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When our two souls stand erect and strong,
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Zuko didn't really notice Katara the first time he met her, clutching her grandmother on the ice shelf, but afterwards he would remember the defiance in her eyes and the anger in her voice. He remembered the way she yelled out the avatar's name and the sickening feeling of his stomach sinking when they flew away and left his ship stuck in the snow. 'Failure' he'd thought. He'd let his destiny slip away just as soon as he'd tracked it down, and so he had failed. Now he knew that wasn't true—that capturing the avatar for his father's approval was not his true destiny—but the memories still lingered in his mind, a constant stain of regret smearing the background of his thoughts that sparked like blasting jelly whenever he recalled that time. Lately he wondered if he'd let something else get away from him instead.
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Katara recalled the first time she met Zuko with stinging clarity. The concentrated furrow of his brow and the anger in his voice, so much like hers but not—no, definitely not, they could never be alike. She remembered the way he stood on the steel gangplank, how his armour stood out like blood in the snow, the fury in his eyes as they escaped. She remembered her trembling hands and the nauseous sensation in her stomach when they flew away with the avatar, safe, aboard his bison. That was the moment she realised she had the whole world at her feet. Whatever trepidation she'd felt at leaving her home had been thrown away to the air that whipped past her face. There was nothing holding her back and she had everything she needed lying in wait ahead of her, but every now and then a feeling like regret poked at her heart. Somehow she felt like she'd left something behind.
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Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,
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It wasn't until he was dying on the floor of the palace courtyard that he remembered. Somewhere under the gushing steam and flashes of crackling cobalt and crashing cerulean he remembered the soft touch of a woman's fingers on his chest, the smile in her voice when she said 'I love you' in the dark, the glistening of her eyes when she smiled at him—eyes that were brown, grey, green...blue. Blue eyes that beckoned him closer even when they glared at him, Katara's blue eyes that challenged him time and time again. Katara whom he followed across the earth. Katara whom he abandoned in the caves under Ba Sing Se. Katara who trusted him with her pain and anger before her love. Katara whose love was at once an arm's reach and a lifetime away. Katara whom he loved time and time again.
He didn't know how long he had lain there when the fighting above him stopped. For a brief moment, pain erupted from his abdomen and he was on his back—and then there was no more pain. Katara was here, her eyes fixated on her hands, separated from his skin only by her water. He watched in a daze as she fussed over his wound—had he been wounded? It didn't seem important anymore. He'd found her. Yes, she'd been here all along and he'd found her. Ironically he thought that if it hadn't been for Katara he would have never found her at all. Without her fighting him at every turn he may not have ever joined the avatar, and had it not been for her distrust he would never have tried to atone for his mistakes so wholeheartedly. No, he wouldn't have found her on his own. Amused, he wondered if he should thank her for freezing him to that wall in the North Pole. She lifted her hands away from his torso and looked over his face, gaze flitting from one feature to the next. Zuko smiled at her with what strength he could gather.
"Thank you, Katara," he groaned out. She smiled back at him—suddenly it felt like he'd never seen her smile before. He wondered how her eyes could still look so bright behind the glimmering of tears and the small window of her crinkled, relieved expression. Slowly he reached up to brush a tear from her cheek. She huffed out a laugh through her nose.
"I think I'm the one who should be thanking you."
-
Something felt wrong. Although the war was over and they had won, although Aang had defeated Ozai in his own way, although they were all safe and sound in each other's company, something felt wrong and she couldn't figure out what. Katara leaned over the balustrade, watching strangers scurry along the Ba Sing Se streets. The people walked differently now, even though many of them were ignorant of the war, knowing it was over seemed to make them walk taller, laugh louder. Inside the tea shop her friends—her family—wore Earth Kingdom colours without the need for disguise, smiling freely. For the first time in their lives there was no lingering despair or uncertain danger looming over their heads. They could be unabashedly happy now. So what was wrong?
She peered into the tea shop; her brother hunched over a piece of parchment, Suki and Mai playing pai sho, Iroh playing his tsungi horn, Zuko handing Toph a cup of tea, Aang chasing Momo around the floor with whirling balls of air. A perfect picture of peace. But then she watched as Zuko approached Suki and Mai, and placed tea cups down on their table. She watched as the quiet girl placed her hand over his and peered up at him with a warm smile on her face. Suddenly her chest felt tight and her stomach turned to lead—oh. Was this wrong? She shifted her gaze to Zuko, who smiled down at Mai the same way he smiled at the rest of their friends—full of love and open affection. The newly crowned Fire Lord was unrestrained with his smiles, he no longer hid behind a grimace or a scowl like he did just a year ago. Ever since they defeated Azula he had been happier, which was ample payment for healing him, she thought. But that still didn't explain why this scene felt so wrong.
She mulled it over in her mind; Mai's smile—a sight rarer than even Zuko's in the past, her fingers gently clasping his, the way he held her gaze so boldly. Zuko had already moved on to the next table but still she couldn't ease the discomfort in her body. So absorbed was she that she didn't notice the concern on Aang's brow, nor him rising off the floor. It wasn't until the avatar placed his hand on her shoulder that she broke her dizzying train of thought. Aang peered at her questioningly. She took in his face, eyes as bright as the day they met. He drew her gently into his arms and soon she felt her stomach begin to settle and the pressure in her chest begin to ease. Her avatar was here now, and there was nobody to take him away from her, no more obstacles or obligations standing between them, no more confusion. When she pressed her lips against his she understood—they could be together now, too, and nothing was wrong anymore.
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Until the lengthening wings break into fire at either curved point,
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Some time after his coronation he began to grow anxious. The Fire Lord sat at his desk with his head in his hands, walled in by pillars of paperwork and mountains of thick volumes which detailed the education he had missed while exiled, and that which he no longer had the luxury of taking his time to learn. He sat at the head of a broken nation, guided only by his uncle and a sparsely staffed government, with new problems arising each day, followed by dangers which lurked in the corners of his bedroom each night. In the background of all his worries a feeling like heartache began to settle its roots in his heart. It prodded at him during meetings and when he lay in bed at night, whispered to him things that made him hurt. 'You should've told her,' it would say. 'She might have stayed.' But despite all the things he overcame during the war, all the bravery he showed, he was a coward. His friends had moved on, and she had moved on with them—with Aang. Now he was alone with the weight of his country's future on his shoulders and his family's history shackled around his ankles.
A gentle pressure on his arm wakes him from his despondency. Mai stands over him with a frown on her face—not the cold, stoic frown she wore in the past, but one which revealed the concern in her eyes. There were few people who knew how to read her expressions but Mai had worried for him before, when they were children, when he was away on a ship, when they had crossed paths during the apex of the war, so he knew what it meant when she looked at him that way. 'I'm here, let me help you.' And then he realised something so clear that he felt blind to have not seen it. He wasn't alone at all.
-
Aang had started to drop hints in the weeks leading up to Sokka and Suki's wedding. He'd bought her flowers more often than she could keep track of, started asking her about weddings in the Water Tribes and responded with how different they are from life in the Air Temples. He held her closer when they slept, and when they awoke he made sure to shower her with affection. Katara accepted all of his gestures with a blush on her cheeks and a smile on her face. She had no doubt about what he wanted, and little doubt that she wanted the same. By the time they arrived on Kyoshi Island she knew for sure that one day she'd marry her avatar.
The night before the ceremony she found her brother by the shore. His head was tilted towards the moon, brows emoting as if in conversation. He was smiling when she settled down on the sand next to him. She saw the ease with which he looked up at Yue's spirit, the contentment in his own, and wondered how long he had held this confidence.
"When did you know?"
"Know what?" He asked, turning his head to her. He didn't seem surprised to see her, despite not having seen her approach.
"That you wanted to spend your life with her?" She completed. Her brother hummed as he thought.
"I don't know... Boiling Rock, I guess."
"You realised you loved her then?" Sokka shook his head.
"I think maybe I always loved her, even when I didn't know it." Katara furrowed her brow.
"Then what about Yue?" She never thought her brother could be capable of pursuing one girl while in love with another, had she misjudged him? Her brother shook his head as if he knew what she was assuming.
"I loved her too, but Suki felt like coming home after a long, long time," he said simply.
"What do you mean?"
"When I saw her again it was like I'd remembered something important. Like I loved her before and then...forgot." Katara was only more confused. Surely if you loved someone so dearly that feeling would stay with you forever, so—
"How could you forget that you love someone?" She questioned.
"I don't know... I don't remember forgetting." She shook her head in confusion.
"You're not making any sense." He smiled at her, but there was something strange in his eyes. Was it...sadness? What for?
"Oh, my dear little sister, I'm making perfect sense."
-
Not long after it was Aang and Katara who were handing out wedding invitations. Most of them were sent off on messenger hawks and postal ships—their close friends and family would receive them in person, they decided. It was only a few moments after Appa had landed in the Fire Lord's main courtyard (Katara couldn't help but notice the faded remnants of scorch marks on the stone tiles and pillars; the sight pricked at her heart and made it tense) that it finally happened. The Fire Lord emerged from his palace with an amicable grin on his face and a dozen people in his wake. He greeted them both and Aang immediately had the man in his arms, much to the displeasure of his entourage. As they chattered away Katara stood dumbstruck, still by the bison's side. Zuko was still a few dozen paces away—no bigger than her hand if she were to hold it up—but suddenly he filled her vision.
The palace faded away, the scorched stone blocks dissolved into dust, even Aang had disappeared. All that remained was Zuko, that brilliant smile and his bright, golden eyes—eyes which were once green, and blue, grey and brown. Katara didn't understand it—how could she? How could she have known that the scowling figure she first met on the ice shelf would become this man? That all this time he would be within arms reach and that she would push him away, beat him back—freeze him to a wall?! Her eyes make out the shape of her name on his lips, morphed around his grin, but her ears don't hear the sound. Instead her mind supplied her with moments she doesn't remember: Zuko mumbling 'I love you' into her hair, a private smile in the soft light of the sunrise, the too-real feeling of his fingers on her spine. When he wrapped her up in a welcoming hug—just a little too tight, just a little too long—she knew that he knew. That he'd known for a long time now.
Katara swallowed back the bile rising in her throat and clenched her jaw.
Tea was drunk tersely that afternoon, and dinner with little more comfort. Katara counted exactly fourteen minutes after their first course was served before announcing she felt ill, and bolted out of the dining room with the speed and direction of a harpoon. Aang, familiar with her need for space, was thoughtful enough not to chase behind her. As she marched down the hallways (any way is fine, as long as it's not near him) she heard the faint ring of his voice telling Zuko not to worry.
-
Katara had questions for him: how long have you known, when did you remember, why didn't you ever tell me? But those were quickly forgotten in the months preceding her wedding, and in the months following her wedding she forgot her anger too. Sometime after having her first child she wondered what it would have been like if she had made different choices, acted recklessly one last time, but soon the what-ifs were forgotten too. It seemed that Zuko, too, had started to forget, for he was married soon after her, with a child of his own soon after her, as well. But he would still smile at her brightly, still hold her a little too tight, a little too long, so she knew he never truly forgot. Eventually, she could smile back.
When they were older, and the pain had eased over, they could laugh about it, too. Twenty-five years after the end of the war, they stood together in his palace, the courtyard adorned with coloured lanterns and banners (it had never quite felt the same, even though the scorch marks had long faded away), the drinks in their hands emptying slowly. Amongst the commotion of a hundred other conversations, nobody else would hear them, so Katara spoke freely.
"I remembered something—one time you were a water bender, did you know?" She asked. Zuko nodded with a small laugh.
"One time I was even a woman," he started. He faced her and grinned like he knew a secret. "And so were you." She grinned back, though not for very long as their smiles broke down into giggles.
In that moment Zuko thought that maybe this was okay, that they could find their own happiness just as they were. Later that night he would remember his uncle, and thank him for teaching him to make his own destiny.
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What bitter wrong could the earth do to us, that we should not long be here contented?
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Zuko entered the small igloo as quietly as he could—his creaking bones sounded too loud for his own liking. Kya was the first to notice him, glancing up at him from her seat next to the bed. He bowed to her in solemn greeting before slipping off his coat and handing it to his secretary, who nodded and left to wait outside. Unsurprisingly, Katara had found him next.
"Zuko..." Her voice came out quiet and wavering. Still, her lips were curved up in a gentle smile. He warmed at her expression, a smile forming on his own lips in reflex.
"Hi, Katara," he greeted, still standing by the entrance. Jinora, perceptive as she always was, pulled up a stool on the other side of the bed. He thanked her quietly and sat down beside Katara.
"You came." She slid her hand across the sheets towards him, palm turned upward. Zuko didn't hesitate to grasp it with both of his.
"Of course I did," he answered. Then, after a moment, he added, "I was waiting for you." He smiled like he was trying to conceal a laugh, and squeezed her hand.
"I'm sorry for making you wait." She squeezed back.
"It's alright, I've gotten used to it." Zuko ran his thumb over her hand for a while in silence, memorising the feel of her wrinkled skin under his own old fingertips. Katara had her head turned towards him, watching their hands resting atop the bed. In the back of his mind he wondered if was alright to be sitting next to her and holding her hand like this while her family stood around her. After a few minutes Katara spoke again, so quietly it was clear it was only meant for him to hear.
"I've made you wait a long time, haven't I?"
"Not at all. You've been with me all this time, Katara." He squeezed her hand again, prompting her to meet his eyes.
"This time I'll wait for you. But don't come too quickly, okay?" Her brows hardened on her face, serious. Zuko couldn't handle being serious at that moment so he joked back.
"Okay," he said. " But I think I'll make you wait a long time, as payback." He tried to grin again but as Katara's eyes closed for a moment longer between each blink he couldn't manage the same mirth.
"Don't forget me." It was a demand, really.
"I never do. Besides, you're the one who's slow to remember." He kept the smile on his face, but the tears were forming anyway.
"I'll see you next time?" She was so quiet now. Zuko swallowed back a sob and nodded eagerly.
"Always." It came out as a gasp, just as quiet as her. A smile stretched slowly across her face. Katara held her eyes open as wide as she could manage and held his gaze, languidly, as if they had all time left in the world. She scanned his face, drank in his warm smile and the creases around his eyes and mouth; scars of a different kind, ones that marked a life of laughter and joy. She met his gaze with conviction—that look that he was so accustomed to now—and said to him with her eyes what her lips were too tired to say: I've always loved you. Zuko stretched his own wrinkled lips as wide as he could in response: I know. That was all the assurance she needed, for as her eyes fell close that last time her smile did not falter. Her breathing slowed and with peace drawn on her face Zuko leant forward and pressed his lips to her brow. He kept them there, feeling the slow, soft vibration of her heart's last few beats pulsing through her body. Finally, when he felt her still and sensed the warmth of her spirit dissipate under his lips, he rested his forehead on hers and cried.
When the time came years later for his own farewell he left with a smile on his face, content with the life he had built and eager to start again.
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a place to stand and love in for a day,
with darkness and the death-hour rounding it.