the edge. 

"Y-you're awake."

Gold eyes pierced the darkness. He nodded once. 

"It was you, last night. Wasn't it?"

She swallowed. "I don't know what you mean."

"You were the one who danced on the water then too."

Wrapping her arms around her waist, she looked away. 

"It was then that you found me."

She nodded. 

"That's why they call you Majo, isn't it? Because they saw you bend."

Her shoulders reached her ears and she frowned at him. Hesitant eyes met his. 

"That's part of it."

Li nodded sagely. 

"It's beautiful. And powerful." He gave her a pointed look. "And frightening to ones who might not understand it."

Her gaze hardened at his words and she spit vitriol. "How would you know?" 

A small smile tugged at Li's lips. Pulling in a breath, he felt the fire in his belly grow, tamed but strong. In his lap, his cupped hands produced a small fire. 

Blue eyes danced with the reflection of his flame, before flickering up to meet his gaze. 

"I guess you would understand."

"Probably more than you realize."

"The colonies still hate firebenders."

"I know."

"They're banished from their homes."

"Yes."

"They've been run from towns."

"That's right."

"They've literally killed mixed children who might become firebenders."

"They had a reason to fear the Fire Lord."

"That doesn't excuse casting out innocents, condemning civilians for their generals, killing innocent children!" Sokka's voice is raised, his eyes haunted. 

Li nods, surprisingly serene, but his eyes are flashing. "Never."

He places down his cup, and meets the hauntingly familiar eyes and smiles softly. 

"Her response was similar."

"Of course it was! Katara is one of the most aggressively righteous people I've ever met."

A laugh escapes Li even as the ache settles into his chest. When he finally can laugh beyond the pain, he speaks. 

"It's what saved my life." He pauses and stares down at the cup in his hand, the laugh fading into a sad smile. "More than once."

The days grew longer as summer settled firmly on the solitary bay, and a steady, albeit tentative, bond grew between them. 

She gathered fruit, checked snares, harvested vegetables, and skinned or descaled the animals brought in accordingly. He, (after being taught by her) fished in the shallows, using either her seine net or a simple spear, heated their fire and washed their laundry. Together, they prepared and made their meals, and immediately after, they helped each other clean up. It was a comfortable arrangement.

Conversations were stilted at first, but as days stretch into weeks, a necessary familiarity grew between them like a weed through the cracks. 

By the end of the first month, they actually smile when they see the other return from their tasks. 

She has formed another bed, perpendicular to the wall her old bed is on, but it is not always frequented during the shallow nights. 

He knew where she was; he understood the pull on her bones, for he felt it midday, when the sun was high in the sky, and he could feel the fire eat at his belly. Only once more did he follow her out into the night, but he did not stay until she returned, his mind too at war with the truth he knew and the belief he felt. 

He didn’t ever mention her bending, and she didn’t mention his, despite their casual usage of it.

By the time they sat around the pit, about halfway through summer, fish from his catch that morning charing lightly on the grill, they were actively seeking out each other’s company, and laughter came easily to them both. 

However, a thought like a worm had burrowed into his brain, and he found himself fractious at the thought of it. Frustrated, he sat hard down onto the mat, and the flame jumped under the fish, the red-orange dancing across her knuckles. She let out a yelp, withdrawing, and he followed after, an apology on his lips, but she shooed his hands away. 

“It’s okay,” she spoke through tears. “I’ve had worse. These should heal just fine.” 

Pulling water from a nearby cistern, she coated them, and he watched as the world was bathed in blue. Under his gaze, the fire brands disappeared, and he felt a well of shame. Control--how many times had his uncle drilled into his skull the need for control?

“Huanmei, I’m so sorry. I didn’t--”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I should be in better control. I just…”

Discarding the used water, she returned to the fire pit and the fish. She spoke without looking. 

“Something has been on your mind, Li.” Blue eyes were transfixed on the fish before her. “Is it... Do you need to leave?” 

“What would make you ask that?” He came up behind her, but did not touch her.

“I’ve seen how you peer into the forest, or watched the horizon.”

“I’m not supposed to be here.”

“And I’m not keeping you here.” She pulled the fish from the fire, placing them onto a plate, before raising her eyes to his. “You’re no prisoner. You’re free to go whenever you want. I have enjoyed your company, but this is the life I chose.”

“Why? Why do you live like this?”

“It’s quiet.” Her words are small, but come quick and honestly. “I have had enough noise, enough chase, enough pain. I’m okay with quiet.”

“But you’re not happy.”

Her eyes sparked in frustration. “How could I? I’ve lost my family, my friends to…”

She trailed off, her eyes darting to the scar on his face, and for the first time in months, he remembered. He remembered who he was, who his family was. The reign of fire that trailed his family’s name like an ugly black mar. And he wondered if she knew, (had known all along,) who he really was.

Her voice was laced with sorrow when she finally continued. "... I've lost my family and my friends. There's no way to be happy after that."

Li swallowed, suddenly realizing just how small the hut they had shared truly was. Anxious energy seeped into his bones suddenly, but he tamped it down. 

"How far away is the nearest town?"

He couldn't see her face, but he watched as her shoulders slumped in defeat. Her words, though, escaped in the same matter-of-fact way as his fishing lessons had.

"About a half day's journey down the path. It's a narrow one, but you're back to full strength so you should be fine. I'd recommend leaving at daybreak. The forest is not the safest between there and here at night."

“Thank you.” His voice cracked slightly, and he wondered at the pang in his chest. Turning away, he rounded the pit again, accepting the fish and a scoop of the rice she offered, before sitting on the mat across from her. 

They were a few bites into their meal, and he swallowed down a particularly stubborn bite that tried not to be swallowed, before he tested the new tension that rested between them.

“Would--would you come with me?”

Blue eyes shot up to him for the first time since they had started eating, but she said nothing. Her eyes were inscrutable. Sudden panic set into his chest, and he quickly tried to offer an addendum.

“To the town, I mean.” Her eyes dimmed, but she still said nothing. “I noticed there’s some things you might need to replace. And you have plenty of vegetables you could sell or barter for.”

Her eyes dropped once more to the plate, and for a moment, the only sound was her chopsticks on the ceramic.

“It’s dangerous for either of us to go, Li. But especially me. The townsfolk are not comfortable with me around.”

“It’s- it’s Zuko. My name is Zuko.” He dropped his eyes as he spoke. She had saved his life, fed him, taught him how to survive. He was not his family, he was not his father, and this woman deserved to know the truth before he left. If she cast him from the house that night, at least he knew where to go. 

“I know.” There was a tone to her voice, friendlier than he expected, and he looked up to see a slight smile on her face. “My name is Katara.”

He felt a smile start on his face, even as his brow knitted together. “It’s pretty obvious why I didn’t use my name, but why didn’t you?”

“I’m wanted by the Fire Nation.”

“You?”

A laugh escaped her. “Yeah, me. I was instrumental in Zhao’s defeat and… well, death. At the North Pole.”

“You were one of the warriors?” 

A grimace passed her face. “My brother and I were the ones to defend the spirit oasis. We watched Zhao kill the moon spirit.”

She paused as she sipped at her tea, and didn’t meet his eye when she spoke. “I may have been the one to put the ice dagger through his heart.”

“May?”

Another grimace. “Was.”

With a sigh, she replaced her teacup, and looked up at Zuko. “So I’m sure you can understand my reticence in telling the Fire Prince, banished though he way be, my real name.”

A scoff escaped him. “Don’t worry, or haven’t you heard? I’m not just banished--I’m a traitor to my country now.”

“If you weren’t?”

Her eyes drilled into his, and he stilled. Sincerity was laced through her look, and she was entitled to his honesty in return.

“Five years ago, I would have turned you over for any good favor at home with only a little thought. But a lot of people’s lives changed with the comet, and a lot of the events following after. Including me. I finally had a real look at my family and who they were, and I was disgusted. So now? Absolutely not.”

A small smile lit her face, and Katara nodded.

“Then I’m glad we met now.”

He returned her smile, and something warm and unnamed blossomed in his chest. 

“Me too.”

When he awoke that night and found her bed empty, he followed her to the moonlit water. 

It was the most beautiful display he had seen yet of her bending, and he sat at the cliff’s edge, cross-legged and straight-backed watching her in awe. When she finished, and the water lifted her to the same plane to which he resided, he watched her every step. She offered him a nod, before moving to the door of her home. His voice stopped her as she reached for the handle.

“It was beautiful.”

She kept her gaze locked on the handle, her hand starting to tremble. “Thank you.”

He pulled himself from his perch, standing, but he didn’t move towards her. His voice was steady, he was surprised to find. “You were beautiful.”

Blue eyes snapped towards him, wide, and her hand dropped to her side. 

“I’m sorry?”

Swallowing, he stepped forward, and within two long strides, he was beside her, his hand alighting across her cheek. He felt his heart leap when she turned slightly into his palm. “I said that you were beautiful.”

Leaning forward, he curled his fingers around into the soft hairs at the back of her neck. Her chin tilted up at the motion, her eyes heavy, but bright in the moonlight. This close, under this light, he half expected her skin to be silver under his touch. All too clearly, he realized that beyond necessary connections, they had not touched, and this sensation— her hair slightly damp, but warm on her neck under his fingers, the soft curve of her cheek under his thumb, the strong line of her jaw in the cup of his palm— was thrilling. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn there were sparks at his fingers. Her lips were close, and he could feel her breath across his. But his eyes were locked only on hers, and she studied him intensely in return. 

“No,” his voice was a whisper, “not ‘was’. You are beautiful.”

He felt the plunge before he met her lips, and he dived in willingly. Her hands gripped his forearms and he held her head gently in the cup of his hands, kindly leading her. A hitch in her breath, and he smiled slightly into her lips, repeating the tender ministrations that caused it the first time. But on the repeat, she stilled, her hands gripping his arms firmly, before stepping back and away. 

She might as well have cast him into the Arctic waters, and he felt the chill her absence left, acutely in his chest. Her hands came to rest in his, but her eyes never left his.

“And you’re leaving tomorrow.”

She let his hands drop from hers, and turned back to the door. She stopped only when he spoke again, unmoving. 

“Come with me.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she turned back to him. 

“I can’t.”

Anger spiked in him, and he spat out his words, shame and frustration biting at his heels. 

“Why? Is it because you’re so comfortable with living here as a recluse? Too busy planting your garden?” He growled at her. “Or is it that you just can’t imagine doing something for anybody else?”

She rounded, fire in her eyes. “I never back down! I never turn my back on people who need me! Maybe you’re just too shortsighted to see beyond your nose! Or have you forgotten who spent a week nursing you back to health, sleeping on the floor, eating up my stores for the winter, so you could survive?” 

Her fury raged, even as he stepped back from it. “Oh, and the best part? I did it for the son of the man solely responsible for my brother’s death! Not only that— oh, no— I had to fall—“

Her words choked off, and she swallowed hard as tears began to swim in her eyes, but she refused to look away from him. 

“My father did what?” Zuko’s words were small, a child’s, and the fury that had spurred him sputtered suddenly without fuel.

She shrunk away, suddenly unable to meet him in the eye. “J-just… it doesn’t matter. It wasn’t you and I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No. No, please don’t do that, Katara.”

A hand rested gently on her shoulder, but she shrugged it away, turning back to him with a tear streaked face. The small smile on her face was painfully forced, but she held it anyway. 

“It doesn’t matter, Zuko. None of this really does.” A self-deprecating laugh escaped her. “After all, you’ll be gone tomorrow, and I’ll just be a small hiccup in your life, so…”

She shrugged again, and walked away, her arms wrapped around her middle tight. 

“Katara, don’t say that, it’s—“

“Goodnight, Zuko.”

He didn’t follow her immediately into the house, still reeling from the emotions of the past few minutes. The thrill, the fulfillment of kissing her, the sorrow when she pulled away, the frustration that fueled his words, the embarrassment that followed after, and finally the aching emptiness that filled his chest as she walked away.

When he finally did enter the home, he spotted her in the bed, her back towards him, and her face to the wall. He settled down without a word into his bed. And if he didn’t listen too hard, he could almost ignore the sounds of her soft sobs.

Chapter Text

Zuko didn’t remember falling asleep that night, only rousing to the feeling of sunlight warm across his face. For a few long moments, he laid in bed, staring at the pattern the sunrise danced across the ceiling. When he finally sat up and took in the room, he found the hut empty, a single pack by the door with a fresh set of clothing for him in Earth Kingdom coloring. He noticed the cloak folded softly beside it, even as the cool autumn wind slipped in through the open windows. Taking a moment, he perused the pack, finding it prepared for a journey of indeterminate length, his clothes— ones she had made for him, and the set he originally arrived in, mended— clean and folded. Food, a bedroll, basic essentials all packed expertly. 

He tried hard to swallow down the lump in his throat and failed. 

Instead, he hefted it on to his back, and stepped out of the small space he had come to view as home. The melancholy that was growing in his chest wasn’t for the place he now left though, and his eyes eagerly scanned the garden for Katara. She wasn’t there. 

His eyes scanned the bay, but stopped on the small figure huddled in a blanket upon the rocks below.

Picking his way down the path to the beach, he considered what he was going to say, but found that as he neared her, he was no closer to any ideas than he had been at the start.

“Katara?”

She snuggled deeper into the blanket, and he had to strain to hear her muffled words. 

“I thought you would have already left.”

“And I thought you said you were coming with me.”

He heard her breath hitch, and something like hope flared in his heart.

“I- I can’t, Zuko.”

“I won’t let them-“

“It’s not that. There was something I was supposed to do last night, but… well, I was preoccupied.” Zuko felt the hope fizzle and be replaced by a sharp pain, but he let her continue. “And I have to do it, or other people are going to be hurt. And…”

She glanced back over her shoulder at him, a sad look in her eye. “...it’s better this way, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t. But I think I understand why you do.”

“What does that mean?” Her words were heavy.

He shrugged. “That you think it’s safer this way. You don’t have to make the choice, because I’ll do it for you.”

“I always knew you would go. It was selfish of me to think otherwise.”

“How can you possibly kno—“

“Because everyone always does, Zuko.” Her petite frame shrunk even smaller. “My mother, my father, Sokka, Toph, Suki… they all left. This is no real surprise, is it?”

“Katara…” 

“No. No, it’s okay. It is.” She shuffled slightly, still not meeting his eye. “I’m just… tired.” 

No , he thought, not tired. Lonely. 

The moment jabbed at his heart, and he moved to reach for her— but she stood, turning to him with a stony expression.

“I think it’s time for you to go, Zuko.” The facade fell slightly, softening under his hurt gaze. “We both have limited time. And it’s definitely better for you to go without me to the town.”

Words sat at the edge of his lips, and he reached for her, but she looked away, pointedly moving past him. He withdrew his hand as if stung, and the pang of loss struck him like a blow across his shoulders. Face scrunching up, he turned to her. 

“So that’s it?” 

She stopped, but didn’t turn. “What else is there to say?”

“I--” His words failed him, left him grasping at straws in the dark. “Thank you. I guess that’s really all there is left.”

She nodded once. “You’re welcome, Zuko. Please be careful.”

“I will.”

Katara nodded again, and without looking back, she began the long walk back up to her hut in silence. Zuko watched her leave, his heart in his throat, but when she slipped into the hut she called home without turning back once, he swallowed down the lump in his throat, and began his long trek into the forest and back into humanity.

“So last you saw her, you were leaving her in this hut, going into the town. But how did you get back here?

“The story isn’t done yet, Sokka.” 

“Oh I’m very well aware of that.”

“Then please sit quietly and let me continue.”

A sigh.

“Fine. Finish your damn story.”

A smirk. 

“She was right about your impatience.”

A glare punctuated by silence. 

The town was a small village by the most liberal of estimates, but it was big enough to have stands and store fronts in the main area. Dressed in Earth Kingdom clothes, and his scar safely concealed in the shadows of the cloak he now pulled tight around him, Zuko hoped that he would be able to travel inconspicuously enough to avoid unwanted attention. To add to that protection, his first stop, with the little bit of cash she had been able to afford him, was the local smithery. They had a small collection, but he was happy enough to find a pair of dao swords, albeit in less than ideal condition. 

The next stop was to find a map and he had made it most of the way down the stalls before a taunting voice curled around from behind. Directly before him, a tall, burly teenager emerged from the shadows, making the potential confrontation more inevitable. 

“So where are you from?” Ah , Zuko thought, as he recognized the stance: their arms crossed, their eyes sharp under a disinterested gaze, they were the self-designated strong men, and Zuko bit back a laugh. 

“Traveling.” Zuko’s words were clipped, and he moved around the bigger teen, seemingly heedless of the speaker behind him. 

“That doesn’t answer the question, Hotman.”

He stilled, turning slowly back to finally look at the speaker. “What did you say?”

A sadistic glee washed over the teenager’s face and he stepped up to peer under the hood.

“I said,” the teenager jabbed a finger into his chest, “where are you from, Hotman?”

“Who said I was from the Fire Nation?” His tone was cool, more demanding than questioning. 

“Didn’t have to. It’s written on your skin—” Again, the child peered up into the hood, but was almost taken aback by the ferocity he met in Zuko’s gaze, but he swallowed and pressed on. “—and in your eyes.”

A sneer pulled at his lips, but he twisted around the boy, having spotted a map at the stand. Slapping down his coinage, he asked for a map, but the man behind the counter glared at him. 

“I don’t accept Fire Nation money.”

“It’s Earth Kingdom currency!”

“From a Hotman’s hand.”

A growl escaped him, and he snatched back up the coins, before turning away again. The second teen, however, moved to impede his way. Fists clenching, Zuko growled. 

“Out of the way, kid.”

Though silent up to this point, the second teen smirked. “Hey, weren’t you the stray that was staying with Majo?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Majo. We saw she had a guy with her. Figured she put him under her spell.” The teen eyed him up. “Guess you broke free. Or did she let you go?”

“Leave him alone.” It was a tired voice, but he recognized it immediately. Angrily, he fought back the thrill of hearing her voice, and focused on the hurt, picking at it like a wound. He looked over his shoulder back at her, casting her a characteristic scowl.

“I don’t need your help.”

“Didn’t say you did.”

“Then why are you here?” His throat ached as he spoke, reacting as if the cool words escaping him were an icy breath.

Zuko watched her shoulders roll back, straightening her posture, as a blank expression settled firmly on her face. Katara opened her mouth to reply, and he set his jaw, expecting a sharp response. 

“I just wanted to make sure you got out of the town safely. They’re not the most friendly to strangers around here.”

He nodded once, but he refused to let the ice in his chest melt.

“Aww,” an exaggerated drawl came from his side, where the instigating teenager resided, “you fell for the Majo, and she dumped you, huh?”

The acuity of his statement struck Zuko like a blow, and his eyes glinted as he rounded on the boy. His hands itched as they grew warm.

“Leave him alone, Xian.” She spoke again, and this time her voice growled.

“Or what, Majo? What are you going to do?”

“If you believe all the stories, you already have an idea.”

The teen turned back to Zuko, a smug look on his face. “You gonna let a woman talk for you, ash-breath?”

“She’s talking for herself.” The span of skin across his nose tightened, and he stepped in closer. “I, personally, would love for you to keep talking. I only need an excuse.”

“Li.” Her voice was strong, but a gentle warning.

His lip twitched, but he heeded her voice, turning away. “You’re not worth my time.”

“Maybe you are under her spell.” Xian pressed again. He was jittery, Zuko could tell, and the teenager’s hand twitched to his side. Zuko’s heart jumped slightly, but he kept his eyes on the gate. Maybe if he ignored them, maybe if he was lucky, they would lose interest in them both."

Zuko was never lucky.

“Either way, Majo, you shouldn’t have come to town.”

“For a change, Xian,” her voice was soft, “you might be right.”

Zuko refused to let his step falter, bone-weary of the push and pull they seemed to be locked in. But when the ring of steel met his ear, he paused and glanced back.

She had turned away, as if heading back to the bay and her home, but Xian and his minions had followed her, and now he stood before her, a small tanto drawn.

“I said, you shouldn’t have come to town.”

Zuko stopped, his hands going to the newly purchased dao blades at his hip.

“And I’m leaving.” Her voice was heavy with exhaustion, but her fingers twitched at her side.

“No, Majo, you’re not.” 

The firebender turned fully back to them, his feet moving without thought. 

“You don’t want to do this, Xian. Nor you, Tano.”

The two main rabble rousers glanced at each other, even as a handful of other teens emerged. A few of the vendors had taken to retreating back into their stalls, and the rest watched warily, but none moved forward to help the lone woman in the growing crowd of hostile teenagers. Zuko began to backtrack, nearing the group.

 “And why is that?” Tano, the second boy, responded. 

Her head whipped to him, and Zuko could see the fire in them. 

“Who do you think healed your mother? Or you, Xian? Who cured your little brother?”

The leader’s eyes narrowed. “They got better on their own.”

“From a disease that has never left its hosts alive? They just… got better?”

“They’re strong Earth folk. Stronger than you, Majo.”

“You keep calling me that, and maybe you’re right. Maybe I am a witch. But I can assure you that I have never done anything to harm the town or the people in it.”

“My father saw you at the river!”

“Do you even remember what the river was like before I arrived? Or is that part of the collective memory that you have all forgotten?”

“You’re a witch, woman. You don’t get to lecture us.”

“Then just let me go.”

“It’s too late for that.” He stepped in, and Zuko matched his step, entering the ring behind her. Green eyes shot to him, and he smirked. “Oh look, your play toy has come back.”

Without turning to look at him, she spoke quietly under her breath. “You should go, Li.”

“I’m not leaving you to fend off these idiots on your own.”

Her head twitched towards him, but she kept her eyes on Xian. “Well, then. Thank you.”

Zuko nodded.

“I’d suggest keeping it to your swords.” Her voice had become distant and analytical and only for him to hear. For the first time, Zuko could see the warrior in her stance. “Don’t need to add any fuel to the fire, if you will.”

“Fire pun. Original.”

A scoff escaped her lips. “I’ve lived with you for months. I know your jokes.” She turned to face him, a mischievous glint in her eye. “That was comedy gold.”

The fire in his belly flared, and he felt the first bits of ice melt behind his sternum. It was only a twitch of his eye, but she caught it, and her expression softened slightly.

“Let’s see if we can just leave.” With an incline of her head, she indicated the city gates, and they both began to step that way. 

The ring that had formed around them easily broke away, allowing them passage, but all eyes were on the pair as they walked shoulder to shoulder. Zuko’s hand never left the hilt of his daos. Even as they broke free of the crowd, they maintained their silence and stature. 

With a quick glance he spotted the crowd following, menacingly. 

“They’re still following.” His words were a whisper.

“Yeah. Looks like we’re still going to be fighting our way out of here.”

He nodded.

Before them, a half dozen young men emerged, blocking their passage.

“Let us through.” Zuko’s tone held years of training for the royal court, but held no real sway over the group around them.

Xian’s voice rang out loudly behind them. “I told you Majo. You’re not leaving.”

Even for all of his years of training, Zuko was too tired, too emotionally worn. A puff of smoke escaped his lips with his huff. As he felt it brush his nose, he cringed. The crowd suddenly grew still before pressing in. 

“You are an Ash-breather, aren’t you?” Tano ground out the words. 

Katara sighed before shrugging. 

“Guess this is going to happen one way or another.”

“Sorry.” 

She shrugged again. “It was foolish to think it wouldn’t.”

“So what now?”

“That’s up to them.”

The group took little time to act. 

With a shift in his step, the ringleader brought a swell of ground up under her feet, trying to stumble her. Katara merely shifted to the side, letting the upturned earth past as it tripped up the man attempting to slide behind her. Zuko stood tall, one hand on his sheath, the other a firm grip on his dao handles. As the other teenager stepped in to attack him, the firebender stood his ground, but raised the hilt of his sword up, allowing it to make contact with the boy’s cheek, causing him to stumble away, a cry on his lips. 

The group quickly descended upon them enmasse, but the young men were woefully unprepared for fighting the two war-hardened warriors. 

But even warriors make mistakes.

Katara had felt the giddy exhilaration that came with testing her mettle, as was displayed by the smug lopsided grin on her face, and Zuko caught a glimpse of it, as he turned an unconscious teenager away. She met his eye, and they both recognized a kindred spirit. He didn’t see it at first, but when Katara turned back to the teenagers stepping up to fight, she was a bit lazy, a bit careless in her actions. A gap opened up in her defense.

Xian’s blade was in that gap. 

Even a novice can land a blow when a master is too lackadaisical.

It was sharp, but it had not drawn blood before, if the handler was any indication. It didn't prevent it from reaching its mark. Slipping easily into her shoulder, it wasn’t until the withdrawal that Katara cried out. He watched mutely as her arm fell limp to her side, and dark red oozed through her clutched fingers. Distracted, he didn’t hear Tano round him until he felt the blossoming ache across his shoulders that stumbled him. 

The world swam before him for a moment, but was brought back to stunning clarity as he watched Xian back hand Katara, using the hilt of his tanto as a bludgeon. She fell bonelessly to the ground, and his world turned white hot.

“So you mean to tell me that Crown Prince Zuko, Heir absentia, fell for my little sister?”

“I wouldn’t know."

“What?”

“I. Wouldn’t. Know.”

“But you just said--”

“I said that I had begun to have feelings. But Crown Prince Zuko is long dead.”

A flicker of irritation dances across Sokka’s face. 

“Don’t be pulling that kind of crap on me. I have been looking for you for years. Literally. I was sent on this mission to find you!”

He stands, stabbing a finger at Li’s chest.

“And you’re going to be some sort of smartass, claiming that Zuko died? You tell this story-- within it you admit to being Zuko-- but when I corner you on it, you don’t even bother to be inventive!”

For a long moment, Sokka stands with his finger still in the other man’s chest, but he doesn’t meet his eye. With a sigh, Sokka sits back down, frustration in his every motion. 

“Tell me, Sokka.” Li’s voice is gentle, but tired. “How old are you?”

“I’ll be 40 in a month.”

“I recall her saying that we were close in age. I just turned 40 myself.” He finally glances up, a hint of smile on his lips. “Do you have a family?”

“Yes. It’s one of the reasons I’m on this stupid quest. I kept looking for my sister, but every lead was a dead end. Then I heard rumors of a scarred firebender in the company of a powerful waterbender. When I was approached by Regent Iroh to search for you, I think he knew I would use it as an excuse to follow the lead about Katara.” He pauses, looking down at his once again cold tea. “I just wanted her to meet her nieces.”

Li nods, even as a look of longing passes across his face at the drop of Iroh's name. 

“Then I think you’ll understand why I choose to believe the Crown Prince dead.”

“Oh?"

A sudden bustle at the door, and Li is up. He pauses, turning pleading eyes towards Sokka. 

“Please, don’t tell her.”

“Who?”

With a deep breath, he brings a smile to his face, and opens the door wide. In bustles a tan teenage girl, with sharp features, curly black hair, and golden eyes. But what catches Sokka’s eye is the gleam of blue stone at her throat.

“Who…?”

“Sokka, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Kya.”

He had left the rooftops ablaze. 

He truly didn’t care if he burned the whole damn town down. The last bit of his concern bled out when they spilled Katara’s blood. She laid unconscious in his arms, body limp as he rushed down the path to the little hut. 

To home. 

Zuko spent the whole journey back begging the spirits, cursing the superstitious townspeople, and hating himself. He wasn’t sure which part of the combination kept her alive until he got her back, but now he had the task of keeping her alive.

It was a tedious task, full of worry, and chilled cloths pressed to foreheads, of dressing wounds and long prayers. Late into the first night, he felt a blaze of heat in her wound, and he panicked. Placing a hand on the still weeping and now angrily red skin, he felt the anxiety well up in his throat, but he sucked in as deep of a breath as he could manage. With a surprising amount of clarity, a thought rolled through his mind, like a soft whisper. He could generate heat: he often heated the pots of tea for Katara. But he also could steal that heat away, like the flames he would pull off a candle into oblivion. 

What was this, but just another heat source he could pull from?

With a steadying breath, he inhaled, and ever so gently, pulled. Like sucking venom from a bite, it was slow and tedious, but by the time he was done, there was just the faintest of a flush on her skin, and the infection receded. He once more busied himself with her care, his days and nights blurring into one, and yet, she laid still.

She lived.

It was two days after the fight before she roused.

“Wh-what…”

He had been dipping in and out of consciousness at the foot of her bed, head lolling, when he heard her awaken. It was long awaited, and he had grown accustomed to the sound of her voice, that when it emerged from her, as muddled and raspy as it was, it bolted him awake and to her side. A gentle hand traced the outline of her cheek, worry etched into his expression. She blinked blearily up at him, but it was the smile that slowly spread across her face like the horizon at sunrise that sent a flood of relief through his bones. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.” A blush grew on his cheeks. “How are you feeling?”

"Achy."

She attempted to stretch her long unused muscles, but was cut short immediately by the sudden pain that gripped her shoulder. When her breathing regulated, she turned back to him, blinking back tears of pain. 

“How long was I out?" Her words were hesitant and uncertain. The cautious sound of her voice broke him ever so slightly, even as he recognized that he was the source of her hesitancy.

“About two days.”

“Two days??” She shot up in bed, talking through the grimace on her lips. “I have to… “ She tried to get out of the bed, but Zuko was already guiding her back down. 

"You're too weak to do anything other than rest." Even as he led her to lay back down, she resisted him. 

"No, you don't understand! It's what I have to do!" Pushing away his hands, she struggled past him. 

"If I don't-- all be for nothing--" her words were stilted, pushed past tight lips, "so many could get-- Zuko, let me go!"

Wrapping her up in a bear hug to prevent any further injury, he spoke quietly in her ear. He didn't miss the shiver that went down her spine. 

"Tell me, Katara, and I'll do it for you. You're still healing."

Blue eyes softened, and Katara turned to him.

"You can't. It has to be a waterbender."

She had stopped struggling in his arms, and her head came to rest in the crook of his neck. He loosened his grip around her, but didn't let go. A part of him thrilled at her spot against him, how easily and perfectly she slotted there, but he forced it down. Placing his chin on the top of her head, he spoke softly. 

"Then I'll take you there, but you have to promise me that you'll sleep on the way there."

"How? It's not like I have an ostrich horse."

"No, but I was just recently told by my healer that I was back to full strength."

She shifted closer to him, and he pulled her in tighter. Her words drifted up to him, gentle and concerned. 

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, but I don't know how much of their town is going to survive that freak firestorm."

Head shooting up, the young woman met his eye, concerned. 

"You did what??"

A chuckle escaped him. "They already knew I was a firebender. No one got hurt."

"Well, don't expect to be welcomed back."

One last time, he pulled her close, burying his nose into her hair. When he spoke, it was almost a whisper. 

"I don't think I'm going anywhere."

"Daughter?" Sokka's voice is quiet, surprised. "A daughter named after my dead mother ?"

Li nods. 

"Hey Dad." The teenager bounces on her toes, planting a quick peck to his scared cheek. A warm smile lights up his face. 

"How was town?"

She shuffles forward, placing down her packages. "Good. Mr. Xian apologized again."

Li gives a grunt as he moves to help her unpack. 

"Good for him."

"Dad…"

"We have a guest." 

Honeyed eyes turn to Sokka, and she smiles. Li can see him swallow thickly, and he knows why. It's Katara's smile. 

"Are you part of the group on the road?"

"Yes. That's my wife and kids."

"They're sweet!" She's beaming as she takes her father's arm. "You should come meet them, Dad."

He merely gives her a sad smile. 

It was a long trek through the woods in the dark, on a small, nearly negligible trail. But the moon was full and high in the sky by the time they arrived. A thick band of silver under the moon's light split the surrounding forestry. The river's babble was a soft murmur in their ears. 

Gently, he placed her by the river's edge. 

"Do you need to stand, or…"

"I can do this sitting."

Zuko nodded, slipping behind her, straddling behind her to make sure she stayed upright. She leaned back into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, his chin on her shoulder. If she had a complaint over their arrangement, she gave no indication.

Slowly, she raised her arms, even through gritted teeth, and began to tug at the water, and it rose at her command. But as it began to split, the motion pulled at her fresh wound, and she cried out as the water plummeted back with a crash. Instantly, he pulled her arm back and close, warming his body against her. Tears rolled fast down her cheeks. 

"What happened? How can I help?"

"I-I'm trying to pull the pollutants from the water." Her voice was wavering, and he felt fear spur in his stomach as a warm stickiness soaked into his shirt. Her wound had been reopened. 

"Can you heal your wound?"

She shook her head. "Not with this water. It's too polluted."

"So to heal you, we need to have pure water. But to have pure water, we need to purify the river. But to purify the river, you need to move in a way that's going to make your wound worse. Am I understanding correctly?"

A lost expression passed over her face. "Yes."

"How can I help?"

Gently, she shook her head, silent for a moment. But then something lit up her face. Eager blue eyes turned to him. 

"Could you-- do you think you could do the same motions, and I can support my arms on yours?"

"Will that help?"

She shrugged, a coy smile on her face. 

"It'll be better. I'll probably still break it open more, but the faster we're done, the quicker I can heal it."

"Okay, then." He tried to keep the panic out of his voice as he felt the warmth growing across his tunic. With a smile, the firebender reached his arms out on either side of her. "Lead me."

Like a feather, her hands rested over his downturned ones. But as she led them through the positions, he felt her arms grow heavier. In the moonlight, they moved in synchronous motion, even as the water responded to her call. It was methodical work, and the action belaboring for the firebender, but even Katara was beginning to fade under the full moon’s light. By the time they finished, the moon had long dipped below the horizon and the sun was beginning to purple the sky. Their motions were small, almost nonexistent in the morning light, and her head lolled back into his shoulder, and he was curled over her. As the last bit of pollutant landed upon the opposite shore, Katara’s arms fell from the small height they were able to maintain. The action roused Zuko. 

“You need to heal your shoulder.” His words were slurred, but she nodded.

“When I wake up.”

Amber eyes blinked rapidly, suddenly more alert. “No. No, Katara, you need to do it now.” 

Urgency laced his voice, and he tried to shake her lightly, but she was boneless in his arms. 

“Katara!” Blue eyes fluttered slightly, and he shook her again. Finally opening, she weakly glared at him.

“Wha-?”

“Heal your shoulder. You need to do that now. Right . Now .”

She grumbled, but her good arm rose slightly, and he watched as water encased her hand. Placing her hand over the still weeping wound, he watched as the blue light lit up the early morning dusk. Her head would nod, and the water would start to fall away, but each time, she fought back, pulling it tighter.

Finally, with a sigh, she let her hand drop, and the water dumped across her shoulder. With a tender touch, he pulled away the bloodied bandages to reveal pristine skin where an angry wound had been prior. The sigh that escaped him rattled his bones.

Suddenly bone-weary, he laid her down gently onto the forest floor, and curled beside her. Her eyes were heavy, but she tried to keep them open. Casting his cloak across the both of them as a makeshift blanket, he pulled in tighter to her. A gentle brush of his fingers on her cheek, and she blinked slowly against the touch. When she reopened them, she stared, dazed, at him.

“Why are you still here?”

“You were hurt.”

“You could have left.” 

“Not when you were hurt.”

“No, not then. Before. I told you to go. But you came back.”

Her words were slurred and awkward, but he could piece together the meaning. 

“I guess I could have left.” He leaned in. “But why should I?”

“To go home.”

A dismissive wave of the hand dispelled her notion. “The Fire Nation? No, that hasn't been home in years. My ship was home, but that’s gone too.”

“Do you have a home?”

His eyes softened. “Yeah.”

“Where?”

“I think it’s here.”

“Here? With me?”

“If you’ll have me.”

Zuko hovered close to her, a hand still on her cheek, but he ran his thumb across her lips. She shuddered under the touch, and he wrapped her closer to him still. 

“Cold?”

“How can I be cold with a firebender around?”

A lift to the corner of his lips.

“I’m guessing that means you’re planning on keeping me?”

“It gets cold in the winter.”

His chuckle is a breath on her lips. It’s a gentle peck at first, nothing more than the softest of lips alighting on hers. But the spark that runs through him is enough to send him spinning. Abstractly he wonders if this will be what it’s like everytime he kisses her.

By the time the sun is above the horizon, though, both are sleeping so soundly that not even a rampaging army could rouse them.

Chapter Text

“So, you’re my uncle? My mom’s brother?”

“Yeah.”

Kya turns to Li, confusion lighting her face.

“But I thought you said that Mom’s family was all dead.”

“That’s what she told me.”

“Oh. So why did she think that?”

“She fought in the war with me.” Sokka’s voice cuts through her confusion and the young teen turns to him. “We were in the final battle at Ba Sing Se. We each saw the other’s airship go down in a fiery crash. Suki, my wife, and I escaped, but we couldn’t find Katara anywhere.”

He shrugs. “She must have done the same.”

“So what does that mean, Dad?”

“In regards to what?” Li’s voice is confused.

“Are we supposed to leave here? Are we supposed to do something now that we know that at least somebody on mom’s side is alive? Even if your family isn't.”

Sokka shoots a glance at Li, but the man pointedly ignores him.

“Right now,” Li sits down next to his daughter, handing her a steaming cup of tea, “we finish telling your uncle about your mom.”

It was the first night that she could stand on her own that she took him out onto the water with her.

Zuko was nervous-- a firebender on ice is not often the wisest course, he knew from experience. But her hand was warm in his, and she led him casually out into the center of the bay. It was ethereal, he had to admit, standing in the middle of an inky sea, the moon full on the horizon. He was transfixed, his eyes solely on the line where water met sky, when he felt her hand on his shoulder. With her free hand, she pointed into the water. 

It took a moment before he saw the dim glow in the softly undulating waves. Steadily, it grew brighter as the source came to the surface. 

A black koi with a singular white dot on it dorsal fin, it glowed blue like the healing water did. 

“It’s La.” Her voice was reverent. “When Zhao tried to kill Tui, it was deemed unsafe for La to stay where she was. Tui remained, keeping the spirit oasis open, allowing for their commune with their world. But La was sent away, to stay free from those who might abuse her, now that her existence was known. As I had been the one to kill the one who killed Tui, I was chosen to accompany her, once the war was over.”

Zuko kneeled on the ice patch she had made, drifting his fingers slightly over the water’s surface, but La proceeded to swim the same circle, paying him no heed. 

“That is why I can’t leave here. Not until she does.”

“But what does that have to do with cleansing the water?”

“Polluted water would be no better than a general raking fire across her back. A spirit oasis cannot be formed by contaminated water. It could very well kill her.”

“And the village?”

“Saving them was a matter of convenience.”

“For some reason, I don’t think that’s the whole story.”

“You think of me as better than I am.”

“No,” his brow furrowed thoughtfully, “no, I don’t think I do. You’re a good person, Katara. You’ve got flaws, you get righteously indignant, you have a small temper.”

“Small?”

When his golden eyes flicked back to her, they glinted mischievously. “Well, I am allowed to be a little blinded by you.”

“Oh,” she leaned forward, arms crossed over her chest challengingly, “and why is that?”

He stood slowly, his long legs unfolding from under him.

“Well,” he stepped forward, his telltale smirk pulling on his lips, “I’m pretty sure that when you’re in love, you’re allowed to be blinded by some things.”

She barked out a laugh. “‘Blinded by so--’” Her voice caught, eyes suddenly going wide. “Wait, what did you say?”

“I said that I’m allowed to be blinded.”

Worrying the corner of her bottom lip, she shook her head. 

“No, not that, Zuko. Not-- Why? Why are you allowed to be blind?”

Her words were scared, forced from her lungs as if they were sparks that would burn her if kept inside. Zuko merely raised a hand to her cheek, caressing the swell with a thumb.

“I said that when you’re in love, you’re allowed to be blinded.”

“So you… you’re…”

“In love with you?”

She nodded, suddenly uncharacteristically mute.

With a curl of his fingers, he drew her chin up, watching the moon wash blue in her eyes for a long moment. He watched her eyes dart to his lips, and his smile softened. Slipping his other arm around her waist, he pulled her gently toward him, and she followed willingly. The feeling of her body pressed up against him sent fire through his veins. 

It wasn’t as if she was the first woman he had pulled tight against himself, not the first he had touched, had kissed, had explored. But when he saw her tan skin under his pale fingers, electricity ran the length of his bones, and when the soft curve of her lips pouted or smirked, his heart thundered. It was as if she had set a thunderstorm under his skin, and yet he stood in the heart of the tempest. He was tired of the tingle of distant lightning; he was ready for her to set his heart alight.  

A gentle brush of lips on hers, a ghosting across her skin, and he felt her shudder under his touch. Maybe he wasn’t alone in the storm. He tried again. Slender fingers gripped the front of his tunic as if he were her only lifeline as another roll of thunder cascaded through her. 

His fingers slipped back into her hair, curving them around her head, shifting the tilt of her jaw. This time, as his lips danced over hers, he stayed with her, feeling the energy that flowed through her, closing the circuit. When he pulled her bottom lip between his, the gasp that escaped her washed over him like a wave. And when she returned the favor by raking her teeth over his lip, fingertips at the dip of his throat, a gentle growl escaped him, rattling his bones.

Slowly, methodically, he began to pull away, his mind reminding him both of where they were and that a question hung over them unanswered. As he reopened his eyes, he took her in. Lips slightly swollen, pink even in the blue white light of the moon, her eyes half-lidded, head tilted up to the moonlight as if it was the air she breathed. Gently, he ran a thumb across her jaw, both hands cradling her face. Following the line of his thumb, he laced small kisses across her jaw until he reached her ear.

“Yes, Katara. Yes, I am in love with you.”

Her eyes closed, before her face crumpled, a gasp escaping her lips. 

“Why?”

“Because you accept all of me.”

As her eyes opened, tears began to fall. 

“Zuko…” 

His smile was soft, unassuming. “I don’t expect you to say it back, Katara, but I almost lost you, and I can’t… I just need you to know. To know how I feel.”

Her fingers alighted across his lips, stopping him.

“I want to.” She leaned in, placing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Zuko, I love you too.”

His arms wrapped tight around her. It was his turn to ask.

“Why?”

“Because you see all of me.”

In the striking glow of the full moon’s light, they cast a sharp relief on the nearly still waters of the bay. Moving together, they were practically one, no space between them. If Zuko had his way, there never would be again.

Winter socked in the bay early, even while the blood of autumn was still clinging to slender branches. The snow fell softly but steadily, rounding the sharp edges, muting the harsh rustle, and bringing fire into his waterbender’s eyes. The more that fell, the more he watched her transform. Her hair was let loose of it’s telltale braid, cascading like waves down her shoulders. Light cottons were traded out for well worn furs. Furrowed and sweaty brows were exchanged for easy smiles and lilting laughs.

While the cold was permeating, he found that it gnawed at his bones less than years prior. 

Every week he traipsed with her up the river under moonlight, and he was struck by how  harshly the winter hit the forest and town around their little bay. The river was nearly frozen over; the ground was hard with frost under their feet. Beneath the frozen surface, the river still pumped contaminants towards the town and bay, and so their mission remained the same. 

He watched her brow knit together in concentration, her hands moving deftly in the air, pulling the invisible strings that held her element to her. The full moon haloed her and he was reminded of his first impression. For a moment, he watched in awe: there she was, his waterbender, his love, his personal guiding spirit. Something caught in his throat, stirring the fire that warmed in his chest. He shook away the esoteric thoughts, bringing him back to the conversation they had been having.

“Why not?” His words were a soft query. The discussion had been a warrior's conversation, in direct contrast to the sleepy peacefulness of the moment. His idea had been a simple one: why not Remove the pollutant at its source? Between the two of them, the work would be easy. Katara had struck down his idea with the ease of experience.

“That would draw the Fire Nation’s attention here, putting La at risk.” 

“Mm…”

His mind wandered away again, back to the way she shifted her weight, the spin of her hands and the twist of her hips. A familiar hunger licked at his fingers—the feel of his hands on her bare hips—the turn of her head revealing the curve of her neck in blue-white—his lips on the apex, marking the soft skin underneath—her fingers dancing across the open air—her hands as they slid down the line of his chest…

He set his teeth. It was a long walk home, and it would not be good to indulge in the fiery memories, so he tried to push them into the future when they were home. 

Finished with her nightly quest, they returned home, arm in arm. As was the custom on these late nights and early mornings, they spoke of tradition, of their cultures and memories. 

“So,” he started, the word coming out as a rush, “what of marriage? What are the Water Tribe traditions?”

A keen blue eye shot up to study his face for a moment. 

“The North has betrothal necklaces, but in the South, we don’t have many resources like that.”

Her fingers went to the gem at her throat. A fear he had not anticipated blossomed in his chest.

“Is-is that what your necklace is?”

Her lip quirked, but she nodded. “Yes it is, but not for me. It was originally my grandmother’s. She passed it on to my mom, and then Dad gave it to me, when she died.”

The fear of losing her eventually washed from him, and he felt light, even among the heavy snow. 

They had discussed their mothers in the past, their shared pain, but he had not connected the necklace with her mother, other than as a habit, a talisman. 

“So then what is the South’s tradition?”

“It has more to do with providing for the tribe; a long hunt with the family of the betrothed, an accepted dowry of food and pelts to make up for the loss of her in the household.” 

His brow furrowed at her words, but he kept silent, letting her continue.

“But on the morning of the wedding, we make an offering to the ancestors, blessing the union, and then both are given ceremonial tattoos. They are not to share a bed, or any of the like, until the tattoos are done. They’re a talisman, a symbol, and a promise. To break that would be to break the blessings requested from the ancestors.”

Silence stretched between them as the crunch of their feet on frosted ground filled the air. 

“And you, Zuko? What are the Fire Nation’s traditions?”

His head cocked to the side, contemplating. 

“We don’t have hunts or the like. We court our intended, then when we wish to propose marriage to them, we give the family a dowry in accord to whatever finances we have. Then on the day of the wedding, we offer a sacrifice to our ancestors as well, before going to a Fire Sage for a knot tying ceremony.”

“Knot tying?”

He stopped them in their tracks, even as the bay burst forth before them from the line of trees. Pulling her hand from the crook of his arm, he turned her towards him. Interlacing their fingers, he spoke quietly.

“A betrothed couple would hold their hands like this,” her eyes followed the motion of their hands as he spoke, “and a Sage would then use a long ribbon or cord, and would simultaneously wrap their hands together.”

He used his free hand to trace the lines the cord would follow on her forearm. Katara’s eyes followed his finger before flicking up to meet his eyes. 

“Just like that?” A challenging brow rose, and he met it with a smirk.

“Just like that.”

“Why do they do it?”

“It symbolizes the connection between the two, as they’re literally tied to each other. It’s a physical representation of the spiritual.”

“It’s a beautiful concept.”

He stepped closer to her, his hand still in hers, the other reached up to cup her cheek. 

“Honestly, I’m beginning to think it’s unnecessary.”

His breath ghosted over her lips as he leaned down.

“Why is that?” Her words were hardly a whisper.

“I don’t need something physical to know how I’m bound to you. I feel it when you’re too far away, when I wake up in the night and a part of me is missing because you’re not at my side, when the nightmares wake me, and you are already there beside me.”

A shiver ran down her spine, and she clutched a hand at the front of his fur lined cloak. 

“I feel it too.”

He brushed his lips gently over hers. “Then I guess I have some hunting to do.”

Her chuckle filled the space between them. “Tell you what, if you do the rest of my traditions, I think you can worry about the hunt and the dowry for when you meet my father.”

“Does that mean you’ll marry me?” It was a surprisingly nervous question, and her smile lit up the night in response. 

“You’re talking about marriage ceremonies and traditions, you practically do one, we talk about how we already feel bound to each other,” a playful laugh is in the corner of her words, “and you get nervous to actually ask?”

A scowl pulled at his lips, and she kissed his pouting lip. “Yes, Zuko, I will marry you.”

Warmth washed over him, and he pulled her tight against him. Words tried to form, but stuttered on his lips. Instead, he shook his head, a disbelieving laugh escaping him. 

“Who would have thought…”

“Well, it was you who washed up on my beach.”

He laughed again, before lifting her. Fingers curled at the long hair that hung low on his neck, and the same giddy laugh escaped her. Leaning down, she captured his lips and his heart in one motion.

The tattoo was painful. Not as bad as he had originally expected, but it was a slow process, especially done in the traditional way. They had long prior offered the gifts and requested the blessings from her ancestors, but in the long cold of deep winter, they were slowly working at their tattoos. They both had practiced on hides-- Katara had some prior experience, so she was quick to remember. Zuko however, had not done one before, even if he had watched others on the ship give each other tattoos. Once they were both confident, they had begun the actual process of working on each other. It was a slow process, and Zuko was feeling the impatience creeping over him. 

They had agreed to abide by tradition-- they shared a bed and a goodnight kiss, but nothing else after they had asked the ancestors for their blessing. In the coldest nights, he found himself anxious to be closer to her, to soak up her heat, to bathe in her scent. The work on the tattoos was slowed even more, since they were unable to devote much time to it, with the winter calling on the majority of their time just to survive.

However, when the snow began to melt and the sun hung in the sky for longer hours, their time freed up, no longer requiring them to devote long hours to survival.

It was a late spring evening, as Agni dipped his toes into the water, that found Katara and Zuko on the beach: he laying on the sand, and arm thrown above him, and she to his side, a stick and poke in hand, tapping out the last few bits of blue into the soft underside of his arm. 

“That’s it.” Her words were clear and final as she wiped away the excess ink. 

Sitting up, he admired her handiwork. It was a clear pattern of blue, white, and black, but interlaced in the lighter and darker shades, and a subtle pattern of waves. His had been the longer of the two to complete, as it was larger, and he was a novice at the experience. Hers had been finished a few hours prior. 

“It looks amazing.”

Her laugh was a soft lilt. 

“It looks like an amateur. I haven’t given a tattoo in years.”

“What about the ones on your back?”

She laughed again.

“I think that it would be impossible for me to give myself those tattoos.”

His cheeks flushed. “Of course, yeah.”

A gentle hand on his bare shoulder brought his gaze back to her. “They were due to my connection with La and my actions for Tui. I received them in the North.”

“Oh.” He had found them entrancing over the months they had been together, and many nights he had spent tracing them with idle fingers. While he had been curious, he hadn’t asked, remembering his uncle’s lessons about the Water Tribes. “They’re beautiful.”

She merely laughed, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek, before snagging up the materials and standing in one motion. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, and she paused, looking down at her husband, but his eyes were on the still pink edges of her tattoo.

“If yours looks like an amateur, I’d hate to know what mine looks like.”

The smile she offered him was as brilliant as the setting sun.

“It looks like it came from someone who loves me.”

His eyes were molten in the orange glow of the night.

“Very much.”

“Good.” The lift of her lip was mischievous, and she leaned down to kiss him, but stopped just shy. “Because you’re stuck with me now.”

It was a simple passage of time: seasons rolled through, and life carried on, much like the rise of the sun or the setting of the moon. They passed the time sated, happy in the way of contentment--not all things were perfect, but nothing ever could be, and instead they pressed forward closer and stronger with every trial. 

And so it was once more an icy winter that Zuko found himself awake just prior to sunrise, anxious for its warm rays on his skin. This winter had been more of a press on him than the ones prior: the weather had been more dreary, and the clouds had hung low and heavy for weeks on end. The sky had cleared, though, the night prior, and he was desperate for sunlight. 

Slipping from his still soundly sleeping wife and the bed they shared, he recovered his boots and slipped on a light shirt and pants across his lean frame before stepping out into the snowy world around them. Stepping to the cliff’s edge, he sunk down into his cross legged pose, hands resting on his knees, breathing in wet, cold air, and expelling warm, dry breaths. They formed little eddies in the early morning sunrise. 

This was how she found him, his face to the sunrise, the cool air held at bay from his skin by the slight haze of his body’s heat, face tranquil and alight in the golden hues of a dawning day. 

It was her sigh that brought his attention around, and he peeked open an eye. She was bundled in her furs, but her cheeks were pink and her eyes glittering. He could feel the anxious energy in her body, and he raised a brow. There was no illusion of Katara being a morning person. She happily would sleep in till noon, staying awake through the night, so he found behavior and giddiness suspicious.

“Good morning.” His voice was still rough from sleep.

She stepped forward to sit across from him. “Good morning.”

“You’re up early.”

“I had some things on my mind.”

“Oh?”

Her smile grew. “Tell me, Zuko. Do you like kids?”

“We’ve had that discussion.” His brow furrowed.

She shrugged. “Humor me.”

“Yes, I do.”

“ Good .”

His eyes searched her face, as a dawning recognition was unfurling in his brain.

“Katara, are you telling me…”

Her dark brow rose expectantly.

“Are you telling me that…”

She leaned towards him, a smile growing on her face. 

“...that you’re pregnant?”

Her face lit up. 

“Yes, Zuko, I am.”

He was at her side, arms around her waist, twirling her, before she had the moment to consider it. His laugh was long and loud, her voice joining his, as she ran her hands through his hair, her eyes glittering in the morning light. 

The months raced past, marked by the change of the seasons and the growing swell of Katara’s belly. Zuko’s joy was luminous in the sunlight, and he basked in it, but when the nights were cloudy, and the moon had yet to rise, he would cling to a slumbering Katara, whispering all his fears like a ledger to be burned away. 

“What--what if I’m like him?” It was a particularly cold spring night when those words slipped from him, expecting to meet silence. But that night, she had stirred in his arms, turning watery eyes up to him. A gentle hand came to rest on his scar, and he couldn’t hide the tears that sprung to his eyes. 

“You’re nothing like your father, Zuko.” His eyes squeezed shut at her words, and he turned his marred cheek further into her palm as she continued. “Do you know how I know?”

He shook his head, not trusting his voice.

“Because you’re scared. Because you spend your nights worrying over what might happen.” She did hear, he realized, and his heart swelled again, knowing she had let him pour out his heart, but had not condemned him or pulled away. It wasn’t until now that she had said something in return-- when it was something that was destructive to him.”Because you love me: a peasant girl from a fading people. That is something I don’t think your father could even imagine.”

Pulling her tight to him, he pressed his lips to her hairline, before resting his cheek on her crown.

“Thank you, Katara.”

“Always.”

It was a long summer for Katara, hot and miserable. She still made the trek to the river every week, but it took longer and her feet were swollen by the time she was home. He maintained his sojourn with her, even more cautious now that the baby was close to arriving.

As the months contracted to weeks, they found themselves on the beach on a particular night where the stars were like diamonds hanging from a velvet sky. 

“Kya.”

Golden eyes were silver in the moon’s light.

“Your mom’s name?”

“I would like to honor her.”

“She deserves it. And if it’s a boy?”

Katara turned to him, a smile on her face.

“I believe it’s your turn.”

“Lu Ten.” 

She cocked her head to the side. 

“Your cousin? I’m surprised that you didn’t choose your uncle’s name.”

“Call it optimism.”

“That he’s still alive?”

“Yeah.”

Her hand reached out for his, intertwining their fingers. She rested her head on his shoulder. 

“You could go look for him, you know?”

Resting his chin on the crown of her head, his face grew thoughtful.

“And if he’s dead, I will have left you and our child completely alone and unprotected for nothing.”

“Hey, I can protect us very well, I’ll have you know.”

A chuckle slipped past his lips. 

“Oh, I do know. Call it my own paranoia.”

Bringing their joined hands up, she placed a gentle kiss to the back of his. 

“Just make sure you make it back before they are born.”

He squeezed her hand tightly.

“I’m a wanted man, Katara. It adds a whole new level of danger by just existing. Besides, I’d miss these special days. And I honestly don’t want to miss anything.”

Releasing her hand, he pulled her into his lap, tight against him, and she sighed contentedly. 

“This is the life I’ve chosen. And I’m not going anywhere.”

The leaves had just begun to change when the pangs of labor crashed over Katara. 

It was an arduous labor, long and painful, and by the end, Zuko was shaking from both fear and exhaustion, but when the thin cry of their little girl--their Kya-- pierced the air, all the achy weariness was washed from his bones.

The first year of parenthood alone was exhausting, tiring and filled with many tears. Katara was accustomed to childrearing with a community, and Zuko was only familiar with his sister’s infanthood under the watchful eye of his mother and the handmaidens. Both spent many hours learning how to be parents, learning to discern cries, and operate on minimal hours of sleep.

But as young Kya grew, they began to see the fruits of their labors. She grew into a thoughtful, quiet young girl, with piercing golden eyes, and her mother’s radiant smile. A quick learner, she was fast to perfect a skill, but slow to speak. By her second summer, Kya was adept at climbing the rocks on the bay, swimming with her mother in the shallows, and creating patterns in the sand with her father. Her words were few but strong, and Zuko’s heart swelled every time he heard her loud laugh across the waters.

Then the Winter Fever came. Katara wasn’t sure where it came from: she wondered if it was from playing in the snow for too long on an especially cold day, or if something had been done to anger a minor spirit. But it was a deep seated fever, and far beyond her simple training to heal. She had been surprised at the quick onset, and even more so at her inability to heal it. 

It was only after hours of deliberation and tears, that Zuko made the decision to go to town. While Katara was severely opposed to the idea, she had been unable to offer any other option. She merely prayed to Tui and La as he left, begging to keep him safe, as she promised him she would.

The cloak was pulled tight over his head, and he allowed his long hair to cascade over his scar, hoping to prevent recognition. It had been years since he had last been there, but he had left a somewhat indelible mark across their rooftops.

But when he arrived in town, he found the evidence of his past outburst nowhere to be found. The town had grown, and strangers mingled easily in the market. Some of the tension between his shoulders released and hope returned that he might be able to leave the town with his mission accomplished and yet unrecognized. When he spotted a weather-worn notice of his fugitive status, he could hardly recognize his own face. 

The nearly shaved head, the scowl written deeply in the lines of his brow, the pale skin. There was little that still looked like him. He towered over his previous height, his long black hair falling past his shoulders, the scowl lines were still there, but were also joined by new curves to his lips. Even his pale skin was accustomed to the harsh sun, and despite the long winter months, a rich tan had sunken deeply into his skin.

Zuko, Banished Prince of the Fire Nation was long gone. Zuko, Father of Kya, Husband of Katara, Firebender--in that order--was all that remained. The thought of that actually brought a smile to his face.

Moving on to the market, he quickly scanned the stalls, letting people mull and churn around him as he fell into the crowd. Finally, his target came into view: an apothecary stall, all manner of vials and herbs displayed. Stepping up to the stall, the merchant greeted him.

“I need something to help with the Winter Fever.”

“For you or another?”

“For a child.”

“How old?”

The line of questions felt intrusive, but he bit back his paranoia. 

“A toddler.”

“Ah, yes. Here-” he indicated a small amber bottle, “-this should do the trick.”

“Should?” Zuko’s voice was a growl, but the merchant smiled knowingly.

“First time the kid’s gotten sick, Dad?”

Zuko shot him a piercing look, but the older man merely laughed.

“Don’t worry. Yes, it should work, but no cure is ever a guarantee. As long as you give them this, and keep them healthy otherwise, they should be fine.”

The firebender huffed out his frustration in a controlled breath, and despite his desire to blow smoke, it merely came out as a sigh.

“Thank you.” Handing the merchant the coins, Zuko tried to smile.

“My pleasure. I will pray for the little one tonight as well.”

This time, the smile that pulled at his lips was genuine. “ Thank you .”

His mind on his daughter, Zuko turned quickly, and without hesitation, headed out of the town, unheeding of the green eyes that followed him.

It was that week that Katara returned from one of her few solitary trips to the river far earlier than expected. 

Kya slept with her head on Zuko’s knee, a warm blanket pulled up to her chin, drool and snot mixing as they dripped onto his pant leg. He was startled when he heard the door open, his dagger in hand when Katara walked in. Noticeably relaxing, he met her eye questioningly. She whispered quietly.

“How has she been?”

“She’s been sleeping since you left. You’re back early.”

Katara nodded. “The river wasn’t polluted.”

“What?”

Their voices were still hardly whispering, attempting to keep the toddler asleep.

“That’s what I said. Is it possible that the Fire Nation factory could have been closed?”

“Of course. They might have run out of the resource, or run into too much opposition. Hell, it could have been that someone else took care of the factory for us.”

“Language.”

“She’s asleep, Katara.”

“Still.”

A resigned sigh escaped him, but he couldn’t contain the smile. 

“Does this mean no more weekly sojourns?”

She nodded eagerly. 

“That’s the only reason I went.”

He smiled up at her, and she quickly placed a chaste kiss to his upturned face. Climbing into bed beside him, they reshuffled, Kya between them. He encircled his girls, arms holding them close to him.

“The more of this I have, the happier of a man I am.”

Katara’s warm smile was the last thing he saw as he closed his eyes to sleep.

The first warm wave of spring came unexpectedly early. It brought clear skies with it, small creeks of melted snow, and the first touches of green to their small bay. Zuko had been out on the rocks, a fishing spear in hand, when he heard Katara’s voice across the bay. She and Kya were playing by the surf, and he raised his eyes to meet her. Her hand was extended toward the tree line. 

A tall plume of deep black smoke rose from the horizon, fast and billowing.

Dread coiled in his stomach, and he turned back to her.

“That’s not a normal fire, is it?” Her voice was strong but tinted with worry. 

Zuko was already climbing off the rocks, casting the spear downward into the sand. He shook his head.

“Too fast, too hot, too dark. It’s too wet beyond the bay for that type of fire.”

Neither had to mention that it came from the direction of the town.

“Fire Nation?” Fear laced her voice. It had been so many years since they had thought of his heritage, of what would happen if he was discovered.

He just swallowed. 

Blue eyes gazed down at their daughter, before turning back to the town.

“I’ll go help. It keeps you safe. They won’t recognize me as easily.”

As she turned towards the tree line, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, his eyes solidly on the pluming smoke.

“Absolutely not. If something happens, you need to be here with Kya. This at the least is Fire Nation, my people. At the most, it’s my fault. I need to be the one to right it.”

“Zuko…”

He finally met her eyes and saw the pain glistening there. Hands on her shoulders, he pulled her into his embrace, gently kissing her crown, before pulling away and kneeling before Kya.

“Please come here, Kya.”

Bright amber eyes met his before her face erupted in a smile and she raced into his extended arms. He held her tight for a long moment, his face buried in her dark mop of curly hair. By the time he pulled away, his eyes were misty, and her face was twisted in confusion. She placed a small hand on his scarred cheek. 

“Daddy?”

“I love you very much, Kya. No matter what, please don’t forget that.”

“Luff you, Daddy…”

The tears that had gathered at the corner of his eyes spilled down his cheeks. 

“I know. I’ll see you again, my little one.”

With one last look, he brushed her cheek with his thumb.

“You’ve been ready for this.” Katara’s voice was small, hesitant, her arms wrapped tight around her waist. “You knew this was going to happen.”

Her tone was pained, and it spurred him to his feet, reaching for her.

“Katara.” His voice was soothing, even if he didn’t contradict her. “Katara, I’m a wanted man. Of course I knew this could happen.”

“What if they’re not here for you?”

He pulled her tight against him. Zuko’s words were soft in her ear.

“I'll do what I can to help.” He pulled back enough to be able to meet her eyes. “I’m going to try and get back, no matter what. All I want is to be with you. To be home.”

Dark hair danced in the breeze as she nodded. A sigh escaped him, and he cupped his hands around her jaw. Slowly, blue eyes rose to meet amber, and he could see fear reflected in them.

“I love you, Katara.”

His lips pressed sweetly into hers, a simple kiss full of meaning. When they pulled back, her lip quivered, but she met his eyes steadily.

“I love you, Zuko.”

With one more press of his lips to hers, he turned away and made his way up the path. He didn’t look back.

By the time he arrived at the village, the forest was thick with the dark, heavy smoke. Crowds of people were fleeing haphazardly into the trees, clutching on to their most prized possessions, their spouses, their children. A young man clinging desperately to a coughing woman, ran directly into Zuko as he neared the village.

The more solid of the two, Zuko planted his feet, and the young man stumbled back before looking up. 

“You!”

Even in the dusky light, Zuko was able to identify the young man before him. It was one of the teenagers from his first visit into town. 

“Listen, I’m just here to help, what’s--”

“You are alive! I didn’t know… after Xian--”

“I don’t have the time for this. Who’s putting out the fires? How can I help?” Impatience tried to rule him, but he bit it back. Instead, Zuko started to move around the young man, attempting to head into the town square, but his progress was halted by a hand on his arm. When he followed it back, he found the young man clutching it.

“You can’t be here.”

“I said--”

“They are looking for you.”

“I figured, which is why I’m trying to hel--”

“Xian told them where you lived.”

“What?!” Zuko rounded, eyes flashing. All the goodbyes he had just made, the speed at which he had left--he merely left them for those hunting him to find his family.

“He was the one who called in the bounty, the one who led them here first off. Then when they came, they threatened to burn down the town. So Xian told them, and--”

“-- And they burned the town down anyway.” With a shake of his head, he bolted back the way he came, fear spurring him past his fatigue, running down the small path back to his home.

He prayed in the small breaths that came too fast, too hot, to Agni--give him the strength to protect his family, to Kali--to carry his feet on her winds, to La--to hold his family safe in her protective waters until he can.

“Listen, ‘Li.’” Sokka accentuates his name with air quotations, “it doesn’t make sense for them to come for you, unless you’re somebody important.”

Amber eyes stare up at him from across the small table, full of warning. A third table setting has been pulled down, and now Kya sits with them, eagerly watching the exchange. Sokka ignores Li’s pointed look, purposefully turning to look at Kya. 

“Have you ever wondered that?”

Her vibrant smile fades slightly, and she peers down into her steaming cup of tea. 

“I mean, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Does it matter?”

“What?”

“Why they were after my dad. I don’t see why it matters.”

“It does!” Sokka exclaims, frustrated. “Because he’s not just some random Fire Nation guy who ended up on the wrong side of Ozai’s regime.”

Her smile grows slightly again, but fades just as quickly. Sipping at her tea, she winces at the cold, handing it off to her father. Li gently warms the cup, but says nothing, even as he hands it back. 

“Why does it matter?”

“Because he’s the missing Crown Prince Zuko! The only rightful heir to the throne and--”

Li is on his feet, eyes narrowed. “If you’re not going to respect my wishes--”

Sokka joins him on his feet. “--your uncle has been going mad--”

“--I’m going to ask you to leave--”

“--trying to find you--”

“--this is none of your business--”

“--or do you not care?!”

Sokka’s last words stops Li, and he sucks in a breath that hisses between his teeth, before turning to the door, and leaving. 

Kya and Sokka meet each other’s eyes, and the pinch in between her eyes reminds him painfully of Katara. She places her cup down gently, in contrast to her aggressive expression. Methodically, she picks herself up from her spot at the table, before bowing as if in court. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go check on my father.”

“I--” Sokka’s voice follows after her, but fizzles as she leaves the room without another word.

Kya finds him on the beach, his knees drawn up, elbows resting across them. He has a single shell in his hands-- iridescent and glittering. As she nears, she notices that it’s missing nearly half. Absently, he is running a finger along the broken edge, as if wishing for it to break his skin.

“Your real name is Zuko, isn’t it?”

“I gave that name and all that’s connected with it up, when your mom…”

Kya nods sagely, settling down beside him on the sand, her arms around her knees. Resting her head on his shoulder, she feels her father place a soft kiss to the top of her head, before leaning his head against hers. He offers the shell in his hand to her, and she gratefully accepts it. Her voice is small.

“What happened, Dad?”

“I-”

“I know it’s hard. But... “ She swallows hard and steels herself. “But I think it’s time to know. I think I deserve to know.”

Vaguely, she hears steps beside them. Kya doesn’t draw attention to them, knowing that if she heard it, her father did long before her. Her theory is proved correct with his next words.

“You deserve to know, too, Sokka. Sit, please. I think, after I’m done, you’ll understand more my reticence to use ‘Zuko’.”

He arrived in record time, and with his panting breaths, he thanked the spirits. Bursting forth from the tree line, he scanned the bay for activity, but found none at first glance. But it’s on the second pass, as he was methodically making his way up to their home on the cliff, that he caught the first hint of something being off. 

Kya was nowhere to be found. Usually the first to hear him, she would bound down the pathway to envelop him in one of her warm hugs. There was no sound or smell of cooking, and yet it was their usual meal time. It wasn’t until the last bend in the path that he spotted the eel-hound, and all the pieces that were drawing his brow into a furrow clicked accurately in place. 

Time dilated, growing slow and painful as he spotted the emblem on the eel-hound’s saddlebag. The Fire Nation emblem was patterned across the fabric, as was traditional, but on the bag, emblazoned with golden thread, was the three pronged crown belonging only to the Fire Prince. 

Or Princess.

“No…” 

His feet could not carry him fast enough, and he stumbled over his own toes, fear nipping at his heels. He reached the door of his home--of their home--but even as he moved to open it with the reckless abandon he so wanted, all of his uncle’s training came rushing back.

Instead, he paused, stole as deep of a breath that his stiff lungs would allow, and steeled his nerves. Slowly, he opened the door, peering into the shadowed darkness. 

A growl--Katara’s, he was certain-- punctuated the gray din. In the singular shaft of light filling the room from his opened door, his sister, Azula, was kneeling, meeting the gaze of his daughter. She was pulling away, but long manicured nails dug into her arm with each tug. Kya turned to face Zuko, eyes wide and brimmed with tears. 

“It’s okay, Kya.”

The words that escaped him were stilted, but he knew in that moment with certainty that he would make it okay, no matter the cost, to never have to see his daughter’s face shadowed by such fear. 

“Zuzu! It’s been so long!”

Azula stood, a wicked smile pulling across her face. 

“You know, I really thought you were lost in that horrible ship fire-”

“-that you set.”

“-along with the rest of the crew.” She pressed on, examining her nails, before turning to him, a shapely brow raising in challenge. “But what a pleasant surprise to receive a tip that you were alive!”

She smiled devilishly, and gestured around the small space. “They failed to mention that you had made yourself a nice little family here.” 

The motion pulled Kya along with her, and his daughter whimpered. All of his muscles sprung tight at the sound, and somewhere in the shadows, he heard another growl from his wife. Every instinct, except experience, told him to run to her side. It was what Azula was waiting for-- what she always was looking for--an excuse to make it his fault when something goes wrong.

Amber eyes so like his own scanned him. The previous five years had changed and molded his mind and body far away from the pale prince that used to stalk his father’s halls. His skin was sunkissed, his hair long, but pulled back low, his shoulders were broader and he now stood  a full head taller than his sister--he was not the young man who had washed ashore after she had set his ship ablaze. 

“You’ve grown, brother.”

“I would say the same, but…” he gestured at her height, a shrug pulling at his shoulders.

A twitch rippled across her face, but her smile stayed plastered there nonetheless.

“Well, now that I’ve found you, Zuzu, I can tell you the good news.”

The bland expression on his face stayed locked, even as he scanned the room once more. His eyes had finally grown accustomed to the dark, and he could just make out Katara in the corner, bound and gagged, held back with steely hands of Royal Guardsmen. 

Their eyes met for a moment before he turned back to Azula.

“Good news?”

“Yes! It’s time to come home.”

His lip twitched. 

“Don’t you think we’re a little old for these types of games, Lala?”

This time, when her face twitched, it made it to her shoulders before she quelled it. 

“Isn’t it nice to know we still can remember our old childhood nicknames? Brings back all those quaint memories.” She waved a hand nonchalantly. “But this is not a trick. Father does want you back. He was quite adamant about it.”

The laugh that barked from his mouth felt like it came from another person, one who wasn’t watching his two worlds come crashing together with violent force. Katara had known who he was--who his family was-- and all that it entailed, and accepted him for who he was now. But Kya… She was merely stuck in the middle, a child, barely more than a baby, and being pulled around like a doll by his sister. Kya was Azula’s ward from Zuko, keeping him from physically confronting her.

“We both know that the only way he wants me back is either in chains or cold on a beir. I’d much rather have the quiet life with the family I love, thank you.”

“Well, that’s a shame Zuko. Because, no matter what, that’s not going to happen.”

His eyes narrowed. 

With a toss, she flung Kya towards the guards. 

“We can’t have a child of mixed blood in line potentially for the throne, can we?” 

Zuko knew what was happening even as Kya stumbled away between them. Unthinking, unheeding, he threw himself forward, but he knew it would not be fast enough. He could already see the blue white sparks of Azula’s fingertips reflecting on the fearful expression on his daughter’s face. With a speed that caught him off guard, Azula twisted, and lightning arched across the small space. The world slowed again, a cry stuck in his throat. 

A flash of sea blue caught his eye, closer to Kya, and it was only when the lightning reached its destination, that he saw Katara’s dark skin light up under its tendrils. 

She fell with a thud that seemed to shake his very bones. He stopped between his family and his sister, his breath escaping in puffs of smoke, and steam at his fists. 

Azula rolled her eyes.

“You’ve always been so dramatic, Zuko. You had to know it wasn’t going to go any other way. Someday, someone was going to find you, and this was always how it was going to end.”

His words came out in a growl.

“This is your only chance, Azula.” His chest heaved. “Leave.”

“You know I can’t do that.” 

Fire sparked in his eyes. 

“Good.” 

With a lunge, Zuko was across the room. Azula’s fingers twisted again, as if to draw lightning once more to her, only for his arm to come up under hers and deflect her aim to the ceiling. Debris pummeled his back, but he ignored the blows, and instead pushed his advantage, drawing his sister out of the house and onto the sunset-lit cliffside. They met blow for blow, and as the fight carried on from seconds to minutes, Azula’s confident smirk faded into concentration. In the late afternoon glow, the world was alight with Agni's bloody glow. 

Zuko pressed on, his strikes steady and true, but running hot. Finally breaking away from his attacks, Azula stumbled back, her foot perilously close to the edge. Emerging, the two guards carried a screaming, sobbing Kya between them. Zuko turned to them, fury in his eyes. 

“Put her down!” A roar louder than the sea’s, danced across the bay. 

The skull-masked guards glanced between Zuko and Azula.

“Finish the job.” Her words were final, harsh, and both guards jumped into action, moving towards the cliffside. 

With fury on his fingertips, he bolted towards them. Matching flames met the line between their helmets and their chestplates, and both stumbled back and fell, necks smoking. Kya fell hard, but was still crying and awake. She bolted up, eyes wide and terrorized as she looked to her father for comfort. 

The fire in his chest started to quell at the sight, brow pinched. 

“Kya, please, go inside. I’ll be there--” 

His words were cut off as his shoulder lit up from unexpected fire, and he rounded back on Azula. Fighting the pain and sudden tightness that blossomed across his back, he jumped into motion, protecting his daughter. With a turn, Azula kicked out a fire ball, lighting up the sky before him, and he split it easily in two. In the same motion, he twisted a small cyclone towards her. 

She laughed, thinking his motion practically harmless, until the dry grass around her caught, and she tried to jump back, only to stumble at the edge of the cliffside. Her toe slipped and with a scream unbefitting of a princess, she fell.

The fear in her eyes propelled him to the side of the cliff, in time to see and hear her land among the jagged rocks he often fished upon, below. 

She fell, but she never did rise again.

Weariness threatened to stumble him, until through the fog, he remembered Kya, remembered--

“Katara!”

Kya had done as he asked, returning inside. When he entered, he found her shaking her mother lightly, sobs and tears pouring from her, her words unintelligible. Zuko was unaware of how he did it, but he found his leaden steps had carried him to Katara’s side. Unblinking, cloudy blue eyes stared up through the damaged roof, her stars beginning to light up the night sky. 

Falling to his knees, he placed a hand against her cheek, but when she failed to move, to react, he felt the breath he held in his chest escape in a choked sob. Kya’s small voice carried to his ears.

“Wake up… wake up, momma…”

As his tears began to fall, he reached over Katara’s ragged tunic, and pulled his daughter to his chest.

They held each other tightly as their tears fell hot and fast.

“It was my name, my face, my fault, that brought my sister to my door. That shattered my home. That took the woman I love, the mother of my child, and left her a smoldering ruin. Zuko was the cause of all of it. Zuko wouldn’t be able to run away from his fate.”

Sokka and Kya had listened in silence, both with matching tear streaks marring their faces. Li had not met their eyes as he spoke, and now, pain echoes in each of his words. Kya’s hand touches the back of his, and he clutches it as if it is his only life line. His head hangs low, long hair curtaining his tears away from them. Kya notices for the first time, as the newly risen moon shines its light on them, the grays that are scattered in his dark hair. 

“Zuko couldn’t escape it.” His voice is soft. “But maybe Li could. After all, it was Li who fell in love with Katara. It was Li who lived a quiet life, on a quiet bay.”

“It was Li who could raise my daughter to know her mother, even if she didn’t remember her. Who could teach her all that Katara had told him about her home and her people.”

Slowly, he raises his head, meeting Kya’s expectant gaze. “And so, Li I became.”

A long moment passes as father and daughter watch each other. With a breath, Kya surges forward, wrapping her arms around his chest, and he clings to her.

“So she really is gone, huh?”

Sokka’s voice is soft but pained. Li’s eyes raise to meet his, an apology written in them.

“I’m sorry, Sokka. But she is--I sent her body off here. Sent it into the ocean, as closely as I could remember from what she told me of your traditions.”

Sokka smiles tightly, before reaching down and tapping Zuko’s tattooed arm.

“Hate to break it to you, buddy, but they’re your traditions too, now.”

A sad smile pulls at Li’s own lips. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Can I say one thing, though?”

Li nods.

“Katara wouldn’t want you to be anyone other than who she loved. Sounds like she fell in love with Zuko. Knew that you were you all along, and that’s who she fell for, right?”

Li’s head tilted slightly.

“I… I guess.”

“Then I’d think that she’d prefer Zuko over Li, any day of the week.”

He thinks for a moment, and then Zuko nods. 

“Maybe you’re right.”

Sokka’s hand claps his shoulder, a pained smile on his face, but a genuine look in his eyes. “Of course I am. You’ll have to get used to that, in the family.”

Chapter Text

It’s the slow drip of blood in her sanctuary that awakens La.

She emerges from the depths of her sanctuary, her blue light suffusing the water of the bay.

A life is spilling its essence into her home. 

At the edge of her awareness, she feels the board that is placed against the water, it’s makeshift sail already erect. 

When the too-hot body is placed on the wood, the fingers drag across the water’s surface. 

La stops circling for a moment.

Her guardian is lifeless upon the wood, torn from the world by too much fire.

The man born of such flames brings her deeper into the bay, before letting go. 

On his lips prayers and apologies.

On his breath, screams of sorrow.

“A daughter of mine is dead.” La offers up to Agni.

“So is one of mine.” He responds.

Drip, drip , her blood whispers.

“My daughter was stolen from me by yours.” La presses.

“As it has been for decades.” Agni dismisses.

“A son of yours begs for her back.” La tries.

“Does he?” Agni is intrigued. 

“He chooses her over his own kin.” La replies.

“Then he can have her back.” Agni commands.

La bows. 

“But what of mine?” Kali, the wind spirit, is heartbroken.

“This has nothing to do with you.” Agni growls.

Agni leaves.

“I command the winds, do I not?” Kali bellows.

Her followers may be of peace, but is she not the master of the storm and the currents? 

“I feed the fires, do I not?” Kali challenges.

Without her breath, she reasons, they would suffocate, would they not?

“I will take what is mine.”

Drip, drip, echoes the daughter of fire’s life force.

La collects it in her skin bottle; it is nearly enough. 

With a cold breath from the north, an uncharacteristic chill settles over La’s sanctuary.

The life force is stopped, frozen. 

It was almost enough.

In her fantic fear, La goes to Agni.

“Kali has impeded, the life force is unattainable.” La pleads.

“This is a matter below me. Speak to Kali.” Agni lords.

In a tussle, the two minor spirits fight over the daughter of water and ice.

Desperate, La pours the life force upon her child.

She breathes again, in the middle of a storm.

She awakes again, upon a foreign shore.

She remembers again… nothing.

She is a daughter of water and ice. 

She calls to them and they respond. 

She knows only of fire by the blossom it danced upon her skin.

But in that first night, and every one after, she finds the chill of lost warmth digs into her very bones.

And that night, and every one after, she wonders what heat she knew before, to miss it so deeply now.