#pchc au

[kiintsugi]

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Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/F, M/F Fandoms: Avatar: The Last Airbender Relationships: Katara/Zuko, Azula/Ty Lee Characters: Katara, Zuko, Mai, Ty Lee, Azula, Toph, Sokka, Suki Additional Tags: Dark!verse, Alternate Universe – Canon Divergent, Fire Nation Victory AU, Redemption AU, Tyzula, Zutara, Hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, aged up characters, enemies to lovers, mentions of abuse, emotional hurt/comfort, eventual smut, pov changes by chapter, Azula is a useless lesbian, bisexual Ty Lee, bisexual disaster Zuko, eventual Zutara, established Tyzula, sort of, i am once again asking you to read a wip i have no update schedule for Summary: They call him the Avatar Killer, hero of the Fire Nation, son of Firelord Ozai. Only one of those things are true. But Avatar Aang is dead, Azula saw to that personally, and the credit is his. it’s been five years since that day, but Zuko and Azula’s work in the name of their father is far from over. Aang’s influence spread like a disease across the earth kingdom, and now the resistance is fighting back. Faced with the realities of war and the consequences of their past, Zuko and Azula return to the Earth Kingdom for one final mission: to stamp out the resistance, no matter the cost. Also known as the Zuko and Azula redemption fic/character study no one asked for with lots of Zutara and Tyzula because I’m trash

Read This Fic Here

Chapter 9, Katara, excerpt:

“My father banished me to search for the Avatar thinking he could never be found,” he says. “All because I spoke out of turn. Because I wasn’t prodigious and merciless, because I wasn’t the perfect, heir. I was just a kid. I wasn’t even given a ship, Azula talked some old ship graveyard into selling it to her for me because no one was allowed to even look at me.”  

Katara nods, somehow surprised by the cruelty of his life even though it seems to mirror the realities of her own.  

“I was just a kid,” he repeats, his eyes dropping to his lap. He’s fidgeting with his fingers now and Katara can’t get him to look at her. Still, he isn’t done. “I thought I would never get to go home. And after a while, I started to think I was okay with that. But then Azula offered me a deal and I... I had wanted to go home more than anything for so long... Fuck, I was just a kid.”

Chewing on her lip and unsure of what to do, Katara sits in silence as Zuko reflects aloud. She wanted answers, and she guesses, this is what it means to get them. It’s not the story she wanted to hear. In fact, something like this is the exact opposite of what she wanted.

Humanizing Zuko and Azula, realizing their lives weren’t as perfect as she thought, it answers the questions but she isn’t sure if it's at a cost she’s willing to pay. She doesn’t want to see people when she looks at these two. She doesn’t want them to feel human. If they’re too real, too human, then what is it that she’s doing to them that’s any better than they’ve done to her?

Katara knows what it's like to lose a mother. But at least her father was kind and gentle. At least her brother always meant it when he told her he loved her and would protect her from anyone who dared to hurt her. She knows what it’s like to lose a loved one, but she’s never known what it's like to lose love all together. To be cast aside, abandoned and forgotten. And honestly... if she’s really, truly being honest... she can’t say she would have handled banishment any differently than he had. If someone else had found Aang in that iceberg and she was told that killing him would end the war, well, who's to say she wouldn’t have believed it?

They were kids fighting in war they didn’t understand.

And as bad as Zuko’s life had been, Katara can’t help but think his had turned out for the better when compared to his younger sister; a woman raised and expected to be nothing less than perfect while knowing that failure would never be tolerated. At least in Zuko’s case, he was given a chance to grow and develop at his own pace. At least he had his uncle to guide him and train him; forgive him, even. For Azula, from what Zuko detailed, tolerance and forgiveness were concepts never taught to her. And how can Katara expect herself to view someone as evil when she knows that these basic concepts of human decency have never been present in the most formative years of someone’s life? How can she call them monsters when it was a monster who made them who they are?

She notices then the tattoos on Zuko’s hands, and its then that she realizes what Zuko meant when he claimed to have never asked for them. She feels a weight on her chest, crushing her and sucking the air from her lungs as she stares into the red arrows that peek out of his sleeves. Her fingers, slightly trembling with hesitation and uncertainty, reach out across the narrow tunnel and press gently against the ink on his right hand.  

Zuko’s eyes drop to their hands, watching as Katara’s fingers stroke down the ink and slip away again, retreating back into the safety that is the space between them. He frowns at her, lets his gaze slip away much like her fingers did, and silence envelopes them again.

She says, “I’m sorry,” without even thinking and she knows she’s not in a position where she should be apologizing. She knows it's probably the dumbest, most insane thing she could be doing right now, but the words came of their own accord; forced their way into existence because when it comes right down to it, sorrow is the only feeling she has right now.  

“It’s not your fault,” he tells her, and she knows that. Of course, she does. She doesn’t need him to tell her that, especially not in that voice. That sad, defeated tone that makes her feel even worse than she already does.  

“I know,” she says. “But that doesn’t mean I'm not sorry.”

Zuko tilts his head, his eyes narrowing with suspicion and disbelief in a way that makes Katara think that no one has ever told him the words “I'm sorry,” before. Like the feeling of empathy, the idea that someone has wronged him and is willing to admit to the fact, is some sort of foreign language to him.  

He asks her, “Why,” but Katara doesn’t know the answer. Or maybe she does, but she’s just not willing to admit it to herself because admitting to herself means admitting it out loud, and admitting it out loud means making it real. Katara isn’t ready for this feeling to be real. She just wants it to go away.

She settles on something less personal, a safe answer that doesn’t make her feel things she doesn’t want to feel and tells him, “Because no child deserves the life you’ve been given,” but just like his question made her feel uncomfortable and confused, her answer clearly made him feel the same way.

He has to know this though, doesn’t he? She shouldn’t have to explain the concepts of love and care to a grown man. Still, he doesn’t look at her like it's something he understands. He looks at her as if she’s holding a knife to his throat, like the very idea of care and concern for the wellbeing of another human being makes her the monster here, not him. But as she sits here, staring at her prisoner who she’s spent over a week trying break like a twig, she starts to wonder if he’s right. If she is, in fact, a monster too.