#zkweek 2017

[sarah-vv]

Zutara Week - Fire Lady 

For this topic, I was very excited to design a fire nation dress for Katara. When I was younger, I used to design fashion clothes for fun =p So it felt like revisiting an old passion. I focused on some asian elements, the royal aspect (hence the gold), and the fact that the climate in the fire nation is very hot. Also I tried to sneak some modern day fashion trends in there =p

 I had so much fun with this one! Hope you like it ^^

@zutaraweek

[lykegenia]

Zutara Week 2017: Fire Lady

Another year, another Zutara Week, another set of oneshots for my ZKWeek story A Life, Together, which you can find in its entirety here.

This year is the same as last year, with a new story being added to it every day - hopefully this is the start of a tradition!

@zutaraweek

ZKWeek Day 1: Fire Lady Words: 1463 Read it on AO3

There was a time, not so long ago, when waterbending brought Katara nothing but pleasure. The knowledge that she had risen to mastery in just a few short months, coupled with the sinuous push and pull of her element, the flowing rhythms of her qi, made her daily practice a delight. In the eerie tranquillity of Ba Sing Se and through the stressful days cooped up at the Western Air Temple, it had been a balm, and even here, in the Fire Nation, waterbending by the turtle-duck pond was once an activity solely for her enjoyment.

Now, however, she can feel the hostile eyes on her back, can almost hear the whispering behind pale hands that follows her everywhere. Each move she makes is a political statement about who she is and what she intends to be. After all, the scandalised ministers proclaim, nobody ever heard of the Fire Lady being a waterbender. Part of her enjoys flaunting her powers, just to irk them with her presence. These old men who dragged the war on for their own profit, who remained too shrewd to be discarded in favour of more progressive minds. They’ve made an art of pestering Zuko, running him in circles, and this is the only diplomatic form of petty revenge she can take.

Still, she misses the anonymity she had before she and Zuko announced their engagement.

She’s getting married. Growing up, Katara had never had time to think about marriage, let alone the person who might one day be her partner, because the only other person her age left in the village was Sokka, and even thinking about it… ew. And then there was the war and the avatar and the mission to save the world, and since then it’s been one thing and another, perhaps a destiny she’s been running from all along. She still doesn’t know how to feel about it.

That last part isn’t entirely true, she chides herself as she sweeps into Pentapus Stance. She loves Zuko, and the thought of marrying him, being joined to him as Tui and La are joined in the heavens, makes her giddy in a way she doesn’t have words to describe. No, it’s the enemies they’ve made along the way that has her worried, the conservative factions in court, the warmongers, whispers of a group calling themselves the Talons that stir in the underbelly of the city.

All these thoughts cloud her mind, however, and make the water shiver between her arms, so she forces them away. There’s a change in the air behind her. She allows herself a grin, but doesn’t pause the flow of energy from one hand to another as she hears Zuko settle into the roots of the gingko-willow by the pond. He always has had a knack for turning up when she least expects it.

She rises into her final stance and sends the water back into the pool, opens her eyes. Zuko smirks at her, though she can’t tell whether the appreciation in his gaze is for her figure or for the show of bending skill. Perhaps for him, respect and desire go hand in hand.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he says. “I was rather enjoying that.”

She flips her hair over one shoulder and steps into the cooling shade of the willow. “It’s getting too hot. Besides, I’ve been told it’s the height of impropriety to turn your back on the Fire Lord.”

With a low chuckle, he grabs for her hand and pulls her into his lap, onlookers be damned, and presses a kiss to her temple. She leans into the gesture, tilting her head in an open invitation he all too gladly accepts, leaving a trail of soft lips and nipping teeth down the length of her neck, little kisses that trace a line he knows off by heart. Her giggles turn breathy when he laps at the sweat beaded on her collarbone.

“Don’t tell me you came out here just to have your way with me,” she says.

“No,” Zuko replies, “but maybe you can take me inside later and have your way with me.” Tucking his arms around her waist, he leaves off his teasing and nuzzles deeper into the scent of her hair. “I found something I wanted to show you.”

“Oh?”

It’s black silk bundle embroidered with phoenixes and pomegranates, the golden thread under-sewn with a rainbow of other colours that spark when the light catches them. For a few moments Katara simply stares at the craftsmanship, still overawed that such regalia can exist when she grew up in a world where beauty came only second to necessity. But Zuko is waiting for her to open it, so she delicately unknots the twined silk cords that hold it closed, and peels back the protective folds of material to reveal a necklace made of gold-chased jade beads, simple enough to look at, but very finely made. With Zuko’s help, she lifts it from its wrappings and lays it against her neck, holding it in place so he can fasten the clasp to keep it there. For a while they sit, admiring the lightness of the green stone against the dusky shade of her skin.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs eventually.

“It was my mother’s.”

Katara’s eyes snap to his. “Your -? Zuko, are you sure you want me to have this? I…”

“She would have wanted you to have it,” he informs her, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “And I for one think it looks better on you than gathering dust in the family vault.”

“You know, you’re still having trouble with those compliments,” she teases.

“Pesky things,” he answers. “But I am getting better at them, oh most radiant blossom of my life.”

“That’s just overkill.”

Their fingers trace absent patterns along each other, their silence filled by the splashing of the fountain and the cheeping of the turtleducklings as they hunted for insects.

“I wish I could have met her,” Katara voices eventually, though she doesn’t add all the questions she would ask, all the doubts she might share only with another woman who knew what it was like to be treated more like an icon in a temple than a person.

Zuko squeezes her hand. “She would have loved you.” He plants another kiss to the temple.

“The ministers don’t seem to think so.” The words are bitter. She can’t help it. “They’ve found a new sport in making comparisons between now and ‘the good old days’.” When the fire lady was everything she was supposed to be. Zuko tenses beside her, but he says nothing. He knows better than most that she needs to let out the things she been bottling up, without judgement, and only strokes her back, calm, long passes from shoulder to waist and back.

“Are we doing the right thing?” she asks, when she finally musters her courage. “I’m still worried it’s a step too far, too soon. It’s not that long ago our nations were at war with each other.”

“Katara.” Zuko’s voice is firm and warm, like the soft light of embers. “Listen to me. You will be an amazing Fire Lady. You’re not my mother, but then, the Fire Nation back then was a very different place.” For a moment, his expression darkens, and she brushes a gentle hand against his scar, still grieving for him, still angry for what his father did.

“There’s nobody better suited. You’re already my partner –” kiss to her cheek – “my advisor –” to her forehead – “the love of my life.” The final kiss is delivered to the tip of her nose, and it makes her chuckle. “This is just going to make everyone else in the world know that. But…” And here, his voice drops, and because he treasures her, “If you’re having second thoughts, if you want to –”

“No!” There’s never been a decision she’s more sure of than wanting to be his wife. She takes his face in both her hands, turns it to stare him straight in the eye. “Zuko, I am marrying you. I said yes, and I don’t regret saying yes, not for a minute. And that’s not just out of spite for all those crusty old men who like to grumble every time I walk into a room.”

His grin comes back. “Well, I’m glad we cleared that up.”

She laughs again, sighs as she rests her forehead against his. It will be hard, she knows, but she’s blazed a trail before, and they’ve come through worse.

“I’m just worried.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“Good.” And he takes gentle hold of her chin and angles her head so he can kiss her properly, propriety be damned.

[chelociraptor]

Zutara Week 2017, Day 1: Fire Lady

@zutaraweek Day One: Fire Lady

This is my first time participating in Zutara Week, so I am both nervous and excited! 

[irisplumeria]

Most people would be perturbed by the sight of their nephew walking up on deck completely soaked, shivering and breathing fire through their nose – but this was a sight Iroh had gotten used to the last couple of weeks while he helped Prince Zuko search for the Avatar. The old ex-general took a sip of his warm and bracing ginseng tea and asked a question he already knew the answer to: “What happened Prince Zuko?”

Zuko blasted another steam of fire from his nose.

“Mermaids.” 

@zutaraweek - #2 Underwater. 

[pethfics]

ZUTARA WEEK 2020 DAY 4: CELESTIAL

Title: Look to the Stars

Summary: “If the Spirits favor you,” his uncle had often told him, “You will never be lost at sea.”

Musical inspiration

Read on FF.NET

@zutaraweek

[addictofreading]

Zutara Week 2017: Fire Lady

I want a fic where Katara is having trouble acclimating to being the Fire Lady, mostly because others in the palace haven’t accepted her yet and don’t see her as being Fire Nation enough. Meanwhile, Zuko keeps giving her blue accessories because they remind him of her and he likes giving her pretty things and she doesn’t know how to tell him to stop. :)

@Zutaraweek

[19silvermirrors]

A joyous tenth @zutaraweek to ye all!  ❤ Fire Lady + Underwater

[kdinthecity]

Confessions of a Teenage Sugar Queen: Flight

So sorry for the hiatus on this one! Very cruel of me to leave Chapter 6 on a cliffhanger, too. So, for Chapter 7, I could not make it fit for Day 7 of Zutara Week (starlight) and I think it’s going to take another chapter or two to finish this story. Hopefully it won’t take me a month to post it, though.

Chpt. 1 | Chpt. 2 | Chpt. 3 | Chpt. 4 | Chpt. 5 | Chpt. 6

The content of the “Blue Spirit” file is not what I expected. I have tried texting and calling Zuko numerous times because he HAS to see this. And I HAVE to know what he found in the “Painted Lady” folder. Needless to say, I do not sleep a wink.

This makes me a miserable wreck in the morning, but I remember to shower and put on clean clothes since I didn’t the day before. Gran Gran fusses at me for not eating breakfast. Apparently I skipped dinner the past two nights, too? I resent the look of utter disbelief she shoots me when I yell, “I am fine!”

I mean, I will be fine once I talk to Zuko. To avoid further questioning and expressions of pity, I wait on the sidewalk for him to pick me up. Except it isn’t his ten-year-old sedan that pulls up in front of my apartment building. I would have never pegged Iroh for a sports car aficionado, yet a white Lotus Elise now purrs in the nearest parking spot with a bearded driver poking his head out to grin and wave at me.

I smile back, but my heart sinks. It’s a two-seater which means no Zuko. That new car smell combined with crisp leather wafts when I open the door.

“Only eight more days until the season premiere of Crossroads! Aren’t you excited, Katara?” Iroh chirps.

I survey the interior like I’ve lost something—someone. “Where’s Zuko?”

“He’s fallen—” The old man lets out a raspy cough. “—ill today. I might be coming down with a little bug myself.”

He revs the engine and raises his eyebrows. I hum appreciatively, pretending to admire the power of the machine, but the vibration only heightens the sick sensation of worry I already feel in my stomach. Iroh doesn’t seem to notice my discomfort as he then launches into a long explanation on theories he has for upcoming episodes of our mutual favorite show. I don’t mention that I haven’t finished season six, yet, and he’s basically spoiling the ending for me. But I no longer hold the same anticipation—like something so trivial couldn’t possibly matter in comparison. It reminds me of how I couldn’t wait to get my ears pieced.

Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. “Uncle Iroh? Where is Ursa?”

In truth, I already know the answer to this. Because her whereabouts are detailed in the Blue Spirit file.

“Ursa is… gone,” he answers simply.

“I know she had to go into hiding,” I say. “But… does Zuko know?” I'm almost certain that he doesn't, but my sources also list Iroh as a point of contact. Why would he keep this information a secret from his nephew when it so obviously causes him suffering?

Iroh lets out a long and labored sigh while fixating hard and fast on the road, very much in the same way that Zuko does when troubled by the topic of discussion. Seconds stretch to minutes, and I’m ready to fire my next question when he finally speaks again.

“I do not know what Zuko’s father told him about his mother,” he says. “But whatever it is, Zuko accepts that he will never see her again. And that is… for the best.”

Tears sting at the corner of my eyes, and a bitterness burns at the back of my throat. Because if my mother was out there somewhere, still alive, I'd do whatever it takes to find her.

"But why?” I ask.

“Because if Ozai knew where Ursa was, he’d kill her.”

"But Zuko thinks she's dead already. Why can't he at least know that she's alive? It doesn’t make sense!”

“It makes sense when you understand what kind of control Ozai can exert over his family. It is much safer this way.”

“But if Zuko knew—“

“If Zuko knew anything, his father would find a way to get the information from him and then kill him, too. Your family wouldn't be safe, either. It would be best to just let it go, Katara.“

I seethe at this response but don’t say anything more for the rest of the ride except thank you when Iroh drops me off at the Marine Center. It’s going to be another unproductive day at work for me as I’m plagued by thoughts such as…

I know Ozai is cruel and scandalous, but a killer?

And if Iroh knows so much, then how come Ozai hasn’t killed him?

Did Ozai kill my mother?

Zuko still hasn't answered my calls or texts and misses the next two days of work. I am worried to the point of exhaustion. Iroh doesn’t offer me any more rides to work, probably because of my aggressive line of questioning. Maybe I do have what it takes to become an investigative journalist. But if I would have kept my mouth shut, I could be seated comfortably in a luxury sports car instead of on the stinky crowded bus. I suppose the quest for truth involves making sacrifices.

For my mom, it meant sacrificing everything. I'm crying again, and this time, the bus driver hands me tissue, like he came prepared for that girl who always gets emotional. He obviously remembers who I am because he waits for me to get off at my stop, and I have to tell him I’m going one stop further today—to Mushi’s.

There are so many missing pieces to the story, and I plan to continue my investigation by stationing myself in our usual booth until either Zuko or Iroh decide to start explaining. The wait staff looks at me in the same way the bus driver does—like I'm going to spontaneously combust at any moment now. They offer me my usual, but I surprise them, too, but ordering something different.

What can I say? I’m investigating a murder now. I’m living dangerously.

OK, maybe trying the sea urchin was a little bold, especially when I’ve hardly eaten anything of substance for a few days. I am now poking at it with my chopstick, pretending it’s Ozai’s—ugh, I don’t even know what body part it would represent. I think I might throw up.

Odds of this greatly improve when Mai walks in the door, demanding to see Zuko. She is told that he is not here. She accuses the hostess of lying. I said the same thing to the poor woman when I arrived, but surely I didn't make that much of a scene? Oh God, I did put my hand on my hip just like that, though.

I try to look away, but I just can’t. Mai persists, now asking to see Iroh. When her tone shifts from forceful to frantic, I become less suspicious of her as an enemy and start thinking of her as a source. She works for Future Fire Technology, so maybe she knows something. But how do I approach her?

I don't have to. She catches my eye on her way out the door. She hesitates as if weighing her options, grimaces at the sight of my food, and finally decides to sit down after letting out a dramatic sigh.

She's really... pretty. I kinda want to scream right now.

"I can't seem to get through to anyone here, but maybe you can help me," she starts.

I nod.

She leans in and props her elbows up on the table. “Listen. Zuko is in big trouble. His dad found out he went to the police. He needs to… I dunno, get out of town for a little while until this shit blows over.”

The police?

Mai’s brow furrows under her thick fringe. I guess she wants some kind of response besides my blank stare because she shakes her head and mumbles stupid peasant before reaching into her handbag. She then extends her hand, draws in a shaky breath and places a USB drive on the table in between us. This one is very standard looking—not disguised to give color or moisture to one's lips.

“I can trust you, right?” she asks.

I gape at the device like it’s going to explode, but all I feel is the heat of her intense amber eyes boring into me.

“It’s more evidence for Zuko’s case. I’ve found some really weird stuff since I started working for Future Fire." She takes a cursory glance around the restaurant, and her voice drops to a harsh whisper. "I should NOT be doing this, and I was NEVER here, OK?”

Zuko’s case?

She pushes the USB drive all the way across the table to where it’s nestled underneath my elbow. “Keep it hidden, you dumbass.” Then she quickly stands and hisses, “Your food smells like shit,” before slithering away.

She may have inspired a new creature for my stories, an eel with spiky scales like a sea urchin. I debate on the name—Uniagi, perhaps? If only I could retreat into my imaginary world right now…

I bang on Iroh's apartment door. He finally answers but says that Zuko still has a relentless fever, and he doesn’t want me to catch it. I say I don’t care, I have to see him NOW.

It was no exaggeration. Zuko is really, really sick. Like deliriously feverish. I hold a cold cloth to his forehead. Zuko moans. Iroh paces the floor.

“I had counted on Zuko getting better by now,” he says. “This really interferes with your travel plans.”

“Our... travel plans?” This is equally unnerving and relieving to me, especially after what Mai said.

“Yes. You’re going to Alaska. I hope it wasn’t too forthright, but I took the liberty of booking your passage.”

"Where in Alaska?" I ask.

"You have family there, right?”

"Yes, I do."

And Zuko does, too.

Thankfully, the next day is Saturday, and the fever finally breaks. Zuko talks about the crazy dreams he had—something about dragons and a bald kid with blue arrow tattoos. He insists that miso soup and mochi ice cream are needed to nurse him back to full health. Like the dork that I am, I retrieve whatever he asks for and listen attentively to his stories. But it does not go unnoticed that he tends to change the subject when I bring up the USB drive and my mother's files. I haven't told him about Mai's visit, yet.

Our flight for Anchorage leaves Monday morning. I almost forget to call Yue to let her know I won’t be coming into work. The best reason I can come up with is the truth—I feel threatened. Now that I have read the files Mai gave me, I contend that Ozai would kill anybody who got in his way. I want to warn Yue, in fact, but I don’t really think she is a target. Future Fire’s donations to the Marine Center serve as a diversion tactic so that no one pays attention to the real work going on behind the scenes.

Zuko must have stumbled upon the same secrets when working there last summer. And so, his father gave him a permanent reminder on his face to never tell anyone. This is my speculation, anyhow, but maybe Zuko will tell me about it someday. He doesn’t owe me an explanation about his scar, but he better tell me what’s in that Painted Lady folder at least.

This is what I know: Zuko’s dad has been selling his VR technology to undisclosed clients off the record, many of whom serve in foreign militaries and governments. The VR headsets offer an enhanced tactical training platform for soldiers.

As if committing high treason wasn't bad enough, the gloves are being formulated for use as actual weapons—flame throwers, of sorts. And the exoskeleton will be reconstructed as high-powered armor. And all of this new technology is being tested in a remote area in central California.

Death Valley.

It’s a little complicated to get to my dad’s hometown, but my family normally flies to Seattle, then we connect to Anchorage. From there, a smaller commercial airline transports to outlying villages, and the closest one is King Salmon, a 30-minute drive away. My dad knows a pilot who will fly directly into the Naknek airport, but he operates seasonally, and is often very busy during the summer months.

Today’s travel itinerary confuses me, though. Iroh drops us off at a random train station so we can take an hour-long ride to a different airport across the bay. Then we fly to Chicago? I do the math in my head—a four-hour flight in the wrong direction—then another seven hours to Alaska. As far as I know, our tickets only take us as far as Anchorage. What then? I don’t ask, and Zuko doesn’t offer any explanation, either. In fact, he says very little with his headphones on, hidden beneath his hood. It is going to be a very long day.

When we land in Chicago, and Zuko receives a text from his uncle to change airlines, it hits me. We’re doing all of this to evade Ozai who might be trying to follow us. I pull my own hood over my head and without even realizing it, I grip Zuko’s elbow. There’s a softness in his golden eyes when he looks back at me and warmth in his fingertips when he clasps his hand over mine. It’s the same comfort he gave me that night in his car and a glimpse of the vulnerability we shared at the tide pools.

I shudder and finally admit my biggest secret of all. Because when I say this, it means I’m not in control anymore. “Zuko, I’m scared.”

I have been all along. Ever since Mom died. I thought I could be brave. I thought I was strong, but—

“Me too, Katara.”

He’s not supposed to say that! I want to scream at him to fix this. He’s the one who should be brave and strong and better than this.

I storm off and make a scene right there in the airport even though we’re supposed to be flying under the radar. Zuko doesn’t run after me, though. He always knows when I need my space. He texts me our departure information, and by the time I meet him at the gate, I’ve realized how I misdirected my anger. Voicing my apology is hard because some things we haven’t talked about, yet.

“I’m sorry I got mad and ran off,” I start with a shrug. “B-b-but I’ve been blaming you—your family for my mom’s…”

“Yon Rha,” Zuko says.

“What?”

“He’s the man who—“ He winces. “When your mother’s investigation got too deep, my father hired someone to…”

I swallow hard and nod. I can’t decide if he’s telling me this to get a reprieve from my angry outbursts or so I can have some semblance of closure on the matter. I don’t think it’ll serve either purpose, but the look on his face is an odd mixture of hopefulness and regret. Maybe I can return the favor.

“Ikem,” I say.

“Who?”

“He’s the man—“ I watch his eyes go wide then dart from side to side. “Your mother,” I add with a whisper.

We hold each other’s gaze, both knowing this conversation is too risky to have right here, right now.

I am startled by the announcement on the loudspeaker. “We are now boarding passengers for Air Appa flight 813 nonstop service to Anchorage, Alaska.”

[azkabcn]

Zutara Week 2017: Day 3 - Steamy @zutaraweek

My second time participating in this, sadly I don´t think I´ll have time for another prompt but this was a lot of fun.

[bloodypriestess]

🌊🔥

Zutara Week - Underwater

I painted Katara and Zuko fighting in an underwater setting. I’m not sure if it is scientifically possible, but who cares really, it’s Avatar :p I don’t know why, but I’m still not completely happy with the result. 

@zutaraweek

[lykegenia]

Zutara Week Day 3: Steamy

Another year, another Zutara Week, another set of oneshots for my ZKWeek story A Life, Together, which you can find in its entirety here.

@zutaraweek

ZKWeek Day 3: Steamy Words: 2345 Summary: Katara has her first ‘oh no, he’s hot’ moment Read it on AO3

“Ta-da!”

Sokka stood in front of the rest of their group, his hands held out in an expansive gesture of presentation, with a grin on his face so wide it crinkled his eyes and showed every one of his teeth. Behind him stood a circular construction in mismatched stone – likely scrounged from the Western Air Temple’s crumbling masonry – which had a conical roof made of bamboo struts, overlaid with the tarp that used to form the roof of their shelter when they were still camping in the wilderness. Holes in the masonry were plugged with bunches of grass, and the whole thing looked like it would struggle to withstand even the smallest puff of air.

At least it explained his strange behaviour that morning.

“Well?” he demanded. “What do you think?”

“Uh…” Zuko glanced at the others, rubbing the back of his neck. “What is it?”

“It’s a shack,” Toph said. “Even I can see that.”

Sokka gave a disgusted squawk and threw his hands in the air. “It is not a shack!” he protested. “It’s a steam house. It’s a Water Tribe tradition!”

“I’ve heard of these!” Aang chimed in excitedly. “You sit in them and sweat out all the toxins in your body.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Twinkle toes, but we’re all already pretty sweaty. This humidity is going to kill me.”

“It’s meant to be very good for reaching the spirit world,” Aang replied with a shrug.

“Oh no,” Sokka groaned. “We aren’t doing that again. I was weirded out enough the first time, or don’t you remember what happened to me in Hei Bai Forest? No.” He held up a hand and began to count off on his fingers. “First, we are going to sit in there. Second, we’re going to relax and forget for an afternoon that we’re going to have to beat the Fire Lord. Third, we’re going to emerge refreshed and ready to get back to work.” He turned to Katara, the only one of the circle who had yet to speak. “Does that sound like a good plan?”

“Well, you are our go-to plan guy,” she replied, smiling. Despite the improvised construction, the roundhouse really did look like one of the steam huts they had had back in the village, before the soldiers went to war and the struggle for survival meant they had to do away with such luxuries.

“Do you have the camel moss?” she asked. The sweet-smelling lichen was added to the water to add fragrance to the steam, often along with other, more relaxing herbs.

Sokka beamed. “Bato gave me some before the invasion,” he said, and offered her a blue-patterned pouch filled to the brim with feathery, greyish moss. “It’s the real deal.”

“It is!” she cried, inhaling the sweet scent of the bag’s contents. “But… how are you planning to power this?”

“How do you think? We have one master waterbender –” he pointed to her – “One jerkbender –” to Zuko – “And one avatar who can do both. All we need to do is get the coals going and it’ll stay hot for hours.”

Katara glanced at Zuko and found him watching her warily. They had been in a cool stalemate ever since his return from the Sun Warriors with Aang, which had proved once and for all that whatever his reasons, the Fire Prince was no longer out to capture Aang. That made him an ally, and as the others became more accepting of his presence among them, her open hostility became harder to justify. Aang was especially good at throwing her pleading looks that made her feel guilty for being suspicious.

But how else could she act? Down in the catacombs of Ba Sing Se, she had let her guard down, and she was all too well aware how that had turned out. She couldn’t afford to trust him again, if only for Aang’s sake, but being so wired all the time was beginning to exhaust her.

And it was especially hard since Zuko was nothing like she expected him to be, day to day. She wanted him to be a stuck-up prince who left mess and expected others to clear up after him, but if anything, he was more considerate than the others.

“Don’t think I don’t see through this little act,” she had spat when he offered to clean the dishes after breakfast the previous week. “Why on earth would you want to?”

He had shrugged. “It’s not fair that you do everything.”

“Says the prince who’s never done a day of hard work in his life.”

For a beat, he had said nothing, clearly working out the best way to answer – he had taken to not addressing her hostility directly, having learned from Aang that sometimes it was better to circle and let your opponent do the work. That was frustrating, too.

“Believe what you want,” he had told her eventually. “But I lived in the lower ring of Ba Sing Se for months, and there weren’t any servants there.” And he had walked away.

The words had bothered her all day. She realised that between leaving him in the snow at the North Pole and finding him again in a tea shop in the Earth Kingdom, she had no idea what had happened to him. Thinking it might not all have been sunshine and daisies for him rankled, but then so did the fact that his offer to help had seemed genuine, and she had only snarled at him on reflex. Nobody else ever even noticed that she did most of the chores, let alone offered to help.

The next day, she had asked him, quietly, if he could sew. When he had answered, quietly, that he wasn’t very good but could mend basic tears, she knew he understood her sort-of apology, and walked away with a curious kind of twisting in the pit of her stomach. They hadn’t spoken since.

Now, Katara found herself shepherded into the steam house with everyone else. Inside it was snug, the light dimmed by the thick canvas of the roof, and it was very warm. A bucket of water stood on the floor next to a fire pit, the camel moss already steeping, waiting only for someone to ladle it out over the cluster of glowing coals. Sokka already sprawled across one of the benches, his arms and lanky legs spread out in a decent imitation of a starfish.

“Budge up,” she huffed, nudging one of his legs with her foot. “This is great.”

Her brother cracked open an eye to look at her. “You work hard, Katara. You deserve a break every now and then.”

She frowned, unsure how to respond to such an unprecedented acknowledgement of how she took care of them, but before she could dwell on it too much, Toph barged through the entrance, closely followed by Aang, and Katara had to sit down or risk stepping in the fire. Even with just four of them, the circular hut was rather squashed, and she felt an elbow dig uncomfortably into her side as she tried to get comfortable. And then Zuko arrived. Without his shirt.

It shouldn’t have bothered her so much – Aang and Sokka were topless, too, after all, though they were family so that didn’t really count. And neither of them looked like Zuko. In the muted light, the glow of the coals highlighted the fine tone of his physique, and the low ceiling only emphasised how tall he was. How had she never noticed that before? Suddenly self-conscious of how much skin she was exposing, sat there only in bindings and shorts, she tucked her legs up under the bench and brought her arms to rest in her lap, not quite hugging around her stomach. A chill ran up the back of her neck where the skin was exposed to the air.

“You okay, Sweetness?”

She glanced at Toph. “Fine.”

“Yeah, sure.” The younger girl grinned like a cat-monkey with cream, which did nothing to ease the new tension in Katara’s muscles.

And of course the only free space in the steam house was exactly opposite her. Zuko sat down, apparently unconscious of her irritation, and leaned back against the stone wall of the hut. His unruly hair skimmed the roof. Frowning, Katara supposed she should be grateful he was so far away, because otherwise he would have no doubt been next to her. She wouldn’t have been able to see him unless she looked – and she did not want to look, she had no interest in looking – but he would have been pressed against her side in the tight space, all that lean muscle and warmth and the dry muskiness of his scent.

“So how about some steam?” she asked, to distract herself from the shudder that tickled across her shoulders. She wanted to blame it on revulsion, but her heart wasn’t quite in it.

“Allow me, milady,” Aang said with his goofiest smile before she could raise her hand to bend the water. She grinned back at him, and seconds later the hut was filled with a cloud of thick, fragrant steam.

Katara allowed herself to drift, and the others did, too. In the silence, she sank into the soothing aroma of the camel moss, letting it take her back to a time when she was very young and the elders would gather round the long-fire in the big house to tell stories about the spirits. She amused herself by bending the steam into the shapes of fish and great whales, and the lithe, sinuous form of the dragon who was meant to bring thunderstorms in summer. Feeling the corner of her mouth quirk up, she flicked her fingers and the dragon breathed a tiny puff of steam where it circled above her head.

The smile faded when she caught a pair of golden eyes watching her from across the coals. Zuko glanced away, but the look made something itch beneath her skin, so she closed her eyes and leaned her head back, determined to block him from her mind completely.

When she opened her eyes again some while later, everyone else had already left. Most of the steam had escaped through the cracks in the walls, and all that was left was a dry, clean heat that raised prickles of sweat along her skin. Rubbing her tiredness out of her eyes, Katara stood and shuffled to the entrance, a slight headache throbbing behind her eyes brought on by dehydration. The fountain in the nearby courtyard ran with cool water, a perfect substitute for the ice pool traditionally used to clear away the sticky heat of the steam house.

As she walked through the surprisingly cool air of the temple halls, Katara wondered where the others had gone, why nobody had woken her when they left. The sun was low on the horizon, which meant it was almost dinner, and she had done none of the preparations she had meant to do. The worries that just a few minutes before had seemed trivial crowded round her, twining back into her limbs like the vines around the Air Temple itself, and with a sigh she bent the sweat off her body without waiting for the pool and hurried the familiar route back to the hall they used as their main shared space.

What she found left her open-mouthed.

The living space, usually scattered about with spare bedrolls, scrolls, and plans, was neatly tidied with a stack of firewood piled in one corner and their food supplies in another. She could smell dinner cooking, and noticed Sokka frowning over the stewpot. Occasionally, he muttered to himself and gave the fire below a prod with a long, forked stick, while Toph bent the dust out of the cracks in the floor so that the mosaic there gleamed.

“What is all this?” she asked.

The pair froze as if caught doing something they should be guilty for.

“Katara!” It was Aang, sliding to a stop behind her, out of breath.

“Aw man, Twinkle Toes,” Toph complained. “You were meant to keep her busy.”

“I had to feed Appa,” protested Aang, before turning to Katara. “It was meant to be a surprise,” he explained, blushing. “You do so much for all of us, and, well… we thought you deserved a break.”

Katara felt the same suspicion as earlier sneak over her. “Aang, this wasn’t… Zuko’s idea, was it?” she asked. The Fire Prince was nowhere to be seen.

“No!” Aang cried, hurt. “It was mine. Though I was training with him when I had the idea,” he added.

At that moment, Zuko himself emerged from deeper within the temple, carrying a small bag with him. He handed it over to Sokka, who sniffed dubiously before pulling out several small jars of what looked like spices. Katara watched as Zuko gave instructions about which to add to the food already bubbling on the fire, the slight stain of colour on his cheeks the only indicator that he knew she was there. Could he have masterminded this?

Aang was still talking.

“… so we decided to give you a day off, and Sokka said we should make your favourite, so it’s a good thing Zuko said he brought Fire Nation ingredients with him when he came after us. What do you think of it?”

She glanced down into Aang’s grinning face, the grey eyes eager for her approval, and found her thoughts still whirling. She still didn’t trust Zuko, she couldn’t bring herself to forget what he did in Ba Sing Se. There had been too many times when she thought the best of the world and the consequences of her good nature snaked back to bite her in the arm. But still… If her suspicions were correct, then he had done all of this for her, just to be nice, without any desire for his efforts to be recognised.

Her chest constricted.

“Well?” Aang prompted. “Isn’t it amazing?”

“Yes,” she agreed. “It is.”

[chelociraptor]

Zutara Week 2017, Day 7: Starlight

@zutaraweek 2017, Day 7: Starlight

This morphed into something more angsty than the original version of this idea...If I have time, I might write a happier starlight-themed thing, but for now, have a serving of pain, if you please. There are hints of Kataang and Maiko in here because it’s meant to be set in the “canon” universe, but I decided not to tag the other two ships...especially because I know it’s Kataang Week right now too, and I want to be respectful.

This is another one I have vague ideas to turn into an actual full AU divergence fic one day, but for now, just a one-shot.

Summary: Katara comforts Zuko after the death of Iroh.

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11647131

Dimness had fallen over the courtyard, the deep night sky casting blue light against the warm glow of torches and shimmering across the surface of the turtleduck pond. Katara could see him sitting at the edge -- the Fire Lord, still and silent and staring at something she could not see. Zuko.

“You’ve been out here for hours…” she started, he voice gentle and prodding. (Are you okay? goes the line, the natural course, but Zuko was not okay -- words weren’t necessary to figure that out.)

No response came. No response was needed.

The grass was soft as her knees hit the ground beside him, one hand tentatively resting on his back. She could feel the knotted tension in his muscles and the way their strain gave way to her touch in silent acceptance, though his eyes never left the rippling surface of the pond. Katara watched as the starlight stretched and twisted around the turtleducks, shimmering and settling and swirling again.

So many years had passed between them, so much had changed, yet the pull of loss was heavy between them. Their faces were now lined with decades left behind, but as her eyes lifted to his nightlit face, she saw the same boy who made her heart flutter treacherously in the crystal catacombs, the one who gave her the closure she so desperately needed when facing her mother’s killer. He had once been the face of the enemy, but now his face represented the greatest leap of positive reform in his nation’s history, reaching across borders to clasp hands with a world his family had nearly burnt to ash.

His uncle had been with him through it all, but that evening, Iroh had been laid to rest, body bathed in flames as those who knew him best were left feeling cold. Katara could feel the pain radiating, almost tangible in the air, and no matter how full Iroh’s life had been, she felt a hole in her own heart at his absence -- could only imagine the gaping chasm in Zuko’s.

Words danced at the tip of her tongue, platitudes about how proud Iroh had been of his nephew, how deep that love had gone, but they fell back in her throat, silenced by the cool stillness of the courtyard, however sincere.

Instead her fingers brushed up to rest between his shoulderblades, tangling loosely in the silk-soft hair falling over his shoulders and down his back. Each touch was tentative, almost self-conscious and all too aware of the thin line they tread, the lives they led. She could not betray Aang -- neither of them could -- nor would honor permit him to betray his own wife, yet her buzzing mind betrayed her still, even now. The age of raging hormones had long-since passed, and she had assumed that rush would pass with it -- yet now, well into middle age, she wasn’t sure if she hated the feeling or hated the fact that she could help relishing that quiet closeness.

He turned his face to hers, expression unreadable, but as her other hand reached to cup the scar on his face, something in his amber eyes seemed to crack, and as his eyes closed, the subtle flickers on his face broke her heart. Her thumb traced the line of his scar, fingers near-trembling as she withdrew them again. All she wanted was to ease the ache, to carry even a little of the weight on his shoulders. With a wave of abandon, she shifted back and threw her arms around his neck, form flush against his back with her face burying in the crook of his neck. She felt him startle, settle, slump back into the hug, and she held tighter.

I love you. “He loved you so much. The road was rocky, but you are a remarkable leader, and he was prouder than anyone.”

“I didn’t deserve him.” For a moment, Zuko sounded so much younger, strained and lost, shaken and far more vulnerable than she had seen him in years.

“That isn’t true, and you know it,” she said, her voice gentle and stern as she unhooked her arms from his neck. “Now come here, you.” Tugging at his shoulders, she leaned in for another hug, this time pulling him to his knees for a proper hug as her arms snaked around his chest this time.

“I miss him.” His breath was warm as it crept down her neck, leaving little goosebumps in its wake.

“I know.”

“I’m a grown man. I feel so pathetic right now.”

“Having feelings about your uncle’s passing isn’t pathetic,” she objected into his shoulder, hugging a little tighter. “Feelings are a beautiful and wonderful thing.”

Zuko was silent for a beat, his face lifting just enough to rest against her temple, nose brushing her hair. “...I know...I know they are. I don’t know, I just…”

“It’s okay,” she said when he had fallen quiet again, the sad hint of a smile flickering at the edge of her lips. “You don’t have to know right now.”

Closing her eyes, she felt the press of his nose as he nodded, and although the embrace was passing the point of social appropriateness, she couldn’t will her arms to unlock. Pressed to his chest, she could feel the soft pattering of his heart, a little quicker than normal and falling in time with her own. She wasn’t sure how long they had been kneeling like that, frozen in time beneath the starlit sky, but as she felt him stir subtly, it was like pulling back from a warm, pleasant haze -- a feeling that pooled guiltily as he started to say something against her temple.

Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to find out tonight.

“Zuko!”

The spell was wholly broken, each of them jerking slightly as their arms retracted to an appropriate distance, face flushing a little more brightly than either would have liked. It was a hug, she reminded herself, trying to drain that growing feeling of guilt, but her eyes found his mouth, and all she could think about was the way they had brushed against her temple just seconds before.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she let loose a mental lashing. Stupid, stupid, you are not some ridiculous teenager, stop acting like it. Just stop. When again her eyes opened, she saw Mai more clearly, standing with her arms crossed loosely across her chest. Katara thought it might be a scowl on the other woman’s face, but even after all these years, she had trouble reading the subtleties of Mai’s expressions. When their eyes met, Katara was pretty sure that flickering switch in demeanor was a scowl, but the ambiguity returned as Mai returned her attention to Zuko. She rested a hand on his back -- he was standing, now -- as if to nudge him back the way she had come.

“Have you been out here this whole time?” Katara heard the other woman say, her words drifting back to the pond, though Katara knew they were not meant for her. There was an edge of annoyance that made Katara cringe, biting back the urge to object, to remind Mai that it was Iroh’s funeral -- but if anything, she thought her words might make it worse. “Izumi wanted to see you before she went to bed. She was waiting for you.”

Whatever exchange the couple went on to have, Katara didn’t know -- their voices quieted and began to fade sooner than their forms did, but as they reached the pillars, Zuko glanced back for a fleeting moment to meet her eyes, gracing a small smile that seemed to say ‘thank you’ before turning forward again, soon to disappear through the arching doorway.

A small smile of her own had etched itself on her face, but the ache in her chest twisted so tightly she could scarcely breathe, and when she lifted her eyes to the sky, the stars had splayed out into blurry splotches, dotted all across her vision. Clenching her eyes closed, she felt the salty burn as tears trickled down each cheek to her chin, from her chin to land on her loosely folded hands. Sucking in a surprised breath, she hastily wiped the treacherous evidence from her face, measuring each inhale and exhale until she had steadied.

“I love my husband,” she whispered to herself, and it wasn’t a lie, but every fiber in her being yearned to rewind back to that frozen moment, the raw feeling of connection, of being needed without reserve. Without distraction.

Once again, the stars were scattered with pinprick precision, sharp against the ink-black sky, and she let out a soft sigh as her fingers brushed along the surface of the pond, breaking those reflected stars into gentle ripples. They had seen, and they knew.

She loved her husband, but she was in love with someone she could never have.

[waterlilly37]

Happy Zutara Week 2017! I've been a Zutarian for seven years now, however, this is the first Zutara week that I'm participating in. I just kept missing when the week actually happened, to the point I thought Zutara week was a myth. I would've written a story, but I've been very sick recently. I couldn't work up the strength to get out a good enough story, so I decided to use The Sims 4 to make Zuko and Katara Sims. I think the pictures came out good, and I hope my fellow Zutarians will enjoy them. Hopefully, I'll feel better soon so I can start writing again. Love <3 Poses: SICILIAFOREVER Red Dress: Colores Urbanos Katara's Necklace: Jruvv Zuko's Scar: Simmi98x's Hair: Kijiko Everything Else: EA/Maxis

[addictofreading]

Zutara Week 2017- Steamy

 I enjoy Sokka so very much! 

Also, I feel like after getting to know Zuko, Sokka developed a good respect for him and would generally approve of him as a match for Katara. Of course, being Sokka, he also wouldn’t be able to pass up making jokes at their expense when the opportunity arises. ;)

@zutaraweek

[pethfics]

ZUTARA WEEK DAY 6: SOULMATES

Title: Nothing Less Will Do

Read on FF.Net

NOTE: This was the toughest prompt to write for, by far. There were just so many possibilities and the ideas I came up with I had more or less already tackled in other stories. And a concept so profound deserves a longer, more complex take and I really don't have the time and creativity for that.

But, as always, I like experimenting with perspectives so I figured I'd try to write for this ship using Iroh and Kanna. And it turned out to be an interesting journey. Some parts seem repetitive but that's intentional, my attempt at parallelism.

I always enjoy writing about supporting characters shipping my ships, and I've written Iroh's perspective before but never Kanna's so that was a fascinating treat. I'm sure they would both be very supportive of a good relationship for their nephew/granddaughter and they would also have some pretty high standards.

So here goes. Another reflective piece, but hopefully one that still does some justice to the penultimate prompt of the week.

Enjoy!

@zutaraweek

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Kanna knew about these things.

She watched her granddaughter grow in strength and kindness and she could not have been more proud.

Kanna sensed that the young waterbender was destined for great things, to play a significant part in a journey beyond the Southern Water Tribe. And though she would miss the girl terribly, she knew that Katara also deserved to see more of the world and to help save it. Katara was ready to face any hardship the world threw at her, there was no doubt about it.

And knowing Katara, she would never be alone in her struggles. Her brother would always be there to support her and with her generous nature, she was sure to make friends anywhere she went. But Kanna also hoped that her granddaughter might make a more profound connection with someone someday, forge a bond that would shape her for life.

The grandmother had her standards for this hypothetical person. Naturally, she wanted only the best for her beloved granddaughter. He would have to be just as kind and generous as Katara, loyal to a fault, and always willing to help others. He would have to have strong convictions and he should be willing to fight for these beliefs. He would have to admire Katara's qualities but also not be afraid to challenge her on occasion. If the circumstances were dire, he would have to be willing to sacrifice himself to save her, to throw himself in the path of danger without hesitation if it meant giving Katara a chance. The list went on and on, but Kanna would settle for nothing less.

But, of course, Katara didn't need anyone to complete her happiness. Nevertheless, Kanna hoped, that if her granddaughter was lucky, she would meet someone who would brave all the storms with her.

"And who knows?" Kanna mused with a wistful smile, "Perhaps one day, this person might suddenly arrive at the South Pole."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Iroh knew about these things.

He had always believed that Zuko's destiny would lead him down a difficult path but one that would make him emerge triumphant at the end of it. Greatness would not come because he was a member of the royal family or the heir to the throne. Zuko was more than just a prince of the Fire Nation and Iroh had been confident that his nephew would prove to be a far better man than his father could ever be.

So he stood by Zuko through his banishment and all the trials that followed. He knew that there was more to the young man than his anger, and that when he finally let go of his need for his father's approval and followed what his heart told him, he could be free. Iroh knew that Zuko would grow in kindness and strength, and when the latter finally started this journey, the uncle could not be more proud.

And maybe someday, if he was really lucky, Iroh thought with amusement, Zuko would find someone who would make him very happy, who would forge a unique and profound bond with him through shared experience.

This would be a rare person, Iroh decided, one who have to possess many qualities: loyalty, passion, kindness, generosity, conviction, compassion, and the list went on and on. She would have to be understanding of Zuko's taciturn nature, open-minded enough to see through the latter's mask of seriousness. She would have to understand Zuko's "unique" sense of humor and she would have to be capable of eliciting rare smiles from him. And she would have to be able to call Zuko out on his occasional folly and to challenge him whenever necessary.

With someone like this Iroh was confident Zuko would find happiness. Not that he needed someone else to complete his life. But Iroh knew that should Zuko be so fortunate, he would do everything in his power to make this person as happy as he was. Iroh was thrilled at the prospect of seeing his nephew find someone he truly loved and who would love him.

An added criteria for Iroh was someone with a proper appreciation of tea. His nephew might not be as fond of the beverage as he was (though lately he was developing a taste for it at last), but Iroh would not approve of anyone for Zuko who did not like tea.

Did such a person exist? For Zuko's sake, Iroh hoped so.  

"And who knows?" the old firebender mused with a wry smile, "Any moment now, this wonderful person may even walk through the doors of the Jasmine Dragon."

[peachpie24]

Zutara Week 2017: Fire Lady

Here’s my first contribution to Zutara Week and my first attempt on actually going through with a story idea. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Sorry about any imperfections, I’m not a native English speaker, and I’m pretty new to this. @zutaraweek

I woke up to a comfortable and familiar tickle on my skin. While the sun was slowly climbing its way up the east window of the Fire Lord’s chambers, bathing everything in it in a golden shimmer, I opened my eyes to an even more beautiful sight to my left.

There she is lying. My Katara. My newlywed wife. My Fire Lady.

As she is still calmly cuddled against me, little fragments of last night are coming back to me. Her beautiful dark hair surrounding me, her soft and cool skin balancing out the increasing heat of my body, holding her close to me while her gleaming blue eyes looked at me, into my soul. We were like fire and ice crashing together, fighting and dancing at the same time. It was truly the most wonderful night of my life.

To think that the same girl I was now lying next to, skin to skin, was just a while ago my sworn enemy… My uncle was right. Destiny really is a funny thing.

A firebender marrying a waterbender is controversial enough as is, but the Fire Lord marrying the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe had many people upset with this split from tradition.

That’s why Katara has been worrying so much lately. It broke my heart to see her that sad. She has spent a lot of time trying to learn as much as she could about the traditions and duties of a Fire Lady, always thinking she isn’t good enough to be the Fire Lady of this nation. I couldn’t tell her often enough that she would do amazingly, that she had it in her to do great things.

I thought back to the evening before. Wandering through the palace to calm myself down before the wedding, I walked past a slightly opened door. Standing there in front of a mirror was Katara. But something about her expression was off. She didn’t look happy.

I stepped in, worried about my soon-to-be wife. Without turning around she looked at me through the mirror. My jaw dropped. She was beautiful, and her wedding gown was as mesmerizing as she was. The dark red silk dress fit her body perfectly. But something special caught my eye. Cursive lines of pure aquamarine stones had been sewn into the dress, forming beautiful patterns that were flowing like water and fire. She had managed to find the ideal Fire Lady dress, while still staying true to her origin by implementing the wonderful gems. Blue and red were balancing each other out so perfectly, against all odds. Only Katara could make something like that work. Like she had with me.

The only thing that didn’t fit into the picture was her worried gaze. I took a few steps towards her, asking what’s wrong.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Zuko,” she said, lowering her face and wrapping her fingers around the stone of the betrothal necklace I had given her a while ago. While I had been sure that she wouldn’t want to give up the necklace her mother gave her, I had also known that she would want her tribe’s traditions honored. So one night while Katara had been asleep, I’d borrowed the necklace to add a Fire Nation twist to it. Now a red piece of ribbon was carefully integrated in the original band of the necklace with which I had proposed to her the next day.

I walked up to her and let my hands slip around her waist, holding her tightly.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet,” I answered, acting playfully shocked.

“You know it’s not that,” she said, reaching for my hands on her belly, “How can I be the Fire Lady of the Fire Nation if I’m not even a Fire Nation citizen? How can I even attempt to step into the shoes of your mother who was loved by everyone in this state?”

“Honey, have I ever told you the story about how I told my mother about my plans to marry you?” I watched her shake her head slowly as she curiously watched my face behind her in the mirror.

“I went to see her a while back. She wanted to know about everything important or new in my life, so all I could talk about was you. She told me she is glad to finally see me so happy. That I have found someone who can take care of me and make me laugh despite my troubled past. You make me forget my pain, Katara, and she is incredibly thankful for that, as I am. And she told me that anyone who can manage to do that, will not only be a loving, devoted and caring wife to me, but also as a Fire Lady to the nation.”

“She really said that?”

“She believes in you, Katara. And I do, too. You have it in you. You are an incredible person and you always think of others. And my people will see that, too. I don’t even know how you can be so strong and faithful and merciful. How can you have all of that in you, but not see it? I love you. And this whole nation will love you. The will adore you and they will respect you. I believe in you.”

She turned around to face me and looked at me with watery eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered in my ear while giving me a big loving hug. Then future wife gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I think we have already broken enough pre-wedding rules as is, so maybe we should at least save the kiss for later,” she said with a smile on her face.

“So you still want to marry me?” I asked her, still holding her close to me.

“Of course, silly. That at least I never doubted for a second. I want to be yours, forever. I love you so much,” she said, snuggling into my chest.

The sound of those words is still echoing in my mind as I look at her sleepy face next to me. I would do anything for this girl. I mean, I even went Ice Dodging with her brother and father to prove worthy of her hand in marriage. Of course I’d never tell her that. She would rip my head off for doing something so dangerous without her.

But I’m more afraid of not having her by my side than I am of death. I realized that the second my crazy sister let her eyes swift towards Katara during our Agni Kai. I didn’t even have to think about it. I jumped. And as I got hit by the power of her lightning, I didn’t see my life passing in front of my eyes. I saw her. I saw Katara from every single angle, in every single situation, with every single emotion he has ever been near her. The way she was always happy and loving towards her family, the way she was forgiving and trustful even to those who don’t deserve it. The way she had looked at me with fear and disgust in her eyes for what feels like a thousand times, and the way my heart broke when she carefully watched me suspiciously after I had broken her trust.

I was filled with so much regret for the way I had treated her that I just wanted to let go and let the lightning overcome me. But then I felt her. And I saw her. Her beautiful blue eyes filled with worry and fear. And… Something else. Longing. Those eyes looking at me with a love I hadn’t felt in forever.

And as I held on to that feeling, I knew that she is all I’ve ever needed in my life. That her lying next to me in this bed is the biggest honor I could ever receive. The honor of having Katara as my Fire Lady.