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Chapter Text

At times like this, he thought he would be better off dead. As the body lay charred beyond recognition, Zuko grimaced; he knew he’d overdone it the moment he sent the blast of flames at the assassin. He watched as the Imperial Guards investigated his extravagant red and gold-gilded bedroom while the assassin’s body was taken away by servants. That’s the fifth one this year, he contemplated. These attacks are becoming more frequent. This isn’t good.

He sighed and surveyed the carnage: the glass of his balcony doors sprawled shattered on the marble floor, his bed was undone from his hasty exit, and now the ornate red and gold room needed to be aired out from all the smolder in the air. Since the beginning of his rule, Zuko had faced opposition, but lately, it seemed to have increased exponentially. An assassination attempt here and there would be easy to deal with, but this was getting tiresome.

“Fire Lord Zuko, it would be best if you vacated the premises while we investigate this latest attack,” cautioned Midori, the head of the Imperial Bodyguards. “It’s not safe for you here.”

“I think concern for my safety went out the window the moment that assassin burst into the room,” Zuko remarked.

“Even so, sire, I advise you to move to one of the secret chambers in the palace for the time being.” She inched closer to Zuko and murmured, “I suspect this was coordinated by a member of the Royal Guard.”

To be honest, this did not surprise Zuko at all. He had long suspected a mole in his midst but hadn’t thought they would be so brazen with their attacks. He had grown accustomed to having his life threatened, but he sensed this was different. Lately, the air around the palace was tense; his advisors and councilmen made their dislike of the young monarch known, and civilians rampaged in the streets regularly. He understood why—he had made radical political changes recently. As Fire Lord, he was paying reparations to the nations affected by the Fire Nation’s actions, prosecuting those who had committed war crimes in the name of the nation, and demilitarizing the country. All this made the inexperienced Fire Lord unpopular with the nobility and some common folk who only knew a life where the Fire Nation reigned supreme.

“Midori, color me shocked,” he mocked. “You think I didn’t consider the possibility that only someone with an astute knowledge of the layout of the palace and my schedule could know when to launch an attack on my life? It might be someone who interacts with me regularly. I suggest you not question my intelligence.”

The guard’s cheeks flushed lightly at the reprimand. “I meant no disrespect, sire. I am just concerned for your safety. My duty is to serve you.”

Zuko knew he was being unfairly harsh and chose to placate her. “I know, Midori, you only wish the best for me. How about this: for the rest of the day, I will be flanked by your most trustworthy guards at all times. Would that satisfy you?”

“It certainly would, Fire Lord Zuko.”

“Excellent. Now, go inform the servants to prepare the washroom. Even with this minor incident this fine morning, today is a big day. Dignitaries from the Southern Water Tribe will be arriving.”

“Yes, sire.”

As Midori walked away, Zuko tried to look at the day ahead with a bit of positivity. This had become a regular occurrence for him: trying to be optimistic but only being met with disappointment. He was isolated in the Fire Nation, with no friends among his advisers. Uncle Iroh was under surveillance in Ba Sing Se for his actions during the six-hundred-day siege of the city. His sister was unwell, and his father was a rallying point for those who did not support his rule.

What hurt him the most, though, was that even after five years as Fire Lord, his mother was still missing. He had sent countless search parties, but even the best bounty hunters could not locate her. It saddened him to think of her. At times, he lay awake at night wondering if she did not want to be found by him, if she even missed him, or if she had written him and his sister off after escaping his father Ozai’s clutches.

He missed his uncle’s guidance, but Iroh was off seeking penance for what he’d done as General Iroh: The Dragon of the West. Occasionally, he wrote to the old man asking for advice, and he would reply with a proverb and some tea as a gift. He knew he could get Uncle Iroh sanctioned off, but it was the old man’s will to live among the people he once wronged and seek atonement. Zuko understood, as he was seeking atonement by bettering his nation and ushering in an era of peace and love to the world.

He did all of this even to the detriment of himself. He sacrificed his own desires for those of his people and the world at large. After the war, he had wanted to travel the world and find himself. Instead, he was trapped in the life of a monarch in the most hated nation in the world. He wished he could be like his friends, free from the pressures of bureaucracy and a life debt. He could be with Aang, rebuilding the Air Nomad culture; with Toph, bounty hunting; with Sokka, sparring; or with Katara, helping one humanitarian act at a time. But instead, he was Fire Lord. He wasn’t ungrateful for his throne, but sometimes he wished he could have just been a regular civilian.

“My Lord, your washroom is ready for you,” announced a servant.

He decided to forget his worries for a moment and let the day begin.

Zuko emerged from his bath, feeling somewhat refreshed but still weighed down by the morning's events. He dressed in his ceremonial robes, the rich fabric heavy on his shoulders, mirroring the burden of his responsibilities. As he made his way to the council chamber, he could hear the murmurs and shuffling of feet. His advisors were already assembled, waiting for him.

The room fell silent as he entered, all eyes on him. He could sense their unease, their barely concealed frustration. The air was thick with tension, and Zuko knew this meeting would be anything but pleasant. He took his seat at the head of the table, his expression stern and unyielding.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," Zuko began, his voice calm yet firm. "We need to discuss the events of this morning and the increasing number of assassination attempts."

A middle-aged man with graying hair, General Ryoto, leaned forward. "Fire Lord Zuko, these attacks are a direct result of your policies. The nobility and even some of the common folk are displeased with the changes you've made. Your decision to demilitarize, pay reparations, and prosecute our own people has not been well received."

Zuko's eyes narrowed. "So you suggest we abandon these policies? Ignore our responsibilities to the world and our own conscience?"

Ryoto shook his head. "I'm saying we need to be more strategic. These decisions have far-reaching consequences, and we're seeing the fallout now. The attacks are a symptom of a larger issue—dissatisfaction with your rule."

Another advisor, Lady Hina, chimed in. "The public perception is that you're weakening the Fire Nation. We must consider the optics. Your intentions are noble, but they are being misinterpreted as a sign of weakness."

Zuko clenched his fists under the table. "I will not compromise my principles for public opinion. The Fire Nation must change, and that change starts with me."

General Ryoto sighed, rubbing his temples. "But at what cost, Zuko? Your life is constantly in danger. How long before one of these assassins succeeds?"

Zuko's jaw tightened, the question hitting a sore spot. He glanced around the room, noting the mix of concern and skepticism on the faces of his advisors. They were not wrong in their concerns, but their lack of faith in his leadership stung.

Midori, who had been standing silently by the door, stepped forward. "We have reason to believe the attacks may be orchestrated from within. The assassin today had access to parts of the palace that are usually off-limits. This suggests an insider."

Lady Hina's eyes widened. "Are you suggesting treason within the Royal Guard?"

Midori nodded. "It's a possibility we can't ignore. We must conduct a thorough investigation and take steps to ensure the Fire Lord's safety."

Zuko sighed, leaning back in his chair. "It's clear we're dealing with more than just external threats. There are those within our own ranks who wish to see me removed, by any means necessary."

The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling heavily on everyone present. The advisors exchanged uneasy glances, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in.

"We need to act swiftly," Zuko continued. "We will tighten security, vet all palace staff and guards, and keep a closer watch on those with access to sensitive areas. But we must also address the root of the problem—discontent within the nation."

General Ryoto nodded, albeit reluctantly. "I agree. Perhaps we should hold a public address, clarify your intentions and reassure the populace that the Fire Nation's future is secure."

Zuko considered this. A public address could help, but it was no guarantee. Still, it was a step toward transparency and might quell some of the unrest.

"Very well," he said finally. "I'll prepare a statement. But let me be clear: I will not be swayed from my path. The Fire Nation will atone for its past, and we will build a better future."

The meeting ended with a sense of uneasy resolution. As his advisors filed out of the room, Zuko remained seated, staring at the map of the Fire Nation spread out before him. The kingdom was vast and filled with potential, but it was also fraught with challenges. He knew the path he had chosen was difficult, but it was the only way he could live with himself.

Midori lingered behind, her expression serious. "We'll find the traitor, my Lord. You have my word."

Zuko nodded. "I know you will, Midori. Thank you."

As she left, Zuko stood and walked to the window. The palace grounds were peaceful, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within. He clenched his fists, feeling the fire within him burn brighter. He was determined to see his vision for the Fire Nation come to fruition, no matter the cost. He just hoped he would survive long enough to see it happen.

Chapter Text

"Katara, I think it’s time you stopped. We’re about to arrive any time now. You’ve exerted yourself too much," Bato huffed. He watched as Katara moved her arms in time with the waves. She was at the quarterdeck, pushing the ship along with the current generated by her bending. Sweat coated her determined face, but she stood resolute in her stance.

"Bato, we both know I will only stop once the Great Gates of Azulon are in my sights," Katara proclaimed with a smile on her face. Throughout the journey from Wolf Cove in the Southern Water Tribe to Royal Caldera City of the Fire Nation, Katara had periodically urged the ships along in her haste to reach the Fire Nation. She couldn’t help it; she was excited about this new adventure as Ambassador of the Southern Water Tribe to the Fire Nation. It wouldn’t be her first foray into politics; in fact, she relished the challenge.

Once the Hundred Year War ended, Katara returned home with her kin to rebuild her fledgling motherland. She threw herself into the work: reintegrating the prisoners of war Zuko released into society, rebuilding the infrastructure of the villages in the pre-war southern style, and resolving tensions between the southern natives and northern migrants. It was hard work, especially considering the chauvinist nature of the Water Tribes; she had been belittled, disregarded, and marginalized. She expected such behavior from the Northern Water Tribe, who prohibited women from learning any form of bending except healing, but even some of her southern kinfolk voiced concerns about her being too wild for her father, Chief Hakoda, to control. It hurt that her paramount role in ending the war was downplayed in part due to her being a woman and the Avatar’s “Forever Girl.” Well, being his “forever girl” lasted only one cycle around the sun before it was mutually ended by the teens, who realized they were way in over their heads, too young for that type of commitment, and too busy with their respective responsibilities to have a worthwhile relationship.

After Aang, Katara casually dated Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe boys who aided in the Southern Restoration Project. However, those relationships soon ended due to her busy schedule. When she passed her sixteenth birthday without accepting any of the marriage proposals thrown her way, many wrote her off as a spinster, and she was happy with that. It allowed her the freedom to explore her philanthropy. After her third year home, she grew stifled by the lack of serious challenges, as much of the heavy lifting in the restoration was completed or moving far along. Sokka joked that she could head north to convince their sister tribe to allow women to fight, and she took that as an invitation to do just that. She spent two years campaigning for equality, advancing her healing abilities, and secretly training anyone who asked. In the end, the council of elders allowed only a select group of women to be formally trained by her and Master Pakku. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Now, here she was, about to embark on yet another adventure.

"The gates are up ahead!" someone loudly exclaimed from the bow of the ship.

Bato folded his tanned arms and commented, "It seems the gates are now in view. Go to your cabin, rest, and make yourself presentable."

Katara went below deck, enthusiastic about what was to come. It might seem juvenile to many, but she really believed she could better the world one step at a time. This latest appointment of hers as ambassador was just further proof that she was doing the right thing. Her new mission was to further strengthen ties between the Fire Nation and the Southern Water Tribe. Plus, seeing an old friend wouldn’t hurt.

"Do you really think it’s necessary to bring the Imperial Firebenders and Yuyan Archers to a welcoming ceremony?" Zuko scoffed at Midori.

"After this morning’s attack, I would not dream of any less, my Lord," she replied.

The Royal Procession was tedious and too gaudy for Zuko’s taste. As he sat ramrod straight beside Midori in his palanquin, he watched as fewer and fewer of his citizens bowed their heads or showed any enthusiasm to be in his presence. It wasn’t like this immediately after the war ended; his people had celebrated his rise to the throne for months on end. It wasn’t until the real work began that opposition would soon be heard. He immediately called all the troops home, which caused a scandal. Families were reunited, but overcrowding in cities was rampant, and employment was scarce since, for a hundred years, the nation ran on a military economy that had now disappeared. Investing in other economic sectors of the nation and reintegrating the majority of the troops into civilian life had been a massive undertaking that was still underway.

It did not make matters any better when he started paying reparations to the other nations. The Fire Nation economy had been in the red for a while now. His people were growing hungry and disillusioned with him. He could see it in their faces; resentment was brewing.

"Sire, we’ve reached our destination."

As he got down from the palanquin, he could see the harbor was awash with life. People were bustling about, and ships from all over the world were loading and unloading cargo. At least the Fire Nation was still a world superpower, thanks to its technological advancements that other nations wanted to cash in on, particularly the Earth Kingdom. That kept his nation’s economy afloat, at least for now. But he knew he needed to find other ways to improve the economy fast.

The Southern Water Tribe ships were docked in the part of the harbor reserved for visiting dignitaries. The ships proudly embodied the Southern Water Tribe; the symbol of their people was ostentatiously displayed on the main sails, and the ships' bodies were coated in a dark blue color reminiscent of the deep sea. Water tribesmen stood on the deck of the ships dressed in their traditional attire. They bore no weapons, indicating they came in peace. It was time for the welcoming ceremony to begin.

A welcoming ceremony and similar fascinations were to be performed each time the Fire Lord interacted with other people. It was monotonous, but culture dictated it so. After the war, Zuko, with the urging of Aang, reinstated the power of the Fire Sages. His people needed to reconnect with their spirituality after a hundred years of neglecting it. So, he let the Fire Sages have their way in prescribing traditions from the past.

Zuko and his entourage of guards, advisers, and sages congregated in front of the main ship, and the Head Sage proclaimed, "The Fire Lord has arrived! Agni and the spirits endorse that your journey to the Fire Nation was one of ease! Disembark, and let us invite you to our homeland!"

The people of the Southern Water Tribe began to disembark from the main ship in a straight line, with Bato in the lead. All of them wore a variety of blue parkas with distinctive fur lining on the sleeve seams, curved hems with side slits for the legs, and fur lining around the waist of the jackets. Their faces were decorated with war paint or tattoos, symbolizing a diversity of their people’s spirit animals. It was a sight to behold.

"We thank you for welcoming us to your home," commanded Bato once his party reached Zuko’s. "We come bearing gifts for the young Lord." Water tribesmen brought down a cargo box from the ship.

"We bring offerings for you and your people as well, Ambassador Bato," said the sage.

Before boxes could be exchanged, Bato smiled and said, "I’m afraid I’m no longer ambassador."

This caught Zuko’s attention. After five years of working with the man, Zuko knew that Bato was trustworthy and dependable. He was a sharpshooter who wanted what was best for his people but never tried to leverage Zuko’s close relationship with Chief Hakoda’s children for his own gain. He was going to miss the man.

"What has brought this on?" he asked.

"I miss my home, Fire Lord. It’s time I returned," Bato replied. "Besides, I bring a more than qualified replacement."

"Who?" asked an adviser.

"Me," stated a voice as its owner disembarked the ship. "Master Katara. Peace-bringer, founder, and waterbending master to Avatar Aang." Once she reached the entourage, she added something that stunned all of them. "Also, friend to Fire Lord Zuko."

Chapter Text

Zuko couldn't help but smile at her. “It’s an honor to be considered your friend, Katara.”

She smiled back, walked up to him, and gave him the tightest hug she could muster. “I missed you,” she whispered into his shoulder, so the others wouldn't hear.

“I missed you too,” he uttered into her hair as he returned the hug.

Midori coughed, and the pair let go of one another. The others, except Bato, were aghast at the display of affection. Fraternizing with the Fire Lord so publicly was unheard of, and Zuko was known for his indifference in front of others. This was quite the spectacle for many.

“Ah… yes, well… let us continue with the Welcoming Ceremony,” stated the Head Sage. Gifts were exchanged, and the ceremony was completed. Most of Katara’s people returned to the ship, and her belongings were brought down.

“Guards, relieve the Water tribespeople of those possessions,” Zuko commanded. “Katara, would you do me the pleasure of escorting you to the palace?” he asked playfully.

“The pleasure would be all mine.”

Zuko placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her through the group of people to where his gold-gilded palanquin waited. This scandalized a few of those around, but Katara and Zuko didn’t care. Instead of letting the waiting servants assist, Zuko helped Katara onto the palanquin before getting in himself and closing the veils. Following their lead, the others went to their respective rides to the palace.

As soon as they were alone, Zuko asked, “How is she?”

Katara’s face softened. “She’s the same as usual.”

The “she” in question was Azula. Zuko had her moved to the Southern Water Tribe after her doctors indicated that nothing could be done in the Fire Nation to stop her mental decline into madness. He first sought assistance from the Earth Kingdom and Northern Water Tribe but was immediately met with rejection. They didn’t want to help the Fire Nation’s so-called Mad Princess after all she had done. Left with no choice, he asked Katara for help, and she instantly agreed. She convinced him that the Northern Water Tribe healers residing in the south would be willing to assist and that being away from the Fire Nation would do Azula some good.

It actually helped a bit; she wasn’t as volatile or violent towards her healers and guards and didn’t need to be restrained as much. However, it still hurt Zuko to see his sister in such a state; each time he received a report on her health, it felt like a punch to the gut. The once-cunning and powerful Azula was gone; in her place was a woman scared of her own shadow, crying out for her mother. As a result, he had Katara handle her health reports and only asked for updates when something drastic happened or progress was made. So far, Azula’s condition had stabilized.

“How are you, Zuko?” Katara asked after a silence.

He scrunched his face and looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how are you doing? You look terrible.”

She was exaggerating; he didn’t look terrible, just tired. His robes were tidy and fit him perfectly, and his five-pronged crown headdress sat securely on his head. However, up close, Katara could tell he was exhausted.

“I’m just… I have a lot going on,” he huffed.

“I can imagine. Tell me about it.”

“I’d rather not. Tell me about your adventures as of late.”

Katara frowned. Lately, she had been doing that a lot regarding him. Recently, Zuko was communicating less and less with her, and when he did, he was impersonal and spoke very little about his daily life. She knew it must be tough to be Fire Lord, but she didn’t want him to lose himself in the role.

“I worry about you, Zuko.”

“I know.”

With that, Katara changed the subject and began detailing her travels. As the delegation of Fire Nation and Water Tribe dignitaries marched down the city streets, he couldn't help but feel relieved. He knew he troubled her, but he didn’t want to burden her or their group of friends with his strife. He was Fire Lord; he could handle it.

As Katara wrapped up her tale of training women from the north, Zuko asked, “Why did you become an ambassador?”

“I felt like it was time for me to do something new.”

“You could have gone to the Earth Kingdom.”

“True, but you wouldn’t have been there,” Katara said with a cheeky grin. Zuko’s face turned pink, and Katara’s grin grew wider. She enjoyed teasing him because he was so easily flustered. “Okay, the honest truth is that Sokka has got the Earth Kingdom covered, and I feel like I can do some good here. Plus, no offense, but you could use having a few friends around.”

They both knew the last part was true. Each time Zuko dealt with politicians, he was often met with thinly veiled contempt or was underestimated for his young age. Over the years, in his letters to her, he expressed his grievances on the matter. He should not have been surprised that she had come to his rescue, but he was.

“You didn’t have to, Katara.”

“No, I wanted to,” she said, wrapping her hand around his. “Besides, this means I can boss you around again.”

Before he could reply, an explosion went off at the head of the procession, startling Zuko and Katara. They jumped out of the palanquin, and before they could see what was happening, Head Guard Midori stopped them.

“Sire, I advise you and your guest to return to the palanquin. Now.” The guards and archers surrounded them and took defensive positions to shield the pair. “We’ve got this covered, my Lord.”

Katara disregarded her words and immediately leaped into action. She maneuvered around the guards and ran to the head of the procession to see what was going on. She found a group of disgruntled civilians fighting the Imperial Firebenders. The citizens were disheveled and had sunken faces, but they were still putting up quite a fight against the guards. One guard fired a blast of flames so hot it tore the clothes of their opponent. Some bystanders hid inside nearby buildings and alleyways, while others stood gawking at the scene. Soon the smell of burning flesh filled the air, and Katara knew it was time to intervene.

She spotted a well nearby, called all the water from it to her, and then sent it over to the skirmishing mob. She splashed both the civilians and guards, ensuring they were drenched before freezing them in place. “What’s going on here?” she yelled, commanding the attention of everyone around.

“We don’t answer to the likes of you, water savage!” barked one of the frozen men.

“Seeing as I have you at my mercy right now, you do,” she retorted, ignoring the insult. “So, I ask again, what is going on here?”

“This is Fire Nation business, girl, so you and your people need to butt out of it,” replied a woman also trapped in solid water.

“Well, it is my business, so answer her,” Zuko said, arriving flanked by guards and Midori.

The faces of the trapped civilians turned sour at the sight of Zuko. “Down with the traitorous prince! Long live Fire Lord Ozai!” one of them shouted. Soon, the others and a few bystanders started chanting the same over and over again.

Disgusted by the unfolding event, Katara gathered all the water vapor in the air and waterbent muzzles for all those chanting, silencing them.

Zuko was deeply embarrassed for what Katara and her people had witnessed. While it was an everyday occurrence for him, it was not something visiting delegates should have to deal with. He knew some of the gathered Water tribespeople took in the scene before them with revulsion. “Katara, unfreeze the guards and let them handle the mob,” he pronounced.

“Your soldiers were burning them,” she cried out. “You can’t manhandle people like that.”

“This is how we deal with insubordination in the Fire Nation, Master Katara,” revealed Midori. “Let go of my men and let us handle this situation.”

Katara turned to the older woman and finally took her in. Her dark brown hair was in a firm top knot, her mocha eyes stared straight at her, waiting for retaliation, and her bronze muscular body was in a defensive stance. It seemed the woman believed Katara would attack her.

“Katara, please, listen to her,” Zuko pleaded. She looked over at Zuko and what she saw broke her. He looked like he had aged ten years in a few moments. She begrudgingly released the guards. “Thank you,” he added.

She chose not to reply and instead walked away. As she passed Zuko and Midori, she said, “I will walk the rest of the way with my people.” She waited for no reply and strode off to the gathered tribespeople. The rest of the trek to the Royal Palace was filled with tense silence.

The banquet that evening was one of the most uncomfortable affairs Bato had ever experienced. It was clear as day to anyone that Fire Lord Zuko was trying—and failing—to create camaraderie with Master Katara. However, she shut down all his attempts with stone-cold stillness. It was interesting to watch the self-assured young Lord grovel. Usually, the young man demanded respect with his presence alone, but now he had reverted back to his awkward younger self, trying to gain Katara's approval. Bato watched as Katara quickly rose from her seat and left the dining chamber. A moment later, he followed after her.

Katara rushed through the hallways, quickening her steps. It might have been a while since she had been to the palace, but she knew her way around it like the back of her hand. She needed some fresh air, so she went to her favorite place, the Royal Palace Gardens. The gardens were one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen. Flora from all over the world was proudly displayed, and in the center of the garden rested a lake so vast that numerous species of insects and animals called it home. She went to the gazebo nearest the lake and lay on one of the lounge chairs. She just needed a moment to herself. Since their arrival at the palace, Zuko’s guards had been watching her. She knew it was because of the skirmish earlier, but it made her feel like a convict. She wondered how Zuko lived under constant surveillance. Did he not feel emasculated or miss his privacy?

“Katara, can we talk for a moment?” Bato asked, approaching thoughtfully and sitting next to her.

“I knew you’d show up,” she grumbled.

“Well, you certainly caused quite the stir earlier.”

“Everything I do causes a stir; I thought you knew that by now,” she joked.

“I do, and so does young Lord Zuko,” Bato said cautiously.

“Oh, you want to talk about him.”

“Katara, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“Difficult.”

“Oh, how am I being difficult?” Katara asked, sticking her bottom lip out and folding her arms.

“Well, you’ve been ignoring all the young man’s attempts to talk to you tonight.”

“I don’t feel like talking to him right now.”

“I believe he wants to talk to you, and I think you should give him the opportunity to explain himself,” he added sagely.

“Did you see what he allowed that madwoman, Midori, and her guards to do? They were practically slaughtering those people.”

At times like this, Bato was reminded just how young Katara was. “Katara… things in the Fire Nation have been hard for your friend Zuko. It’s not my place to say how hard, but let me remind you that the mob you saw today wasn’t just trying to talk to Zuko. You heard what they said, you heard what they called you.

Water savage

It had been so long since anyone had hurled a slur at her that she had blocked it out. She surrounded herself with open-minded people and tended to forget just how many were bigoted.

“Still, they were harming those people. They should have found a way to stop the fighting without violence.”

“What would you have them do? The mob attacked us, Katara. We both know they wanted Zuko’s head on a stake and Ozai reinstated. There cannot be peace without justice.”

Katara thought before replying. “I don’t know, I just hate the smell of burning flesh… it reminds me of the past.” It reminded her of her mother’s final moments.

Bato’s face crinkled with comprehension of the subtext of her words. “Katara, the war might be over, but the true work has just begun. We are all scarred by the past, but we shouldn’t let those scars scare us away from a better tomorrow. Trust Zuko to know how to handle his people.” With that, he rose from his seat and walked off, leaving Katara with much to ponder.

She had faith in Zuko; she just didn’t believe you could fight violence with violence. From all that she learned today, she realized something bad was looming in the Fire Nation, and she hoped she could stop it before it grew. She needed to talk to Zuko.

As if appearing out of thin air, Zuko came into view as he entered the gardens. He advanced as though he were a man on death row. When he reached her, he asked, “Katara, can we please talk?”

Chapter Text

A hush followed his plea as Katara took him in. He was out of his royal garb and dressed in rather plain red hues. His lengthy hair was out of its top knot and flowed down his back. His lips were downturned in a perpetual frown. He exuded contriteness from every pore of his body.

“Where are your babysitters?” she asked with feigned casualness.

“I sent my guards away for the evening,” he replied. “I think it would be best if we talked in complete privacy.”

“Sure. Let’s talk.”

“I want to apologize for what you had to experience,” Zuko said hastily. “That isn’t how I want your first day back here to be after being gone for so long.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, but I do. I can tell that it upset you.”

“Zuko, I’m not upset with you because your people were being hateful,” she said, sitting up from the chair. “I’m upset with you for your response to how your guards reacted to it.”

His face scrunched up in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Katara directed him to sit down next to her. “What I mean is that you just let your guards brutalize those people. I know things are done differently here in the Fire Nation, but you could have reacted better.”

“Oh,” he sighed. “I guess you’re right. What would you have had me do?”

“I guess I wanted you to have them arrested instead of just blasting fire at them.”

“Katara, the majority of my guards are firebenders; all they know is bending. They were attempting to apprehend them in the best way they know how.”

“I know…I know, it’s just that they were too violent. It’s as if they forgot fire burns.”

“Katara, you have to understand that fire is the way of life for my people,” he began. “Fire is the element of power, and you have to be fierce and direct when dealing with people of my nation."

“Well, what about having a little compassion for them?”

“You want me to be compassionate to people who want me dead?”

“No, I want you to listen to what they have to say and try to solve it. I’m sure not all of them want you dead; they are just frustrated.”

“You can’t negotiate with terrorists, Katara,” he said, growing frustrated. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“I’m not asking you to negotiate with terrorists,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I want you to recognize those people’s humanity, even when they don’t recognize your own.”

Zuko glanced at their interlocked fingers. His rough, pale hand contrasted with her smaller, walnut-colored one. It had been so long since he felt the touch of another person. “I’m willing to do that, but how?”

“I don’t know yet, but we can find out together,” she answered reassuringly. “From what I’ve seen today, it’s clear as daylight that you have a lot going on. So, tell me about it.”

“The truth is, Katara, my home is in shambles,” he revealed. "My rule isn't popular with the nobility or other nations. My people are hungry and resentful, and I have no idea where to start fixing things. I’ve got so much to deal with. I can’t begin to describe how awful the past few years have been. Each time I solve one issue, ten others pop up. Why am I so bad at being good? To top it off, I am so lonely here. Sometimes I wish I were back in the war and traveling with the rest of the gang again.”

Her heart ached for him after his confession. “Why did you never tell me?”

“Tell you what? That everyone hates me and I’m doing a piss-poor job as Fire Lord? I am ashamed, Katara. Ashamed of what I have become. I am a husk of my former self. I am just a man who craves guidance and companionship, yet I have to be the one to provide guidance and companionship to a whole nation. I’m so tired, Katara.”

She couldn’t help but throw her arms around him. “I’m so sorry, Zuko.”

“Sorry for what?” he inquired.

“I’m so sorry for the burden we placed on you. I never realized—never truly understood—how hard things were for you. We failed to see the immense pressure you were under. It breaks my heart knowing we overlooked your struggle.”

Zuko embraced her. “Thank you, Katara.”

“It should be me thanking you for all that you’ve done.”

“I’ve barely done anything.”

“No, you are fixing the wrongs of your forefathers, educating a whole nation, and doing it all without even complaining or asking for help. You are amazing.”

His unscarred cheek reddened at the compliment.

“I’m here now, Zuko, and I’m willing to help in any way possible.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, I want to,” she proclaimed with determination. “I already have a few ideas on how to solve a couple of issues.”

He offered her a warm smile and rose from his seat beside her. “Let’s take a walk around the gardens.”

Confused by the sudden change of events, but no less interested in what he had to show her, Katara rose from her chair and followed him out of the gazebo. They walked in comfortable silence, admiring the flora around them. After the war, Zuko made it his personal mission to rejuvenate the gardens in his mother’s honor. He had the most exquisite flowers and plants rooted and even helped in their maintenance when he had the opportunity. The gardens were once his mother’s happy place, and he wanted them to be picturesque for her when she came back, if she ever came back.

“I hope you like what I’ve done with the gardens,” he said, breaking the silence.

“I don’t just like it, Zuko, I love it,” she said as they passed a row of cherry blossom trees. “It’s no wonder so many nobles from the Earth Kingdom are having gardens like this installed. It's a shame for them because theirs are just cheap knockoffs.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say such a thing.” Just then, he spotted the flowers he wanted to show her and skillfully led her to them.

“Had a few run-ins with nobility over the years; they are not the nicest bunch.”

“Oh, I know. Nobles are the worst, but they have money and influence, which is why I must get on their good side.”

“Get on the good side of the common people first, and then the nobles will follow. Trust me on that.”

“Speaking of trusting you, I want to give you this.” He said, plucking the prettiest moon flower from its bush. The flower petals were cream-white with ivory anthers inside.

“Oh, Zuko, that’s so sweet of you.”

“I just wanted to give you something as a symbol of my gratitude for your friendship. I also want to thank you for choosing to come here.”

“No need to thank me; that’s what friends are for,” Katara lightly admonished. She took the flower offered to her and placed it in her hair.

“This section of the gardens is for royal family members only, but seeing as I’m the only one left, I give you unrestricted access to it. If you go further down this path, you’ll find an open area; it’s perfect if you want to bend in complete privacy.”

“Thank you so much, Zuko; you’re the best!” she said merrily. “I can’t wait to spar with you.”

“That’s if I have time; I’m usually very busy.”

“Oh,” she said a little downtrodden.

“Oh—I mean—of course I’ll spar with you. Just tell me when,” he said, scratching the back of his head.

The two friends spent the rest of the night conversing about life, their other friends, and anything and everything. When they both grew too tired to continue talking, Zuko walked Katara to her chambers.

“I will have a servant bring you a vase for the flower. Please, don’t put the moon flower in direct sunlight; keep it in the shade,” he informed her once they reached her chambers. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Nope, I just need to sleep,” she said, yawning. She stepped into her room while Zuko stood in the hallway.

“Okay, if you need anything, let the night servants know. They are at the end of the hallway.”

“Okay, got it. Good night, Zuko.”

“Good night, Katara.”

“I love you,” Katara said absent-mindedly. When she realized what she said, she added, “…as a friend.”

Zuko, dumbstruck by what she said, quickly responded. “Oh—um, yeah—thank you? I mean… I love you too…as a friend?”

Rather than deal with the awkwardness of the situation, Katara shut her door, placed the flower on the table next to her bed, jumped into bed, and went straight to sleep. Meanwhile, the flustered young Lord stared at her door for longer than was appropriate before he walked all the way to his chambers.

“Katara! Wakey wakey!” shouted a voice, startling Katara awake. She knew that voice could belong to only one person—Amka. Katara groaned and threw her blankets over her head, but they were quickly stripped from her. “Come on, you don’t want to be late for your first official morning meal as ambassador.”

Amka was Katara’s oldest friend and newest assistant. She was a gray-eyed, petite, nutmeg-skinned woman with hair that reached the back of her knees, always kept in intricate braids. She was a few years older than Katara and Sokka and used to babysit them when their parents were busy. Her face and body were tattooed with marks of their people, symbolizing that she had reached womanhood. Her grandfather was the previous Chief of Wolf Cove before Katara’s father, Hakoda, was elected. When Katara returned to the Southern Water Tribe after being in the North for two years, the first thing Amka did was ask to join Katara on her next adventure, which Katara agreed to, believing that seeing the world would be a fun experience for her.

Katara groaned loudly into her bedding before getting up and stretching her limbs. “Okay, I’m up.”

Amka, in all her bubbly wisdom, exclaimed, “Eww, you didn’t wash last night?”

Katara realized that she was still dressed in the attire she had arrived in. “Yeah, I kind of forgot to. Zuko and I spent so long talking last night that it was almost morning by the time I got to bed.” She began to undress to go to the washroom.

“Hmm, sure you guys were just talking,” Amka said playfully.

Katara stopped mid-undressing at the implication of her words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means nothing,” Amka replied. She then pointed to Katara’s bedside table. “It’s just that you and Fire Lord Zuko seem awfully close. I mean, I never had a guy friend who picked flowers and wrote me love letters.”

Katara turned and saw a bouquet of moon flowers and fire lilies on the bedside table. She walked up to the table and smelled them; they smelled lovely. Next to them was a letter, which she unfolded and read:

Dearest Katara,

I picked these flowers this morning since I didn’t want to give you just one. You deserve a room filled with the most enchanting of flowers to ever exist, but I can only give you a bouquet.

I am happy that you’re here.

Love,
Zuko

At times like this, Katara wondered if the Zuko she first met and the sweet and sensitive man she knew as her friend were ever the same person. She reread the letter a couple of times before placing it back next to the bouquet. “Yeah, him and I are just really good friends.”

“Oh, please,” Amka remarked.

Katara ignored her and marched straight to her washroom. As Katara soaked in the luxurious bathtub, she absentmindedly recalled the events of the previous night and felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She couldn't believe she had told Zuko she loved him, even if it was meant in a platonic sense. It was a mistake she would have to avoid repeating in the future. Even with that thought, she realized she needed to get Zuko something in return. After her first council meeting as ambassador, she would head out to the markets to get Zuko a gift. She got out of the bath and went back into her chamber to find that Amka had laid out her clothes for the day.

“Amka, as grateful as I am for your assistance, don’t go through my things.”

“Oh, Katara, I didn’t realize you were still touchy about your belongings. I want what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me is you staying away from my stuff,” Katara snorted. “Don’t mother me.”

“Old habits die hard.”

After that, Katara quickly dressed. She wore a sky-blue tunic that extended to the knees with split sides for leg movement and navy trousers trimmed with white fur. She then accessorized and braided her hair, with Amka’s assistance, into two braids. Amka was dressed similarly but chose to also wear a parka. Just as the two women opened the door to leave, they were met by the imposing form of Midori.

“Master Katara, I’m here to escort you to the royal family’s private dining chamber,” Midori announced. “The Fire Lord cordially invites you to join him for the morning meal.”

Before Katara could reply, Amka exclaimed, “Katara, come on! Let’s go have a meal with the Fire Lord! I can’t wait to meet him.”

“Only Master Katara was invited, Lady Amka.”

“How do you know my name?”

“It’s my business to know everyone who goes in and out of the palace, Lady Amka.”

“How diligent of you.”

Midori ignored her and inquired, “Master Katara, do you accept his invitation?”

“Actually, I don’t,” Katara said. “I can’t bail on a meal with Amka and my people.”

The other women were taken aback by her reply, but Midori recovered first. “I see. I’ll inform Lord Zuko.” As she turned to leave, Amka grabbed her arm.

“Wait! She’s going to that meal.”

“I am?” Katara asked.

“You are,” Amka responded. “You’ve eaten tons of meals with the rest of us. Plus, one doesn’t decline an invitation from the Fire Lord. He’s your friend. Go eat with him. You can catch up with the rest of us later.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course!”

Katara looked over at Midori. “Well, take me to Zuko.”

Zuko paced around in the orient dining chamber. The room was a blend of historical richness and cultural significance, featuring a rectangular wooden dining table with intricate gold inlay designs, porcelain items, cushioned stools, a ceiling with intricate patterns and gilded accents, and walls with panels showcasing the opulent Fire Nation style.

Zuko hoped he had not been too forward in inviting Katara for a meal. He knew they had spent last night together, but he wanted her company before his day got too busy. Just as he was about to send a servant to tell Midori to leave Katara be, both women walked in.

“Zuko, you look really nice,” Katara complimented him. Zuko's attire was a black robe with gold embroidery, a deep red outer garment with black and gold accents, and large, ornate shoulder epaulets. A wide leather belt with metal fittings and tassels cinched his waist, adding to the rich look. A tall, five-pronged crown headdress completed the ensemble, symbolizing his high status. “You’re dressed like a true Fire Lord.”

“Oh, thanks,” he said, blushing. He then turned to Midori and excused her from the room. Once she left, the two friends sat at the opulent table, and soon servants came into the room carrying food of Fire Nation and Water Tribe origins. “I hope you like the meal I had the chefs make. I made sure sea prunes were prepared.”

“Thank you, Zuko,” Katara said as she placed her favorite meal in front of herself. She dug in, and Zuko couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her. Katara didn’t realize it, but she puffed out her cheeks as she ate; it made her look so cute. She noticed him watching and asked, “What are you staring at? Is there something on my face?”

“No, there’s nothing,” he said. “I just like what you’ve done with your hair.”

Katara flushed and fiddled with the end of her braids. Zuko had been so sweet with her lately that she didn’t know how to react. “I want to thank you for the flowers and note you wrote. That was sweet.”

“Anything for you, Katara.” Realizing what his words implied, he added, “Anything within reason.”

The girl laughed at his misstep, endeared by the fact that he wanted to take care of her. “So, what are your plans for the day?”

“After this meal, I have a few council meetings to attend to. Then I will most likely see you at the dignitaries’ meeting after mid-day. After that, I have tea with a couple of nobles and will end my day with sparring with Midori and the guards.”

“Wow, you have a jam-packed day ahead.”

“All my days are jam-packed with official business, and so will yours now.”

“What have I signed myself up for?” she grumbled half-heartedly.

“Welcome to the world of Fire Nation politics,” he teased her. “You’ll wish you were back home in no time.”

“Not at all. I never shy away from a challenge.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Anyways, my day will be filled with shadowing Bato before he leaves tomorrow.”

“I will set you up with a meeting with my interior designers so you can style his old office the way you want. All on the palace’s dime, of course.”

“There’s no need for that.”

“There is if you’re going to be staying here for an indefinite amount of time.”

She couldn’t argue with that, so they ate their food in companionable silence. As the meal drew to a close, they sat around the table and just enjoyed each other’s company. Soon, a palace attendant came knocking, informing Zuko that his first meeting of the day was about to begin.

“Thank you for giving me the pleasure of your company, Katara,” Zuko said, standing up to leave. “I will see you later today.”

“Catch you later,” she answered. “I better get going as well. Wouldn’t want to miss Bato.” With that, the two friends went their separate ways.

Katara went to the Water Tribe dignitaries' wing of the palace and then to the lounging room within that wing. The room was an ornately decorated hall with polished red wood and gold detailing, showcasing high craftsmanship. It featured large red columns, elaborate lanterns, detailed beams and crossbeams, and finely crafted tables.

She was met by Amka, who was lounging around with a few other people. “Well, look who's back from their date!” A few of the tribespeople laughed.

“It wasn’t a date, Amka,” Katara said exasperatedly. “It was a nice meal between friends.” Her explanation elicited more giggles.

“Sure, whatever you say,” said Kova. “Not all of us get bouquets of flowers and love letters from the Fire Lord.”

“Don’t forget to mention private one-on-one time with him,” added Siku.

“Amka! You told them about that?” Katara frowned. The woman in question gave her a sheepish grin.

Kova and Siku were hulking figures from the sister villages of Wolf Cove, part of the Southern Water Tribe. They had moved to Wolf Cove after the war because the place was growing into the tribe’s capital. People often mistook them for brothers since they were both huge and looked alike, especially with their hair styled in wolf tails. They were just a few years older than Katara and had been chosen to fight in the war when they were barely sixteen. They were also Bato’s assistants to the Fire Nation.

“I knew Zuko before he became Fire Lord,” Katara said in her defense.

“Yeah, you knew him as Prince Zuko,” Amka teasingly corrected.

Katara made an annoyed sound. “Whatever, guys. Have any of you seen Bato?”

“Yeah, he went to his office after the morning meal,” revealed Siku. “He’s preparing for his closing statement as ambassador.”

“Amka, come on, let’s go see him.”

“Why must I come?”

“Because you’re my assistant. You go with me everywhere.”

“Oh, here comes bossy Katara,” howled Kova. “Sokka warned us about this.”

She rolled her eyes and directed Amka to follow her. The other woman begrudgingly complied.

Chapter Text

Katara marched into the Southern Water Tribe ambassador’s office, with Amka following close behind, and was greeted by Bato reciting his retirement speech.

“Ah, Katara, you’re finally here. Do you have your speech ready?”

“I know it by heart.”

“Perfect, let’s practice.” Bato and Katara had agreed that after his speech, she would introduce herself to her fellow ambassadors and the rest of Zuko’s council. Being the preparer she was, she had written her speech at home when she was appointed and had practiced it on her way to the Fire Nation. Her past experience had made it clear that she needed to perfect her craft early or risk being chewed up and spat out by the other ambassadors and council members.

After a while of reciting what they had prepared and answering some questions that might arise, Amka interrupted. “Don’t you guys think you’re trying too hard? You’ve done this before.”

Bato sighed. “All true, but this is a dignitaries’ meeting, meaning people who set the tone for international relations will be there, and we must make a good impression.”

“Katara is a war hero. Doesn’t that set a good enough impression?”

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t. In fact, it might be a hindrance.”

“How?”

“They will think Zuko and I are biased towards one another,” Katara answered in Bato’s stead. “They will assume I’m here to leverage my position as his friend for the good of the tribe.”

“I mean, aren’t you?”

“I... I don’t know,” Katara admitted, her voice filled with doubt. This was the one thing that gnawed at her about her appointment. She knew her father believed in her abilities, but she wasn't convinced the council of elders felt the same way. Deep down, she couldn't shake the suspicion that they were merely using her to manipulate Zuko into meeting their demands. Despite repeatedly proving herself, she never received the same recognition that Sokka did. The disparity stung, leaving her questioning her worth in their eyes.

Bato, knowing this was a touchy subject, changed the topic. “Amka, did Kova and Siku prepare you for your duties?”

“Yes, I’ve got this in the bag.”

The rest of the morning went by quickly. Although Katara stewed over how she would be perceived by her new colleagues, she knew her age would make them undermine her. It didn’t matter, of course; she would still do her best in the face of adversity.

“Bato, who should I be wary of among the ambassadors?”

“In terms of who to be wary of, I’d say the Northern Water Tribe Ambassador Cupun. He will have an issue with you being so young and a woman,” he revealed. “Also...”

“Also, what?”

“He, and many from the north, have been advocating for uniting the tribes.”

“That’s ama—,” Amka began.

“Horrible,” Katara interjected, appalled at the mere suggestion of unification.

Confused, Amka asked, “Why would it be horrible?”

“The Southern Water Tribe and Northern Water Tribe are two distinct tribes with different cultures, traditions, and ways of life. Unification could lead to cultural homogenization, power imbalance, loss of autonomy, and economic disparities. The Northern Tribe could dominate the Southern Tribe, causing an unequal distribution of resources and political power,” Bato explained.

“Not to mention the fights this would cause,” Katara added. “Life for the existing northerners in the south would be hard.”

“Oh, I never would have guessed,” Amka said, embarrassed.

“There’s a reason our ancestors parted ways with the north.” He then turned to Katara. “He will most likely try to get on your good side. Don’t trust him.”

For once, Katara agreed. The south had always been the smaller tribe of the two and had suffered the most during the war. Unification talks would ultimately mean the Southern Water Tribe submitting to northern rule.

“Who else should I watch out for?” she asked.

“For Zuko’s sake, be wary of Ambassador Joon of the Earth Kingdom. He’s a greedy bastard who just wants to milk Zuko dry.”

Before the girls could respond, Siku and Kova knocked and informed them that the meeting was about to start. They all walked to the throne room, where they were met by the sight of an expansive room featuring black pillars with gold bases and black-tiled floors. Zuko sat on an ornate throne surrounded by a wall of fire. An enormous bas-relief image of a dragon breathing fire adorned the wall behind him. The imposing atmosphere was designed to instill awe and fear in those entering.

They took their seats below the throne in the spot designated for Southern Water Tribe dignitaries. The Air Acolyte ambassador was the only ambassador already present, so they had to wait for the rest of the advisers and ambassadors to arrive. Once they did, the Head Sage began the proceedings. “All hail Agni and the Spirits’ mighty power, for it has blessed us with our formidable Fire Lord Zuko. May these proceedings be fruitful for all. May you all feel Agni and the Spirits’ grace.”

The Head Sage then bowed to Zuko and left the room once dismissed. Head Adviser Qahir rose and stood in the center, addressing Zuko. “Sire, we’ve gathered here today to discuss official international business. How should we proceed?”

Behind the wall of fire, Zuko’s voice boomed. “Introduce yourselves.”

“Of course, sire.” Qahir then directed the Air Acolyte to rise.

“I am Ambassador Boshay, of the Air Nomads,” she announced, her voice carrying an airiness. She was dressed in the traditional attire of the Air Nomads: a vibrant yellow tunic, an orange shawl draped over her shoulders, a brown skirt, and tall red boots.

After her stood a handsome man, around Bato’s age, dressed in long, richly embroidered dark green garments fashioned with gold trims and intricate patterns. “I am Ambassador Joon of the monumental Earth Kingdom, humble servant of King Kuei and King Bumi.”

Next, a Kyoshi Warrior spoke in a resonant tone that traveled around the room. “I am Ambassador Zuiho of Kyoshi Island. Pleasure to be of service.” She was dressed in a resplendent armored kimono of vibrant green silk, with an ornate metal headdress crowning her head. Her makeup was elaborate and meticulously applied. In height and all, she was the spitting image of Avatar Kyoshi, except her hair was pitch black.

A slender man, about Iroh’s age, rose. “I am Ambassador Cupun of the Northern Water Tribe.” He was dressed completely in the winter attire of his people, wearing a bulky, hooded coat lined and trimmed with plush fur. The exteriors had patterns resembling waves. How he wasn’t burning was anyone’s guess.

Bato rose as it was his turn to speak. “I am former Ambassador Bato, representing the Southern Water Tribe. I bring Master Katara as my replacement.” There was some muttering around the room, but nothing reached Katara’s ears. Fire Nation advisers introduced themselves after Bato was done speaking. She listened intently to each one, making sure to note who was who. She was nothing if not thorough. When she promised Zuko to help, she meant it.

Adviser Qahir stood and faced Zuko. “Fire Lord, we have all become acquainted with one another. How do you wish we proceed?”

“State the itinerary and begin official business.” Zuko was stone-faced as he spoke with authority. His face bore no emotion, yet every inch of him screamed power.

One of Adviser Qahir’s assistants appeared at his side and gave him the itinerary. “We have all gathered here today to discuss session two hundred and ninety-nine on the subject of reparations for the Hundred Year War. We will lead with the most affected nations first, followed by the least. The order will go as follows: Air Nomads, Southern Water Tribe, Earth Kingdom, Northern Water Tribe, and finally, Kyoshi Island.”

Ambassador Boshay rose again. “Avatar Aang, the leader of the Air Nomads, finds the standing reparation payment plan to be sufficient. The Air Temples are being rebuilt to their pre-genocide state, and the search for Air Nomad cultural artifacts has been satisfactory. We only have one demand.”

“What is it?” an adviser asked.

“For further assistance in the search for and reintegration of airbenders into Air Nomad culture.”

After the war had ended, and Avatar Aang was acknowledged by the world as an airbender, many people came forward claiming to be of Air Nomad heritage. It was a surprise to the Avatar and his friends. Airbenders were a nomadic group, and when the Air Temples were massacred, many went into hiding in other nations. They chose to assimilate to avoid persecution and death. Now, the descendants of those who evaded capture wanted to reclaim their heritage. Some could airbend a little, while others had kept artifacts; however, all of them wanted to learn the ways of their ancestors.

“What more do you need?” an affronted adviser asked. “We already give your people thirty percent of the nation's GDP.”

“We need a national broadcast to locate all Air Nomad descendants residing in the Fire Nation,” she began, “as well as education for the common people on Air Nomad culture.”

“Why?” another adviser asked.

“So that those interested in what they hear can properly learn the ways of the Air Nomads in the temples. Our numbers are low, and we need a growing population to be able to stand on our own. I was once Fire Nation and now I am an Air Acolyte. It is a dream of mine to see more people convert.”

"That's preposterous! You'll be stealing our people!" yelled an adviser.

"I will allow it," Zuko proclaimed. "The Fire Nation owes the Air Nomads a life debt. We will do everything in our power to right our wrongs." Even as he spoke, it was clear that the majority of his advisers disagreed. Zuko didn't care; he remembered how thirteen-year-old Aang had wept in his arms after the first group of airbenders was found. His words stuck with him:

I am not alone anymore.

After that, Zuko swore to do everything he could for Aang and the Air Nomads.

"Sire, this would be a massive undertaking," stated Imin, the adviser of education. "The education curriculum for the next two years has already been set. Changing it now would be wasteful."

"I'm not ordering you to change it," Zuko corrected. "I'm ordering you to add to it. Make a plan. Ambassador Boshay, is there anything else you'd like to add?"

"No, Fire Lord Zuko."

"Southern Water Tribe, it is your turn to be heard," Adviser Qahir stated.

Bato stood from his cushioned seat. "First, I would like to discuss my tenure as Ambassador."

"You may."

"It is an honor and a privilege to stand before you all today as I reflect on my tenure as Ambassador. As I prepare to step down from this role, I am filled with a profound sense of gratitude, pride, and humility. Serving as ambassador has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life, and I am deeply grateful for the support, trust, and collaboration I have received from so many of you.

"After the war, I was asked by my battle brother and Chief of Wolf Cove, Hakoda, to be ambassador to the Fire Nation. At first, I said no—I was tired and missed my home terribly. It wasn’t until his son, Sokka, sat me down and explained his vision to strengthen our diplomatic ties, foster mutual understanding, and promote the interests of our tribe abroad that I agreed. Looking back, I am proud of the strides we have made together. Our bilateral relationships have grown stronger, our cultural exchanges have flourished, and our economic partnerships have yielded significant benefits for my people.

"One of the most gratifying aspects of my tenure has been the opportunity to work with young Fire Lord Zuko. Your commitment to excellence, your professionalism, and your unwavering dedication to our mission have been truly inspiring. It has been a privilege to witness the many ways our nations contribute to a better tomorrow. As I prepare to embark on the next chapter of my life, I do so with a heart full of gratitude. Thank you all for your support, your friendship, and your dedication. It has been an honor to serve, and I will always cherish the time we have spent together."

Bato bowed to Zuko, and the young man stated, "Thank you for your dedication to our mission. I hope your time home is as enjoyable as it can be."

"It will be, Fire Lord. Ambassador Katara would like to make a speech of her own."

"She may."

Bato directed Katara to stand and then sat down.

"It is with great honor and humility that I stand before you today as the newly appointed ambassador to the Fire Nation. This moment is a testament to the progress we have made together, and to the hope that our shared future holds. The scars of war left deep marks on our hearts and our lands. Yet, through the courage and determination of many, we have embarked on a journey of healing and reconciliation.

"I have witnessed firsthand the power of understanding and empathy. As a member of Team Avatar, I saw the transformative potential of unity and cooperation. These experiences have taught me that, no matter our differences, we are all connected by our shared humanity and our desire for peace. Today, as ambassador, I pledge to uphold these values. I will work tirelessly to strengthen the bonds between our nations, to foster mutual respect, and to build a future where children can grow up in a world free from the shadows of the past.

"We have already taken significant steps towards this goal. From cultural exchanges to cooperative projects, our collaboration has brought tangible benefits to both our peoples. But there is still much work to be done. Together, we can ensure that the flames of the Fire Nation are a beacon of hope and prosperity, not of destruction. I am deeply grateful for the trust you all have placed in me. I am committed to honoring that trust through my actions and dedication. Let us move forward with open hearts and open minds, knowing that the strength of our nations lies in our unity."

She also bowed to Zuko. "Thank you, Master Katara. Your presence here is a testament to how far we’ve come."

"May we return to official business?" Adviser Qahir inquired.

"Of course," Bato answered. "Katara, begin."

"The leaders of the Southern Water Tribe find the current arrangement with the Fire Nation to be acceptable," Katara began. "The Southern Restoration Project has exceeded all expectations. War prisoners who were released by Lord Zuko have either been reunited with their families or have built communities of their own with the stipend given to them. Our artifacts have been returned to us, and our nation is growing exponentially. Due to new developments, however, we want to form a new alliance with the Fire Nation."

A buzz traveled around the room.

"Large oil reserves have been found, and we want the Fire Nation to assist us in extracting, refining, and selling the oil to the world at large," Katara revealed. "In exchange for the assistance, we will sell the oil to the Fire Nation at a significantly reduced price."

Soon cries of objection could be heard from the Earth Kingdom ambassador and some Fire Nation advisers. "You cannot do this!" "That’s basically daylight robbery!"

Adviser Qahir tried to quiet them down, but it was no use. It wasn’t until the wall of fire around Zuko explosively reached the ceiling that they suddenly quieted down.

"Enough," Zuko said without raising his voice.

A rigid silence spread through the room. Zuko made it a habit to keep his temper in check when dealing with politics, but he couldn't just watch them yell at Katara.

"My only question is why," asked Ambassador Cupun, staring at Katara with his murky blue eyes. "Why would the South lower itself to working with the Fire Nation when the North and Earth Kingdom are available to help?"

Katara knew this question would come up. "You and I both know that the Earth Kingdom and the North already have an oil trade agreement of their own. It’s only fair for the rest of us to form alliances as well."

"Fair? What do you know about being fair, child?" Ambassador Joon interjected. "The Fire Nation deserves to starve for what they’ve done! They slaughtered our people, raped our women, and ruined the world for a hundred years! Now you want to make an agreement with them?"

"Yes," Katara acknowledged. "Even though the Fire Nation has done wrong in the past, that doesn’t mean I should continue to punish them when they’re trying to make amends."

"Damn you and your leaders."

"I suggest you watch your mouth, Ambassador Joon," Zuko warned. "You have every right to dislike my nation and people, but the same can’t be said about Ambassador Katara and the South. This meeting is adjourned for now; we will reconvene at a later date."

"Yes, sire," Head Adviser Qahir nervously agreed. "Rise, everyone, and bid the Fire Lord goodbye." Everyone did, some more begrudgingly than others.

"Wow, who knew that politics could be so exciting!" Amka exclaimed. "Did you see how red Ambassador Joon got?"

Katara, Amka, Siku, and Kova were walking through the busy marketplace, looking for something interesting enough to give Zuko. So far, the latter three had found intriguing wares for themselves, while Katara had found none that piqued her interest.

"Ambassador Joon always gets like that," Siku clarified in southern dialect. "He hates when anything goes the Fire Nation’s way."

"He didn’t need to be such a sore loser about it," Katara added, also in southern dialect. "Everyone knows the Fire Nation is the technological hub of the world. Of course, we were going to work with them."

The four friends passed by a group of crotchety old men, and one of the old geezers yelled, "Speak the common tongue or fire dialect if you’re in the Fire Nation! We don’t want to hear your savage language!"

Before any of them could reply, a group of young Fire Nationals spoke out. "Shut it, old man! Get with the times. The war is over."

The Fire Nationals then walked over to Katara and her friends. "Sorry about that," said the young man leading the group. "Some old folks are stuck in the past."

"Yeah, we can tell," Kova quipped. Katara smacked his shoulder.

"It’s no problem, we know how the older generation can get."

"Still, you guys shouldn’t be subjected to that. Let us make it up to you. A plate of fire noodles and fire gummies on us."

"We don’t even know your names," Amka pointed out.

"Oh yeah," the man flushed. "My name is Utaya." He then pointed to his friends. "These are Tui and Gao." They waved their hands.

"Well, I’m Katara, and these are my friends, Amka, Kova, and Siku."

"Wait, you’re the Master Katara?" the girl, Tui, questioned.

"Um... yeah," Katara replied, a bit embarrassed.

“That’s so cool! I’m a big fan of your work,” Tui said. She then turned to Gao and added, “Babe, it’s her in the flesh.” The tall, attractive boy just nodded his head and affectionately patted her arm.

“Never thought I’d see the day I’d meet a war hero,” Utaya said. “Now we really have to take you guys out.”

“There’s no need for that,” Katara disagreed.

“Oh, there is,” Tui insisted. “My parents own a restaurant a few stalls down. We can eat there for free.”

It was getting late in the day, and she could tell the others wanted to eat, so she agreed. On the way there, Utaya and Tui asked Katara question after question, and most were happily answered by Amka, while Gao walked in the back with Kova and Siku. Tui led them to a quaint restaurant advertising food from all nations. “This is my parents’ place, guys,” Tui informed them.

They entered the restaurant and were greeted by the sight of a charming small establishment. The floors were mahogany wood, and the tables and chairs were a reddish-brown. The walls had art depicting all four nations and elements. The place wasn’t densely packed, but there was a crowd. “Tui, your parents’ place is so cute,” Amka complimented.

“Oh, thank you.”

She led them to a table and went to the back of the diner. She quickly returned with two middle-aged folks following. “Mom, Dad, this is Master Katara and her friends, Amka, Siku, and Kova.”

“It is an honor to meet you all,” her dad said.

“Whatever food you order is on the house,” her mom added.

“There’s no need for that,” Katara said.

“It’s not every day you meet a war hero, Katara,” Utaya said. “Besides, we offered to take you guys out.”

“Yeah, Katara, let them do this,” Amka insisted.

“Well, if you guys say so.”

Tui’s parents took their orders—seven plates of mild fire noodles and fire gummies for dessert—and went to the back kitchen to start preparing.

“So how are you finding the Fire Nation so far?” Tui asked, sitting next to Gao.

“We’ve only been here for two days, so there’s not much to tell, besides the fact that so many of your people are rude,” Amka revealed. Katara kicked her shin. Ever since she was a child, Amka had the habit of talking too much. It was adorable when she was little, but a little annoying now that she was grown.

“We are really sorry about that. Not all of us are like that,” Utaya apologized.

“Oh, we know. The Fire Lord is the sweetest,” Amka began. “He got Kat—”

“Anyways,” Katara loudly interrupted. “The Fire Nation isn’t all bad. I met some lovely fire nationals during the war.”

“Are you talking about when you were in Jang Hui or Fire Fountain City?” Tui asked. “I actually visited both because of you. The Jang Hui River is amazing in the summer.”

“That’s…cool?” Katara replied, embarrassed by how much Tui knew about her. “How do you know I was at Jang Hui and Fire Fountain City?”

“All your adventures during the war have been publicized,” Utaya answered. “There are plays and books about you guys in Team Avatar.”

“I really like what you did as the Painted Lady,” Tui complimented. “Every time there’s the Spirits Festival, I dress up as you or the Painted Lady.”

“Oh, Katara, it seems you’ve got a fan,” Siku teased.

Katara blushed, flustered by the whole interaction. She was used to having fans, but each time she encountered one, she couldn’t help but feel flattered. “Thank you so much, Tui.”

“I’ve always wanted to know who your favorite opponent was to fight.”

“Zuko,” Katara said without thinking. “Before he joined our team, fighting him was exhilarating. Now, sparring with him keeps me on my toes.”

“Oh, I thought you’d say Princess Azula.”

Instantly, the mood turned sour. Whenever her fight with Azula was brought up, Katara couldn’t help but feel guilty—guilty for Azula’s current state of mind and the scar Zuko bore at the center of his chest.

Her thoughts must have shown on her face because Utaya said, “Way to kill the vibe, Tui. You know no one talks about Princess Azula.”

Tui instantly apologized for her blunder, but Katara waved it away. “It’s alright. Fighting Azula is… it’s like fighting death itself.”

“But you sure knew how to keep up with her,” Amka added, trying to lift her mood.

“Yeah, I sure did.”

Thankfully, Tui’s parents brought trays of food. The group of young adults dug into their bowls of fire noodles, Katara having the mildest one, of course. Afterwards, they had their fire gummies, and the fire nationals laughed at the tribespeople’s reaction to the spicy candy. It got dark outside, and it was decided it was time to head back to the palace. Gao, Tui, and Utaya agreed to walk them there. Once they reached the palace, Katara and Amka promised to meet up with them again in a few days. Kova and Siku went to find Bato to discuss their departure in the morning while Katara followed Amka to her room.

When they got to her room, Amka went to her crate of things and took out beads and wire. Katara watched her work on them and asked, “What are you doing?”

“I’m making friendship bracelets for Kova, Siku, and our new friends.”

“Don’t you think we’re a little too old for friendship bracelets?”

“One is never too old for gifts from a friend.”

This sparked an idea in Katara. “Do you have more wire and beads that I can use?”

“Yes, I even have some leather ribbons.”

“Perfect.”

Zuko roared fire at the three guards advancing on him. Thankfully, they had shields protecting them from the blast. One got close enough to raise their dao sword to strike at Zuko, but he quickly deflected and kicked him in the chest. Another came running, and she had her legs swiped from under her. Now only one remained. Zuko and his Head Guard, Midori, circled one another, waiting to see who would attack first. The suspense got to Zuko, and he went to strike her midsection, but she saw this and moved out of the way. Instead, she grabbed his extended arm, pulled him closer, and kneed him in the gut. Zuko fell flat to the ground, and just as he was about to rise, he felt the tip of her blade on his neck.

“Do you yield, sire?”

“I yield.”

“You’re losing your touch. You should train more.”

Zuko didn’t respond. Midori offered him a hand, but he lifted himself up instead. Zuko had been in a foul mood all day after the ambassadors’ meeting. He was pleased to have a trade alliance with the south, but he knew the north and Earth Kingdom wouldn’t take the development lying down. His afternoon tea with the nobles was an unpleasant affair filled with backhanded compliments and snide remarks. He just wished for one day to go his way.

“There you are, Zuko,” Katara said, entering the training grounds. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She jogged up to him and gave him a hug.

“I did tell you where I was going to spend my evening.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t say anything about missing dinner.”

“Okay, my bad.”

“I wanted to give you something.” From her pocket, she took out purple dao sword handle wraps and tassels with beads at the ends. “I made these for your swords since I know how much you like to sword fight.”

“Katara, I’m touched.”

“Want to head to the gardens and talk?”

“Yeah.”

Her face lit up with a smile that brightened his terrible day. As she pulled his arm through the palace to the gardens, Zuko realized his day wasn’t that bad.

Chapter Text

“If you had woken me up sooner, we wouldn’t be so late to see Bato and the others off,” Katara remarked, racing down the hallways of the palace. It was dawn; soon Bato and his crew would depart for the south, and they needed to be at the harbor quickly.

“It’s not my fault you and your friend decided to chat all night,” Amka retorted, hot on her heels. “Besides, it isn’t my job to wake you up.”

“Actually, it is! You’re my assistant!”

They ran into the final hallway, just before reaching the dawn sky, when someone yelled out, "Katara, wait up!" The voice belonged to a hooded figure chasing after them. The girls skidded to a stop and waited for the figure to approach. When they did, they pulled their hood down.

“What are you doing here, Zuko?”

“I want to see Bato and your people off.”

“That would be nice,” Katara decided. “But why the getup?”

“I wanted to be inconspicuous.”

“So you thought wearing a cloak wouldn’t draw attention?”

“Guys! As nice as it is to finally meet you, Fire Lord Zuko, we are really running late!” Amka cut in. “Can we get this show on the road?”

“Um, that’s why I stopped you guys,” Zuko flushed. “I have a cart ready to take us to the harbor.”

“Why didn’t you lead with that? Come on, let’s go.”

Zuko led the girls to the stables and hurried them onto the shabbiest-looking cart attached to an elderly ostrichhorse. He sat up front, drew the reins, and set off out of the palace. The city was waking up with the sunrise and was brimming with activity. Zuko chose less crowded paths to avoid the hordes of people. Amka, who was in the bed of the cart, drew closer to Zuko up front.

“So, Fire Lord, you certainly are strange.”

Zuko, with his eyes on the road, asked, amused, “How so?”

“You’re dressed in a disguise, leading us through seemingly deserted trails to the harbor in a rather old cart. Not to mention, you’re heading to see Bato off not in your capacity as Fire Lord.”

He turned to face her and then looked at Katara, who watched the whole interaction with a smile. “Katara, your friend is sure observant.”

“That’s why I chose her as my assistant.”

He then turned to Amka. “I guess I am a little bit strange, but I have my reasons.”

“Which are?”

“Well, I was advised not to see Bato off. There have been complaints of me showing favoritism toward the south.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate.”

“Truly, which is why I have to go undercover to say goodbye to the man.”

“Who complained?” Katara asked.

“Joon and a couple of advisors,” he revealed after turning back to face the road.

“It’s smart you took their complaints into consideration.”

“I didn’t really; I’ll just do what I want discreetly. There are some limitations to what I can do in my official capacity.”

“We wouldn’t want to jeopardize your political relationships like that.”

The journey to the harbor ended soon after that. Bato stood by the main ship talking to the logistic coordinator, while Kova and Siku directed some dock workers who were loading cargo onto the ship. Zuko halted the cart at the designated area for wagons and carriages, and the girls hopped off.

“Bato! It’s sad to see you go,” Amka cried out and jumped into Bato’s arms once the logistics coordinator walked off.

The older man laughed as he caught her. “You know I’m not a spring chicken to jump on.”

“Sorry, I forgot you’re an old man,” she apologized. “Katara and I made you a parting gift.” She took out a beautifully beaded bracelet and necklace.

“Thank you, girls; your parents will be happy to hear that you’re adapting well to life in the Fire Nation.”

“What about us, Amka? Won’t we be missed?” Kova asked as he and Siku approached the three around Bato.

“Are we chopped liver or something?” Siku added. “No gifts for us?”

“Of course, I have something for you two.” She gave them both their bracelets and a kiss on the cheek.

“This is nice and all, but who is your cloaked friend?”

Zuko briefly removed his hood and then put it back on.

Before Kova and Siku could respond, Zuko spoke. “Bato, I wanted to personally see you off. I know you aren’t one for the theatrics of court politics, so I came just as myself.”

“I appreciate that, son; you have grown into a fine young man.” He then hugged him.

Zuko was surprised by the act but returned it all the same. He didn’t have many men who were around his father’s age complimenting him for all he’s done. It was nice to bask in the moment.

“Yeah, Fire Lord, you’re an alright guy,” Siku expressed.

“You are the best thing about this place,” Kova voiced.

“Alright, you two, you’re going to give him a big head,” Katara finally spoke. “Bato, what about my hug?”

He let go of Zuko. “Come here, little penguin.”

She ran into his arms, and he enveloped her with his warmth. “Say hi to Gran-Gran and Dad for me.”

“No greetings for your brother?”

“I will send him a letter.”

“Speaking of sending a letter to Sokka,” Zuko interrupted, pulling out a letter from his cloak, “can you give him this?” Bato nodded and took the letter offered.

A crewman rushed up to the group. “Bato, it’s time to leave for the south.”

“Come on, boys, let’s go.”

With one final hug and goodbye, Bato, Kova, and Siku boarded the ship. Amka, Katara, and Zuko watched as the ship began to set sail. Waves gently lapped against the hull, carrying the ship further away from the dock. The sound of the wind filling the sails and the faint cries of seagulls echoed in the background. As the vessel became a distant silhouette, Amka's eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Amka, are you crying?” Katara asked.

“I just hate goodbyes,” she answered, wiping her eyes.

“We should head back to the palace,” Zuko stated. “I have some documents to look over.”

However, just as they were about to leave the dock, they were stopped by someone running over to them. “Amka, Katara! I knew it was you two.”

“Utaya! So nice to see you!” Amka exclaimed.

“What are you doing here?” Katara asked.

“Gao and I are dock workers,” he replied. “He went to fetch our things. We were about to head out to see Tui. Are you coming?”

“Unfortu―” Amka began.

“Yes, we’d all like to come,” Zuko announced.

“That’s great, man,” Utaya answered, trying to get a good look at him under the hood of his cloak. “Who are you, anyway?”

Zuko turned to him, giving him a good look at his face. Utaya took in the golden eyes, stern appearance, and horrific burn scar on the left side of his face and slowly realized who this was. He dropped to his knees and bowed to the man. “Fire Lord Zuko, I meant no disrespect. It is an honor to meet you.”

“Rise. Quickly,” Zuko commanded. The other man hastily rose to his feet, and Zuko looked around to see if anyone was watching. Some dock workers had glanced over inquisitively but swiftly went back to work when they saw they were caught looking. “No need for the honorifics; just call me Lee for the time being.”

Utaya vigorously nodded his head. “Yes, of course, your highness.”

“Don’t call me that, just call me Lee.”

Utaya, embarrassed, apologized. “I’m sorry, Lee. It’s just―wow―I never thought I’d meet you.” He wanted to bow to the man, but he knew that wouldn’t be received well, so he just stammered his praises.

“Enough, go fetch your friend―Gao, was it?―and return here. We’ll head to Tui with you,” Zuko instructed.

“He’s most likely still in the common room,” Utaya guessed. “Let me go fetch him.” He then rushed off in the direction he last saw Gao.

Once he was gone, Katara punched Zuko in the arm. He exclaimed, “Ouch! What was that for?”

“Why were you giving Utaya such a hard time?” she questioned him, folding her arms.

“Yeah, you were a bit harsh,” Amka agreed. “I thought you wanted to head back to the palace.”

“I was just pulling his leg,” Zuko explained. “I wanted to see what type of guy he is. He seems alright. Plus, my day is free; I can get back to those documents later.”

“Be nice to him when he gets back,” Katara warned. “Or I’ll show him just how harmless you are.”

“I wouldn’t consider Zuko harmless, Katara,” Amka uttered. “More like harmless to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Katara and Zuko asked, befuddled.

“Oh, nothing,” Amka said, shrugging her shoulders.

Utaya hurriedly returned with Gao, carrying their belongings. Gao gestured respectfully to Zuko.

“Please just treat me like a normal civilian,” Zuko requested. “This is my day off. I’m just hanging out with friends.”

“Request received loud and clear, Lee,” Utaya responded, and Gao nodded.

“We have space for you two on the cart we came here on,” Katara offered. “Come on, let’s head to Tui’s.”

They all walked over to the cart and got on. The two girls and Gao sat in the bed of the cart, while Utaya gave directions up front to Zuko. They passed by derelict buildings and scruffy-looking people. Some begged for change while others lay languidly, as if already dead. Zuko took in the sight before him and felt a sense of responsibility for it. He had to find a way to improve his people’s lives soon. They soon arrived at the quaint restaurant called Ember Delights, and Utaya quickly got off to inform Tui about the new addition: Zuko.

“She’s going to freak out when she realizes just who Lee is,” Amka remarked with a laugh.

“She might actually faint,” Katara agreed with a chuckle of her own.

“Let’s get this over with,” Zuko sighed, pulling the hood even lower over his head.

They entered the establishment, which had only a few patrons. Utaya was whispering to Tui.

“Promise you won’t freak out when you see who it is,” Utaya begged.

“Alright, I promise,” Tui agreed.

The two of them walked over to the others, who had chosen a discreet table. Tui extended her hand to greet the new member of the group.

“Hi, I’m Tui, and you must be Le—” She stopped as she got a good look at him. She looked over at Utaya, who appeared worried, Gao, who was impassive, and Katara and Amka, who giggled behind their hands.

Zuko shook her offered hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Lee.”

The girl stared at their interlocked hands for longer than necessary. She blushed all over, let go of his hand, and ran to the back kitchen. Gao shortly followed after her.

“That went better than I expected,” Utaya huffed as he took a seat next to Amka.

“At least she didn’t faint,” Katara retorted.

“Was it something I said?” Zuko asked, puzzled.

“Nope,” Amka answered. “She’s just starstruck.”

“By me?”

“Yeah, Lee, you’re kind of a big deal,” Katara replied.

“Not to mention she’s had a crush on you since she was a kid,” Utaya revealed. “She practically went feral collecting your first official portraits as Fire Lord when they came out. She stuck them all over her room. Gao almost broke up with her for it.”

“I’m… touched?”

“I’m scared for you. She and her parents are big fans of yours; they might never let you leave.”

Just then, the kitchen door opened, and Tui’s parents came out. They rushed over to them, holding their finest cutlery.

“We are delighted to meet you, Lee,” Tui’s mom said, emphasizing his fake name. She placed the cutlery before him.

“We will personally serve you while you’re here,” Tui’s dad asserted. “You can order anything on and off the menu.”

“There’s no need for that,” Zuko replied, embarrassed by the attention. “I’ll just have some komodo chicken.”

“Coming right up.” Tui’s parents then disappeared into the back kitchen.

“We were forgotten about,” Amka pointed out.

“Sorry about that. Sometimes Tui’s parents get just as excited as she does,” Utaya explained. “Just give me your orders, and I’ll have them prepare it.”

The girls gave their order—a roast duck they would share—and Utaya left to give the orders and look for Tui and Gao.

“Your friends sure are peculiar,” Zuko remarked.

“Give them some grace,” Katara replied. “They’re just surprised, that’s all.”

A short while later, Utaya returned with Gao and a flustered Tui.

“I want to apologize for running off like that,” Tui said, feeling a little humiliated.

“You just needed a moment to gather yourself. It’s okay,” Katara said to make the other girl feel better.

“I’ll go help my parents prepare the meal. I’ll be back soon.” Tui then sped away.

“Someone should go check on her,” Amka suggested as Katara stood to follow the girl.

Utaya grabbed Katara’s wrist to stop her. “I don’t think so. When she gets like this, it’s best to give her some time to cool off. Cooking is her happy place.”

“If you say so.”

Tui returned with some refreshments and appetizers. “Courtesy of my parents. They thought you guys would enjoy these while you wait.”

“Send them my thanks,” Zuko expressed his gratitude. She gave him a wobbly smile and left again; he felt a bit guilty for making her so uncomfortable.

“Maybe I should leave.”

“Nonsense, Lee. Stay,” Katara disagreed. “This is the first time in years that you’ve been outside just as yourself.”

“Yeah, it’s not your fault she still has a little bit of a crush on you,” Amka added, knowing that if Zuko left, Katara would too.

“A crush?”

“It’s so obvious. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

His cheeks warmed at that. He didn’t notice; when it came to things like romance, he was always confused. Mai and Ty Lee always said flirting with him was like flirting with a brick wall. As Fire Lord, men and women constantly threw themselves at him, but he understood that they were only after the power he wielded. So, when someone showed genuine interest, he never knew what to do with it.

“I wouldn’t call it a crush, really,” Utaya interjected. “More like being awestruck. Lee, you are kind of intimidating.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Your very presence did something.”

Zuko was unsure how to respond, so he simply took a bite of his appetizer. The table fell into a hushed silence. Amid this quiet, several individuals, appearing as though they had come from a long day of labor, entered and sat at the nearest table to the group of friends.

“Boy, my knee sure is killing me,” said a man. He periodically rubbed his left knee.

“You should really get that checked out,” his fellow day laborer advised. “You don’t want to lose a limb here.”

“I would if I could, but I got work to do,” the man grumbled. “Can barely afford to live as it is. Doctors and healers ask for money I don’t have.”

“I thought your wife found work at the mayor’s home.”

“Those bastards fired her when she missed a day of work. She was out sick.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, man.”

“Don’t be. The one who should be sorry is that bloody traitor we call Fire Lord.”

This instantly caught Zuko’s group's attention; they all tensed up.

“Why should he be sorry?” asked a woman who had come with the day laborers.

“If it wasn’t for him, my family would be living well,” the man griped. “My wife was a proud soldier before he came into power. The money she brought in provided for our kids’ needs. Now, that quack we call a leader fired a third of the army. What’s worse, he’s busy taking care of the other nations instead of his own. Things were better under Fire Lord Ozai.”

Utaya and Katara raised their heads to interject but were beaten to the punch by one of the man’s acquaintances. “Now, you know that’s not true. Settlements in the outer islands like Jang Hui were suffering greatly. Our people starved then as they do now.”

“That boy we call Fire Lord was supposed to fix things.”

“He has. The other nations aren’t attacking us like they did on the Day of the Black Sun.”

“I don’t give a damn about the other nations. I’m talking about fixing problems here in the Fire Nation. We are taxed exorbitantly; hunger and sickness are spreading, and there’s no work. If things carry on like this, more than half the population will be beggars on the streets in a year’s time.”

Those who sat with Zuko shot him a few glances, but he paid them no mind. The man’s complaints echoed his own. He knew the situation was dire; he just needed more time to think of solutions. Just then, Tui and her parents came out with their food.

“Here is your order: two fire noodles, komodo chicken, and roast duck,” Tui said as her parents placed the meal in front of each recipient. “Do you need anything else?”

“No, we’re good. Thank you,” Katara answered.

“How about you give us some service,” said the man who had earlier complained about his knee and the Fire Lord.

“Coming right up, sir,” Tui replied in her most polite voice. Tui’s parents went up to him and his group and took their orders. Tui went to fetch her own plate of food and quickly returned. “So, what did I miss, guys?” She went out of her way not to look at Zuko.

“Nothing much, just eavesdropping on what that day laborer had to say about Lord Zuko,” Amka replied, picking at the meat of her roast duck. “He sure has a lot of complaints.”

Tui glanced over at Zuko before answering. “Whatever he had to say is nonsense. I wouldn’t listen to it.”

“Actually, I would,” Zuko finally spoke. “My people have a right to complain about me and my rule.”

“Of course,” Tui backtracked. “What I meant was there’s no need to be rude about it.”

“Sure,” Utaya laughed. “That’s what you meant.”

“Oh, shut up, Utaya,” Tui said, sticking her tongue out, causing him to laugh more.

“Tui, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Amka said, interrupting the two bickering friends.

“Go ahead.”

“Why were you named after a Water Tribe Spirit when you’re obviously Fire Nation?”

“My dad was in the navy and stationed in the northern seas around the time of my birth. He learned so much about the Water Tribes and their Spirits that he couldn’t help naming me Tui, after the Moon Spirit.”

“That’s so cool of your parents to do,” Katara remarked.

“Yeah, they also instilled in me a respect for other cultures. Which is why, when Dad retired five years ago, my parents started this restaurant showcasing food from all around the world.”

“I admire your parents, Tui,” Zuko praised. “They really embody the principles people need to live by.”

Tui’s cheeks reddened at his attention. “Thank you, Lee. It’s no big deal. Being on the front lines really gave Dad respect for others. My mom is from the colonies, so she grew up around diverse people.”

“Hey!” the man from earlier yelled out for the whole restaurant to hear. “When is our food coming out?”

“I’d better go deal with that wayward customer,” Tui sighed. She stood from the table, went over to the man, and spoke to him in her most respectful tone. “Please be patient. This is a small diner, so it might take some time, but I’ll go check on your order for you.” She left without waiting for his response.

“It’s almost midday,” Zuko noted. “I should return to the palace before my guards send out a search party.”

“I thought you said you’d spend the whole day with us,” Katara pouted.

“That was before I heard what my people really had to say about me,” he shrugged. “I have to consult some advisers on finding a solution to our problems.”

“The work of the Fire Lord never ends,” Amka proclaimed.

“You got that right,” Zuko agreed.

“I should probably return with you then,” Katara stated.

“There’s no need for that. You’ll have a mountain of work in no time. Enjoy the downtime while you can.”

“At least stay and finish your meal with us," Utaya cut in. "Gao and I will be heading back to our apartment to rest after our night shift, but let’s spend some time with the girls before we go.”

“Yeah, come on, Lee, stay,” Amka urged. She and Utaya gave him their biggest puppy-dog eyes, with their hands interlocked in a praying gesture.

“Well, if you insist,” Zuko huffed, rolling his eyes.

Tui returned with food for the other table, gave it to them, and sat next to Gao. They all spent the rest of the meal conversing, and soon it was time for the boys to go. When they left, the girls helped Tui’s parents in serving customers. After a while, they were urged out of the store by Tui’s parents so they could have what they called “girl time.”

“Let me show you guys my favorite fabric store,” Tui said as she led them away from Ember Delights. “Utaya’s mom is a talented seamstress. I always have her make me garments. Let’s go shopping.”

The streets from the restaurant to the fabric store were overrun with vagabonds and scrawny kids. Tui cautioned them to make sure their coin purses were secured. The two Water Tribe girls stuck out like a sore thumb in their blue hues, their movements followed by more than one person. When they reached the fabric store, they immediately went in to take cover from the watching eyes.

“Is it always this tense going shopping?”

“It wasn’t until recently,” Tui answered. “We’ll use the back alleyway to leave and a different route home, just in case we’re followed. Don’t want to get robbed, you know.”

The two Water Tribe girls exchanged a look with one another at that.

“The Fire Nation sure is dangerous,” Amka commented.

“Well, when poverty rises, so does crime,” Tui replied. “You just have to be vigilant in these trying times.”

“The people seem to blame Zuko for this…” Katara trailed off.

“Most people don’t blame him. It’s just a vocal minority that really does,” Tui explained. “At the end of Ozai’s rule, things were actually worse than this. People thought Fire Lord Zuko would come save us from all our problems. Our expectations were unrealistic; it’s no wonder he could not live up to them.”

The girls moved through the racks of fabrics, picking up and inspecting materials before putting them back in place. Tui took charge and found the most splendid sapphire and steel blue fabric. “I think these would look good on you, Amka.”

“You think so?”

“I agree, this material flatters those earrings you made,” Katara agreed with Tui.

Katara’s attention was then caught by the sight of a midnight blue and ivory silver fabric combo; she went over to it and felt the silk material. It was beautiful, but she couldn't bring herself to buy it.

“That would suit you, Katara,” Amka said, popping up beside her. “It would go really well with your eyes.”

“Nonsense, you’re just saying that.”

“She isn’t; it complements you greatly,” Tui added.

Still, she was unsure of the purchase; she wasn’t in the Fire Nation on holiday. She was here to work, yet here she was shopping. A thought popped into her mind. “Tui, I’ll get this if you do me one favor.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I want you to find out the biggest grievances people have with Zuko for me, and I’ll buy this and your pack of fabric for you.”

Tui’s eyes widened and her mouth hung open for a second before she gathered herself. “Some people use my parents’ diner as a meeting place to discuss community concerns. I can find out some grievances there. But why would you want to know?”

“I want to solve some problems for a friend.”

“Do you think I’m good enough to lead the Fire Nation?”

“Mmh?”

Zuko turned from observing the twilight sky brighten into dawn to see Katara nibbling on yet another blueberry cookie. Zuko had woken her up to watch the sunrise. She would have been mad at him for interrupting her sleep if he didn’t come bearing cookies.

“I asked, do you think I’m a good leader? Really think about it before you answer.”

Katara opened her mouth to instantly reply but stopped. She had to be impartial about this. She thought of all the work Zuko has done to repair his forefathers’ errors and how much he cared for his people.

“I truly believe you are an excellent leader. Your deep love for your people and your sincere efforts to improve this place are commendable. The fact you’re concerned about being worthy enough is evidence itself of that.”

She placed her hand on his thigh and gave him a little squeeze of reassurance.

“You are amazing, Zuko; you must understand that. I wish you could see yourself like I see you."

He placed his bigger hand on top of hers and clasped their hands.

“I’ll try.”

Chapter Text

“Sire, I’m afraid we have no proposal to present on that matter,” Head Adviser Qahir uttered, his voice quivering. The wall of fire flared and crackled around the throne room in response.

“What did you just say?” Zuko inquired from behind the flames.

From the corner of his eye, Qahir watched his fellow advisers look down at the notes in front of them. He dared not look directly at the wall of fire concealing his Lord, fearing what he might see. Qahir had been involved in politics for as long as Ozai had ruled the Fire Nation. He remembered life under Ozai’s rule; the man was cold and calculating, a hard-to-please tyrant whose temper flared unexpectedly. Though Fire Lord Zuko was nothing like his father, he bore an uncanny resemblance to him. Try as he might, to Qahir, Zuko would always be his father’s son. They were both ambitious and demanding in their desires. Qahir couldn’t help but fear Zuko would one day turn out like Ozai, despite his best efforts to better the world.

Wiping his sweaty palms on his robes, Qahir repeated himself. “Unfortunately, we have nothing to present on the matter of civil unrest and displeasure, my Lord.”

A few moments of silence passed. Even though he couldn’t see him, Qahir felt the cold, furious glare directed at him. His fellow advisers fidgeted on their cushions.

“Each time I come here, I am bombarded by your incompetence,” Zuko reprimanded. “Our nation is crying out for help, and yet you, my advisers, bring me no solutions.”

Zuko stood and parted the flames as he stepped down from the throne. He stalked over to where his advisers sat, clearly exasperated. He had been too lenient with his advisers for too long.

“Must I remind you that our duty is to serve the common people? We are nothing without them. Their concerns and pain are our concerns and pain. I have pardoned your insolence too many times. I demand better. This meeting is adjourned but make no mistake: I expect a proposal addressing the public’s concerns promptly, or there will be consequences.”

He waited for no reply and marched out of the throne room. He had given the advisers more than enough time to find a solution, but they continued to disappoint him. A whole moon cycle had passed since Katara took Bato’s place as ambassador, and even in that time, his advisers had come up with nothing.

He headed to his office and, once there, contemplated his next steps. He couldn’t rely on his advisers; they could very well be the ones plotting against him. The next best thing was to ask for help from the other nations, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Call it pride, but he knew his people wouldn’t accept aid from former enemies. He wasn’t sure if the other nations would even assist. His relationship with King Kuei and Chief Arnook was civil at best; they wouldn’t help even if he asked. Aang, King Bumi, and Chief Hakoda would help if they could, but their people needed their assistance more.

He sighed despondently, wishing Uncle Iroh were Fire Lord. He truly believed the old man would know what to do; he always had the answers.

A knock came at the door. He beckoned for whoever it was to enter, and his guard came in. “Sire, Ambassador Katara requests an audience with you.”

“Let her in.”

The guard quickly left and returned with Katara, who held a basket in her arms. He then bowed to Zuko and exited the room.

“What are you doing here, Katara?” Zuko asked, rising from his seat and approaching her.

“I think you need a break after that meeting,” she said.

“You heard about it?”

“You scared Qahir out of his wits. He was practically in tears when I found him walking to his office. He thinks you’re going to fire him.”

“I probably should, given all this gossiping.”

“Go easy on him; he’s worried about his livelihood.”

Zuko couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Come on, let’s head to the gardens. I think I found an answer to your little problem.” She nodded toward the door and held out her hand. “I know you don’t have any other meetings for a while.”

He took her offered hand and led her out the door. As they walked through the palace to the gardens, Katara filled him in on her meeting with a potential investor interested in the Southern Water Tribe’s oil. Although she often made time to meet with friends, her schedule had quickly filled with back-to-back meetings with investors, engineers, nobles, and politicians.

“Loban and his nephew, Satoru, seem genuinely interested in doing business with the South. However, they already have an agreement with the Earth Kingdom and the Beifongs. I don’t want them to monopolize the market, so I’m going to wait before sealing the deal. I want to meet with a variety of investors and engineers to make the right decision.”

When they found a good spot by the lake, Katara placed the basket on the lush grass, sat down, and motioned for Zuko to do the same. She opened the basket, filled to the brim with food, and offered him some sizzle-crisps.

“Katara, you didn’t need to do all this,” Zuko said, feeling uncomfortable when others went out of their way for him.

“I know, but I wanted to,” she replied. “You’re not the only one who needs a break from politics. Relax a little.”

He took the snack she offered and allowed himself to enjoy the moment. The sun cast a warm, golden glow over the palace. The sky was a vibrant blue, with only a few wispy clouds drifting by. A soft breeze blew against their bodies. They ate their food in companionable silence, cherishing moments like this.

After taking a final bite of her egg tart, Katara turned from admiring the lake to gaze at Zuko. She found him fascinating; he instilled fear in others, yet here he was indulging in her whims. He wore the façade of a stone-cold ruler well, but she knew his heart bled for his people.

He sat on his knees with his legs folded underneath him, maintaining perfect posture as he ate another batch of sizzle-crisps. Half his hair was pulled back into a top knot while the rest flowed down his back. He unconsciously clenched his fist, a subtle tension creeping into his posture.

“How bad was the meeting?” she asked, addressing what was clearly on his mind.

He let out a big sigh and dropped his shoulders. “You don’t even want to know.”

“Try me.”

“I’d rather not.”

Katara knew when to drop a subject. “Zuko, rest your head on my lap.”

“Why?”

“You’re holding a lot of tension. Let me massage it out.”

He looked at her incredulously. “It would be highly inappropriate if anyone saw us like that.”

“Good thing we’re in the royal family’s section of the gardens, then.”

Knowing when to concede, he inched closer and laid his head on her lap. She removed his crown and untied his hair from its top knot before running her hands through it. She played with his hair for a while, then gently stroked his head with her nimble hands. Even as she massaged his scalp, he remained tense.

“Relax, Zuko.”

“I’m never relaxed.”

She moved from stroking his head to caressing his face. “Close your eyes, Zuko, and relax. I’ve got you.”

His eyes fluttered shut, and he let his body unwind. Katara affectionately ran her hands down the sides of his face. Birds chirped merrily in the trees, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves, creating a soothing symphony of nature.

"I think I might have a solution for some of your stressors," Katara began. "Since Bato left, I’ve had Tui gather a list of citizens' complaints. Most concerns revolve around the cost of living, housing, and employment. I think you should initiate a program that subsidizes construction materials for housing and encourages skilled laborers to volunteer their time, ensuring affordable housing for all. For employment, invest in local trades and provide training programs to help citizens develop new skills, creating more job opportunities and boosting the local economy.”

“That’s not a bad idea. It would lead to more citizens supporting my reign,” Zuko pondered. “It might take some time to implement, though. First, I need to investigate if it will work; I don’t want to raise people’s hopes for something that won’t.”

“There’s no need for all of that.”

“How come?”

“We faced similar challenges in the South when our population grew after the war. Sokka and the council came up with these programs to address the situation. By adopting similar measures, we can alleviate many of the current issues facing your people. I’ve already sent a letter to Sokka asking for assistance. He’ll draw up a plan for you in no time."

Zuko opened his eyes and saw Katara’s furrowed brows and puckered lips as she focused on braiding a few strands of his hair. She caught him looking and playfully stuck out her tongue. He smiled subtly and returned the gesture.

“You’re a miracle from the Spirits, Katara,” he mumbled offhandedly. “What would I do without you?”

Katara’s cheeks flushed at the compliment. “You’d be just fine, Zuko.”

Zuko straightened and sat beside her, his hair and robes slightly disheveled from lying down. He reached out and gently intertwined their fingers. “Maybe,” he said softly, “but it wouldn't be as much fun.”

Katara's expression softened, and she met his gaze with a warm, affectionate look. “Well, you're stuck with me anyway,” she replied, squeezing his hand. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

Their tender moment was interrupted by the arrival of a guard informing Zuko that his next meeting would start soon.

“I’d better go,” he sighed, fixing his robes and retying his hair into a top knot. “I’ll present your idea to the council and wait for Sokka’s plan. If all goes well, we will introduce the scheme to the public in two moon cycles. What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I intend to visit the harbor clinic after meeting with the royal interior designer. Tui and Utaya told me a lot could be done for the place, and I want to see it for myself.”

“Draw up a report and send it to me when you’re done.”

Katara nodded in agreement. Zuko then reattached his crown with practiced ease and left the gardens, the guard trailing behind him.

“Seeing as this meeting is coming to an end, I’d like to announce something,” Zuko voiced from behind the wall of flames. The three advisers below him looked down at the papers in front of them.

“If I may, my Lord,” the Social Development Adviser, Wakuto, blurted out. “I apologize for my lack of progress in finding a solution to the problems facing our people. I promise that by our next meeting, I will have a report ready for you.”

The Education and Finance Advisers turned to reprimand Wakuto, while Zuko raised an amused eyebrow at his proclamation.

“There’s no need for that, Adviser Wakuto,” Zuko addressed him. “In fact, I have found a potential solution to our problem.”

“Is that so?” Wakuto inquired.

“Ambassador Katara has informed me that a Fire Nation commoner has been compiling a list of our people’s complaints. She has even suggested some solutions we can implement to improve their lives.”

“What did she suggest?” Vanida, the Finance Adviser, asked.

“She proposed launching several community-focused programs as part of a multi-faceted strategy to tackle housing affordability and unemployment,” Zuko explained. “By investing in local trades and training programs, we can encourage skilled laborers, boost the economy, and reduce crime. Additionally, by subsidizing construction materials, we can lower the cost of building houses, making them more affordable and reducing homelessness.”

Adviser Vanida’s eyebrows shot up. “That would be a massive undertaking, sire, not to mention costly.”

“Which is why I want you to investigate whether it is feasible. Chief Hakoda's son, Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe, will be sending plans to assist us.”

“What can we learn from that backwater tribe?” Adviser Wakuto scoffed dismissively.

“You could learn a lot, like having respect for others,” Zuko retorted, causing Wakuto to look down in shame. “You should have studied how other nations have handled economic hardships so we could have addressed this issue sooner.”

“I meant no disrespect—”

“No, you meant it. You should be grateful that the Southern Water Tribe war heroes are offering to help us in our time of need.”

“What’s in it for them?” Adviser Vanida interjected. “Nothing in this world is free.”

“As the Finance Adviser, you know that better than anyone. The South hasn’t made its demands known yet; however, I wouldn’t be too concerned. They are fair people who won’t take advantage of our current weakened state.”

“Even so, sire, this will be an expensive endeavor. The nation’s coffers are already depleted.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I need you to find the funds from any division that isn’t benefiting the nation, take it from the military budget, or raise taxes on the wealthy. Just find a way to make this happen.”

“My Lord, while I support your philanthropy, I advise against taking such drastic measures,” the Education Adviser, Imin, began. “You need the support of the wealthy. Taxing them could make them enraged.”

“Taxes for the common folk have risen, yet the wealthy have been spared since before the war ended. Drastic measures must be taken if we want the Fire Nation to prosper again. Our military budget is lining the pockets of generals who haven't seen the battlefield in years. It’s time we invested that money in something more productive and positive.”

“I agree, but your support from the nobles and wealthy is already strained. You don't want them to launch a coup against you.”

The other two advisers gasped, and Zuko raised his eyebrow at the comment. None of the advisers had ever dared to say such a thing to him.

“Tell me, Adviser Imin, have you heard whispers of a coup?”

“No, my Lord, I’m just warning you of what could happen.”

“My relationship with the nobles and wealthy might be strained, but that doesn't mean I should neglect the common folk. I can’t be beholden to the upper class as Fire Lord. My word on the matter is final,” Zuko declared. “Adviser Wakuto, investigate whether Ambassador Katara’s solutions would work. If you need more assistance, ask her or correspond with her brother. Adviser Vanida, explore other industries we can monetize and invest in to make a profit, or divert funds from the military budget. Adviser Imin, stay behind after this meeting; I’d like to have a word with you. I call an end to this meeting; you may go.”

The three advisers bowed to their ruler, but only two rose and left the throne room. Adviser Imin remained in a bowed posture for a prolonged period. Her clammy hands shook with fear, and her heart raced. Zuko could see that she was afraid of what he had to say.

“You may rise, Adviser,” Zuko commanded.

She rose slowly, keeping her eyes on the ground. Her body was tense. “My Lord, the comment about the coup was just an observation. It meant nothing.”

“It means everything to me,” he countered. “If you can easily observe a possible coup, it means my life and my rule are in danger.”

“I beg your forgiveness. I only wanted to warn you.”

“And you have, which is why I want to propose something to you.”

Sweat gathered on the adviser's forehead and dripped down her face. “Wha—what is it, my Lord?” Her voice cracked with fear.

“I know that the nobility and wealthy dislike me. I want you to infiltrate their ranks and find out if there is any possibility that they want to overthrow me.”

Adviser Imin’s eyes widened, and her mouth hung open in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You are a child of nobles with deep pockets; you are the perfect person for this. Your parents are some of my biggest detractors. I’m sure you can infiltrate their ranks and identify who might wish me harm.”

“I haven't spoken to my parents in years. I have a strained relationship with them,” Adviser Imin revealed. “They weren't the most supportive parents, and my appointment as your adviser disgusted them.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s sad when one can’t rely on their parents for support,” Zuko replied. “Still, I ask you to do me this favor. Try to find out who among the advisers, nobles, and wealthy not only detest me but want me overthrown and dead.”

Adviser Imin sighed deeply, her age lines more pronounced. “I will try, my Lord, though I can't promise success.”

“Thank you, Adviser. You are dismissed. But heed my words: what we discussed must not leave this room. You must act with complete discretion.”

“Yes, my Lord. Have a good day.” With that, she staggered out of the room.

Zuko extinguished the flames and got up from his throne. As he headed to Midori’s office, he pondered whether what he was doing was right. Adviser Imin was a skilled politician, but perhaps asking her to find out who wanted him dead was too much. Either way, he couldn’t back down now; she was his best chance to infiltrate Ozai’s supporters.

He reached his Head Guard's office and was allowed in. Midori sat behind her desk, disheveled and fatigued; bags hung heavily under her eyes, her skin pale from exhaustion, and her clothes ruffled and unkempt. Despite her obvious tiredness, she kept her posture straight and her face composed. “Fire Lord, I didn’t realize we had a meeting today.”

“We don’t. I’ve come to request that you keep tabs on Adviser Imin and her parents.”

“Is this because of the last assassination attempt?”

“Yes,” Zuko answered. “I received word from a friend that her parents might be behind the latest attacks.”

“Which friend?”

“Lady Mai.”

Chapter Text

Zuko began his morning by performing his daily kata with the precision and discipline of a seasoned firebender. He stood in the vacant training grounds, the warm rays of the rising sun illuminating his form. His stance was firm, his feet grounded, as he focused his energy and cleared his mind.

With a deep breath, Zuko moved through the first sequence, his hands flowing through the air with practiced ease. His movements were fluid, each transition seamless as he channeled the power of fire through his body. Flames flickered to life with each strike, controlled and precise—a testament to his years of rigorous training.

As he moved through the kata, his mind wandered briefly to the thoughts that plagued him: his nation’s honor, his father’s imprisonment, and his relentless pursuit of his mother. But with each breath, he pushed those thoughts aside, allowing the familiar rhythm of the kata to center him. The crackle of fire accompanied each motion, the heat radiating around him as he completed the final series of strikes.

Zuko ended in a low stance, his breath steady and his body relaxed, though still alert. The fire that had danced around him extinguished as he brought his hands together in front of him, bowing slightly to acknowledge the discipline and control he had achieved. For a moment, there was peace—the calm before the storm that was his life.

A round of applause rang through the training grounds, shattering the tranquility of Zuko’s post-kata meditation. His amber eyes snapped open, the serenity he had just cultivated dissipating in an instant. He straightened, his muscles tensing as he turned toward the source of the interruption.

There, leaning casually against a pillar, stood Mai, devoid of emotion, and Ty Lee, with a wide smile on her face. The younger woman clapped with genuine enthusiasm, her eyes twinkling with pride.

“Well done, Zuko!” Ty Lee exclaimed, her voice carrying across the training ground. “I see your forms have improved. Soon, you will rival the greatest firebenders in history.”

Zuko's expression softened, though he tried to hide the faint blush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. “Thank you, Ty Lee,” he replied, his voice low and reserved. “I didn’t expect to see you two so soon.”

The two women strolled forward. “This couldn’t wait. We have urgent news for you,” Mai replied.

Zuko nodded, understanding the seriousness in her words, even if he found himself reluctant to hear bad news. “I know, Mai. It’s just... there’s so much at stake, and I’m the only one who can solve it all.”

Mai unexpectedly placed a reassuring hand on Zuko’s shoulder. "You don’t have to do it all alone. Don’t let that weight consume you. There is strength in taking time to breathe, to find peace within the fire." She looked toward the entrance of the training grounds. “Besides, you have someone who is willing to protect you no matter what.”

Zuko’s gaze drifted to the entrance, the weight of his responsibilities still heavy on his shoulders, but what greeted his sight brought a small measure of comfort. It was Katara, dressed only in her sarashi wraps. Her brows were scrunched up, and a frown occupied her mouth as she scanned the training grounds before her. Zuko unconsciously shrugged off Mai’s hand and took a step away from her. This did not go unnoticed.

“Zuko, there you are,” Katara announced as she drew closer to the group. “I wanted to see if you were up for a sparring match before the day got too busy. However, I see you’ve got company.”

Zuko's face, already hot from exertion, reddened further. “O-oh, um—see, there’s a reason for—”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Katara,” Ty Lee interrupted. “We’ll only take a portion of Zuko’s time, and then he’s all yours again.”

“We’re here on official business,” Mai added in a monotone voice. “Although, I do believe there are far more pressing matters than the semi-dressed Fire Lord sparring with his half-naked ambassador. Spirits forbid anyone saw you two so…comfortable with one another.”

The implication of her words went down as smoothly as water on a pan full of hot oil. Katara’s hackles were raised, but it was Zuko who took the bait. “Mai! No need to disrespect Katara. Apologize.”

The woman in question rolled her eyes and picked at her nails. “I apologize if my words offended you, Katara. I should’ve known better than to offend the Fire Lord’s closest friend. The whole court knows just how precious you are to him.”

Ty Lee muttered, “Well, she’s not wrong.” Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if she were unsure whether to add fuel to the fire. But Ty Lee’s naturally bubbly nature couldn’t resist the temptation. “Everyone talks about how close you two have gotten. It’s kind of sweet, really!”

Katara’s cheeks flushed, a mix of anger and embarrassment flooding her senses. She opened her mouth to retort, but Zuko was quicker.

“Enough, Ty Lee.” His tone was firm, commanding attention. “We’re all friends here, so let’s not make this awkward.”

Mai, unbothered by the tension she had caused, continued to pick at her nails with a look of indifference. “Right. Friends.” The word dripped with sarcasm, but she didn’t pursue the matter further, much to everyone’s relief.

Katara finally found her voice, though she struggled to keep it steady. “We should focus on the real reason you’re here. What’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait?”

Mai’s eyes flicked up, meeting Katara’s with a cold, calculating gaze. “There have been whispers of a breach in security. Something that could potentially threaten the peace we’ve worked so hard to maintain.” She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in before continuing. “And it involves former Fire Lord Ozai.”

“A growing number of nobles are in direct contact with the former Fire Lord and are organizing themselves into a group,” Mai revealed in Zuko’s crowded office. “They have been attempting to recruit more and more people into their movement.”

“They’ve given themselves the moniker of the Blue Flame. I believe this is in reference to Azula’s fire,” Ty Lee stated matter-of-factly. Katara, Midori, and Zuko sat around the table going through the pamphlets the Blue Flame has been handing out.

“How do you two know any of this?” Katara questioned, accusingly eyeing the two women. “Why would anyone be comfortable enough to reveal any of this to you two?”

“We have our sources,” Mai replied.

“Which are?”

“Listen, we didn’t have to involve you, a foreigner, in Fire Nation business,” Mai retorted, her voice icy. “The only reason you’re in this meeting is because Zuko wanted you here. So be a good guest and just observe. Leave the questions for the rest of us.”

“Mai, enough with the attitude,” Zuko barked out. “You can tell Katara the truth.”

Mai and Katara stared at one another for a prolonged period, daring the other to look away. Mai, knowing when to admit defeat, dropped her head and muttered something under her breath. “Ty Lee, explain to Katara everything from the beginning.”

Ty Lee straightened in her seat and turned to face Katara. “Well, this really all began after the war, a few months after Zuko was crowned Fire Lord. A group called the New Ozai Society was causing problems and wanted Ozai back on the throne.”

“I know all this,” Katara cut in. “Aang helped solve the issue of the New Ozai Society.” She turned her sights onto Mai and pointed at her. “If I remember correctly, the group was started by your father, Ukano, and you hid that fact from Zuko.”

Mai brushed her words to the side. “It’s all water under the bridge.”

“Right—anyway—as I was saying,” Ty Lee pronounced before the two other women could bicker. “Katara, you’re right. The leaders of the New Ozai Society were found and arrested with the help of Avatar Aang. After that, Zuko asked Mai and me to keep an eye on the nobles in case anything like that happened again.”

“I thought you were still on Kyoshi Island with the Kyoshi Warriors. Why would you link up with Miss Doom-and-Gloom again?”

“Easy, I missed her,” Ty Lee answered truthfully. “The Kyoshi Warriors will always have a special place in my heart, but I’m sick and tired of being part of a matching set. It was like that while I lived at home, and it was like that while I was a Kyoshi Warrior. Now, I get to be myself. I can now do whatever I want, and no one can stop me.” Ty Lee’s eyes traveled to Mai, and they lit up when they made eye contact. Even Mai’s expressionless face softened when she took her in.

Katara's gaze shifted back and forth between them. “Wait, are you two together?”

“Duh,” Mai voiced.

“Let’s get back to the matter at hand,” Midori shifted the topic back to the Blue Flame. “Who are the leaders of the Blue Flame, what do they want, and just how big are they?”

“We don’t know,” Ty Lee disclosed. “The group is very elusive. At this point in time, it seems as though they are trying to raise their numbers.”

Chapter Text

"Katara, are you okay?"

Katara raised her tear-streaked face from her pillow. Amka stood in the doorway of Katara's room, her expression concerned and slightly ajar.

Katara quickly wiped her eyes, trying to compose herself. "I'm fine," she whispered, though her voice cracked slightly.

Amka took a tentative step into the room, her soft footsteps barely audible. "You don't have to be," she said gently, her eyes full of empathy. "It's okay to let it out."

Katara hesitated, looking at Amka with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. "I just... why does everything have to be so complicated?" she asked, her voice trembling. "After everything we’ve been through, I still have to make sacrifices."

Amka crossed the room and sat beside Katara, her presence a quiet reassurance. "Is this about Zuko?" she softly inquired. The look on Katara’s face was answer enough. "If this is what I think it is, remember you're strong, Katara. People might be gossiping about you, but you’ve got integrity. Don’t listen to the lies."

“Was I wrong?”

“Wrong about what?” Amka gently probed, wiping Katara’s tears. Amka was deeply concerned for Katara because she was normally a resilient person who didn’t let the words of others get to her; seeing her like this hurt.

“Was I wrong for being friendly with Zuko? Did I give off the impression that I’m some ditzy girl instead of a diplomat?” Katara implored, hastening from her bed. “Were people talking about me behind my back, laughing at the fact I was practically throwing myself at Zuko?”

“No!” Amka exclaimed. “They’d never.”

“How would you know? You’re my friend; they’d never tell you.” Katara paced the room in a frenzy. “The other ambassadors are probably laughing at my expense, saying the poor girl is in way over her head. Cupun and Joon must think the Southern Water Tribe sent me here to seduce Zuko or something.” More tears pooled in Katara’s eyes, and her voice hitched a couple of times. “I didn’t plan for any of this to happen.”

Amka rushed to her side. “I know. You were being a good friend.” She pulled her into her arms. “You are the best thing that’s happened to Zuko in a while; don’t let others ruin that for you. You don’t even have feelings for him, so you know it’s all lies.” Amka held Katara’s face in her hands, wiping her tears with her thumbs. “I mean, you don’t have feelings for him, right?”

Katara froze.

Did she have feelings for him?

She didn’t even know. She just enjoyed spending time with him and found herself drawn to him in an unexplainable way. His smiles brightened her days, his presence reassured her, and his actions made her proud.

“I—I might like him a little,” Katara whispered.

“Oh, Katara.” Amka’s eyebrows knitted together in concern. “That’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t—”

A knock at the bedroom door cut in, and silence filled the room. Whoever it was knocked again. “Katara, I know you’re in there.”

It was Mai.

Amka and Katara looked at one another. “Is that Zuko’s ex?” Amka mouthed in panic. Katara nodded.

Mai knocked more insistently. “Katara, open up.”

Irritation washed over Katara. This was all Mai’s doing. If she hadn’t made those remarks, Katara wouldn’t have known about people’s thoughts regarding her and Zuko.

Katara marched to the door and swung it open. “What do you want?” she demanded. She looked haggard; still in her sarashi wraps, her hair a tangled mess, and her eyes puffy from crying.

Mai raised a pointed eyebrow but did not comment on her state. “I’m here to speak to you.”

“I don’t want to, so leave.”

Mai smiled. “Funny, but no. This is serious.”

“Everything you say is somehow serious.”

“Exactly.” Mai pushed her way into the room and noticed Amka standing awkwardly to the side. “You, leave.”

Amka immediately made her way to the door, but Katara grabbed her arm before she could pass. “Amka stays.”

Mai rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” Her gaze swept across the room, noting the Water Tribe trinkets decorating the space. “How quaint.”

“I’ve had enough of your sarcasm this morning, Mai. Say what you want and get out.”

Mai walked over to the seating area and made herself comfortable. She stretched out and sighed. “You and I got off on the wrong foot, and I’m here to apologize.”

“You apologize? Don’t make me laugh,” Katara spat. “You never apologize for anything.”

Mai took out a small blade hidden in her dress and inspected it. “All true, but I know when I’m wrong, and I hope you do too. We both care for the same people, so we might as well get along—at least for Zuko’s sake.”

Hearing his name felt like a punch in the gut to Katara. Amka looked at her with worry, but Katara made sure not to react. Mai was similar to Azula; they both could sense weakness from miles away.

“Okay, fine. Thank you for the apology.” Katara held the door open. “Now get out.”

Mai gave her a pleased smile. “I haven’t even apologized yet.”

“You stated your intentions. Now leave.”

Mai made herself even more comfortable in the loveseat. “I seriously advise you to close the door and listen to what I have to say.”

“Or what?”

“Or this little thing you have going on with Zuko will crash and burn.”

A tense hush suffocated the room. Amka and Katara stood by the door while Mai lounged in the loveseat. Katara couldn’t believe her nerve, and just as she was about to react, Amka spoke up.

“I think you should listen to her, Katara.” Katara looked at her friend, feeling betrayed. Amka shrugged. “It won’t hurt to hear her out.”

Katara took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and took in the scene.

She knew she was being difficult, but Mai just brought out a certain rage in her.

“Fine.” She slammed the door shut.

“You Water Tribe folks are so dramatic,” Mai drawled. “At the Royal Fire Academy for Girls, we were taught to never let our emotions get the best of us.”

“Is that why you’re such a witch?” Katara asked sweetly. She and Amka sat in the seats opposite Mai.

“I know that was a rhetorical question, but I’ll answer it anyway,” Mai began. "The way I am—it’s because, ever since I was a child, I was molded into the perfect noblewoman. Every word I spoke was calculated, every step measured. I learned early on to only speak when spoken to, to be seen but never heard. I lived in constant fear of bringing shame to my family, and that fear became my shadow, shaping every part of who I am today." Mai threw them a bitter smile. “Still, I was a privileged little girl, so I expect no sympathy from you two.”

“Even so, that’s a harsh way to grow up,” Amka said empathetically.

Mai gave Amka a lopsided grin. “You and Ty Lee would get along swimmingly.”

Katara tsked and declared, “I can’t believe someone like Ty Lee would choose you.”

Mai looked over at Katara and asked, “Am I better suited for someone like Zuko?” She didn’t give Katara time to answer before continuing. “Because that’s what everyone thought. I was raised to become the next Fire Lady, the perfect noblewoman. When Zuko and I started dating again after the war, it was a sealed deal in the court’s opinion; to them, wedding bells were already ringing. Too bad that ended.”

“What happened?” Amka asked curiously.

“Simple, Zuko and I are too different. We weren’t little kids anymore; we had grown apart.” Mai stared straight at Katara. “But I still love him, just differently now. He’s an idealist, and I’m a cynic.”

“And a pessimist,” Katara mumbled.

“It’s all the same to me. Those three years Zuko had away from the Fire Nation were the best thing that ever happened to him. He might disagree, but his father did him a favor.” Mai stood up to leave. “Katara, I apologize for my words earlier, but you have to develop thicker skin if you want to survive at court. Nobles are snakes who won’t think twice about betraying their own for personal gain. You hold the upper hand; use it.”

“Upper hand to what?”

“You hold the upper hand with both the Fire Lord and the Avatar; they respect you. As the daughter of the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe and the sister of the next one, you carry significant weight. You also have the ear of the Beifongs and the Earth Kings. With your powerful bending abilities and vast influence, don’t let anyone bring you down after all you’ve been through. Use your connections and strength to your advantage.”

Katara gaped at her. She never really thought about it that way. She still viewed herself as a simple girl from the Water Tribe. But she couldn’t deny that Mai’s words were true. If push came to shove, she’d have the backing of the most influential people in the world.

Katara stood frozen, Mai's words echoing in her mind. The Fire Nation palace, with its towering columns and intricate tapestries, suddenly felt more oppressive, the weight of her responsibilities pressing down on her like never before. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Mai left, taking Amka with her, their footsteps echoing down the hallway, leaving Katara alone in her room.

Katara's heart pounded as she stood in front of the throne room's enormous doors. Her hands trembled slightly, betraying the nerves she fought to control. The guards flanking the entrance exchanged glances, likely wondering why she hesitated so long. But she had no time to worry about what they thought. She scolded herself for her hesitation, inhaling deeply to steady her resolve.

With a deliberate step forward, she straightened her back and lifted her chin. She was no coward, and she wouldn’t let rumors and whispers deter her from her purpose. The doors were heavy, but she pushed them open with determined strength. The room fell silent as she entered, all eyes turning to her.

"Ah, Katara, you've finally graced us with your presence," came a voice from the far end of the room. It was Ambassador Joon, his tone dripping with sarcasm. The rest of the room was seated, while Joon stood. It seemed it was his turn to present his demands to Zuko.

“I apologize, Ambassador Joon,” Katara began sweetly as she headed to her designated seat. Amka was already there and had written down the proceedings for Katara to review. “I was held up by a pre-existing commitment.”

“Don’t make a habit of it, little girl,” Joon sneered.

“Watch your tongue, Ambassador Joon,” Zuko said from behind the flames.

“Forgive me, Lord Zuko, it seemed to have slipped my mind just how dear she is to you,” Joon flippantly remarked. “I imagine Katara’s former lover, the Avatar, would have a lot to say about your union with her.”

The room’s temperature skyrocketed in an instant, and a few of the inhabitants gasped at Joon’s boldness. However, Katara was having none of it.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous, Ambassador Joon,” Katara playfully hinted.

Joon’s face scrunched up. “Me? Jealous?”

“Yes,” Katara chimed, “I mean, I am connected to some of the most powerful people the world has seen, and I’m only nineteen. Yet you, a middle-aged man, can only beg for an audience with them.”

A light snicker escaped Zuko’s and a few others' lips.

Indignant, Ambassador Joon snarled, “You listen here, child—”

“Enough, Ambassador Joon,” Ambassador Cupun interrupted, his aged voice filled with wisdom hushing the other man. “Ambassador Katara has achieved a lot in her short life. You’d do well to treat her with some respect.”

Katara and Joon were both surprised at Cupun’s support of Katara. The man had never hidden his slight dislike of her. Each time they shared meetings, he would drill her and voice his opinion on how foolish it was to have a young woman as an ambassador.

“Just leave her be and carry on with your presentation,” Cupun gently commanded in a soft, fatherly tone.

Joon’s mouth hung wide open for a brief moment before he gathered himself. “Right—as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted—the Earth Kings are not satisfied with the Fire Nation’s reparations. There are a few things they’d like to be addressed.”

The Fire Nation council was used to Joon’s unpleasant and unyielding demands, so there was no outward reaction to Joon’s statement.

“State their demands,” Zuko ordered passively.

Joon’s eyes gleamed with mirth as he proclaimed, “The Earth Kings demand the immediate return of the Fire Nation colonies and the removal of the Fire Nationals living in those colonies.”

Instantaneously, the room erupted in cries of objection and opposition. Head Adviser Qahir tried to hush the unruly advisers, but it was no use. Many of the advisers had investments in the colonies; they were one of the few things that helped lighten the burden of the Fire Nation’s economy after the Hundred Year War. The colonies had become deeply integrated into the Fire Nation's infrastructure, and losing them would mean more than just the loss of territory; it would destabilize the already fragile economic recovery.

Zuko remained calm, though a flicker of concern passed through his amber eyes. He had anticipated such demands, knowing that the Earth Kingdom would seek reparations for the suffering inflicted during the war. However, the scope of their demands—complete evacuation and forfeiture of the colonies—was more severe than he had hoped.

Joon, sensing the tension, allowed a thin smile to cross his lips as he reveled in the chaos he had incited. "These are not mere suggestions, Fire Lord Zuko. The Earth Kingdom believes this is the only path to a true and lasting peace."

Qahir finally managed to restore some semblance of order among the advisers. He turned to Zuko, his voice steady but laced with urgency. "My Lord, giving in to these demands would devastate our nation. The colonies are vital to our people. We cannot simply abandon them."

Zuko knew Qahir was right. The colonies were more than just territory; they were home to thousands of Fire Nation citizens who had lived there for generations. Yet, he also knew that refusing the Earth Kingdom’s demands outright could reignite the conflict he had fought so hard to end.

Taking a deep breath, Zuko addressed the council. "We will not make any hasty decisions. These demands will be reviewed carefully, with consideration for both our nation's needs and our responsibility to the world. I will not allow the Fire Nation to return to its old ways, but neither will I allow it to be weakened beyond repair."

The council fell into a tense silence, each member grappling with the implications of Zuko's words. Joon watched them all with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, knowing that this was just the beginning of the Fire Nation's internal struggle.

“The Earth Kings await your response, Fire Lord Zuko. I hope we reach the most satisfying outcome for both sides. I have nothing further to say.”

With too much glee, Joon went to his seat and watched as advisers filled with anguish muttered to one another. The rest of the ambassadors were rather shocked at the scene that had unfolded before them. They all knew the issue of the colonies would arise one day, but five years after the war felt too soon.

The rest of the meeting went on rather calmly. The Northern Water Tribe and Kyoshi Island were pleased with the reparations given to them and had no demands for the Fire Nation. It seemed the theatrics of Joon were the only stunt they would witness that day. As the meeting wrapped up, Zuko spoke.

“Ambassadors and advisers, the Caldera Royal Theatre will be putting on a production of Love Amongst the Dragons, and I would like to invite all of you to attend as my honored guests," Zuko announced, his voice carrying a note of warmth that had been absent earlier in the meeting. "It is a small token of appreciation for your efforts in the ongoing peace process."

The room, which had been fraught with tension earlier, softened at the invitation. For many of the attendees, this was a rare chance to experience a piece of Fire Nation culture in a more relaxed setting. The mention of Love Amongst the Dragons, a beloved play, brought faint smiles to several faces, easing the somber mood that had lingered since Joon's demands.

Joon, seated with his ever-present smirk, raised an eyebrow but said nothing. His theatrics might have dominated the earlier part of the meeting, but even he couldn’t deny the significance of Zuko’s gesture. It was a reminder that the Fire Lord was not merely a leader of a once-warring nation but a ruler who sought to foster unity and understanding through culture and diplomacy.

As the ambassadors and advisers began to file out of the room, murmuring amongst themselves, Education Adviser Imin approached Zuko. “An excellent idea, my Lord,” she said approvingly. “This will help maintain the goodwill that we have worked so hard to build.”

Zuko nodded, but his thoughts were still on the Earth Kingdom’s demands. “Thank you, Imin. But we must remain vigilant. The peace we have is fragile, and there are many who would see it undone.”

Imin’s expression turned serious. “Of course, my Lord. I will continue to monitor the situation closely.”

With a final nod, Zuko turned to leave the throne room, feeling the weight of leadership heavy on his shoulders. The evening at the theater would provide a brief respite, but he knew that the true challenges lay ahead. For now, though, he would focus on the present and ensure that his guests felt the full warmth of Fire Nation hospitality.

Zuko needed to take his mind off things, so he went to the only person who could calm him down.

When he reached her office, he opened the door without knocking and asked, “Want to spar?”

Zuko gracefully lunged into the air with a fluid motion, his movements precise and elegant. As he reached the peak of his arc, he unleashed a torrent of flames so intense that they blazed like a molten river. Katara swiftly created a sphere of water around herself and blocked his attack inches before it caressed her skin with its heat. In her protective cocoon, she sent out a water whip toward Zuko’s ankles in an attempt to draw him closer. He quickly realized what she was doing and speedily backed away; however, it was no use. Her liquid whip latched onto his ankle and instantly tightened into impermeable ice that coated the rest of his body and yanked him into the sphere of water. Try as he might, he could not free himself from the shell of ice.

“Any last words, Zuko?” Katara teased, amused at the state she had him in.

“Yeah,” he puffed out, his cheeks red from exertion. “Sparring with you is like dancing with a hurricane.”

After the ambassador’s meeting, Zuko needed to take his mind off the demands of the Earth Kingdom. They spent the rest of the afternoon sparring with one another. Each time his blast of flames and her ribbon of water collided, it calmed him.

Katara smiled gently at him and let out a soft giggle. “And don’t you ever forget that. You forgot to mention something, though.”

“What?”

“You forgot to admit that I’m the better bender.”

“Katara, please,” he sighed, rolling his eyes.

She raised an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms. “I guess you don’t mind spending the rest of the day in a block of ice. You’ll miss the play.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

They darted their gazes away as they fixed a long, intense stare on each other. Knowing when to give up, Zuko lowered his head and murmured something to himself.

Far more amused than she should be, Katara inched closer and asked, “What did you say?”

“You’re a better bender than me!” he yelled out.

“See, was that so hard?” Katara asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She enjoyed riling him up; it gave her glimpses of his fiery personality that he hid well from the rest of the palace inhabitants.

Katara widened her arms, removed Zuko from the block of ice, and released them both from the sphere of chilling water. The moment his feet touched solid ground, Zuko stretched his long limbs before surprising Katara with a ball of flames heading toward her. Her eyes widened before she hastily dodged the attack.

“What the heck, Zuko?” Katara exclaimed as she called the water in the air to her and wrapped it around her hands and arms.

“I never said we were done sparring,” he replied as he conjured fire daggers to his hands. He advanced on her like a predator cornering its prey, and with each measured step, his intensity seemed to grow. The air between them crackled with anticipation, every shift of his weight a calculated move. She met his gaze, unflinching, her stance steady and her focus unwavering.

Just as the two friends were about to proceed with their sparring, a forced cough interrupted them. They both turned to the intruder and were greeted by the sight of Amka, accompanied by Mai and Ty Lee.

“H-hey, guys,” Amka fumbled. “Zuko, you have some people who want to talk to you.”

“This couldn’t have waited a little bit longer?” he questioned as he extinguished the flames in his hands.

“Sorry to interrupt, but this couldn’t wait,” Mai lamented.

“You guys have to get ready for the play!” Ty Lee cheerfully added.

Chapter Text

“Utaya’s mother really is a gifted seamstress,” Amka gushed, her voice soft with awe as she stepped back to admire Katara.

Draped in an ensemble fit for moonlight royalty, Katara turned slowly in front of the mirror. The traditional hanfu shimmered with layers of midnight blue and soft ivory, the fabric catching light like ripples across a lake at dusk. The outer robe, translucent and weightless, was embroidered with a school of fish swimming among moons, each detail outlined in silver thread so fine it looked like starlight sewn into silk. Beneath it, the inner gown faded from muted lavender to rich indigo, a gradient that moved like the tide when she walked.

Her hair was swept into a classical updo, tendrils framing her face in soft waves. Silver hairpins in the shape of crescent moons anchored the style, and strands of beaded tassels caught the candlelight like tiny constellations.

She barely recognized herself.

“You look like a spirit from the legends,” Amka said, hands clasped at her chest.

Katara turned from the mirror, smiling. “So do you.”

Amka's hanfu was a storm of sapphire and steel blue, the bodice rich with floral embroidery that softened into translucent vertical panels flowing from her skirt like rain over stone. Her outer robe clung lightly to her shoulders, the wide sleeves tied with delicate bows. Her hair was braided into twin coils that met in the shape of a heart at the top of her head, giving her a softness that belied her sharp tongue.

“I feel like I’m going to float away,” Amka murmured, turning in place. “It’s hard to be angry at the Fire Nation when they dress you like this.”

Katara raised a brow. “Careful. That sounds dangerously close to diplomacy.”

Amka snorted. “Never. This is aesthetic survival.”

Before they could bask further in their transformation, a firm knock sounded on the chamber door.

“Ambassador Katara,” came a voice from the other side. “The royal palanquin is ready to escort you to the Caldera Royal Theatre.”

“We’re coming!” Katara called, already reaching for Amka’s hand.

The palace corridors glowed under soft lanternlight as the two women followed their guide, the scent of sandalwood and cherry blossoms wafting through the halls. Outside, a procession of lacquered palanquins awaited, their carved wooden frames adorned with phoenixes, dragons, and sunbursts. Guards stood at full attention, silent and stoic.

Katara’s breath caught when she saw her own: deep mahogany trimmed with silver filigree, its canopy draped in dark blue silk stitched with stars and crescent moons. It was beautiful and intentional. Someone had chosen this.

Amka squeezed her hand. “Whoever prepared this knows you belong here.”

Katara nodded, her chin lifting. “Let’s show them why.”

They climbed inside, the curtains drawn closed behind them. The interior was scented with jasmine, cushioned in plush silks. The palanquin lifted, swaying with each careful step of the bearers. Outside, Caldera City sparkled beneath the twilight sky, lanterns lining the streets like fallen stars.

Katara sat quietly, absorbing the moment. Ba Sing Se had awed her, but Caldera, its blend of power and artistry, tradition and unrest, was something else entirely. She felt like a thread in a great tapestry, aware of how easily she could be pulled, or tangled.

“I don’t like how quiet it is,” Amka said, voice low. “This city breathes with tension.”

Katara gave a soft hum of agreement. “It’s not just us who feel it. Zuko does too. You can see it in his eyes.”

“And in how heavily the guards breathe.”

Katara smiled faintly. “You’ve always been too observant.”

“Survival skill,” Amka replied. “Same way you use silence as a weapon.”

The Caldera Royal Theatre loomed like a jewel against the horizon. Massive red doors marked the entrance, flanked by columns carved with flame motifs and guarded by soldiers in ceremonial armor. One by one, the palanquins arrived. Attendants opened doors, bowed low, and ushered guests toward the gilded staircases.

Katara stepped out slowly, allowing the light to catch on her hanfu. She held her head high, aware of the eyes tracking her every movement—some curious, others critical, a few quietly admiring.

Amka appeared beside her, radiant and poised.

Together, they ascended the grand staircase.

Inside, the theatre dazzled. The foyer was a cathedral of gold and lacquer, with firelight from bending-crystal chandeliers casting warm shadows over nobles and diplomats who mingled in polite clusters. Tapestries lined the walls, tales of Fire Nation glory stitched in crimson and bronze.

A herald’s voice rose above the murmurs: “Ambassador Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, and her honored companion, Amka of the Southern Water Tribe.”

Conversations paused. Heads turned.

Katara’s steps didn’t falter.

She let them look. Let them wonder.

She was not just a relic of the war. She was here. A symbol of diplomacy. A representative of peace. A woman shaped by loss but unbent by it.

Then he appeared.

Zuko emerged from the crowd in red and black robes that shimmered like embers, the golden trim emphasizing his height, the crown subtly fixed to his topknot. His posture was regal, but his eyes, those golden, stormy eyes, softened the moment they found her.

“Katara. Amka.” He bowed his head slightly. “You honor the theatre with your presence.”

“And you honor your people by hosting such a night,” Katara replied evenly, though something warm stirred beneath her ribs.

His gaze lingered on her hanfu. “Your dress… suits you.”

Katara smiled. “It was a gift. The work of a talented seamstress.”

“I should like to thank her,” he said, quietly enough that only she could hear it.

Before Katara could answer, Zuko gestured toward the inner hall. “The play is about to begin. It’s Love Amongst the Dragons. A Fire Nation classic.”

“They say it’s your favorite,” she teased.

His lips twitched. “It is. For many reasons.”

As they moved toward the theatre entrance, Katara’s eyes swept the crowd again. Behind the beauty, beneath the silk and diplomacy, something felt… off. A stillness in the air. A conversation too quickly hushed. A glance too sharply withdrawn.

Something was stirring beneath the surface.

Amka leaned in to whisper, “Why does this feel like the calm before a storm?”

Katara didn’t answer. But the silver moon pins in her hair trembled ever so slightly.

The theatre's inner hall was a masterpiece of Fire Nation architecture. Velvet-draped balconies arched over the grand stage, where crimson curtains waited to part. Rows of lacquered seats filled with the elite of Caldera, council members, noble families, and foreign dignitaries, buzzed with anticipation.

Katara, Amka, and Zuko moved to their designated box. It was elevated, adorned with silks matching the royal crest. From there, they had a perfect view of the stage and the entire audience.

“This is incredible,” Amka whispered, eyes scanning the glittering ceiling above them, painted with scenes of dragons entwined in starlight.

“It’s tradition,” Zuko murmured. “Every Fire Lord is honored with this performance during their reign, sometimes as a celebration, sometimes as a reminder.”

“A reminder of what?” Katara asked.

Zuko’s expression turned unreadable. “That love... and loyalty, often come at a cost.”

Before she could press further, the lights dimmed. A hush fell across the theatre.

The curtain rose.

The production of Love Amongst the Dragons unfolded with elegance. Katara watched as two dragon spirits, one of fire, one of water, danced across the stage, cursed by the spirits to love one another from afar. Their union, forbidden by the heavens, was filled with stolen moments, silent grief, and celestial wars.

As the fire dragon's actor knelt in agony beneath a glowing paper moon, Katara’s breath caught. The story was more than myth, it was a mirror. Of impossible expectations. Of a love that must remain unspoken. Of peace that came only through loss.

She glanced at Zuko.

He wasn’t watching the stage. He was watching her.

She looked away.

The first act ended with thunderous applause, but Katara could feel it—a lingering unease. She wasn't the only one. Even Amka shifted uncomfortably, her fingers drumming silently on her lap.

The second act had just begun when something shifted in the air.

A ripple.

Subtle. But present.

Katara felt it before she saw it: a delay in the movements of a dancer. A drop in her rhythm. Then, a tremble.

The woman collapsed.

Gasps rang out.

Whispers rippled through the room as the music faltered. Performers paused. A stagehand rushed out, helping the dancer offstage.

“Is she alright?” Amka asked in alarm.

Zuko rose immediately. His voice was low, sharp: “Stay here.”

“Zuko—”

But he was already gone, disappearing down the steps from their box.

Katara followed without hesitation.

Backstage was chaos: whispered prayers, shouted instructions, the hiss of fire-heated kettles and cooling cloths. A medic crouched over the fallen dancer.

“She’s stable,” he said, wiping her brow. “But her pulse was too fast. Breathing shallow. Definitely poisoned.”

Katara’s heart dropped.

Poison?

Zuko’s voice was clipped. “From where? Who gave her anything?”

“We all drank the same tea before curtain,” said one of the other performers, pale and shaken. “But only Mei-Lan collapsed.”

“Is it possible someone tampered with her cup?” Katara asked.

“Yes,” the medic confirmed grimly. “Very.”

Zuko turned to his guards. “Seal the doors. No one leaves the theatre until we search every tray, every servant, every performer.”

“And the guests?” Katara asked, suddenly very aware of who sat in those velvet chairs.

“We’ll tell them it’s a safety precaution.”

She met his eyes. “Do you think it was meant for her?”

He didn’t answer.

Because they both knew.

It wasn’t meant for the dancer.

It was a message.

Back in the royal box, the audience fidgeted under the delay. Murmurs turned to suspicion, suspicion into fear.

Zuko returned after several minutes, his composure hard like iron.

“The dancer was poisoned,” he said quietly to Katara and Amka. “She’ll recover. The threat is contained for now.”

“Do they know who did it?” Amka whispered.

“No. But a symbol was found. Carved beneath the tea tray.”

Katara froze. “The blue flame.”

He nodded once.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the stage where a new actress had taken the role and the play resumed as if nothing had happened.

But something had.

Katara watched the dragon spirits twirl across the stage again, their love doomed and delicate.

And in the shadows behind her eyes, something darker flickered, a flame not of fire, but betrayal.

After the final curtain call, the audience exited slowly, a rustling sea of silks and murmurs. Katara descended the stairs with Amka beside her, both alert. Guards discreetly lined the hallways.

They emerged into the night air, cooler now, though it carried the scent of incense and smoke. Zuko joined them, his shoulders visibly stiff.

“There’ll be questions,” he said.

“There should be,” Katara replied. “But the real ones won’t be asked in public.”

He nodded. “I’ll send Midori to debrief you both in the morning.”

As they reached their palanquin, Zuko paused. “Thank you. For being here.”

Katara turned toward him. “You don’t need to thank me, Zuko. We’re in this together.”

Something passed between them in the silence that followed, not the echo of old battles, but the stillness before the next wave.

Zuko looked like he wanted to say something else. But instead, he turned to help her into the palanquin again.

“Sleep well, Ambassador.”

“I’ll try.”

Back in her chambers, Katara removed her hairpins with careful fingers. The silk hanfu pooled around her like water as she sat on the edge of her bed.

On her nightstand, a small silver tray held a covered teacup. She stared at it, unmoving.

Then she lifted the lid, sniffed it carefully, and pushed it aside.

She couldn’t afford trust.

Not tonight.

Not yet.

Chapter Text

Katara stirred to the low, somber beat of ceremonial drums echoing through the palace grounds each strike a deep-throated warning that rippled across the stone walls like distant thunder. There was no celebration in that rhythm. No wedding procession. No festival welcome. This was a call to vigilance. The kind of sound that meant someone, somewhere, had drawn a line and others would now be asked to cross it.

She sat up slowly, the woven sheets slipping from her shoulders as pale morning light filtered through the gauzy silk curtains. It painted the chamber in soft blues and greys, like the hush before a storm. On the small nightstand beside her, the silver tray still waited untouched. The tea had gone cold hours ago.

Katara eyed it but didn’t move. A cold lump of unease had settled beneath her ribs, solid and heavy, as though it had been waiting for her to wake. The memory of the dancer haunted her, not just the fall, not just the gasp of the crowd, but the stillness. The too-quiet moment that followed. As if the entire world had inhaled and decided not to exhale.

From the hallway, Amka’s voice called out with practiced ease.

“Morning! There’s soup waiting. And… news.”

The tone wasn’t light enough to be casual. It carried a sharpness beneath the sing-song.

Katara rose with a yawn, tugging a robe over her shoulders and walking barefoot to the door. She pulled it open mid-stretch and found Amka already dressed and poised. She wore a sea-blue tunic pressed crisp as ice, silver-stamped boots shining at the ankles. Her hair was braided down her back in a neat line, not a single strand out of place.

“You look like you’ve been awake for hours,” Katara said.

“I have,” Amka replied flatly. “Midori’s been pacing the hallway since sunrise. Like a hawk that’s lost its nest.”

Katara’s brows lifted. “So… we’re not done with poison mysteries yet?”

“Apparently not.” Amka leaned against the wall. “She hasn’t said much, but she looked tired. The kind of tired that comes from dragging noble families out of their private boxes and demanding they inspect their own tea leaves.”

Katara winced. “Did anyone protest?”

“Of course they did,” Amka said, rolling her eyes. “Half of them are insulted, the other half are nervous. But Midori is good at scaring people into silence when she has to be.”

Katara ran a hand over her face. “Let me wash up and eat something. Then I’ll speak with her.”

“Make it quick,” Amka added, already pushing off the wall. “Fire Lord Zuko is making a public address this morning. And we’ve got a meeting scheduled with Ambassador Cupun. He asked for it personally.”

Katara froze mid-step. “That’s... sudden.”

“Everything is sudden here.” Amka turned down the corridor with a muttered, “Welcome to Fire Nation politics. I kinda wish I were back home.”

The washbasin in Katara’s room had been freshly filled sometime before dawn. The water was still lukewarm. She leaned over and splashed her face, letting the cold shock her fully awake.

Still, the unease didn’t leave.

It stayed coiled inside her like a current beneath still water.

As she dried her face with a towel, her mind wandered back to the night before; the way Mei-Lan had moved, like silk and flame, only to crumble mid-step like a puppet with cut strings. The moment was etched behind Katara’s eyes: the frantic pulse at the dancer’s neck, the pale shimmer of sweat, the glint of silver thread on her costume catching the stage lights as she was carried away.

It had all felt too symbolic. Too deliberate.

Katara couldn’t help but wonder: had she just witnessed the rehearsal for someone else’s death? Or her own?

But even in her fear, she held fast to her instincts. She was a healer. A diplomat. A daughter of the Water Tribe.

But first and foremost, she was a warrior.

And warriors didn’t cower from storms. They stepped into them.

Zuko hadn’t slept either.

He stood at the edge of his private balcony, hands clasped behind his back, watching the early light spill across the rooftops of Caldera like melted gold. The city was already stirring—vendors pulling carts into position, couriers darting between alleys, guards rotating shifts. The lanterns from the night’s theatre still swung in the breeze, their paper shells faded and fluttering. They looked like the remnants of something beautiful that had burned too quickly.

Like a celebration cut short.

Like peace on the verge of collapse.

The air smelled of soot and blooming cherry blossoms, but beneath it was something acrid. Faint. Familiar.

Tension.

The memory of the dancer falling would not leave him. Not just the collapse, but what came after. The silence. The forced continuation. The way the theatre—his theatre—resumed the performance as if nothing had happened. As if the poison had been part of the act.

He had seen many masks in his life. That kind of denial wasn’t strength. It was fear.

And Zuko had grown tired of fear masquerading as tradition.

He stepped into his study, lit only by thin strands of sunlight slicing between the drapes. There were decisions to be made. Not just about the dancer, or the symbol, or even the Blue Flame. Bigger ones.

Zuko sat at his desk and dipped a brush into ink. His fingers didn’t tremble as he began to write, but his mind burned.

The first letter was to Uncle Iroh, via a trusted courier line known only to two others. He didn’t know if his uncle would respond in time, or at all, but he had to try.

The second was for Toph, short and precise. He would need eyes that could see through stone and lies alike.

And the third—carefully worded and encoded—was for Suki and the Kyoshi Warriors. He didn’t know where they were stationed now, but if anyone could move quietly and protect what mattered, it was them.

Once the letters were sealed, Zuko called for his finest messenger birds—firehawks, trained for speed and endurance.

He watched them take off into the morning sky, their wings cutting through the golden light like arrows shot from fate itself.

As they vanished into the distance, he exhaled.

Action had been taken. That alone gave him strength.

But even as his resolve settled, he knew the hard part had only just begun.

The chamber smelled of ink, sandalwood, and stale diplomacy.

Katara entered the receiving room with Amka at her side. The space was dim and intimate, far smaller than the opulent throne room or grand salons. The walls were lined with scrolls, maps, and fading tapestries depicting the glory of ice palaces and moonlit battles. Water Tribe history, but seen through a Northern lens.

Cupun rose as they entered, his thick robes trailing along the floor. A slow smile crept across his bearded face.

"Ambassador Katara," he said smoothly, bowing just enough to appear respectful. "How honored I am to speak with one of the great heroes of our time."

"Spare me the ceremony, Cupun," Katara replied, her tone polite but edged. "You asked for this meeting. Speak plainly."

He chuckled, folding his hands as he resumed his seat. "Very well. It pleases me to know that even the South values efficiency these days."

Katara sat across from him, back straight. Amka remained standing.

"There’s unrest in the Fire Nation," Cupun began. "And there’s concern in the North. Our council worries about the consequences of instability here especially when our sister tribe is so newly established in political power."

"You mean me," Katara said.

He didn’t deny it.

"You carry the Southern banner now. And you’ve made yourself… indispensable to Fire Lord Zuko. That can be a strength. It can also be a vulnerability."

Katara narrowed her eyes. "Are you offering help, or issuing a threat?"

"That depends," Cupun said, pouring himself a small cup of tea. "On whether you still consider yourself a waterbender of the tribes—or something else. Something more... entangled."

Katara studied him, trying to unravel his mask of diplomacy. There was something serpentine in his words, something that sounded like concern and manipulation in equal parts.

"The South rebuilt itself without Northern oversight," she said finally. "We’ll continue to do so. And I represent my people. Not your council. Not your ambitions."

Cupun inclined his head with an ambiguous smile. "As you say."

He sipped his tea, unbothered.

"May our nations continue to prosper in unity... or at least, in understanding."

Katara stood. "Understanding only works when both sides are honest."

"Then I hope you’ll be the one to set the example," he murmured.

She left the chamber with Amka, the tension curling behind her like mist.

Zuko found Mai and Ty Lee in the garden courtyard, seated under the blooming blood-orchids. Mai was sharpening her throwing knives while Ty Lee balanced upside down on one hand atop a fence post.

"We need to talk," Zuko said simply.

Mai’s expression didn’t change. "About the poisoned dancer, the political threat, or your self-destructive martyr complex?"

"All three."

Ty Lee flipped down from the post and landed gracefully. "We heard. The servants won’t shut up about it."

Zuko led them into a side chamber used by the White Lotus when they needed discretion. Once the doors were closed, he didn’t sit.

"There’s something deeper going on here. I don’t think the poison was just about fear. It was a warning. Maybe even a test. Someone’s watching our every move and they’re close. Real close"

Mai nodded slowly. "You want us to find out who."

"I can’t afford to chase shadows when I’m preparing to speak to the entire nation," Zuko said. "But I trust you two more than most of the people in my court."

Ty Lee clapped her hands. "Finally! A mystery!"

Mai stood, pocketing her blades. "We’ll travel light. Quiet. Let the palace settle into its drama. We’ll go where people aren’t looking."

Zuko met her gaze. "Be careful. I need you both to come back."

Mai arched a brow. "That almost sounded like affection."

Ty Lee gave him a quick hug before they left. "We’ll be in touch if we find anything!"

Zuko watched them disappear through the archway, something tight twisting in his chest.

The plaza outside the Fire Palace brimmed with breathless silence.

Thousands had gathered, citizens of Caldera and travelers alike, pressed shoulder to shoulder beneath the rising flame-red sun. Crimson banners hung limp in the still morning air. The scent of incense and hot stone settled between hushed whispers. Even the birds had quieted.

Officials in formal silks stood along the temple steps, their eyes masked with polite concern. Royal guards flanked the walkways in rigid formation, their armor gleaming and ceremonial, their presence not a reassurance but a warning.

The Fire Palace loomed behind them; imperial, vast, and watching.

And then he appeared.

Zuko stepped forward from the high threshold. No crown adorned his head. No armor weighed down his shoulders. He wore plain robes of deep red, simple yet noble, and his topknot was bound with a dark ribbon instead of gold.

The crowd did not cheer. They did not call.

But they listened.

When he spoke, his voice carried—not by force, but by presence.

“My people,” he began, his breath steady, his hands calm at his sides. “I stand before you today not only as your Fire Lord but as your son. Your servant. One of you.”

He paused, letting that settle across the plaza.

“Last night, during what should have been a night of beauty and unity, a young dancer collapsed on the royal stage. She was poisoned.”

Gasps whispered through the masses like wind in dry grass.

“She survived thanks to quick hands and sharp minds. But survival is not the only matter at hand.”

Zuko’s voice grew firmer, his words measured but sharp.

“This was not an accident. This was not personal. This was a symbol. A message.”

He paced slowly forward along the raised dais, scanning the sea of faces, so many eyes, filled with unease, suspicion, quiet fury.

“There are forces within our walls—within our streets and palaces—that wish to pull us backward. Back into a time where fear was king and conquest was law. They wear many names. The Blue Flame. The Loyalists. The Old Blood. But their aim is the same.”

His gaze darkened.

“They believe fear is strength. That power must come from dominance. That peace is weakness. And to prove it, they poisoned a young woman who meant no harm, who only danced.”

He stepped forward again.

“I was born into a world at war. I know what fear can do. I know what cruelty looks like when it wears the robes of honor. But I also know this: fire is not only a weapon. It is warmth. It is light. It is rebirth.”

There was silence. The city held its breath.

“I do not ask you to be unafraid. Fear is a part of healing. But I ask you to stand with me. To question what you are told to honor. To look past banners and bloodlines and ask yourself what kind of world you want to live in.”

Zuko’s voice dropped to something deeper. Intimate. Heavy with meaning.

“We will find those responsible. And we will do so with clarity not vengeance. We will respond with justice not fear.”

He bowed his head, his final words quiet, almost prayerful:

“I do not serve the legacy of war. I serve you.”

And then he knelt.

The Fire Lord knelt.

One by one, slowly and awkwardly citizens across the plaza began to lower themselves in return. Elders first. Then students. Then soldiers. A ripple of motion. A moment of shared breath.

For a heartbeat, the Fire Nation was not led by force.

It was led by choice.

The echo of the crowd’s silence still clung to Zuko’s skin as he and Katara walked side by side through a quiet corridor of the palace. The torches flickered gently on the stone walls, casting long shadows behind them.

Neither had spoken since the plaza.

Until Katara finally broke the hush.

“You meant every word.”

Zuko didn’t look at her, but nodded. “I have to. The truth’s the only thing I have left that can’t be taken from me.”

They turned a corner, their footsteps muffled against red carpets woven with phoenix patterns.

“Mei-Lan,” Katara said, slowing. “The dancer. We should see her.”

Zuko stopped. His shoulders tensed. “There’ll be guards.”

“I don’t care.”

“She was meant to be a message,” he said quietly. “But they might try again. If they think she didn’t serve her purpose the first time.”

Katara looked at him. “All the more reason not to let her lie alone. She’s not just a symbol.”

Zuko finally turned to face her.

“You’re right,” he said, almost too softly to hear.

And then: “We go tonight. Quietly.”

Katara nodded once.

They said nothing more.

The palace infirmary stood beneath the eastern wing—quiet, heavily warded, and lit only by sparse lanterns. Its arched ceilings and hushed corridors seemed more like a tomb than a place of healing.

Zuko and Katara slipped past the final set of guards with whispered permission and a promise not to linger. No entourage. No royal titles. Just them.

A single herbalist dozed in the corner of the room, a parchment of dried ingredients fallen in her lap.

Mei-Lan lay still beneath woven blankets, her hair spread like ink across the pillows. Her skin was pale, waxen in the lanternlight. A bowl of cooled herbs sat beside her, untouched.

Katara knelt first, quietly reaching to check the girl's pulse with practiced fingers.

“She’s stable,” she whispered, brows furrowing. “But whoever did this knew how to make the poison slow… quiet. A performance of suffering.”

Zuko stood behind her, hands clenched at his sides.

It was then that Katara stilled.

She looked at Mei-Lan again this time not as a patient, but as a mirror.

The shape of the girl’s face. The soft round of her jaw. The dark lashes, the sloping cheekbones. Even in fever, Mei-Lan’s features bore a striking resemblance to someone else.

To her.

“She looks like me,” Katara said, voice hushed and eerie.

Zuko stepped closer, now seeing what she saw. “Too much to be chance.”

“She wore blue,” Katara murmured. “During the performance. Silver threads. A flow like water. Like my gown.”

The realization settled like a chill in the room.

“They weren’t sending a message to me,” Zuko said slowly. “Or at least… not just to me.”

Katara reached down, brushing a strand of hair from Mei-Lan’s face. “They wanted to create an image. A symbol. If she had died—”

“—it would’ve looked like you,” Zuko finished grimly.

A silence passed between them, deep and terrible.

“Who would do this?” Katara asked.

Zuko’s voice was quiet. Cold.

“We’ll find them.”

His eyes lingered on Mei-Lan’s unconscious form, this young woman who had been turned into a weapon without ever knowing she was part of the war.

“And when we do,” he said, the fire behind his voice steady and low, “they’ll learn that our lives are not pawns. And our people are not warnings.”

Chapter Text

“If I’d known being your assistant came with this much parchment,” Amka muttered, eyeing the overflowing table, “I might’ve stayed in the South.”

Scrolls spilled over the edges like snowdrifts, seals half-broken, ink still drying. The scent of wax and dust clung to the air.

Katara didn’t look up from her stack. “It’s not that much.”

“There are three towers of official notices next to your table,” Amka replied dryly. “That qualifies as a siege.”

Katara hummed, lips twitching. “You sound like a quitter.”

“I’m not a quitter,” Amka said, sinking into her chair with a theatrical sigh. “I’m a seasoned procrastinator.”

That earned her an eye-roll and a small smile. For all the fire licking at the edges of the palace these days, metaphorical and otherwise, Amka still managed to keep her sharpness, her humor. It hadn’t gone unnoticed. In the weeks since the poisoning, the palace had grown tighter, tenser, like a lung held mid-breath. Guards now stalked the halls in pairs. Every door opened slower. Every word weighed more.

Zuko, too, had become something of a shadow. A whisper behind doors. A presence felt more than seen.

And still, Amka joked. Katara was grateful for it.

A knock landed sharply against the office door.

Amka rose without complaint and opened it. A palace servant stood there, stiff-backed and unsmiling. He handed over a folded note with no words and no delay.

Amka shut the door behind him with a quiet scoff. “They never talk. No hellos, no small gossip, just—” she handed the note to Katara, “task complete, vanish.”

“Don’t be too hard on them,” Katara murmured as she unfolded the parchment. “They’re—”

Her voice stopped short. She was already standing.

Amka’s chair scraped back. “Katara—?”

“We need to get to Zuko’s office. Now.”

No more questions. No hesitation.

They left the stacks of paper behind and stepped into the hallway with purpose in their stride.

Katara didn’t knock. She pushed the heavy doors open with both hands, the bronze handles cold beneath her palms.

Inside, Zuko stood at his desk, mid-sentence with a scribe who froze the moment the door banged against the frame. Scrolls fluttered from the table’s edge like startled birds.

“Out,” Katara said, not unkindly, but firmly.

The scribe blinked at Zuko. He gave a tight nod, and the man bowed before hurrying past the two women, muttering apologies under his breath.

The doors clicked shut again.

Zuko hadn’t moved.

Neither had Katara.

He looked… tired. His hair was slightly undone, his eyes ringed with sleeplessness. A long red robe hung loosely over his frame, one sleeve slightly wrinkled, as if he’d fallen asleep in it. Ink smudged the side of his hand.

She hadn’t realized how much she missed the sight of him until now. How strange that someone so fiery could go unseen, and still take up so much space in her thoughts.

“You look—” she started.

“So do you,” he said at the same time.

They both stopped.

Amka’s brow lifted behind her, but she said nothing.

Zuko cleared his throat and stepped around the table, standing awkwardly, almost like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. “I… wasn’t expecting you.”

“You sent for me,” Katara said.

“No, I didn’t—” he paused, frowning. “Wait. Did you get a message with my seal?”

She nodded. “Urgent. Your crest. Parchment sealed in red wax.”

His face changed, just slightly. “I didn’t send it.”

Katara’s stomach dipped. “Then who did?”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

And then, softly, Zuko added, “You came fast.”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she replied just as softly.

He looked down at that, mouth tugging into something not quite a smile. “I wasn’t avoiding. I was… trying not to get you poisoned.”

“That’s sweet,” Katara said flatly, “and completely infuriating.”

Amka snorted.

Zuko’s ears pinked.

Katara looked at him fully, now tired, worn, but still him. Still, the boy who knelt in the square and the man who spoke of justice like it could be carved from fire itself. She hadn’t realized how much she missed hearing his voice when it wasn’t echoing through a crowd.

She stepped forward.

“So, if you didn’t send the note…” she said slowly.

Zuko nodded grimly. “Then someone else wanted you here.”

Amka moved to the edge of the room and leaned against the far wall, arms crossed. “For what it’s worth, this might be the most romantic conspiracy I’ve ever stumbled into.”

Neither of them responded.

“If I didn’t send it, someone had access to my seal.”

Katara folded her arms. “We were lured here.”

Amka tilted her head. “Romantic conspiracy’s losing its charm.”

A loud thud echoed above them, followed by a groan of shifting stone.

Zuko looked up sharply. “What the—”

Before anyone could move, a square section of the ceiling slid open with a low, grinding scrape, and then thump a figure dropped directly into the middle of the chamber, landing in a crouch.

Dust exploded outward in a small cloud.

Katara stumbled back. Amka yelped.

Zuko flinched toward the figure, hand instinctively creating a fire dagger.

Then came the voice; dry, confident, unmistakably smug: “Wow. No one screamed. I’m impressed. I was aiming for chaos.”

Katara blinked. “Toph?”

The figure straightened. She stood taller now, barely, but the difference carried weight. The soft edges of childhood had long since sharpened into something steelier: lean muscle layered over poise, like a duelist trained in both ballroom and battlefield. Her faded green tunic, though worn at the seams and streaked with travel stains, bore the subtle tailoring of wealth, a cut that once belonged to a Beifong wardrobe, now repurposed for battle. Her boots were scuffed, dust-caked, and reinforced with riveted metal at the toes; formidable, functional, and anything but decorative. Her hair was cropped shoulder-length, jagged from a blade rather than a salon, and beneath one eye ran a thin scar, slanting down her cheek like a fracture in porcelain, elegant, but unflinching.

Toph grinned.

“You all look like you saw a ghost.”

“Toph!” Katara exclaimed, half in joy, half in exasperation. “What in the spirits’ name are you doing?”

“I sent the note,” she said, brushing dirt off her sleeves. “Figured it was the only way to make sure you two had a little one-on-one time. You’re both emotionally constipated, and it’s starting to hurt my feelings.”

Zuko looked between the two women. “You forged my seal?”

Toph shrugged. “Please. Your palace security’s tighter than your posture. I had to improvise.”

Amka stared at her. “You dropped from the ceiling.”

Toph winked. “You get used to it.”

Katara stepped forward, still reeling. “You could’ve written! Sent a hawk! You didn’t have to impersonate Zuko and startle us to death!”

“Oh, please.” Toph rolled her eyes. “That wouldn’t have been nearly as fun.”

Zuko, who had finally relaxed his stance, crossed his arms. “And the scar?”

Toph smirked. “You should see the other guy.”

Then her expression sobered, just slightly. “There’s a lot to talk about. Things I felt, things I followed. The ground’s been humming in this palace for a while, and not in a good way. You’ve got a problem, and I’m here to help crack it open.”

Katara stared at her friend, marvelling at the changes time had carved into her, yet somehow, she was exactly the same.

“You didn’t have to come alone,” she said softly.

“I didn’t,” Toph replied, lifting a brow. “I brought my fists. They’ve never let me down.”

Amka let out a breath and muttered, “Okay, I like her.”

Zuko shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “Welcome back, Toph.”

She grinned wider. “Let’s find out who’s trying to play kingmaker with poison and pageantry.”

Amka lingered near the open window, watching a pair of fire lilies bend toward the sun, petals trembling slightly in the wind.

Toph had made herself comfortable, well, as comfortable as someone with dust on her shoulders and a smirk like a blade could be, propping one boot on the arm of a nearby chair. Katara had taken a seat across from her, arms crossed, still somewhere between fondness and frustration.

Zuko, meanwhile, paced.

Amka turned from the window, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I take it this is a secret war meeting now?”

Zuko paused mid-step.

“I mean,” she continued with a shrug, “three war heroes and me? I’m flattered, but I think I’m going to excuse myself before you start drafting maps in blood.”

Katara stood. “You don’t have to go—”

Amka raised a hand, gentle. “It’s alright. I think a few of our Fire Nation friends were talking about partying or drinking terrible wine or both. I could use a distraction that doesn’t involve political subterfuge or forged summons.”

She winked at Toph. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Toph said. “I respect a good exit.”

Zuko nodded. “Just be careful.”

“I always am,” Amka said breezily, already halfway to the door. “But I’ll send someone screaming if things get interesting.”

Once she was gone and the doors sealed behind her, the air shifted.

Zuko turned back to the others and reached into his robe. “These arrived this morning. One from Suki. One from Uncle.”

He handed them over in silence, letting Katara and Toph take a seat as he began to read aloud.

My dear nephew,

Your letter reached me in the quiet of morning. I read it while brewing a particularly stubborn tea, one that requires patience and careful heat, lest it turn bitter. There is wisdom in even the smallest things, if we are willing to listen.

I sense that the flame around you is flickering, not because it is weak, but because the wind is unkind. Remember: a fire that bends is not the same as one that breaks.

When a dancer stumbles, some rush to blame the floor, others the rhythm. But often, it is the silence after the music that reveals what truly matters.

You are not alone, though I know it often feels that way. There are eyes in the dark, yes, but also hands that will hold the lantern if you let them.

And as for the matter you did not name, I have always found that the heart, when heavy, knows its own path. Whether it chooses stillness or movement is a question only it can answer.

I remain where I have always been. Tea leaves, old bones, and memory. Should you need a place to rest or think, my door remains open.

Uncle

Zuko’s voice softened as he read the last line, and for a moment, none of them spoke. The fire crackled behind him. A few embers drifted up the hearth like spirits exhaling.

Toph finally snorted. “He still writes like he’s trying to out-poem a monk.”

Katara smiled faintly. “But he’s right. You’ve been holding too much on your own.”

Zuko didn’t answer. He simply reached for the second parchment and unrolled it.

Fire Lord,

We’ve read the signs. Some clearer than others.
Movements beneath the surface. Unusual patterns in the dust. Not every dance is meant for applause. Some are warnings.
We’ve changed course. The shorelines are quiet, but too quiet.
Expect a wind shift before the moon is full.
The one you're concerned for is not invisible, but neither is she undefended.
You were right not to trust the stage.

S

This time, Zuko’s jaw tightened as he folded the letter again.

“I think they know more than they can say,” he said finally. “Or more than they’re willing to write.”

“Obviously,” Toph said. “Suki’s letter practically screams ‘we’re on the move.’ And your uncle’s? He’s telling you to trust the silence.”

Katara looked at the flame in the hearth, the crackling of wood, the slow curl of smoke.

“They’re warning us to be careful,” she murmured. “And not just of the Blue Flame… but of the people around us.”

Zuko nodded once.

“Then we need to be ready.”

Zuko folded the parchment with care and tucked it back into its sleeve. “They’re moving in the shadows,” he said, half to himself. “I just don’t know where the blow will land.”

Toph leaned back, arms crossed behind her head. “So let’s stop waiting to get hit.”

Katara looked up. “You have something in mind?”

Toph’s smirk returned, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. The dancer.”

Zuko stiffened. “Mei-Lan ?”

“Exactly. You two are so busy chasing nobles and ghost organizations,” Toph said, “but the one person who was actually part of the performance, that literal performance, has barely been talked to. She almost died onstage in front of half the court. If I were planning a symbol, I’d pick someone like her on purpose.”

Katara nodded slowly. “We did check in on her… once.”

“Right. When she looked like a ghost version of you,” Toph added. “But now?”

Zuko moved to the edge of the map table, fingers drumming against the wood. “She was released from the infirmary a week ago. I asked to be notified.”

“She went back to the theatre,” Katara said, brows rising slightly. “That’s what the healers said. She insisted she felt safer there.”

Toph’s foot tapped lightly against the leg of the chair. “Huh. Girl almost dies on stage and runs right back to it? Either she’s brave, brainwashed, or watched something that scared her more than the poison.”

Zuko looked to Toph. “You want to talk to her?”

Toph’s grin sharpened. “I want to feel her talk. Hear what she’s hiding in her heartbeat.”

Katara rose, already reaching for her wrap. “I’ll come.”

Zuko hesitated.

“You’re not coming?” Toph asked, raising an eyebrow.

He glanced toward the sealed letters, the firelight casting warm shadows across his features. “If I show up, she might clam up. I'm still the Fire Lord. She might say what she thinks I want to hear.”

Katara met his gaze, a small smile tugging at her lips. “That’s oddly self-aware of you.”

Zuko shrugged. “I’m growing.”

Toph rolled her eyes. “Gross.”

Katara moved toward the door. “We’ll meet her tonight. If she’s back at the Royal Theatre, we’ll go after curtain call. Fewer eyes.”

Zuko watched her go, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression.

Toph paused beside him. “Don’t worry. We’ll be careful.”

“I know,” he said.

She gave his shoulder a quick, solid pat, half comfort, half iron. “You’ve got too many shadows here, Sparky. Let us walk through one for you.”

Then she followed Katara out, boots tapping in rhythm on the stone floor, leaving Zuko alone with the dying fire and letters that whispered warnings even in silence.

The city was quieter this far from the palace. The glow of lanterns danced against shop windows, casting long ribbons of orange and gold along the stone path. They walked side by side, wrapped in their cloaks, the soft hush of their steps punctuated only by the distant hum of a guzheng from an open balcony above.

For a while, neither said anything.

Toph finally broke the silence. “You still walk too loud.”

Katara huffed. “You still insult people instead of saying hi.”

“That was a hi.”

Katara smiled and let the quiet return. She glanced sideways at her friend, trying to imagine what it must’ve taken for Toph to come here, unannounced, scarred, still herself, but older now. Heavier, somehow, in the way she carried her silences.

“I heard you’ve been bounty hunting.”

Toph smirked. “That's what they’re calling it? I prefer ‘career criminal whisperer.’ But yeah. It pays well. And I get to punch people without paperwork.”

“That… actually sounds freeing.”

“It is,” she said simply.

Katara exhaled. “Before this ambassador thing, I was teaching.”

Toph tilted her head. “Teaching what? How to look morally disappointed in two different dialects?”

“Very funny.” Katara elbowed her. “I was training Northern girls in waterbending. Some of them were barely allowed to look at scrolls before. It was slow work. But it matters.”

Toph grinned. “You’ve always liked slow, meaningful things. Except when it comes to sleeping.”

Katara grinned back. “And you’ve always liked punching first and asking questions never.”

“Still true,” Toph said with a shrug. Then, after a pause, “My parents think I should marry.”

Katara blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” Toph said, feigning a yawn. “Earth Kingdom noble. A ‘well-mannered one.’ Not sure what they think I’m gonna do, settle down and host tea parties?”

Katara winced sympathetically. “Do you… want to?”

Toph snorted. “Not in this lifetime. I barely talk to them, but whenever we do meet, it ends in passive aggression, someone crying, and me stomping a decorative vase into powder.”

Katara laughed softly, then sobered. “That sounds hard.”

“It is,” Toph admitted, voice quieter. “But it’s not lonely. Not really. Not when I get to choose where I go.”

They reached a small bridge overlooking a koi pond. Katara leaned on the railing, her hands clasped.

“You know,” Toph said, voice casual, “I didn’t come just to talk to Mei-Lan. I also came to check on you.”

Katara gave her a look. “I’m fine.”

“Sure. But your heartbeat’s been doing that fluttery thing since the palace. Especially around a certain fire-slinging monarch.”

Katara flushed. “Toph.”

“Hey,” Toph said with a shrug. “You think I’m blind and stupid?”

Katara looked away, trying not to smile.

“You like him,” Toph said, voice lighter now, teasing. “And he definitely likes you. I heard it. In how he regards you. There was a pause when you walked into the room. A loaded pause.”

“There was not.”

“There was. And in the Fire Nation court, a pause is basically a proposal.”

Katara rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that. Things are… complicated.”

“Of course they are. You’re Katara. You wouldn’t know what to do with simple if it tripped you in the street.”

Katara let her smile soften, touched by how Toph’s teasing always had a current of truth beneath it. “I don’t even know if it’s real. Or just proximity. Or trauma. Or politics.”

“Real doesn’t mean easy,” Toph said, then reached out and bumped her arm. “But you’ve got instincts, Sweetness. Trust them. You always have.”

The water flickered beneath them, glowing with wishes not their own.

Katara looked out at the pond, the moonlight threading through the clouds.

“Thanks,” she said, quiet but sincere.

Toph gave a casual wave. “Don’t get sappy. Save it for Sparky.”

Chapter Text

The Royal Theatre shimmered beneath soft lantern light, its red pillars wrapped in gold silk, casting long shadows across the marble steps. The smell of stage dust and old incense hung in the air like a memory that refused to fade.

Katara and Toph stepped through the wide front doors, where an older stagehand greeted them with a polite bow. “Ambassador. We weren’t expecting guests tonight.”

“We’re not here to watch,” Katara said kindly. “We’re here to check on Mei-Lan .”

The man’s expression shifted. “She’s resting in the back rehearsal hall. She came in for warmups. Said she needed to move again.”

“We won’t be long,” Katara added. “Thank you.”

The man nodded, his eyes lingering with quiet concern as they passed.

The back corridors were narrow and warm, lined with scrolls of past performances. Katara trailed a hand along one, brushstrokes worn and faded, the image of a flame dancer mid-spin. Toph walked silently beside her, her senses stretched into the walls and floors, reading every footfall, every breath beyond the wood.

When they reached the rehearsal space, the door was cracked open. The murmur of low voices floated through, soft, affectionate.

Inside, Mei-Lan stood barefoot on a silk mat, slowly stretching beneath the warm yellow glow of lanterns. Her limbs moved carefully, not quite fluid yet, but determined. A pale bandage still crossed her ribs beneath her thin rehearsal robe.

Around her, two other dancers fussed gently, one fixing her sash, another bringing tea.

Katara stepped inside, just enough to be seen. “Sorry to interrupt.”

The dancers turned, not startled, just watchful. Mei-Lan blinked, and recognition softened her face.

“Ambassador,” she said with a gentle nod. “And…”

“Toph,” Toph said. “An old friend.”

Toph stepped forward a few paces, stopping just within the reach of the polished floor. Her boots clicked once. She folded her arms.

“We’re just checking in,” Katara said gently. “You’ve been through a lot.”

“I’m still here,” Mei-Lan replied. “That feels like enough.”

Toph tilted her head. “Do you remember anything strange from that night? Anything before the dizziness?”

Mei-Lan hesitated. “Just nerves. It was a big performance. Royal audience, ambassadors… I had a slight headache. But I thought it was nerves and lantern smoke.”

Katara’s gaze was steady. “You didn’t see anyone backstage? Smell anything odd?”

“No.” Mei-Lan shook her head. “I don’t remember anything until the nausea hit and I felt my knees give out.”

Toph listened to her breath. The rhythm was steady. Honest. No skipped beats. No tightness in the voice. Her pulse was low, even. Not a lie in her.

“She doesn’t know anything,” Toph said aloud.

Mei-Lan blinked at her.

“I mean it in a good way,” Toph added. “You’re clear. Like a pond no one’s touched.”

Katara turned back toward the others. “She’s not our lead.”

One of the dancers stepped protectively in front of Mei-Lan. “She’s not a pawn either.”

“No,” Katara said softly. “She isn’t.”

The dancers resumed their quiet watch as Katara and Toph stepped back into the hallway.

Once the door shut behind them, Toph exhaled through her nose. “Dead end.”

“She’s just another victim,” Katara murmured. “But she was chosen. Someone wanted her center stage when it happened.”

“Yeah,” Toph said. “And I hate how clean that makes it.”

They stepped out into the night again, the stars flickering above like a silent audience, waiting for the next act.

The night air warm but sweetened with hints of fried sesame oil and red bean steam buns. Katara walked a step ahead, humming softly to herself, her stride more relaxed than earlier.

Toph followed, suspicious.

“Where exactly are we going?” she asked.

“To meet up with Amka,” Katara replied lightly.

“Isn’t she off with your political entourage?”

“She’s off with her friends, actually. Normal Fire Nation civilians. People who don’t care that you once ended a war by punching the Earth into submission.”

Toph raised an eyebrow. “Sounds boring. And suspicious. What are you not telling me?”

“They’re just people, Toph. You should meet them. They’re fun.”

“That sounds like a trap.”

Katara stopped at the edge of a bustling plaza and nodded toward a warmly glowing storefront ahead. A curved sign read Ember Delights, painted in elegant flame-colored calligraphy. Music drifted out, plucked strings and light drums, the unmistakable sound of laughter over too many plates.

“You need to eat,” Katara added. “And you’ve been back in the Fire Nation for all of eight hours and already dropped from a ceiling. Maybe tonight, you could just… drop into a chair.”

Toph squinted toward the glowing windows. She smelled ginger, sticky rice, and grilled scallion pancakes.

“You’re guilt-tripping me with food,” she said flatly.

“Yup,” Katara smiled. “Is it working?”

Toph grumbled something indistinct under her breath but followed her in anyway.

Inside, Ember Delights buzzed with life. Lanterns hung in clusters overhead, and small tables were packed with locals: traders, young couples, older women sharing tea and gossip. It wasn’t grand, it was alive.

At a back corner table, Amka spotted them and waved enthusiastically, nearly knocking over her drink. She sat with three others.

“This is a setup,” Toph muttered.

Katara just nudged her forward.

Amka stood as they approached. “You came!”

“Against my better judgment,” Toph muttered. “Who are these people?”

Amka grinned. “Toph, meet the Fire Nation’s finest.”

The group shuffled to make room.

“This is Gao,” Amka said, gesturing to the broad-shouldered quiet man. “He moves crates. Dockworker by day, terrible flute player by night.”

Gao grinned and nodded, all dimples.

“And this is Utaya,” Amka continued, pointing to the confident man beside him. “Also a dockworker. Knows the tide better than the portmaster. Won’t admit he writes poetry during lunch breaks.”

Utaya rolled his eyes but nodded politely. “Only when the sea’s quiet enough to hear myself think.”

Toph blinked. “Wow.”

“And last but not least,” Amka finished, gesturing to Tui now pouring tea, “Tui. She runs this place, well, keeps it from collapsing while her parents nap.”

Tui smiled. “Shopkeeper, waitress, counselor, occasionally a bouncer. Welcome to Ember Delights.”

Toph raised an eyebrow. “None of you are nobles or soldiers?”

“Nope,” Tui said. “We pay rent, hate bureaucracy, and eat too much late at night.”

“That’s suspicious,” Toph muttered, sliding into an open chair. “But the food smells trustworthy.”

Katara sat beside her, grinning.

Tui passed over a fresh plate. “Try the sweet bean dumplings. If you hate them, you can insult my ancestors.”

Toph took one, sniffed it, then bit in. She didn’t smile. But she didn’t spit it out, either.

Utaya leaned back with a mock-serious face. “So, you’re Toph Beifong. Like, actual legend. Armor-shattering, bandit-punching, duel-winning Beifong.”

“Only on weekdays,” Toph said around another bite. “Weekends I specialize in breaking bar stools.”

Amka laughed, reaching for her cup. “Told you she was fun.”

Utaya offered Toph the tea pot. “We also do sarcasm here, if that’s your love language.”

Toph accepted the refill. “It’s one of them.”

Katara leaned her chin in her hand, watching the scene unfold with a warm smile. For the first time in days, the air didn’t feel like it was holding its breath.

And even Toph, skeptical and scarred and sharp as ever, looked just a little more at ease.

The table had filled with dishes by the time Tui slid over a ceramic jug the color of sunset, followed by five mismatched cups.

“Oh no,” Katara said immediately, eyeing the jug like it might breathe fire. “Absolutely not.”

Tui raised an eyebrow. “It’s koshu. Soft as a whisper.”

“Soft as a whisper that stabs you,” Amka added. “You’ll be fine. You just can’t… stand up too fast.”

Utaya smirked. “We play a game with it. Fire Nation classic. It’s called ‘Truth, Trick, or Toast.’”

Toph frowned. “Sounds like something Sokka made up.”

“Shockingly not,” Utaya replied. “Rules are simple. We go in a circle. When it’s your turn, you choose: Truth, answer a question honestly. Trick, accept a challenge. Toast, drink.”

Katara squinted at her cup. “And the goal?”

Tui grinned. “Mild chaos.”

Gao made a hand gesture—two fingers sweeping up, then a twist.

Utaya translated instantly. “He says: ‘Let’s start with the waterbender.’”

Katara groaned. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Truth, trick, or toast?” Amka asked with a grin.

Katara looked at her cup, sighed dramatically, and muttered, “Toast.”

Cheers went up around the table. Tui poured, and Katara lifted the tiny cup with exaggerated caution.

She drank.

And immediately coughed.

“Spirits, that’s sweet. Why is it burning?” she gasped, fanning her mouth.

Gao thumped the table in silent laughter. Toph grinned like a cat.

“You’re a lightweight,” Toph said.

“I’m a healer,” Katara shot back, wiping her mouth. “Not a brewer.”

Utaya sipped calmly. “Respectable choice. Alright, Toph, truth, trick, or toast?”

Toph leaned back. “Trick.”

Utaya blinked. “Oho. Dangerous. Okay… I dare you to let Gao guess your height by touch.”

Toph crossed her arms. “Weird flex, but alright.”

Gao perked up, then reached forward carefully. Toph didn’t move as he brushed the air first, checking her exact location, then lightly tapped her head, shoulders, and arms. His fingers paused at her boots, then lifted again.

He held up a hand, then mimed the measurement between his thumb and finger.

Utaya grinned. “Five foot… three and a quarter.”

Toph grinned back. “Off by half an inch. Not bad for a mute giant.”

Gao offered a dramatic bow.

Tui poured Katara another cup and slid it over with a wink. “Still with us?”

Katara frowned at it. “This game is bullying disguised as tradition.”

Utaya raised his cup. “Welcome to the Fire Nation.”

Laughter rippled around the table. The jug refilled. The plates emptied. The walls of Ember Delights hummed with the easy music of tipsy contentment and the scent of roasted sesame and citrus peel.

Amka told a story about trying to flirt with a noble and accidentally insulting his grandmother’s honor.

Utaya teased Tui by mimicking her scolding voice perfectly until she threatened to make him mop the kitchen.

Gao gently stacked their empty cups into a pyramid and grinned proudly when no one stopped him.

And Toph… slowly relaxed.

She didn’t laugh loudly or join every story. But she stayed. She smirked. She let herself be teased. She even answered a truth: yes, she’d once fallen off a cliff chasing a flying lemur. No, she didn’t want to talk about it.

When Katara’s next turn came around, she picked truth, stubbornly.

Utaya leaned forward, grinning. “Who was your first kiss?”

Katara blinked. Then turned a deep shade of red.

Toph cackled. “Oh, this is good.”

Katara covered her face. “It was… a mistake. Okay? A dumb mistake.”

Tui gasped. “Fire Lord Zuko?”

“WHAT—no!” Katara coughed again, nearly knocking over her cup. “It was a Water Tribe boy from the village next to ours back home. I was thirteen. He tasted like pickled seal jerky.”

Even Gao winced.

Toph leaned back, smug. “And yet here you are, flustered over the Fire Lord.”

“Shut up,” Katara muttered, face in her hands.

“No shame in trading jerky for spice,” Utaya added helpfully.

More laughter. Another toast.

And just like that, the weight of secrets and shadows faded for a while. In its place: the warmth of flickering lanterns, the soft blur of koshu wine, the joy of unexpected company, and the feeling, for just a night, of being young and alive again.

The moon hung high, a silver coin pasted against a velvet sky. The streets of Caldera had quieted to a soft hum, lanterns dimmed, shop doors closed, and even the city’s ever-present heat had cooled to a gentle breeze.

Three figures made their way up the winding hill toward the palace, one of them doing significantly more weaving than walking.

“I’m fine,” Katara announced for the third time, slinging one arm around Amka’s shoulders and the other over Toph’s. “I’ve walked before. I’m a master of walking. I walk with water. I bend while I walk.”

“You’re bending my patience,” Amka said, grunting under the weight.

“She’s heavier than she looks,” Toph muttered.

“She’s full of righteous indignation and koshu wine,” Amka shot back.

Katara gasped dramatically. “I am full of love and justice and like, maybe two glasses of wine. Three tops.”

“You drank half the bottle,” Toph said.

“I shared!”

“You drank like someone was going to outlaw alcohol tomorrow,” Amka added.

They rounded a corner, passing a row of closed flower stalls. The petals of moon orchids glowed faintly in the dark, their scent light in the air.

“I feel floaty,” Katara murmured.

“You sound floaty,” Toph replied. “You’re about to be face-down in a fishpond if you don’t lift your foot higher.”

Katara exaggerated her next step, nearly tripping over nothing. Toph caught her.

“Spirits,” Katara whispered, letting her head fall dramatically onto Toph’s shoulder. “You’re my best friend.”

Toph snorted. “You say that every time you drink.”

“Because it’s true,” Katara insisted. “You’re made of stone and sarcasm and fierce loyalty. Like a statue that punches back.”

Amka laughed. “What am I then?”

Katara turned to her with watery eyes and a wobbling finger. “You… are a swan. But like, a swan with knives. You could cut someone with your cheekbones.”

Amka beamed. “Best compliment I’ve gotten all week.”

They reached the edge of the palace grounds, the guards nodding them through with barely a glance.

Katara stumbled slightly as they entered the grand hallway. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.

“I can’t let Zuko see me like this.”

“Don’t worry,” Toph said. “He’s probably brooding on a balcony somewhere. It’s his brand.”

“I bet his brooding is beautiful,” Katara said dreamily, before slapping a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, yes you did,” Amka said. “I’m carving it into a scroll first thing tomorrow.”

They half-walked, half-carried her through the dim corridors until they reached Katara’s temporary chamber. The door creaked open, revealing a peaceful space: low-burning lamps, a basin of fresh water, and a neatly made bed.

Katara wobbled inside and immediately collapsed sideways onto the mattress. A pillow fell dramatically to the floor.

“Bed,” she declared, “is my best invention.”

“You didn’t invent beds,” Amka said, picking up the pillow.

“I improved upon them.”

Toph walked to the window, peeking through the curtain. “Still quiet out there. No mysterious messengers. No poison notes.”

“Just a drunk waterbender trying to turn into a pillow,” Amka said fondly.

Katara blinked up at them, her voice suddenly soft. “Thanks. For tonight, guys. For not… making me be serious all the time.”

Toph tilted her head. “That’s our job, Sweetness.”

Amka knelt beside the bed and brushed a stray curl from Katara’s face. “Sleep. You’re safe.”

And Katara, finally, let her eyes flutter closed, a smile tugging at the edge of her lips as the last wisps of lychee wine and laughter carried her to sleep.

Toph and Amka stood for a moment longer, watching the slow rise and fall of her breath.

“She’s gonna feel that in the morning,” Toph murmured.

“She’ll survive.”

They left the room quietly, closing the door behind them as the palace settled back into silence.

The palace was silent, blanketed in the kind of stillness that only came after the late shift changed and the lamps were dimmed. Katara stirred in her bed, tangled in too many layers of silk, her mouth dry and her head full of soft static.

She blinked at the ceiling.

“Water,” she croaked to no one. “Cold. Immediately.”

She staggered to her feet, the room gently spinning as she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and shuffled out into the corridor. The palace guards didn’t stop her. Either they recognized her or just assumed drunk diplomacy was a midnight requirement.

She wandered, barefoot and soft-footed, until she reached the outer path to the royal garden, drawn by the scent of moon blossoms and something older. Something like memory.

The gardens were bathed in blue light. A crescent moon hung overhead, its glow caught in the ripples of a small lake tucked among silverleaf trees and whispering reeds. Katara let the breeze hit her face, breathed in.

And then she saw him.

Zuko sat at the lake’s edge, half-shadowed by the overhang of a willow tree. His sleeves were rolled, boots discarded beside him. A single candle burned beside his knee, casting flickers on his profile. He was staring into the water like it might tell him something.

Katara froze.

Then she stepped on a twig.

Snap.

Zuko jerked, spun, and very nearly fell into the lake.

“Spirits!” he hissed. “You—what—Katara?!”

“Hi,” she said, a bit too cheerfully, still tipsy, still barefoot. “You look like you’re summoning ghosts. Thought I’d join.”

Zuko stood, smoothing his robes with both hands as if he could stuff all his panic back into the sleeves. “You—you shouldn’t be out here alone. What if—what if someone—what are you wearing?”

She looked down. “A scarf. Possibly a curtain. Unclear.”

His hands fluttered like he wanted to reach out and also flee. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m mildly poetic,” she corrected. “And hydrated. I was going to the kitchen. But then the moon was like, come this way, and I was like, okay, strange moon, and now I’m here.”

Zuko blinked at her, utterly lost.

Katara stepped closer to the lake’s edge, peering into the water beside him. “You were thinking about her.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked down at the faint candle glow mirrored on the surface.

“My mother,” he said finally. “She used to come here when she couldn’t sleep. I didn’t know that until after she left. Servants would find petals in her room. Damp footprints.”

Katara’s expression sobered. The soft haze of wine didn’t quite dull the ache in his voice.

“I think about mine, too,” she said. “Not just her dying. But… the way she lived. How she braided her hair. The way she smelled like sea salt and mint tea.”

Zuko glanced at her.

Katara sat down beside him, careful not to tip into the water. “Grief’s funny. It softens over time, but never really fades. It’s like… background music.”

He nodded, slowly. “Some days, it’s loud.”

“And some nights, it’s lonely.”

They sat in silence.

The candle flickered. Somewhere in the reeds, a frog croaked sleepily.

Katara turned to him, chin propped on her knee. “You don’t have to carry it all, you know. This Fire Lord thing. The pain. The poison. Your mom. Me.”

His brow furrowed. “You?”

“I mean the ambassador part of me,” she said quickly, cheeks flushing. “Not the… me-me.”

“Oh.” His voice dropped half an octave. “I wasn’t avoiding you. Not really.”

She looked at him. “I know.”

“I just—didn’t want to make it worse.”

“You’re not,” she said softly. “You’re not making anything worse.”

He looked at her then, really looked, and for a moment, everything about him went still. Like he didn’t know what would happen if he said the next thing. Or didn’t say it.

But he didn’t speak.

Instead, he reached out, slow, hesitant, and gently pulled a wayward blossom from her hair.

“You have a flower. In your hair,” he murmured, holding it out like it might break.

She took it with a grin. “How romantic.”

Zuko choked. “I—no—I didn’t mean—”

She laughed, and the sound bounced off the water, soft and bright and just a little slurred.

“Relax, Fire Lord. Your brooding is safe.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, half-smiling despite himself. “You’re going to feel this in the morning.”

“I feel everything,” she said, pressing the flower into her palm. “That’s my problem.”

Zuko leaned back, staring at the moon. “It’s also what makes you strong.”

She glanced at him. “You should write poetry.”

“Please don’t curse me.”

Katara laughed again and leaned back beside him, shoulder to shoulder now, silence settling over them like an old cloak.

And for a moment, two people who had lived too many lives in too short a time just breathed beside one another, no titles, no war, no performances.

Only moonlight, memory, and a flower wilting softly between fingers.

Chapter Text

The morning sun crept slowly over Caldera, bathing the palace in soft gold. Warm light filtered through the tall windows of the war room, catching on the lacquered table maps and shimmering over the quiet flicker of a small, low-burning brazier. The scent of jasmine tea lingered faintly in the air, but the usual buzz of staff and ministers was mercifully absent.

Zuko sat alone at the head of the table, elbows propped, head in his hands.

He hadn’t slept.

Not really.

After Katara stumbled off to bed, still giggling at her own scarf/curtain hybrid outfit, Zuko had remained in the garden far too long, watching the candle sputter out and the moon slowly give way to morning. It hadn’t been a night of peace, but it had been... something else. Gentle. Real. Too real.

And now his brain wouldn’t stop replaying the sound of her laugh.

The door creaked.

Zuko straightened instinctively, pushing the candle stub aside and smoothing the papers he wasn’t reading.

Toph sauntered in without ceremony, her boots tapping once before she kicked the door shut behind her with her heel.

“Morning, Fire Lord Broody,” she said cheerfully, helping herself to the pot of cold tea on the sideboard. “Sleep well? Oh wait—you didn’t.”

Zuko sighed. “Hello, Toph.”

She poured herself a cup, then leaned against the table, sipping loudly and watching him with the kind of smirk that usually meant something terrible was about to be said.

“I heard you had a visitor in the garden last night,” she said casually.

Zuko stiffened. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Mmhm. Just two people alone in the moonlight, confessing traumas and playing with flowers. Completely platonic.”

“It was platonic,” he muttered, flushing.

Toph grinned into her cup. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, Sparky. Your heartbeat just jumped like you got caught sneaking pastries from the royal kitchen.”

“I didn’t sneak anything.”

“Not yet,” she said with a wink. “But give it time.”

Zuko rubbed his face. “Why are you like this?”

“Because someone has to keep your head from exploding,” she said, hopping up to sit cross-legged on the edge of the table. “And because watching you fall headfirst into a crush like an awkward teenager is the most fun I’ve had since that guy last night tried to guess my height.”

Zuko groaned.

Toph leaned forward. “So. Do you like her?”

He stared at her.

She grinned wider. “That’s not a denial.”

“It’s... complicated,” he said finally, running a hand through his hair. “We’re allies. She’s an ambassador. And she was very drunk.”

“She also called you beautiful when she thought no one was listening,” Toph said, casually inspecting her nails.

Zuko froze. “She what?”

Toph tilted her head innocently. “Oops. Was I not supposed to mention that?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Rubbed his eyes.

“She deserves someone better,” he muttered.

Toph snorted. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, and I once heard Sokka try to explain plumbing with a fish metaphor.”

Zuko frowned. “Toph—”

“She’s not porcelain, Zuko. She’s not going to shatter because you like her. And trust me, she can handle herself. Even drunk.”

“I know she can,” he said quietly. “That’s the problem. I think—I think I want to protect her anyway.”

Toph’s grin softened, just a little.

“Then you’ve already lost,” she said.

Zuko looked up.

“That’s what loving someone’s like, dummy. You want to protect them even when they don’t need it. Even when they’re stronger than you. Even when it scares the life out of you.”

He didn’t answer. Just stared at the map of the Fire Nation coastline, eyes distant.

Toph hopped down and patted his shoulder, light, but firm.

“Go see her. Before she wakes up and decides it was all a dream. Or worse, remembers everything and crawls under the bed in embarrassment.”

Zuko glanced at her. “She would do that.”

“Exactly. Bring tea. She’ll forgive anything if you bring tea.”

Toph turned toward the door.

“Toph?”

“Yeah?”

Zuko hesitated. “Thanks.”

She flashed him a thumbs-up without looking back. “Anytime, Sparky. And hey, if you mess it up, just let her punch you once. She’ll feel better, and you’ll deserve it.”

And with that, she disappeared down the hallway, humming to herself, already plotting ways to get Katara to admit she remembered everything.

Zuko sat in silence for a moment longer.

Then he stood, squared his shoulders, and went to find the palace kitchens.

With any luck, they still had her favorite kind of tea.

And if not—he was the Fire Lord.

He’d make some.

Katara groaned softly as she rolled over, face buried in too many silken pillows.

Her mouth felt like sand. Her skull? Like it had been gently steamrolled by Appa. There was a flower, a literal flower, clutched in her hand. A pink blossom, slightly crushed, petals folded against her palm like a secret.

She stared at it for a long moment.

Then bolted upright.

“Oh no.”

Fragments of the night before began to return, unhelpfully out of order: koshu wine, Truth Trick or Toast, telling Toph she was her best friend, accusing Amka of having weaponized cheekbones…

And then the garden.

The moon.

Zuko.

Katara let out a very undiplomatic groan and flopped backward dramatically across the bed.

That’s when someone knocked on her door.

Three short taps. Then a pause. Then two more, lighter.

She sat up cautiously, clutching the blanket around her shoulders like armor.

“Who is it?” she called, trying and failing to sound normal.

A pause. Then: “It’s Zuko.”

Of course it is.

Katara frantically checked herself. Hair: a disaster. Face: warm. Feet: bare. Sanity: pending.

“Just a second!” she yelped, scrambling up and pulling her shawl off the nearby chair, tossing it over her sleep shirt in a vague attempt at dignity.

Then she cracked the door open, peering out.

There he stood, Fire Lord Zuko, once Prince of Awkwardness, now apparently Moonlight Confidante, and in his hands, a carefully balanced tray with a teapot, two cups, and a tiny dish of candied ginger.

“I, uh… thought you might need something warm,” he said, eyes flicking briefly over her disheveled form before darting to the floor. “For the headache. Or... the embarrassment.”

Katara blinked.

Then laughed. Just a little. Softly.

“You brought tea.”

“Toph said it was a peace offering,” he muttered. “Also, she said if I didn’t bring it, you might bury yourself under the bed forever.”

“She’s not wrong,” Katara said, opening the door fully. “Come in before I melt.”

Zuko stepped inside, careful with the tray. The morning light filtered through the curtains, and Katara quickly cleared a spot on the low table by the window. He set the tray down gently, like it was a diplomatic mission in miniature.

“Still feel... poetic?” he asked, pouring carefully.

Katara flushed. “Oh no. What did I say?”

Zuko handed her a cup and sat across from her on the floor, cross-legged, his own tea untouched.

“Something about the moon telling you where to go,” he said. “Also, that you’re made of love, justice, and wine.”

She covered her face with one hand. “Spirits. Arrest me.”

“I won’t,” he said, too quickly. Then, clearing his throat: “I mean—I wasn’t planning to.”

She peeked at him from between her fingers. He was trying so hard to keep a straight face, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

“I remember some of it,” she said slowly. “You talked about your mom. The petals. The lake.”

His gaze dropped to his cup. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” she added quickly. “I just wandered.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Silence bloomed between them. Not awkward this time. Just full.

Katara sipped her tea. It was warm and floral, a little smoky.

“You know,” she said, setting the cup down, “you’re not as good at hiding things as you think.”

Zuko blinked. “What?”

“Last night. You looked at me like… like you were thinking something big. Something you didn’t say.”

He stared at her. For a moment, he didn’t blink.

Then:

“I was.”

Katara’s breath caught, but she kept her expression neutral.

Zuko looked away first, fingers tightening slightly on his cup.

“I didn’t want to make things complicated,” he said. “You’re important. To this. To me. And I didn’t want to say the wrong thing. Especially not while you were… y’know…”

“Drunk off wine?”

A soft smile from him. “Exactly.”

Katara shifted, her knees brushing his.

“Fair,” she said, after a pause. “I’m usually better at thinking things through.”

“Same,” he said, with the faintest smirk. “You just happen to short-circuit my ability to do that.”

Her eyes flicked up at him. His tone was dry, but the words lingered in the air between them like steam.

Outside, the palace began to stir; footsteps in the halls, the rustle of papers, the clink of dishes being cleared.

Inside, though, it was still.

Katara reached for the candied ginger and passed him a piece without saying anything.

Their fingers brushed.

It wasn’t a confession. Not quite. But it was a kind of agreement.

That maybe, just maybe, something was building here.

Not rushed. Not named. But growing.

They sat together in the morning light, tea between them cooling slowly, both too quietly content to ruin it with answers just yet.

The Fire Lord’s study was still cool from the night, the sun only now brushing its way across the eastern wall of scroll shelves. The air smelled of parchment, ink, and faint lingering smoke from the incense someone had lit before dawn.

Zuko stepped inside, his hair still slightly damp from a rushed rinse, tea still faint on his breath. The quiet from Katara’s room hadn’t entirely left him, it clung like morning mist, soft and distracting.

But it didn’t last.

A figure stood by his window already, hands folded neatly behind her back.

“Good morning, Imin,” he said, shutting the door.

“Fire Lord.” Imin bowed precisely, her voice clipped but clear. “I hope I’m not too early.”

“No such thing,” he muttered, crossing to the desk. “Your letter said you had news.”

She nodded. Zuko gestured for her to sit, but she remained standing.

“The council meeting last week… you noticed how Lady Hina and General Ryoto kept aligning on votes?” she asked, stepping toward his desk. “On trade, tariffs, even the reallocation of surplus grain.”

“Yes,” Zuko said warily.

Imin reached into her sleeve and drew out a folded piece of parchment, crisp and ink-stained.

“This is a ledger from the Northern Grain Syndicate, stolen, I admit, by someone very talented and probably underpaid. It shows that an anonymous benefactor purchased a massive shipment of northern rice just before your agreement with Omashu was formalized.”

Zuko frowned. “And?”

“That grain never made it north. It was resold here. Quietly. At three times the price. And guess who profited?”

She slid the parchment toward him.

“Lady Hina?” he guessed, eyes already narrowing.

“Her nephew. Under a fake merchant license, but the handwriting on the contract is a match to his palace ledger.”

Zuko exhaled slowly, jaw tightening.

“Ryoto’s part?”

“He’s connected through his daughter’s shipping guild. It’s circumstantial. But it paints a picture.”

Zuko leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “So… they’re stirring up resistance to grain reform while profiting from the instability.”

“Exactly,” Imin said. “Sabotaging your public image and making money from the fallout.”

The Fire Lord was silent for a beat.

Then: “And the protests in Harbor City?”

“Likely funded by the same network. I had one of my… tutors,” she said shyly, “follow a paper trail through three banks. It all leads back to a shell account tied to the Myŏngnim family. Old money. Loyal to Lady Hina.”

Zuko stood slowly, crossing to the tall windows behind his desk. He looked out over the sprawl of the palace grounds, the delicate rooftops gilded in morning light. Somewhere out there, people were already whispering about what the Fire Lord had done or hadn’t done.

He clenched his hands behind his back.

“Do you want me to confront them?” Imin asked.

“No.” His voice was low. Controlled. “That’s what they want. I need to stay calm. Strategic.”

He turned back to her.

“But I want everything. Names. Documents. Every whisper in every hallway.”

Imin smiled slightly. Not cruelly, but with the satisfied precision of a student who had outperformed her exam.

“You’ll have it soon enough”

“Thank you,” he said, nodding. “And Imin… your parents would be proud.”

The smile faltered. Just for a second. Then it returned, softer this time.

“They’d be furious,” she said. “But that’s always meant I’m doing something right.”

She bowed again and turned to go.

Just before she reached the door, she paused.

“Oh,” she added over her shoulder. “And one more thing.”

Zuko raised an eyebrow.

“You might want to avoid the garden courtyard for a while. Apparently, the court painters saw you and the Southern Water Tribe ambassador sharing moonlight by the lake.”

Zuko froze.

Imin didn’t wait for a reply. The door clicked shut behind her.

And Zuko was left alone, staring at the parchment on his desk, jaw clenched, not sure whether to rage about political corruption or curse the moon.

The palace colonnade was bathed in gold, the stone floor still cool beneath Toph’s bare feet. She leaned lazily against a carved pillar, one boot off, one boot on, arms crossed behind her head. Beside her, Katara sat on a stone bench with a shallow bowl of honeyed rice and roasted almonds, trying to enjoy the silence.

They’d spent the early morning sparring, or pretending to, mostly it had turned into Toph tossing pebbles at birds and Katara swiping away sweat and laughter.

Katara set her bowl down, sighing. “I think I bruised a rib trying to land that last flip.”

Toph grinned. “You’re out of practice. You’ve been letting all that diplomacy soften you.”

“I’ve been dealing with poisonings and treasonous politicians,” Katara said, rolling her eyes. “You’ve been throwing tea at nobles.”

“That was an excellent throw.”

Katara chuckled and was just about to stretch when a familiar voice grated across the open corridor.

“Well, well. The warrior princess and her blind shadow.”

Toph’s smile vanished. She didn’t need sight to recognize Ambassador Joon, a sour-faced man with a deep Earth Kingdom brocade and the swagger of someone convinced he owned the floor he walked on.

“Joon,” Katara greeted coolly. “Out for your morning stroll, or just looking for someone to insult before breakfast?”

He gave her a mock bow. “Merely admiring the palace. And its guests. Curious how you Water Tribe types always find a way to make yourselves… visible.”

Katara stood slowly, wiping her hands. “I’m an ambassador, not a ghost.”

“And yet even the spirits know when not to overstep,” he said. “Especially while things are... delicate.”

Toph cocked her head. “Delicate?”

He gave a tight-lipped smile, eyes glinting. “Let’s just say the court is abuzz. Whispers of stolen grain. Unsanctioned influence. And moonlit strolls between a certain foreign emissary and our dear Fire Lord.”

Katara stiffened. “That’s none of your concern.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked softly. “Fire Nation resources, Fire Nation eyes. One wonders if the balance is tipping in directions not entirely… honorable.”

Toph stepped forward now, eyes blank but fierce. “Careful, Joon. You’re sounding like someone with a grudge and a very short life expectancy.”

He raised both hands in mock surrender. “Only relaying what’s already being passed around. After all, perception is reality in politics, isn’t it?”

Katara’s stomach churned. Her temper itched, old and instinctive.

“I’m sure the Fire Lord will be thrilled to hear how Earth Kingdom ambassadors spend their mornings,” she said.

“Oh, I suspect he already knows,” Joon replied. “And I suspect he’s finding that even his shadows are casting shadows now.”

With a nod, he turned and walked away, hands clasped behind his back like the smug bureaucrat he’d always been.

For a long beat, neither of them spoke.

Toph muttered, “What a steaming pile of badgerfrog crap.”

Katara exhaled. “Yeah.”

She looked out over the garden path, watching Joon’s retreating figure.

“They’re coming for him, Toph. They’re circling.”

Toph cracked her knuckles. “Then we circle back.”

She smirked faintly and turned toward the palace steps. “Let’s find Zuko.”

Zuko’s study smelled faintly of ink, ash, and jasmine tea. Scrolls cluttered his desk, maps unfurled across a carved table like battle plans. He stood with his arms crossed, jaw tense, eyes fixed on a wall that wasn’t answering his questions.

The knock came sharp and familiar.

Toph didn’t wait for an invitation. She stepped inside and held the door for Katara, whose face was still flushed from their encounter with Ambassador Joon.

Zuko turned, something flickering across his face when he saw Katara. Surprise, guilt, relief, it was impossible to say.

“You heard?” he asked.

Katara nodded. “Joon wasn’t subtle.”

Zuko rubbed a hand down his face. “Imin warned me it might get ugly, but I didn’t think they’d start dragging you into it. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize for your court being full of vultures,” Katara said lightly, though her voice held an edge. “They’d find a way to twist anything.”

Toph wandered to a nearby window and leaned on the sill, arms folded.

“They think there’s something going on between us,” Zuko said after a beat.

Katara looked up sharply. “Is there?”

He blinked. “I—”

Toph cleared her throat. Loudly. “Wow. That’s my cue.”

Both of them turned to her.

She smirked. “You two are like two turtleducks paddling in a hot spring and pretending you’re not boiling.”

“Toph—” Zuko started.

“Relax, Sparky. I’m just going to find Amka. We’ll need someone with a better sense of damage control than the two of you giving each other heart attacks.”

And with a deliberate roll of her eyes, she strolled out, letting the door swing half-shut behind her.

Silence pressed in.

Zuko shifted awkwardly. Katara pretended to study a tapestry of a phoenix rising.

“I don’t want you dragged into this,” he said finally. “You didn’t sign up for court games.”

She turned to face him. “You think I haven’t dealt with this kind of thing before? The Northern Water Tribe didn’t exactly roll out a welcome mat either. At least here the politics are in the open.”

Zuko met her gaze, his voice softer. “Still. You shouldn’t have to deal with it because of… me.”

Katara tilted her head. “Because of you?”

He hesitated. “Because of your position. Here. As an outsider.”

She let the pause stretch, watching him carefully.

“I know what they’re implying,” she said, stepping closer. “I just don’t know if they’re wrong.”

He looked at her, startled, but before either of them could say more, the door banged open.

Toph marched in, followed by Amka, who was still chewing on a sugar plum.

“What a gloomy trio,” Amka said cheerfully, plopping into the nearest chair. “You look like you’ve all been to a funeral. Or worse, court breakfast.”

“Amka,” Zuko greeted warily.

“I hear the palace is whispering,” she said, wiggling her fingers. “And when people whisper, it’s because they’re bored.”

She leaned forward, eyes bright. “So why don’t we give them something else to talk about? A party. A palace ball.”

Toph raised an eyebrow. “You want to throw a party… to fix political sabotage?”

Amka shrugged. “You want people to stop speculating? Give them something loud and glittering and controlled to speculate about. Shift the story.”

Zuko blinked.

“That’s… actually not a terrible idea,” Katara said slowly.

Amka beamed. “Of course it’s not. Who doesn’t love a distraction dressed in silks?”

Zuko glanced at Katara, then back at Amka. “And you think this will work?”

“If you host it in honor of court unity or diplomacy or some such noble nonsense,” Amka said, grinning, “then yes. And if Katara happens to attend in something stunning, well…”

Katara snorted. “Now that’s the kind of strategy I can work with.”

Toph grinned. “I’m wearing pants.”

Zuko exhaled. “Alright. A ball. Let’s do it.”

Amka clapped her hands, delighted. “I’ll handle the fun parts. You three handle… whatever this is.”

Toph winked at Katara and Zuko before dramatically flopping into a chaise. “It’s a slow-burn disaster with political flair.”

Katara rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. Even Zuko looked slightly less like he wanted to burn something.

The storm hadn’t passed. But maybe, just maybe, they’d found a way to dance through it.

Chapter Text

Sunlight spilled through the high windows of the palace council chambers. A circle of lacquered wood chairs surrounded the central map table, where stacks of fresh reports sat beside cups of untouched tea. The wall of fire between Zuko and the council hadn’t been raised today; he wanted no barriers this morning.

Zuko stood at the head of the table, shoulders squared in his crimson robe, his golden sash slightly askew. He looked tired, but sharper for it.

“The pilot phase of Ambassador Katara’s proposal has concluded,” he began. “You’ve all had time to read the reports. Let’s begin.”

There was a beat of silence before Adviser Wakuto cleared his throat.

“Community response has been… enthusiastic,” he admitted, almost begrudgingly. “The initial trade apprenticeships in Shimo District of Harbor City filled in three days. There’s now a waiting list.”

Zuko nodded once. “And the housing materials?”

Adviser Vanida leaned forward, tapping her report. “Subsidies have lowered costs by nearly thirty percent. Two hundred new homes are projected by year-end in the southern industrial district. I won’t lie, this has strained our logistics division. But we’ve seen a measurable drop in petty crime in the area. People with roofs over their heads tend to steal fewer loaves of bread.”

Several nodded.

Adviser Imin, hair pulled tighter than usual, spoke with calm clarity. “We’ve also seen upticks in school attendance. With the training stipends, more parents can afford to send their children during the day rather than keep them home for labor.”

She glanced at Zuko. “I visited one of the schools myself. The headmistress cried. Said she hadn’t had full attendance since the war.”

Zuko’s expression flickered, pain, pride. He masked it quickly.

“We’ve also had letters,” said a new voice.

Head Adviser Qahir, laid a bundle of scrolls onto the table. “From the outer provinces. Requests. They’re asking to adopt the same programs. Word’s spread fast.”

Wakuto frowned. “We don’t have the budget to replicate this nationally. Not yet.”

“But the seeds are planted,” Imin replied, a rare edge in her voice. “And they’re taking root.”

Vanida tapped her report again. “My only concern remains funding. We’ve trimmed the military budget, yes, but we’re close to scraping bone. If these projects expand, we need either increased trade revenue or the cooperation of noble families.”

“I could hold a charity ball to sway the noble families,” Zuko offered. “Bring in provincial lords. Show them the results firsthand.”

“Some of them still believe poverty is a choice,” Vanida muttered.

“I’ll change their minds,” Zuko said. “Or I’ll make them irrelevant.”

A murmur of surprise ran through the room.

Zuko let the silence stretch for a moment.

Then: “I won’t ask the people to wait any longer for change. And I won’t let fear of losing noble favor slow us down. If this council agrees, we begin phase two, more trades, more housing, and expansion into the outer provinces. I’ll speak with Katara and Sokka to coordinate the logistics.”

Wakuto looked wary. “There will be resistance.”

“Then we push through it,” Zuko replied, voice steady. “Let them resist helping their own people. I want history to remember who stepped forward, and who stood in the way.”

Vanida, after a moment’s pause, raised her teacup in dry salute. “To remembering.”

The others murmured in assent.

As the council moved into discussion, papers passed between hands and scribes resumed their notetaking, Zuko sat back for a breath.

The scraping of chairs and soft clink of porcelain had mostly died down. Only a few aides remained in the chamber, collecting notes and refilling cooling tea. The advisers lingered in their seats, their earlier energy waning into a more familiar hum of politics.

Adviser Wakuto cleared his throat again, not with the urgency of earlier, but the careful clearing of someone about to tread dangerous ground.

“If I may raise one more point, my Lord,” he said, fingers steepled in front of him.

Zuko glanced up from the scroll he’d been reading, nodding once. “Go on.”

Wakuto’s smile was slight, inscrutable. “As we consider this growing alliance with the Southern Water Tribe… and the ambassador’s increasing role in our policy initiatives… it may be wise to think ahead. Public perception matters. The court whispers already. Some say the Fire Lord is not only taking advice from a foreign dignitary but keeping her… close.”

The pause that followed was long and cold.

Imin’s eyes flicked between them, carefully unreadable. Vanida’s brows twitched.

Zuko set down the scroll with deliberate calm.

“There is nothing personal between myself and Ambassador Katara,” he said evenly. “She is an ally. A skilled diplomat. And a war hero.”

Wakuto raised both palms. “Of course, my Lord. I only meant to caution that… the lines can blur. And when they do, the fire tends to spread.”

Before Zuko could reply, the door to the side vestibule creaked open, and two more figures stepped into the chamber unannounced.

Lady Hina and General Ryoto.

Late arrivals. Or more likely, deliberate ones.

“My apologies for the interruption,” Lady Hina said smoothly, her silk robes whispering as she approached. “I had hoped to catch the end of the session. It seems I’m just in time for the truly interesting topics.”

Zuko’s jaw tightened. “Lady Hina. General.”

Ryoto bowed slightly. “Fire Lord. I trust your deliberations have been… enlightening.”

“They have,” Zuko replied tersely.

“Of course, policy is important,” she said. “But public sentiment, tradition, the will of the people… those carry weight as well. More than most rulers care to admit.”

Wakuto folded his arms, watching her.

Lady Hina continued, her tone lilting, almost kind. “The sages grow restless, you know. They hear what the people say. And the people say many things. About trade. About foreign influence. About a Fire Lord who looks south for guidance… and companionship.”

A sharper silence settled over the room.

Zuko stood slowly, his gaze cold now. “If you have something to say, Lady Hina, say it plainly.”

She only smiled again. “Only that the role of Fire Lady has always been… symbolic. A reflection of the throne’s legacy. And the sages, well. They’ve never crowned a waterbender.”

General Ryoto added in a low rumble, “Nor has the public ever burned incense for a foreign queen.”

The words hung in the air like smoke.

Vanida set her cup down a little too hard.

“I wasn’t aware we were selecting a bride for the Fire Lord in this chamber,” she said flatly.

Lady Hina didn’t flinch. “We’re not. But the nation is always watching. And some symbols are stronger than edicts.”

Zuko’s hands were at his sides, fingers clenched.

“My rule will not be dictated by superstition or prejudice,” he said. “Let the sages talk. Let the public wonder. I govern the Fire Nation, not their tea-time rumors.”

He turned to the table.

“This council meeting is adjourned.”

Without waiting, Zuko swept from the chamber, crimson cloak trailing behind him like a drawn curtain.

Behind him, the chamber buzzed again, but now the air was thicker. The lines had shifted.

And everyone knew it.

The clang of steel rang through the palace training yard, sharp and bright in the morning air. Zuko twisted, ducked, and brought his blade up in a clean arc, only to meet the flat of Midori’s sword, angled with quiet precision.

“You’re distracted,” she said, voice level as she disengaged and stepped back.

Zuko exhaled through his nose, sweat slicking his brow. “I’m not.”

Midori only raised an eyebrow.

They moved again, fluid, measured. Not like enemies, not like guards and royalty, but like friends who spoke through metal and motion. Their swords met in the middle, edge to edge, before sliding apart with a hiss.

“You overcompensated on that last strike,” Midori noted, circling. “Like someone trying too hard to prove he’s not thinking about something.”

Zuko gave her a flat look. “Are you here to train or to play therapist?”

She smirked. “I’m here to make sure you don’t trip over your own thoughts and get stabbed in the next council session.”

He lunged. She parried. Their feet shuffled across the stone floor in perfect tempo. The sparring was efficient now, less show, more sweat. The kind of rhythm that invited silence to fill the spaces between clangs.

Midori broke it with a murmur, after a particularly long exchange.

“They’re going to talk no matter what you do.”

Zuko didn’t reply.

Another parry, another step.

“They’ll whisper behind fans. Behind scrolls. They’ll act like fire burns differently when it touches water.”

He sighed, shoulders tightening.

“I know,” he said quietly.

Midori’s next strike came slower. Almost gentle.

“I used to think I didn’t belong anywhere,” she said. “My mother’s Earth Kingdom. My father’s Fire Nation through and through.”

Zuko paused, blade half-lowered.

“She fell in love with him anyway,” Midori continued. “People stared when they walked through the market. Called her traitor. Called me confused.”

Zuko watched her, silent.

Midori’s expression was unreadable. “He never apologized for loving her. She never apologized for staying. And I never apologized for being born.”

They stood there for a moment, blades pointed down, no longer sparring.

Zuko finally said, “I always forget that. That you know both sides.”

Midori shrugged. “It’s not something I broadcast. Doesn’t get me many invitations to noble dinners.”

“But you still serve this country.”

“I serve what it could be,” she corrected. “Not what it was.”

A breeze stirred the red banners hanging above the courtyard, setting them rippling like flames in slow motion.

“You think they’d accept her?” Zuko asked, not naming her. He didn’t have to.

Midori looked away, toward the far wall where ivy curled over blackened stone. Her grip on her blade slackened.

“Maybe not all of them. Maybe not now. But some will. And some will learn. The rest?” She glanced back at him. “They don’t have to live your life. You do.”

Zuko swallowed. His fingers tapped lightly on the hilt of his sword.

They didn’t speak for a while after that. Just resumed the match, clean movements, sharper now. Focused.

But the tension in Zuko’s shoulders had eased. Not vanished. Just… softened, like metal worked too long in a forge.

At the end of the session, Midori sheathed her blade and gave him a nod.

“For what it’s worth,” she said, wiping sweat from her brow, “I’ve seen worse fates than being loved by someone who scares the court.”

Zuko managed the faintest smile. “I scare the court.”

“Not you.” Midori grinned. “Her.”

Then she turned on her heel and left the yard, leaving Zuko alone with the silence, the sun rising higher, and the slow understanding that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to wait for permission.

He just had to choose.

Katara sat alone in her office, the heavy doors drawn shut, muffling the sound of heels on marble and whispers too thin to catch clearly, but sharp enough to feel. She’d taken refuge here after the morning court walk, where two noblewomen had offered her strained smiles followed by cutting remarks the second she passed.

“Not even Fire Nation blood. Can you imagine what the sages will say if—”

“Well, she’s very diplomatic. Must’ve learned how to smile while scheming.”

Katara didn’t bother to deny it anymore, not aloud, not to them. But now, she couldn’t seem to focus. Not on the trade scrolls, not on the housing proposals, not even on the half-finished tea cooling by her elbow. The silence of the room wasn’t comforting today. It was isolating. Like frost creeping slowly over glass.

A soft knock broke the stillness.

She turned, pulse briefly jumping, but it wasn’t Zuko or Toph or even Amka peeking her head in with a plate of stolen sweets. It was a palace courier, silent and efficient, sliding a sealed scroll across her desk before bowing and departing.

The seal was blue.

Northern Water Tribe.

Katara’s brow furrowed. She reached for it carefully, heart already tightening.

She broke the seal.

To Ambassador Katara of the Southern Water Tribe,

From Master Healer Yagoda,

Greetings from the South. I hope this letter finds you with clarity and calm.

I write to inform you of recent developments concerning your former charge. Azula remains… still.

Too still.

She eats. She sleeps. She speaks only when spoken to, and even then, rarely more than a few words. Her flame, once uncontrollable, is now reduced to flickers. Her bending is weaker, dulled. Not absent. But fading like embers smothered in snow.

And yet, I hesitate to call this peace.

There’s something unsettling in her quiet. She no longer rants. She no longer fights the walls. But her eyes are alert. Too alert. She watches the other patients like she’s waiting for something. She smiles at the children, but never with warmth. It’s the kind of smile I’ve seen from wolves circling prey.

She complies with treatments. She accepts rest. But there is a precision in her stillness that does not speak of healing; it speaks of planning.

I do not say this to alarm you. Only to prepare you.

Azula may be quiet, but her mind is not asleep.

Whatever has quieted her bending, it has not dulled her intelligence. If anything, it has made her more dangerous in subtler ways.

I will continue to monitor her. And if anything changes, truly changes, I will send word.

Be careful, Katara. The South may be far, but shadows have a way of slipping through cracks.

Yagoda

Katara let the letter fall gently to her lap.

Azula. Quiet. Watching.

There was no comfort in that quiet. Only the knowledge that still water runs deep, and Azula had always been deepest in her silence.

The walls of the office felt closer now, the murmurs of the court pressing through them like vines creeping beneath a doorframe.

Katara folded the letter and placed it gently into a hidden drawer of the desk. Then she stood and crossed to the window, letting the sunlight touch her face. It was warm, golden.

And yet her spine tingled like she’d just walked into a storm.

Katara remained by the window long after the sun had warmed her arms.
Her eyes were fixed on the distant curve of the palace wall, the way light hit the tiles like gold caught in stone. From here, everything looked still. Peaceful. But she’d lived through too much to be lulled by appearances.

She pressed her fingers against the edge of the window frame; knuckles pale with tension.

Zuko should know. He deserved to.

He'd been honest with her about his doubts, about the weight of wearing a crown stitched together from the ruin of his father’s war. And Azula… she was his sister. No matter what had passed between them, no matter the fire and betrayal and broken pieces, they shared blood. History.

If their positions were reversed, he would tell her.

She stepped away from the window and returned to the desk. Her hands hovered over the drawer where the letter lay tucked beneath diplomatic reports and project plans. She touched the handle, then pulled back.

No.

Not yet.

Not while his court watched him like carrion birds. Not while his council questioned his every breath, his every budget, his every conversation with her.

Zuko was holding up too much. She’d seen the strain in his shoulders, in the way his hands lingered over maps like he could redraw the world if only he held still long enough.

Adding Azula’s shadow to all that? It felt like handing him a second war when he hadn’t yet recovered from the first.

Katara sighed and sat back down. Carefully, deliberately, she dipped her quill into ink and began composing a response to Yagoda.

Measured. Diplomatic. Cautious.

She thanked the healer for her vigilance. Asked that she continue to observe closely. Made no mention of Zuko, and requested updates be sent directly to her personal courier.

When she finished, she sanded the ink, folded the parchment, and sealed it with wax.

And then, only then, did she allow herself a moment to exhale.

Zuko didn’t need to know. Not yet.

He already carried the fire.

She would carry the rest, at least for now.

The halls of the royal palace echoed with the measured hush of diplomacy, silken footsteps, whispered rumors, and the soft click of judgment behind every closed door.

Toph preferred louder places.

She’d been following the vibrations of the council wing for a while, curious about the meetings Zuko wasn’t invited to. The air was stiff with agendas, and the Earth beneath her feet trembled with too many secrets.

As she rounded a corner lined with fire lilies carved into the stonework, she caught the unmistakable shuffle-and-drag gait of Ambassador Cupun.

He walked with the calculated pause of someone used to being listened to, even when he wasn’t saying anything important.

Toph crossed her arms and waited right in his path.

Cupun didn’t notice her until he nearly collided with her. She didn’t move an inch.

“Ah,” he muttered, startled. “Forgive me. I didn’t see you there.”

“Neither did I,” Toph deadpanned, unblinking behind her blank pupils. “Funny how that works.”

There was a pause, stiff and weighted.

“Lady Beifong,” he said eventually, tone polite and brittle as glass. “I trust the palace hasn’t tired you yet.”

“Not yet,” she replied. “Though I’ve met a few people who seem deeply committed to trying.”

Cupun gave a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “It is our duty to keep the Fire Lord’s interests… diversified.”

“Is that what we’re calling gossip and backdoor deals these days?” Toph said with a tilt of her head.

His smile faltered. “Politics is not a child’s game.”

She smirked. “Good thing I stopped being a child the day I won the war, same goes for Katara.”

Cupun's brow twitched. “Ah. Loyalty to your companions is… admirable. But shortsighted. Particularly when some of them may not know where their allegiances lie.”

“You mean Zuko and Katara,” Toph said bluntly.

“I mean,” he replied carefully, “that the Southern Water Tribe is not the diplomatic equal of the North. Nor should their… entanglements with Fire Nation royalty be treated as if they are.”

Toph’s smile didn’t waver. “You mean Katara. A girl from the wrong pole. A woman with too much spine for your taste.”

Cupun clasped his hands behind his back. “I simply worry that history will repeat itself. That the Fire Nation’s... generosity is not always returned with respect.”

“She’s earned her place here more than you have,” Toph said. “And if respect’s what you want, maybe try not whispering in corners with Joon about how to control the Fire Lord’s relationships like you're picking vegetables at market.”

He blinked, surprised.

Toph leaned forward slightly. “This palace may be made of stone, Cupun. But I am the stone.”

She stepped aside, dusting off her tunic. “Now run along. Wouldn’t want your opinion to wrinkle.”

He studied her for a beat longer, face unreadable, then gave a slight nod and continued down the hall, his steps a little faster this time.

Toph waited until he was out of earshot before muttering, “Diplomats. More fragile than teacups.”

Then, with a lazy spin on her heel, she wandered back toward the Fire Lord’s wing, already plotting how she’d casually mention this encounter over lunch, especially if Amka was there to gasp dramatically.

Chapter Text

The scent of sizzling garlic and sweet plum glaze danced through the air as a fresh plate of fire-chili dumplings was slammed onto the lacquered table with the kind of unbothered grace only Tui could manage.

"You’re welcome,” she said, before flopping down beside Gao and stealing one of the dumplings for herself.

The back corner of Ember Delights, a cozy table lined with embroidered cushions and chipped lanterns that glowed with low, golden light, had unofficially become the girls’ secret headquarters for not being very ladylike.

Katara laughed as Amka tried to wave away the steam fogging her glasses. Toph was already eating with her fingers.

“So,” Amka said between cautious bites, “is everyone panicking about this ball or is it just me?”

Katara rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who suggested it.”

Utaya leaned back in his chair with that lopsided grin that never quite left his face. “Wait, wait. There’s really going to be a palace ball? Like, actual nobles? Music, dancing, tiny food you need three hands to eat properly?”

Katara chuckled. “Yes to all of it.”

Gao raised an eyebrow at Utaya, then signed something quickly with his hands.

Tui translated smoothly, barely looking up from refilling everyone’s tea: “He says you’ll probably spill punch on a noble and get arrested for being an idiot.”

Utaya gave a mock bow. “At least I’ll go out in style.”

“Well, get your nice tunics pressed, boys,” Toph announced, slamming her cup down. “You’re coming with us.”

The table went silent.

“Wait,” Tui said, blinking. “You’re serious?”

Toph leaned back, arms crossed behind her head. “Deadly. I need backup. I’m not spending an entire night listening to Fire Nation nobles compare bloodlines and rice varieties. Someone has to suffer with me.”

Utaya blinked, then let out a bark of laughter. “I’m in. I’ve always wanted to crash a royal party.”

“It’s not crashing if you’re invited,” Katara said, smiling into her tea.

“Oh, thank you, Ambassador,” Utaya said, bowing again. “I promise not to embarrass the Fire Nation or knock over any vases.”

Gao tapped the table, then signed a question.

Tui laughed as she translated. “He wants to know if there’ll be food.”

Katara raised her eyebrows. “You think we’d throw a ball without food?”

Gao gave a satisfied nod and stole a dumpling.

Tui glanced at Katara, then Toph. “I don’t even have anything formal enough. I’ll look ridiculous.”

Amka perked up. “Not on my watch. I already have a dozen dress designs spinning in my head. You’ll look like firelit royalty by the end of the week.”

Tui looked both honored and terrified. “That… sounds expensive.”

“It’s not. I got tons of fabric for you three. Plus, Utaya, your mom is a talented seamstress. I’m sure she can cook up some amazing attires.”

Tui sighed still hesitant. “Won’t we look ridiculous? We’re just normal civilians.”

Toph snorted. “We’ll all look ridiculous. That’s half the point. It'll confuse the nobles long enough for me to steal the good wine.”

Katara gave her a look.

“I mean...for me to observe court customs with grace and dignity,” Toph added with a crooked grin.

Utaya leaned forward, elbows on the table. “So what’s the real deal with this ball, anyway? Just a party?”

Katara hesitated. Her eyes flicked to Amka, then back to her tea.

“It’s more like...a distraction,” she said finally. “There’s been tension. Political unrest. This is Zuko’s way of giving people something shiny to look at while we handle the cracks underneath.”

Gao raised his brows.

Katara looked at him. “The cracks are growing.”

A beat of silence passed.

Then Toph picked up a dumpling and tossed it at Gao, who caught it without flinching.

“Well,” she said with a shrug, “sounds like we’ll need more than tiny food and pretty shoes. Good thing we’re bringing backup.”

The flickering sconces along the chamber walls cast long, golden shadows over the sprawling security maps unfurled across the table. Fire Nation territory. Palace schematics. Guard rotations. It was all there, precise and brutal in its clarity.

Zuko rubbed at his temple, already feeling the headache building behind his eyes.

“Twenty additional guards on ballroom perimeter,” Midori said crisply, tapping her gloved fingers against the map. “And another four at each entrance. I’ve vetted everyone twice, but I’ll have Commander Yari conduct a third sweep the morning of the event.”

Zuko nodded. “No civilians in the back corridors.”

“None. We’ll restrict access to the banquet route only. And the kitchens will be cleared an hour before the ball begins. I’m assigning a guard to every major noble family with a known stake in the trade dispute. Including—”

A sharp rap at the door interrupted her.

Zuko looked up. “Enter.”

A red-uniformed palace runner stepped inside, bowing low. In his gloved hands was a small, lacquered scroll tube marked with a familiar silver insignia.

Zuko stood, already recognizing it.

The hawk.
The seal.
Mai’s handwriting burned in the edges of his memory before he even cracked the wax.

“Dismissed,” he said, waving the runner away. Midori stepped back in silence, watching as Zuko unsealed the scroll and read the contents by the low firelight.

Zuko

We’re following something. Bigger than we thought.
They’re watching the palace.

Be ready.

M

Zuko stared at the letter for a long moment.

He folded it once and tucked it inside his robe.

Midori was quiet, arms folded behind her back. “Bad news?”

He looked up slowly. “Mai and Ty Lee are close to something. They think someone’s watching us. And… they suspect something could happen at the ball.”

Midori’s mouth was a thin line. “We expected that.”

“But now we prepare for it,” Zuko said. His voice was sharper now, steadier, even as worry pooled deep in his chest. “Add plainclothes agents to the guest list. I want them mingling. Watching.”

Midori nodded. “Done.”

Zuko turned back toward the map. So many lines. So many cracks in the foundation of the kingdom he was trying so desperately to rebuild.

For a moment, he thought about the briefness of Mai’s warning.

Be ready.

He didn’t know if she meant the palace.
Or him.

The room was smaller than the main council hall, tucked behind Zuko’s private study. A single round table sat at its center, surrounded by scrolls, dried ink pots, and empty tea cups. It was late afternoon, the light outside golden and lazy. The air inside, however, was anything but relaxed.

Toph slouched in one of the wooden chairs, her bare feet propped unceremoniously on the table, fingers tapping a staccato rhythm against her metal bracer. Katara stood near the open window, letting the breeze lift strands of her hair, arms folded across her chest. Zuko sat across from Toph, a cooling teacup in his hand and a furrow between his brows.

“So,” Toph said finally, breaking the heavy silence, “you got a cryptic note from the world’s most emotionally reserved knife-thrower, and now you want us to, what? Cancel the ball?”

Zuko shook his head. “No. We move forward. If they are planning something, we use the ball as bait.”

Katara turned from the window. “You’re willing to risk lives over a hunch?”

“It’s not just a hunch,” Zuko said, voice calm but firm. “It’s Mai.”

Toph rolled her eyes. “That’s not a name, Fire Lord, that’s an ellipsis in human form.”

Zuko gave her a long look, but didn’t argue. He set down his teacup with a soft clink. “She wouldn’t have written unless she meant it.”

Katara sighed. “Fine. So we move forward. You’ll increase security?”

“Already done,” Zuko said. “Midori’s on it. Extra guards, plainclothes agents, tighter vetting.”

Toph stretched lazily. “Then it’s a good thing we’re bringing in some real people. You know, ones who don’t care about court gossip or how many dragons someone’s great-great-grandfather tamed.”

Zuko gave a quiet snort. “You're talking about Utaya, Tui, and Gao.”

Toph grinned. “You remember their names. I’m impressed.”

“They made an impression,” Zuko said dryly. “Utaya talks more than Sokka, Tui runs circles around half my kitchen staff, and Gao could potentially beat me at Pai Sho without ever speaking a word.”

Toph barked a laugh. “Told you they’re quality.”

“They are,” Zuko said. “But bringing them to the ball…”

“They’ll behave,” Katara said, stepping closer now. “They’re not here to start a rebellion. They’re coming because Toph invited them. Because we wanted people around who remind us what this is for.”

Zuko looked at her then, and for a moment something softened in his face. “I know.”

Toph rolled her shoulders. “Besides, if the snobs complain, they can come duel me about it. I’ll even let them pick the terrain.”

A small, tense silence followed.

Zuko finally leaned forward. “I don’t want them getting caught in something dangerous.”

“They’re smart,” Katara said. “And they’re not afraid.”

Toph reached over and grabbed a half-eaten fire-flake from the table, tossing it in her mouth. “What, you think I invited them just for fun? I invited them because if something goes wrong, I want someone nearby who actually knows how to throw a punch and isn’t bound by palace etiquette.”

Zuko stared at her.

Katara tried not to smile.

“She’s not wrong,” Katara added.

Zuko exhaled through his nose and nodded slowly. “Alright. They come. But they’ll be briefed. And I want them near you two the entire evening.”

Toph made a mock salute. “Yes, Your Broodiness.”

Katara covered a snort with her sleeve.

Zuko didn’t smile, but his eyes betrayed the corner of one.

The moment hung there, filled with something almost light. Almost warm. But never quite spoken.

Then Katara asked, softly, “Do you think Mai’s message means something personal? Or political?”

Zuko’s mouth thinned.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But either way… we’ll be ready.”

The shift from strategy to sunlight was abrupt.

One moment, Zuko was sitting at the round table with Katara and Toph, the weight of Mai’s letter still hovering between them. The next, he was stepping through the threshold of the courtyard, blinking against the sun as the wide training arena came into view, stone platforms, sand pits, and elemental test zones fanned out under the Fire Nation sky.

Toph was already ahead, boots scuffing casually over the stones, calling out to the trio waiting at the gate with the kind of irreverent enthusiasm usually reserved for punching nobles.

“Look what the soot dragged in!” she shouted. “About time you showed up!”

Utaya grinned broadly, bowing far too dramatically for a dockworker. “We came to learn how to waltz and dodge assassination attempts. I expect tea.”

Tui elbowed him. “We’re here to behave, remember?”

Gao merely nodded, a quiet glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He carried himself like a man who observed everything and rarely missed a detail.

“You’ll get tea if you don’t pass out from heatstroke first,” Katara said, stepping beside Toph and gesturing toward the shaded benches nearby. “Zuko made sure they brought refreshments.”

Zuko, now behind them, raised a brow. “Technically, Midori made sure.”

Utaya whirled toward him. “Your Majesty,” he said, with a wink Katara immediately saw and felt in the shared beat of stillness beside her. “Your fighting highness. When do we get to see you set stuff on fire?”

Toph snorted. “They’ve been begging to see us spar since Ember Delights.”

“And I told them it wasn’t a puppet show,” Katara added.

“But it can be,” Tui said brightly. “A very impressive, dangerously beautiful puppet show. Just one little match.”

Zuko hesitated. “We don’t usually do exhibitions…”

“Oh, come on,” Toph said, cracking her knuckles. “You’re telling me you’re not dying to blow off steam?”

Katara glanced at Zuko, her brows lifting. “What do you think? Just a short round? For morale.”

Zuko looked between the dockworkers and his friends, Toph already grinning like a bandit, Katara poised and half-smiling, the three civilians with expressions of giddy disbelief, and felt the knot in his chest loosen by a thread.

“Alright,” he said at last. “But don’t blink.”

Toph grinned. “Oh, I never blink. Not even when I’m winning.”

The spectators sat on the edge of the sparring platform like excited children at a festival. Utaya leaned forward, Tui clutched Gao’s arm with anticipation, and Gao, though quiet, tapped his fingers in time with Toph’s shifting stance on the sparring platform.

Toph stood across from Zuko and Katara, shoulders loose, feet planted wide. The ground beneath her hummed as she stretched her senses. Katara stood at Zuko’s left, drawing water from her flask with fluid ease, while Zuko warmed his palms with a flick of heat, small flames dancing at his fingertips.

“This is going to be so cool,” Utaya whispered, nudging Gao, who nodded emphatically.

The sparring began without a signal. Toph moved first, her style precise, sudden, and grounded. Zuko countered with sweeping flames that curved like whips, driving her back, while Katara bent a curling wave under Toph’s feet that froze solid midair.

Toph smirked and shattered the ice beneath her with a stomp, sending chunks flying. Zuko twisted into a flame arc, which Katara doused just in time with a shield of steam. The clash of elements—earth, fire, and water—moved like a dance none of them had rehearsed but all of them knew instinctively.

Gao leaned forward so far he nearly fell off the bench. Tui grabbed his collar and yanked him back without looking away. “They’re so in sync,” she breathed.

Utaya was grinning from ear to ear. “Toph’s throwing boulders like they insulted her ancestors.”

“They probably did,” Tui muttered.

The spar picked up speed, Zuko and Katara falling into rhythm beside each other, their arcs interlacing, steam hissing around Zuko’s kicks, water spiraling past his fire like twin dragons.

Then, as if silently agreeing the demonstration had gone far enough, Toph stomped once, sending a ripple through the stone that buckled the platform. Zuko and Katara jumped back in unison, landing in mirrored stances.

Toph grinned. “I win.”

“You cheated,” Katara said, laughing.

“I’m blind, sugar queen. It’s called balancing the scales.”

Zuko exhaled, a trace of a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “Well, at least no one died.”

“That was incredible,” Utaya called out, standing and applauding with dramatic flair. “I’m going to be talking about that for a year.”

Tui nodded. “Can you spar again at the ball?”

“No,” all three benders said in unison.

Gao signed something, and Tui translated with a smirk: “He says you three should start a touring act.”

Toph bowed. “We’ll take it under advisement.”

The palace woke early.

Torchlight bled into the corridors long before dawn, replaced swiftly by the gray breath of morning. Servants bustled down the marbled halls like silent ghosts. Banners were polished, porcelain vases straightened, the air thick with the aroma of fresh lilies and tension.

Midori moved like a blade through it all.

"Double-check the guest list at the main gates," she said crisply to the captain beside her. "I don’t care who they say they are, if they’re not marked with the Fire Lord’s seal, they don’t enter."

"Yes, Commander."

She turned on her heel and strode deeper into the palace, already thinking five steps ahead. Her uniform was pristine, but her brows were furrowed, and her sleeves slightly rolled, as if ready for war. Because in a way… it was.

Out in the garden near the koi pond, Advisor Imin perched on a stone bench, draped in pale silks that allowed her to blend in with the nobility that strolled the walkways nearby. She tilted her fan slightly, eavesdropping with trained grace.

"...I’m sure the Southern girl will be at his side tonight. Can you believe it?"

"It’s not proper. Her people are still outsiders."

"Especially given the whispers about them from Lady Hina—"

Imin smiled faintly beneath her fan. Another thread for the web. She leaned back, satisfied.

The Fire Lord stood shirtless at the open balcony, golden armor resting untouched on the lacquered table behind him. His reflection shimmered faintly in the glass doors.

The sky was too quiet.

He should feel proud, the Fire Nation was, on paper, becoming slightly stable. Tonight was meant to be a symbol of progress, unity. A show of goodwill.

But Mai’s letter haunted the back of his mind. They’re watching the palace.

He didn’t know where the dagger would come from. Only that it would.

Toph had arrived with a groan and a complaint about the way the marble floors "smelled too clean." Katara elbowed her, grinning as they passed a row of ornate cherry blossom arrangements.

“Just once, can’t you pretend to be impressed?” Katara teased.

“I am. I’m impressed at how uptight this place is,” Toph drawled. “They even ironed the wind.”

Their footsteps echoed softly as they entered the guest suite where Ember Delights’ finest had been temporarily lodged.

Tui’s face lit up the moment they stepped in. “You’re really letting us stay here?”

Utaya leaned casually against the wall, already dressed in cleaned formal wear, his usual grin somewhat subdued. “I’ve never stood this close to a tapestry that costs more than my parents’ house.”

Katara chuckled, wrapping him in a quick hug. “You look great.”

Tui beamed and smoothed Gao’s collar. Gao, ever silent, gave Katara and Toph a polite nod and an enthusiastic thumbs-up. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Don’t cause a scene,” Toph warned lightly. “Actually… do. But don’t get me in trouble.”

“You nervous?” Utaya asked, nudging her shoulder.

Toph tilted her head. “Please. I’m vibrating with disdain.”

They laughed.

Katara looked at the group with warm affection, and just a tinge of worry she couldn’t shake. So many moving pieces. So many eyes. She and Zuko had barely spoken since their last conversation. And now, a ball.

Across the palace, final preparations were unfolding.

Musicians were tuning string instruments. Courtiers rehearsed greetings. Dresses and robes were steamed, hair lacquered into perfection, banners unfurled across the skybridge.

And in the middle of it all
A ruler burdened with secrets.
A spy cloaked in charm.
A general wound tight with fear.
And a group of unexpected guests, wide-eyed and half-thrilled, half-terrified, stepping into a night that would change the story for all of them.

Chapter Text

The palace had never gleamed so sharply.

Its towers shimmered with fresh lacquer and polished stone, windows glowing like amber eyes in the approaching night. Servants had worked tirelessly for days scrubbing marble corridors until they reflected flame like mirrors, brushing down tapestries, and re-stringing lanterns by the hundred.

Outside, the red walls of the palace blazed in the evening light, flames flickering from sconces that climbed each tier like ivy made of fire. Inside, the transformation was near-magical.

The grand ballroom, once a site of heavy-footed war councils and declarations issued like thunder, had been reborn. Tonight, it was something else entirely. Something that didn’t belong to generals or strategists, but to illusion.

Torches burned in gilded dragon sconces, their flames steady and golden. Crimson banners, newly stitched with gold thread, cascaded from every stone pillar like waterfalls of molten silk. Long tables of lacquered wood stretched against the far walls, holding towering arrangements of volcanic blossoms and trays of delicacies in silver trays, honey-lacquered meats, spiced buns, rice pearls wrapped in seaweed and dusted with edible ash.

But it was the ceiling that drew the eye.

Hundreds of paper lanterns floated in careful arcs above the crowd, suspended by near-invisible threads of firebending, like stars that had been trained to obey. Their gentle, flickering glow lit the room in waves of soft light, casting every guest in a golden wash, blurring imperfections and sharpening angles. Faces became more beautiful, masks more mysterious, intentions more easily cloaked.

From a dais near the rear, a full chamber ensemble began to play. The music started as a whisper, low strings and reed instruments weaving a stately, ancient melody that once might have played in the time of Sozin, though now it carried a new weight. A softer Fire Nation. One trying to prove it had changed.

And into this music, the guests arrived.

They came like drifting fog. Slow. Elegant. Dressed in silks that hissed as they moved, brocades that shimmered with every breath. Some wore reds, others midnight blacks or burnt ochres, but all were adorned in fire-gold trim and elaborate detailing. Their hair was twisted and pinned with gold, obsidian, and fire opals.

Guests nodded, bowed, murmured niceties. But under the pleasantries, tension curled like smoke.

This was not just a celebration.

It was a test.

From the top of the grand staircase, Fire Lord Zuko stood like a shadow carved into the red stone, the weight of it all etched into his jawline. He wore the formal golden armor of his station, though it had been softened by an embroidered sash draped across his chest, a homage to old Fire Nation war regalia, transformed into something more diplomatic. Regal, but restrained.

The light touched the scar across his face, making it gleam like molten brass.

Behind him, just out of sight, Midori stood at full attention. She gave him a firm, silent nod, then slipped away down a separate corridor, vanishing into the moving ranks of disguised security, palace guards hidden in the clothing of attendants and wine servers.

Zuko breathed once, deeply. Then he stepped forward.

His boots landed with purpose on the top stair.

“Welcome,” he began, voice clear and calm. It carried easily across the room, as if the flames themselves bent toward it. “This evening is a celebration of our unity, our shared history, and our shared future.”

For a moment, no one moved.

Then the applause began, polite, clipped, almost rehearsed. A soft rustle of clapping silk gloves and fans.

Far below, near the central fountain where koi fish swam in lazy loops between blooming lilies, Ambassador Joon was already two cups of rice wine in. He swirled the amber liquid in his cup and leaned toward Ambassador Cupun.

“They’ve outdone themselves,” he said, tilting his head toward the lantern-lit ceiling. “You could mistake this place for a temple if you were drunk enough.”

Cupun, never one for indulgence, gave a dry hum. “It’s a distraction,” he said, sharp eyes scanning the glimmering crowd. “The Fire Lord hosts a ball while whispers of rebellion rise in the streets.”

Joon chuckled, his voice soft enough not to carry. “And they say our kingdoms are the ones steeped in drama.”

Neither noticed the still figure a few steps behind them, Imin, quiet as moonlight, cloaked in civilian dress, her head lowered in a humble angle as she pretended to admire the delicate water lilies. Her ears, however, missed nothing.

Across the ballroom, nobles whispered behind their fans. Foreign dignitaries, permitted by invitation only, circled one another like bored hawks, smiling, sipping, speculating.

And above them all, Zuko watched.

The crowd with their carefully measured lies disguised as pleasantries.

It was beginning.

And though he had planned every minute of this night, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something, or someone, was waiting just beyond the next turn in the music.

Katara entered the ballroom with the air of someone used to walking into danger.

Her dress shimmered like sunrise meeting embers, hues of crimson, deep rose, and sunset gold cascading in silken layers down her frame. A silver comb shaped like an ocean wave was tucked into her hair, a subtle statement of where she came from. The lantern light caught on the metal and made it gleam.

She moved carefully, gracefully, even though every step felt like a betrayal of her instincts. The stares, the whispering, the sharp glances from Fire Nation nobility, none of them fazed her as much as his.

Zuko was already across the ballroom when he felt it, her presence.

He turned before he meant to, gaze catching her figure just as she stepped forward into the light.

They both stilled.

It was the kind of moment that made the music seem muffled, like they were suddenly standing underwater, just the two of them, suspended in tension, memory, and something that could almost be called longing.

Zuko’s mouth parted slightly. Not for words, he didn’t have any. Just to breathe.

She was radiant. But it wasn’t the dress or the hair. It was the stubborn pride in her spine, the familiar fire behind her calm face, the unflinching way she met his eyes even here, among enemies.

Katara noticed it, too. The way Zuko had straightened at the sight of her. How the lines of his face softened even though he stood at the center of every political storm currently brewing in this room.

She expected him to look away.

But he didn’t.

He held her gaze like it anchored him.

And for a heartbeat, everything, the ball, the nobles, the rumors, the rebellion fell away.

It was just them.

The boy who once hunted her.

The girl who once saved him.

The friends who had quietly become more than friends.

Katara approached slowly, her footsteps barely making a sound on the polished floors. Zuko stepped down to meet her halfway, still silent, as though he was afraid speaking would shatter the fragile spell between them.

“Zuko,” she said, her voice low and calm, but carrying an edge of something raw.

“Katara,” he replied, just as softly. He seemed on the verge of saying something else. But his throat worked around the words and left them unspoken.

They stood there for a moment, neither knowing how to reach across the distance that wasn’t physical.

She looked around. “You weren’t exaggerating. This really is a lot.”

He gave a short exhale that might’ve been a laugh. “We overcompensate.”

“I can see that.”

Zuko rubbed at the back of his neck, then quickly dropped his hand. “You look—”

“Don’t,” Katara cut in, but not unkindly. “Not if you’re just going to say what everyone else is saying.”

“I wasn’t.” He paused. “I was going to say you look strong.”

Katara blinked, caught off guard. “Oh.”

A silence fell again, but this one was softer.

They were too close now for this to be mistaken for formality. Too raw for pleasantries. But too careful for confession.

The music shifted key.

Behind them, Toph’s unmistakable snort broke the spell. “If you two are done emotionally eye-fucking, we have socially anxious dockworkers to wrangle.”

Katara smiled tightly, blinking away whatever had welled up behind her eyes.

Zuko stepped back first, visibly collecting himself. His Fire Lord mask returned, but it didn’t quite hide the fondness still lingering on his face.

He looked past her and gave a small, sincere nod to Gao, Tui, and Utaya, who had just been escorted in by Toph.

Then to Katara, his voice lower: “Later?”

She gave a single nod. “Later."

The music swelled, soft strings weaving into a steady rhythm that echoed through the gilded chamber like a heartbeat. It was a stately melody, neither too eager nor too solemn, designed to lull the crowd into comfort, to suggest that tonight was safe, luxurious, controlled. The perfect fiction.

Pairs began to take the floor in slow succession, the first tentative steps of a ritual as old as the palace itself. Court dancing was an art of restraint. Movements were deliberate and elegant, hands never quite touching, eyes rarely holding. A smile could be a dagger, and a bow was never just a bow. Every flourish meant something.

Toph sighed loudly beside Katara, arms crossed under her sharply tailored robes. “And thus begins the swirl of drama wrapped in silk.”

Katara adjusted the sleeve of her dress. “Why do I feel like everyone’s watching?”

“Because they are,” Toph said with a smirk. “Welcome to being interesting.”

Katara scanned the crowd, trying not to look like she was scanning the crowd. Eyes found her and flitted away, some too fast, some lingering too long. “I’d rather be fighting pirates.”

“Me too. But pirates rarely serve food this good,” Toph replied.

They made their way closer to the ballroom floor, escorted loosely by the trio from Ember Delights. Tui, radiant in a borrowed crimson silk wrap, stared wide-eyed at the grandeur. Gao remained silent beside her, his expression unreadable, his hands folded respectfully in front of him. Utaya, ever the charmer, looked like he belonged here, shoulders back, grin practiced but genuine.

Zuko approached a beat later, his entrance like a ripple cutting across still water. His formal armor gleamed under the lanterns, the sash across his chest catching the flicker of gold with every step. He stopped just in front of them, posture impeccable, voice smooth.

“Enjoying yourselves?”

Tui looked up, cheeks flushed. “Yes, Fire Lord. This is… incredible.”

“It’s like stepping into a story,” Utaya added with an easy grin. “A weird story, with too many forks and way too much silk, but still.”

Zuko’s mouth twitched into something faintly amused. “I don’t know about the story part. But I do try.”

Katara watched him for a moment, and something in her expression softened. There was a quiet in her eyes that hadn’t been there earlier, something pulled taut and flickering. A joke formed on her tongue, but she swallowed it.

Midori glided past just behind Zuko, her red-and-black uniform marking her as both servant and sentinel. She didn’t stop, didn’t break stride, but her gaze met Zuko’s for a fraction of a second. A barely perceptible nod: All clear. For now.

Imin moved more like water than shadow, slipping through conversations with the ease of someone used to being underestimated. Her robes blended seamlessly with the crowd. She paused briefly near a marble column where two lower-ranking nobles chatted in hushed tones.

“…the balcony. At moon’s rise.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m only telling you what I heard. He said it would be obvious.”

Imin didn’t look at them. She didn’t need to. She moved on, posture unchanged, but her mind alert.

Back in the ballroom, the music shifted. The violins rose into a more sweeping arrangement, and the lanterns above dimmed slightly. Shadows pooled between the pillars. The heat of too many bodies in too little space began to set in. Sweat mixed with perfume. Laughter carried easily over the music, but some of it was too loud, too forced.

A chandelier above swung gently, sending splinters of firelight across the floor in petal-like patterns. The air shimmered with a delicate tension—equal parts anticipation and dread.

Katara glanced up toward the balcony.

Zuko followed her gaze instinctively.

But neither of them saw anything.

The celebration had begun. Faces glittered, silks twirled, and nobles whispered behind painted fans. Not everyone had come for the music.

Chapter Text

The ballroom hummed with layered conversations, laughter rising like steam from a crowded bathhouse. Music trailed in elegant waves from the ensemble, blending seamlessly into the murmur of clinking glasses and rustling silk.

Zuko barely took two steps away from Katara before a semi-circle of nobles closed in like lacquered sharks. Lady Amihan, rotund in a pearl-encrusted gown, fluttered her fan lazily.

“My, my, Fire Lord,” she purred, “it’s heartening to see you hosting such a progressive event. One could almost forget this palace once held real Fire Nation tradition.”

Zuko smiled, tight, polite. “Thank you, Lady Amihan. And I’m grateful your memory is still strong enough to recall when that tradition involved invading other nations.”

The air cooled perceptibly. Lord Rohan cleared his throat, stepping in with a genteel chuckle. “Ah, but unity does come at the cost of… refinement, doesn’t it? I hear the dockworkers were invited tonight.”

“They were,” Zuko said, eyes narrowing slightly. “They bathe more often than some nobles I know.”

A strained laugh rippled around the group.

“Of course, of course,” chimed in Lady Hina, her voice like iced syrup. “And it’s so inspiring to see you… entertaining waterbenders these days. Especially those from the Southern Water Tribe. Their manners are so refreshingly unpolished.”

Zuko’s smile dropped altogether.

“Katara is a war hero,” he said plainly. “She helped save the world. If you want to question her place here, you can do it somewhere else, preferably far from my sight.”

Another silence. One of the younger nobles, trying to salvage the moment, offered a forced grin.

“You’ve grown bold, Fire Lord. But some say strength isn’t in fire, it’s in restraint.”

Zuko turned to him fully now. His voice dropped low, but his gaze sharpened.

“Restraint,” he repeated. “Is knowing I could burn you to ash for your tone and choosing not to.”

There was a beat of stunned stillness. Then Zuko bowed, shallow, sharp, enough to feel like a blade.

“Excuse me. I need to speak to someone worth my time.”

He pivoted and left them standing like statues, their faces pale under the glow of a thousand lanterns.

From a nearby alcove, Toph let out a loud snort and clapped once.

“Now that’s how you deal with nobility.”

Amka sipped delicately from a glass of chilled lychee tea, her eyes scanning the crowd with absent curiosity. The music had shifted again, lilting, light, meant for mid-dance mingling. She turned slightly, and there stood Utaya, looking uncharacteristically composed in an outfit that shimmered with copper and charcoal tones.

“Wow,” she said before she could help herself. “Your mother really outdid herself.”

Utaya blinked, then glanced down at his own robe, tailored to perfection, the embroidery dancing with fire lilies and subtle swirls of smoke-gray threading.

“You think?” he said, suddenly self-conscious. “I told her not to go overboard, but you know how she is. She heard ‘palace’ and started sketching like she was designing for the Fire Lord himself.”

“Well, if the Fire Lord wore this, I’d understand.” Amka tilted her head, lips curling. “You look… sharp.”

Utaya chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself, by the way.”

“Oh, do I?” She batted her lashes dramatically. “This old thing?” Her gown, soft sea-green with a scattering of beaded waves, caught the light like morning dew.

Utaya laughed, his expression relaxing. “Okay, okay, you look stunning. There. Happy?”

“Getting there,” Amka said lightly, nudging him with her shoulder. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Utaya glanced toward the center of the ballroom, where nobles moved like clockwork dolls in time with the music. “I keep waiting to knock something over.”

“Please do. Shake things up. You’d be doing this place a favor.”

He turned back to her, eyebrows lifted. “I thought you were the diplomatic one.”

“I am,” she said smoothly. “I just pick my battles.”

Their eyes held for a second longer than casual. A flicker of something warm passed between them—playful, hesitant, curious.

“Wanna sneak outside?” Amka offered suddenly. “I heard there’s a koi pond that reflects the moon just right.”

Utaya grinned. “You always this dangerous?”

“Only on state occasions.”

The muffled hum of the ballroom faded behind thick stone walls and a velvet-draped archway. In the shadowed corridor beyond, the air was cooler, less perfumed, more real. Midori leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, watching Imin approach with her usual silent grace.

“I thought you’d circle back,” she murmured.

Imin stopped a few paces away, adjusting the trim of her dark outer robe, her eyes sharp beneath calm brows. “Too many ears in that room. And too many lips eager to speak.”

Midori gave a tight nod. “You caught something?”

“A few things,” Imin said, voice low. “One noble spoke of the balcony. Another mentioned ‘a performance they wouldn’t forget’.”

Midori’s mouth tightened. “So it’s happening. Tonight.”

“There’s movement, at least,” Imin confirmed. “And distraction. The ball was a good idea… but it’s also giving them cover.”

Midori tapped her fingers against the hilt of her dagger, thinking. “Guards are doubling shifts. But if they’re clever, and they are, they won’t come through the obvious routes.”

“They won’t need to,” Imin said. “They’re already inside.”

A silence fell between them. Not fearful—focused.

“Anyone you think we can trust?” Midori asked.

“A few. Toph’s guests, surprisingly.” Imin’s eyes glinted.

Midori’s brow arched. “You like them?”

“I don’t dislike them,” Imin answered. “Which, for me, is rare.”

Midori gave a small, grim smile. Then she straightened. “Back to the ballroom?”

Imin nodded once. “Back to the stage.”

They moved apart without another word, disappearing in opposite directions down the corridor, the weight of what might come settling heavily over their shoulders.

The doors to the eastern balcony creaked open with a whisper of polished hinges. The warm noise of the ballroom faded behind them, replaced by the quieter hush of night. Crickets trilled somewhere below in the gardens, and the scent of lotus and smoke drifted on the breeze.

Zuko stepped out first.

He needed air. Or quiet. Or both. The tight smiles and gilded words of the nobles were already wearing thin, and the weight of the crown felt heavier than ever under the stars.

He leaned against the stone railing, letting the cool wind touch his face, still flushed from the heat inside.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

Toph’s voice.

She stepped out behind him, adjusting the high collar of her formal robe, her bare feet soundless on the carved stone. Her head tilted toward him, listening to something deeper than sound.

“I can feel someone else here,” she murmured.

Zuko stiffened.

Toph lifted a hand, two fingers raised in warning. She moved forward a step, then another, her expression sharpening.

A faint shuffle. Then silence.

“I know you’re there,” she called calmly. “Sneaking around during a party? That’s so last season.”

From the shadows near the far column, a shape stirred. A cloaked figure, a servant, by the look of it, emerged from behind a lattice of climbing orchids.

He bowed, deep and too quick. “Forgive me, Fire Lord. I was only—”

“Lost?” Zuko’s voice was like steel dipped in velvet. “Or listening?”

The man froze.

Toph exhaled through her nose. “He’s nervous. His heartbeat’s climbing. That’s not guilt from wandering off. That’s fear of getting caught.”

The man straightened. “I meant no harm—”

Zuko stepped closer, eyes narrowed. “Who do you serve?”

Silence.

Toph’s stance shifted. Her heel pressed against the stone, ready.

The man looked between them, and then bolted, darting back through the shadows toward the service corridor.

Toph moved first. Her foot slammed down with a thud that echoed into the stone, and suddenly the path in front of the runner rippled like a wave. The floor buckled just enough to trip him, and he hit the ground hard with a grunt.

Zuko was there in two strides, hauling the man upright by the collar.

“Speak,” he growled.

“I—I was only following orders,” the man wheezed. “I swear. I was to observe. That’s all.”

“From whom?” Zuko demanded.

But the man’s eyes widened in terror. “They’ll kill me.”

“Then you’d better start talking before I get creative,” Toph added with a lazy grin that didn’t reach her eyes.

Behind them, the balcony doors creaked again.

Midori stepped out, flanked by two guards. Her eyes flicked from the figure held in Zuko’s grip to the subtle disruption in the stone floor, then back to Zuko.

“We’ll take him,” she said calmly.

Zuko hesitated, but then nodded, shoving the man toward the guards.

“Quietly,” he said. “No scenes. Not yet.”

Midori inclined her head, then vanished into the dark with the captive in tow.

Toph blew out a breath. “And here I thought this night might be boring.”

Zuko looked back over the balcony. The lights of the ballroom shimmered through the glass like nothing had changed.

But something had.

And the night was far from over.

Katara stood near a tall lattice of flowering flame lilies, the warm light of the chandeliers catching in her hair. She sipped her wine slowly, watching the way the dancers glided across the floor like fire moving over silk. Everything shimmered; faces, jewels, smiles. An endless sea of practiced civility.

She felt the press of silk and politics all around her. The subtle shift of power beneath lace fans and toasting glasses.

This wasn’t her world. And yet, somehow, it was becoming one she moved through more easily than she’d ever expected.

But comfort was not the same as belonging.

Katara exhaled through her nose and tilted her glass again, but it was already empty.

“Lady Katara,” came a smooth voice at her elbow.

She turned to see a tall young noble, broad-shouldered and sharp-jawed, perhaps a few years older than Zuko. His red formal robes were embroidered with a family crest she didn’t immediately recognize, though his bearing was unmistakably aristocratic. His long hair was tied back in a traditional topknot, though a single lock framed his face deliberately, like he wanted to seem both reverent and roguish.

He bowed low—too low.

“Would you grant me the honor of a dance?”

Katara hesitated. There was no reason to refuse. And yet everything about his tone, too sweet, too careful, made her stomach coil.

But all eyes were on her, or near enough.

“Of course,” she said, voice light. “I’d be glad to.”

He led her onto the floor, one hand just a bit too firm at her waist as they stepped into a slow, formal pattern.

“Your presence here,” he began, “sends quite the message. The Fire Lord and the Southern Water Tribe’s most celebrated daughter… it’s a powerful alignment.”

Katara offered a bland smile. “Is that what you think it is?”

He tilted his head, smirk curling at the edge of his mouth. “I think the world is always watching. And the world likes stories. Especially love stories. Especially… strategic ones.”

Katara turned her head just slightly, letting the candlelight catch her eyes. “You seem very invested in my relationships, Lord…?”

“Jong-Su. Of House Myŏngnim.”

“Jong-Su,” she echoed smoothly. “Well, Jong-Su… I’d be careful spinning stories about other people. You might get tangled in your own.”

His smirk faltered for just a moment.

Katara’s smile deepened, serene, sharp-edged.

They stepped into a turn, the music rising around them like a tide.

“I do admire your confidence,” he said, voice quieter now. “But don’t forget, this is the Fire Nation. Confidence burns fast if it doesn’t know when to bow.”

The dance ended.

Katara stepped back and gave the most graceful bow she could muster, every inch the foreign diplomat. “Thank you for the dance, Lord Jong-Su.”

He bowed back, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “The pleasure was mine.”

Katara stepped away from the crowd, her heart still thrumming from the encounter with Lord Jong-Su. She was trying to disappear into the margins of the ballroom again, maybe find Amka, or Toph, or just a bit of air, when a voice cut in from behind her. Low, dry, unmistakably unimpressed.

“Must you always entangle yourself with Fire Nation men?”

Katara turned, caught mid-step. Ambassador Joon stood near a tall golden pillar, arms folded across his broad chest, a single eyebrow raised in bemused judgment. He was dressed as grandly as the nobles around him, rich Earth Kingdom colors with regal styling, a jade clasp at his collar.

Katara sighed. “Hello to you too, Joon.”

He stepped closer, keeping his voice low. “That last one, what was his name? Jong-Su? He looked like he was about to monologue you into a marriage contract.”

Katara gave a short laugh, despite herself. “He’s just another noble with too many opinions and too little self-awareness.”

“And you’re just another Water Tribe girl with a dangerous taste for smoke and fire.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being observant,” Joon retorted. “First the Avatar, then the reformed Fire Lord, now this one, what’s next, a Fire Sage with a tragic past?”

Katara gave him a sharp look. “Are you seriously comparing Zuko to that oily thing in robes I just danced with?”

“I’m just saying,” he said with a shrug. “You’ve got a pattern.”

“I have a life, Joon,” she snapped, cheeks warming. “And it’s none of your business who I dance with.”

“Oh, forgive me,” he said dryly. “I forgot the Southern Water Tribe made you the Princess of Scorching Glances and Scandal.”

Katara looked like she might splash wine on his shoes.

A slow, deliberate voice interrupted before she could do so. “Is this how you greet your betters, Joon of the Earth Kingdom?”

Both turned.

Ambassador Zuiho stood just a few paces away, every inch of her a living statue, glimmering silk in the bold greens and bronzes of Kyoshi Island, the long sleeves of her armored kimono trailing like waterfall mist. Her metal headdress glinted beneath the chandelier light, casting fans of shadow across her painted cheeks. Her presence was so commanding it felt like the room itself quieted around her.

“I was merely—” Joon began.

“You were being ungracious,” Zuiho said coolly. “And you’ve no idea the weight this girl carries. Or the fire she walks through.”

Katara blinked, surprised, not just by the timing, but by the protective edge in Zuiho’s voice.

The Ambassador turned to her with a nod of quiet respect. “Lady Katara, I would be honored if you walked with me. I find that the air near fools tends to cloud my judgment.”

Katara didn’t hesitate. “Gladly.”

As they walked, Joon gave a low grumble of surrender behind them.

Zuiho didn’t look back. “Let him sulk. It suits his shoulders more than his words.”

Katara tried not to smile but failed. “Thank you.”

“You’re not alone in this place,” Zuiho said, voice low but strong. “Remember that. Some of us came ready to see past costumes and crowns.”

They stepped toward the long east corridor together, leaving the noise and perfume of the ballroom behind for now.

Katara glanced once over her shoulder, not at Joon, not even at the balcony, but at the ballroom as a whole. She wasn’t sure if she was leaving it behind… or stepping deeper in.

A hush settled around Katara and Ambassador Zuiho. Here, in the corridor where moonlight spilled through tall arched windows and a soft breeze stirred the silk banners, the weight of the palace eased just enough to breathe.

Katara exhaled slowly. Her shoulders dropped, her fingers unclenched. “Thank you, Ambassador. I was… starting to feel like an exhibit.”

Zuiho’s headdress chimed faintly as she turned her head. “They do that, the Fire Nation nobles. They admire what they do not understand, and fear what they cannot control.” Her voice was sharp but not unkind.

They walked side by side along the polished floor, their reflections rippling beside them in the lacquered marble.

“I’m still learning how to hold my own in their world,” Katara said after a pause.

“You’ve already mastered more than most of them ever will,” Zuiho replied. “Strength, restraint, compassion. And above all, clarity. I see it in your eyes. Suki saw it too.”

Katara’s brows lifted slightly. “You know Suki?”

Zuiho smiled, a slow, warm expression that softened the sharp lines of her painted face. “Of course. She trained under my aunt when she was younger. Even then, she stood out. Disciplined, intuitive, and entirely too clever for the drills we gave her.”

Katara laughed, tension melting from her shoulders. “That sounds like her. She still writes to me. And complains that Sokka talks in his sleep.”

Zuiho let out a surprised laugh. “He always struck me as someone who would. But she’s kept him on his toes all these years. It’s no small feat.”

“She’s good for him,” Katara said, more fondly than she expected. “He needs someone who can match him step for step and also hit him with a fan when he starts rambling.”

“She’s been writing to me, too,” Zuiho admitted. “She says the two of you sneak midnight tea and plot secret training missions when together.”

Katara’s smile turned mischievous. “That’s only half true. It was usually Suki’s idea, and I just… helped implement.”

“Mm. The Kyoshi way,” Zuiho said approvingly. “Bold vision, precise execution. You have more in common with us than you think.”

“I don’t know,” Katara said, eyes drifting toward the moonlit windows. “Sometimes I feel like I’m trying to bend myself into someone they’ll accept. Into someone… proper.”

Zuiho regarded her quietly for a moment. “You’ve never needed to bend. Let them shift. Let them stretch. If the Fire Nation can’t make room for you as you are, then it’s the Fire Nation that needs to change.”

Katara’s breath hitched slightly. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought it but hearing someone say it aloud made it real.

“We’re rooting for you, Katara. Not just because of who you’re with, or what you represent. But because you remind us that power without conscience is nothing.” She paused. “Suki would say the same. In fact, she has. Repeatedly. And usually while sparring.”

Katara laughed again. “She never goes easy.”

“No,” Zuiho agreed. “Neither should you.”

They paused at a balcony overlooking the inner courtyard. Below, lanterns bobbed in the koi ponds and sent orange ripples dancing along the water.

Katara leaned on the railing, her face softened by the light. “She’s the best of us, you know. And she’s never had to compromise who she is.”

Zuiho touched the hilt of her decorative fan. “Neither have you. That’s what scares them.”

Katara nodded slowly. “She’s going to be furious she missed this ball.”

“Oh, no doubt. But give her a scroll full of juicy noble gossip and a drawing of your dress, and she’ll forgive you.”

They grinned at each other like co-conspirators.

As the distant sound of drums from the ballroom shifted into a new rhythm, Katara pushed off the railing and turned back toward the corridor.

“Shall we?” she asked.

Zuiho’s green robes shimmered like jade fire as she followed. “Let’s. I have a feeling tonight’s drama is just getting started.”

Katara and Zuiho made their way back through a quieter hallway leading toward the ballroom’s side entrance. The echo of distant laughter and music trailed after them like incense, but here the air was cooler, dimmer, and laced with the scent of cherry blossom oil from a decorative brazier near the wall.

“I have to admit,” Zuiho mused, adjusting the edge of her armored kimono, “I was bracing for more scandal tonight.”

Katara arched a brow. “That wasn’t scandal?”

Zuiho gave her a knowing look. “We’re not even at the halfway point, darling.”