Chapter Text
In from the snow
Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow
Tarnished but so grand
...
Oh, I can't
Stop you putting roots in my dreamland
My house of stone, your ivy grows
And now I'm covered in you
- “ivy,” Taylor Swift
The Fire Lord’s office is not what it ought to be, one of a few anomalies within the palace much like its master. Visitors to this space often expect it to be the way it was under his predecessor’s rule: dark, ominous, impersonal, full of secret alcoves wherein loyalists or the man himself might eavesdrop on the unsuspecting. A decade’s time has done nothing to dissuade the presumptions of first-time guests.
But Fire Lord Zuko is not his father and sunlight floods the room in glossy, glittering swaths of light. Even at night, he does not approve of having the curtains drawn in this room, preferring to have an unobstructed view of the moon as it rises over the caldera. The walls are cluttered with portraits of his mother, his uncle, his cousin, and his friends. One corner of the room houses a star blossom plant from the Southern Water Tribe that the Fire Lord cares for personally. A cluster of metal dragons takes up an entire shelf of his bookcase and a hand-carved and -painted boomerang hangs parallel to a katana from Kyoshi Island. Perhaps most peculiar are the masks that hang above the door to the office. A gift from Avatar Aang himself, the masks are antiques from a centuries old production of Love Amongst the Dragons, a play which the Fire Lord is known to detest.
Among this cluster of curiosities (of which there are many more—the Fire Lord’s friends are nothing if not affectionate and sentimental) is the Fire Lord’s desk, always pristinely organized, never overrun with documents. An elegant tea set painted with delicate white jasmine flowers maintains a claim over a dedicated corner of the desk and there is always some delicious brew on offer. It is the desk of a meticulous young man dedicated to forging a courageous new path for his nation.
It is in this room that Fire Lord Zuko has had seven other meetings similar to the one that is about to take place. At this point, it has become a yearly tradition that his advisors blame on the fact that their sovereign prefers to work alongside those of a similar age to himself. If only he would request someone older, they say, more established then he wouldn’t have this problem. Zuko doesn’t want someone entrenched in the old ways, though. He wants someone with passion and drive and hope. He wants someone who is unafraid of upending tradition and flouting expectations. Every time he thinks he’s getting that, though, he ends up...here.
“Tea, ambassador?” Zuko offers, gesturing to the teapot where a fresh blend of white rose has just finished steeping.
She only smiles, though, and says, “No, thank you,” as she fiddles with the ornate braids wound into her updo.
Zuko sighs and steeples his long fingers. He can’t help but glance down at the letter of resignation in front of him with a trepidatious and somewhat affronted heart. There are rumors, he knows, that this position is cursed. Too much turn over will do that, especially when the boss is benevolent and good-hearted.
“I wish I could say I’m surprised,” he says, “but I’m aware of the cultural norms in the Southern Water Tribe.”
The ambassador flushes, her bright eyes sparkling with evident joy. For several days now, her upswept hair has been dotted with violet and lavender beads, a signal that, after five instances, has long since become a dead giveaway that Zuko should be anticipating a replacement from Hakoda sometime soon. From the beginning, he’d wanted Katara for the job. He’d trusted her father the first time around, though, gladly accepting the nomination of a young warrior to the post. But after two years, that young gentleman had met a girl from the Earth Kingdom who inspired him not only to leave his position within his tribe and the Fire Nation, but to move across the world and begin a new life.
What followed was a succession of five young women and another young man who had all ended up tendering their resignations in favor of returning home to marry or moving across the world to do the same. Zuko had grown skilled in knowing when it was about to happen. He’d been friends with Katara and Sokka for too long not to know what it meant when a girl from the south started wearing her hair up. It was a mark of intention, a signal that she’d settled on the man she wanted to marry. The beads were a gift from her intended, his acknowledgement of the engagement. So Zuko had been waiting for Ambassador Nashota’s resignation in the knowledge that it was only a matter of time before he’d be writing another letter to Hakoda begging, pleading, to please send Katara because she was made for something like this.
“It’s been an honor to serve my nation here with you, Fire Lord Zuko,” Nashota says with a respectful nod of her embellished head. “I’ve been glad to work alongside someone with an open mind and a willingness to do good in the world.”
“But the heart has a stronger call than politics,” Zuko says.
“Perhaps Chief Hakoda will send a replacement whose heart’s call is politics.” Nashota smiles. “Or someone whose heart is not in danger of falling prey to love as easily as their predecessors’.”
“My uncle would say that only a fool turns his back on love.”
“And you?”
Zuko rolls up the letter of resignation and tucks it away in a drawer that slides shut with finality. “I wish you nothing but happiness, Ambassador Nashota,” he says.
When he stands, she follows suit and dips a sharp, deep bow before turning to walk out of his office. Zuko waits for the door to slide shut behind her before sinking back into his seat and drawing his letter to Hakoda from within another drawer in his desk. He considers the words on the page for a few long minutes, a frown furrowing his brow, before abruptly crumpling it into a tight ball and drawing another sheaf of paper towards himself and starting anew.
It takes no time at all to have the zeppelin and a trunk of warm garments readied, but Zuko still finds himself waiting two impatient days before leaving in order to give the messenger hawk enough time to reach the Southern Water Tribe first. Propriety means that he cannot show up unannounced and this is far from a personal visit.
The zeppelins are an engineering marvel. What would have taken days on Appa now takes a matter of hours and is something that Zuko has yet to adjust to. Certainly, flying around with the others on Appa had been faster than the ship he’d spent three years on, but even the unique experience of flying around the world on the back of an air bison had nothing on traversing half the planet in a matter of hours. The flight requires an early start, of course, but Zuko is nothing if not an early riser, and so he’s ready to leave at the fifth hour and spends the duration of the journey reviewing meeting minutes and signing off on policies.
By the time one of the crewmembers stops by to announce the impending descent, Zuko’s desk aboard the zeppelin is as neat and tidy as the one back home and he is watching the slow approach of the snowy ground from the window, hands clasped behind his back and a cloak lined with dark fur draped about his shoulders. There’s not much to see out the window at this point, the sun has long since set on an autumn day in the Southern Water Tribe, but he watches the lights surrounding the zeppelin’s landing pad grow brighter and sharper in clarity. When the ship touches down, he glimpses Katara and Sokka from the window, the latter with his arm slung around his sister’s shoulder and his face serious as he speaks to her.
How long has it been since he’s seen them now? A year? Two years? Surely not. It hasn’t been that long since everyone last reconnected in Ba Sing Se…
Except it has.
Sokka and Katara stand there in the deep navy trappings of warriors, crescent moons and waves emblazoned across their chests. It’s hard not to see the familial similarities in their features. The shape of their eyes, the slopes of their noses, the tilt of the smiles they cast each other when the serious moment they’re sharing breaks. If Zuko didn’t know them, he might mistake them for twins. But he does know them and he sees the differences, even after two years of never seeing their faces. Even from here, he sees how Sokka’s eyes light up with mischief and how this is offset by the innate maturity with which Katara conducts herself. There is something about her that is unfamiliar. Zuko knows how much like his father Sokka looks, but there is something in Katara that Zuko has never been able to place that must have come from their mother.
He misses something during the time he spends disembarking, because he walks off the zeppelin to find Sokka yelping and grabbing at the back of his parka as he leaps through the air. Zuko’s eyes meet Katara’s and he finds her smirking even as she walks serenely forward to greet him.
“Welcome to the Southern Water Tribe, Fire Lord Zuko.” Katara holds her hand out and Zuko meets her to complete the gesture, their hands wrapping around one another’s forearms. “Shall we?” She gestures towards the sweeping walkway that leads into town.
“What’s wrong with Sokka?”
“I bent a little snow down the back of his parka,” Katara says. “Nothing he won’t recover from.”
“I said I’d do anything to make you smile, Katara! I didn’t say you could use your magic water to make yourself smile!”
“Sokka,” there is danger in Katara’s tone, “what did we talk about?”
“I don’t know, Katara! It’s hard to remember when there’s icy water dripping into my buttcrack!”
Zuko glances sidelong at the waterbender. Katara walks with her chin held high and purpose clear in her eyes. There is a serene confidence to her stride and a sharpness to her gaze that almost dares someone to challenge her verbally or physically. Nothing in the way she carries herself seems in need of cheering up, but then he might be out of practice in picking up on her moods.
“Everything okay?” he asks quietly.
Blue eyes cut upwards, meeting his glance. And though it’s been two years, Zuko can still see the exact moment the steel in her soul softens. The corners of her eyes crinkle. A soft dimple divots its way into her right cheek. Something in his chest tightens.
“Yes,” Katara says. “It’s wonderful. We’re glad to have you here, Zuko.”
Behind them, Sokka mutters complaints about annoying sisters and stupid magic water. If Zuko tips his head the exact right way, Sokka’s curses fade into non-existence, buried by the crunch of boots over ice and snow.
Zuko admires the simplistic, egalitarian nature of the Southern Water Tribe. There are no obvious districts segregated by wealth or blood. Back home, the richer you are and the better you marry, the closer you can afford to live to the palace. Here, the center of the community is a large rotunda dedicated as a meeting hall. The houses that spread out from it in concentric circles are all relatively uniform in size and shape and people tend to live closest to where they need to be for work. Here, the people hunt and gather together in order to provide for everyone.
Homes made of ice that glitter under the flickering street lamps shouldn’t be warm and welcoming. The thought of it is entirely counterintuitive. Over the years, though, Zuko has been a guest in Hakoda’s home on multiple occasions and has found the chief’s residence to be nothing but cozy. Inside, he sheds his cloak and gloves and finds himself folded into Kanna’s soft, grandmotherly embrace.
“I know you’re here for business,” she says, “but you’re not here to pick a fight with me this time, so I can do this.”
Over Kanna’s head, Zuko watches Katara’s shoulders stiffen. She pauses for a moment and then steps quickly from the room, disappearing down a hallway. When the firebender looks to Sokka, the warrior only shrugs and then busies himself at a table in the corner of the main room, sorting through a pile of what looks to be small pieces of turquoise and scratching at the stubble along his jaw.
Pulling back, Kanna claps her hands to Zuko’s upper arms and gives him an assessing once over. “Give us just a few minutes and Katara and I will get a square meal in you,” she says. “You’re looking a little scrawny.”
He doesn’t feel like he’s scrawny, but he’s learned better than to argue with his friends’ grandmother. While Kanna busies herself in the designated kitchen area, Zuko ambles over to Sokka. Upon closer inspection, he can see that the rocks are actually beads, some of them carved with fans, others with flowers or cresting waves. Zuko picks one up and examines it closer. The carvings are meticulous given the artist responsible and the size of the beads.
“Are you and Suki…?”
Sokka flushes and holds his palm out for the bead which Zuko dutifully passes back. “Not yet,” Sokka says, voice stiff. “She’s not… Whatever. It’s fine. I just thought I’d be prepared.” He plunks down into a chair, pulls a small, sharp knife from his boot, and sets to work on an uncarved bead.
Feeling as though he’s struck a nerve, Zuko backs away from Sokka’s workspace and is, thankfully, saved by Katara’s voice calling his name. He turns to find her emerging from the dark hallway like a shadow.
“Dad’s ready for you.”
“Thanks.”
“Good luck,” Sokka mutters, but something in his words sounds insincere and leaves Zuko rattled as he follows Katara down the hallway.
They pause outside the door to Hakoda’s study where Katara knocks twice before opening the door and motioning for Zuko to step through. He does so and turns to thank her, but her eyes dart quickly away from his before he can open his mouth. Light and quick, she closes the door, leaving Zuko alone with her father.
Like Zuko’s office in the palace, Hakoda’s study is a reflection of all that the man holds dear. Spears hang behind his desk, furs lie across the icy floor, a collection of ivory and gold beads sits in a glass apothecary jar on his desk, and a portrait of his children hangs next to the door. A one-stringed lute and a set of drums cluster together in a corner. Zuko wonders how many music nights those instruments saw when Hakoda was away at war with his men. Years of getting to know the chief better have shown the firebender that Hakoda and Iroh have more than just a few things in common.
“Fire Lord Zuko.” Hakoda levers himself up out of his chair, palms heavy on the surface of his desk, before snagging a cane from nearby and using it to hobble around the desk to greet Zuko. “Sorry I didn’t make it out to greet you.” He taps his leg with the cane. “Old war wound decided to flare up today.”
“That’s alright, sir. I understand.”
Hakoda doesn’t bother with returning to his seat. He only leans back against his desk and folds his arms over his chest. As such, Zuko doesn’t try to move to one of the visitors’ chairs.
“We both know why you’re here,” Hakoda says, “but I’m afraid that I can’t help you, son.”
“Chief Hakoda, this is the eighth ambassador in ten years. My advisors are beginning to worry that relations with the Southern Water Tribe aren’t as stable as they should be,” Zuko says. He can’t manage to keep the desperation from his voice. “I understand that Katara is integral to the tribe. She teaches the waterbenders and trains the warriors and she’s been overseeing the healers in your hospital. But I know her. There’s no way that she doesn’t want to do more for her people. This posting… It’s ideal for her!”
“Believe it or not, I agree with you.”
“Then why—”
“Because it’s not my decision to make,” Hakoda says calmly and evenly. His words catch Zuko off guard.
“I’ve asked you every year.”
“And I’ve asked Katara. You’re trying to convince the wrong person, Zuko. Katara makes her own decisions and, for whatever reason, she hasn’t been receptive to this. I’m more than willing to send her, but you’ll have to talk her into it first. If she even can be.”
Katara is well aware of the fact that Sokka follows her out of the house when she steps out to gather snow for Gran Gran. Her brother has never been subtle and he’s been watching her every movement since they received Zuko’s hawk the day before. And though she appreciates how nice and supportive Sokka is trying to be, she also knows it’s only a matter of time before he gives something away. Not a minute into their walk to the house and he’d had Zuko questioning what was wrong.
She kneels into the snow and begins scooping some into the bowl Gran Gran had provided her with, waiting for Sokka to speak. Waterbending would be faster, it’s true, but Katara also knows that whatever her brother says can’t be taken into the house at this time.
“We both know why he’s here, Katara.”
The waterbender sighs and shoves an errant curl of hair out of her eyes before returning to her task. “We can both assume to know why he’s here, Sokka,” she replies.
Under the darkness of the South Pole night, the snow has taken on hues of blue and purple that grow darker when Sokka’s shadow falls closer. Katara listens to her brother’s footsteps shuffle around, crunching on hard-packed areas. Gauging how much snow is in the bowl, Katara scoops more into it and waits for her brother to continue.
“I think you should do it.”
“It’s a bad idea, Sokka.”
“You still feel the same way, huh?”
Katara’s heart stutters in her chest and she closes her eyes to tamper down the flush that colors her cheeks. It’s no help, though, because all she sees then is Zuko stepping off the zeppelin’s ramp, tall and imposing, his hair brushing his shoulders and a spark of excitement in his eyes. Of course she still feels the same way. She knows the person buried deep below the regalia of the Fire Lord and how could she not feel like this considering that fact?
“You should just go for it,” Sokka says.
“Yeah?” Katara challenges, rising to her feet, bowl of snow in hand. “Then you should just ask Suki to marry you already.”
Her brother’s eyes fly wide and his own cheeks flush. “That’s not tradition, Katara!”
“And Suki isn’t Water Tribe. She’s talking about establishing a branch of the Kyoshi Warriors here, Sokka. I don’t know how much harder she can hint!”
Sokka blinks at her, momentarily caught off guard, and then shakes his head. “Don’t try to change the subject,” he says. “Katara, Zuko is here in person. How much more of a hint do you need?”
“It’s a job, not a marriage proposal! He’s not here because he has feelings for me. He’s here because he wants me to take a job.”
“So take the damn job!”
“It’ll be too hard, Sokka.”
“He already respects you as a person and a politician,” he argues. “If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have specifically requested you to take this role every year for the past ten years. Take the job and use it as an opportunity to, y’know, feel things out.”
Katara’s mouth drops open. “You want me to take a job just to use it to get one of the most powerful men in the world to return my feelings?!” she hisses.
“Well, when you put it that way, it’s a terrible idea.”
“You think? Do you have any idea what people would say, Sokka?”
“Look.” Sokka sighs and places his hands on Katara’s shoulders. “That didn’t come out the way I wanted it to. Just...think of it this way. Are you, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, daughter of Kya and Hakoda, Waterbending Master, elite warrior, sifu to the Avatar, going to let some silly feelings scare you away from a job that you really want?”
Katara blinks as her brother’s words sink in. Lifting his hands from her shoulders, he smirks and gives a sort of smug nod, as if acknowledging the fact that he’s correct.
“It’s not…” Katara feels her cheeks burn crimson. “Sokka, this isn’t some stupid crush. If it was I would’ve gotten over it by now. I’ve tried. Believe me. But then I get a letter from him or I see him and…” Her eyes prick with tears and she sniffs them back valiantly. “If I take this job and I work with him every day, I’m just going to end up getting hurt. Not that he’d do it intentionally, but… It’s just too much of a risk.”
“High risk, high reward, baby sis,” Sokka says. “And I don’t think it’s as much of a long shot as you think it is.”
“You have to say that.”
“I mean, that’s true. I’m biologically obligated to support you no matter what, but Zuko is also insanely dense. He holds you in very high esteem. Like, suspiciously high. And nobody in this tribe would kick as much ass as you at this job.”
“You’re really laying it on thick.”
“He’s going to ask you himself, Katara. You know he is. At least hear him out. And remember how awesome you are. There’s no one more deserving of this job. I know it, Dad knows it, Zuko knows it, and, most importantly, you know it. So don’t let this be an excuse. Take the job, kick ass at it, be yourself, and there’s no way he won’t see in you what you see in him.”
Katara groans and rolls her eyes, but affection for her brother warms even the furthest reaches of her spirit.
“You know I’m right.”
She pauses, pursing her lips in thought. “If I hear him out,” she says, “if I take this job, then you have to ask Suki to marry you. Or at least start an open discourse with her about it.”
“That’s not even remotely the same.”
Katara raises an eyebrow.
“But I’ll consider it.”
Outside of his mother and uncle, Zuko’s favorite family is Sokka and Katara’s. The foursome is so at ease with one another, so free and tightly bonded. Dinner is a jovial affair with Hakoda and Sokka each trying to best one another recounting outrageous tales and Katara and Kanna tossing quick-witted barbs left and right. It’s impossible not to feel at home with them. The love that resounds amongst them crowds into every open nook and cranny in the house and seeps into their guest’s bones.
As he eats one too many helpings of hearty stew and bread, though, Zuko can’t help but keep a sharp eye on Katara, wondering precisely what he’s done to wrong her. She hardly makes eye contact with him and she grows oddly still when he laughs at something she says. It’s clear that something is wrong, but Zuko struggles to think of what offense he could have perpetrated in order to make her act so strangely. He’s known her a long time and is well aware of what angry, hurt Katara looks and sounds like. But the woman sitting across from him at the table is a different creature entirely. She’s almost...skittish. Almost...frightened?
So he’s taken aback when, after the dinner dishes are tidied up and a pot of strong black tea has been made, Katara invites him to a game of pai sho.
For a while, they are kept company by the three other occupants of the house. Kanna sits in a chair by the fire, a basket of mending by her side and a needle and thread in hand. Sokka takes up residence at his table of beads, the occasional soft curse uttered under his breath when he makes a mistake or knicks a finger. His father sits across from him, whittling something that takes painstaking patience.
One by one, though, each of them resigns for the evening, all three pausing to drop a kiss to the crown of Katara’s head or her cheek on the way to bed. Sokka pauses to mutter something in her ear that makes her drop a tile to the table and slug him in the shoulder.
“I don’t like you,” she growls.
“I’m your brother. You love me.”
“Only because I’m biologically obligated.” Katara watches her brother disappear down the hall, her gaze like a hurricane. It’s only after a door clicks shut that she groans and says, “Why are brothers so annoying?”
Zuko shrugs. “Love?” he says.
Katara’s cheeks pink and she drops her gaze to the pai sho board. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles.
“For what?”
“Because I’m sitting here complaining about Sokka and…”
Understanding dawns on Zuko rather suddenly and he feels himself perk up. “Azula’s been doing great lately,” he assures Katara. “She’s been living with our mom out on Ember Island. It’s been good for her. Mom teaches her about botany and they keep a garden. I mean, she still has a nurse and she has a bad day every now and then, but…” He shrugs.
The waterbender casts him a small, gentle smile that plucks at the corners of his own lips. “That’s great to hear, Zuko,” she says.
Zuko watches as Katara places her peach blossom tile on the board, effectively blocking the next move he’d been contemplating. Though the game is at a standstill for a moment, Zuko takes the opening he’s been left in the conversation. “You might like who she’s becoming,” he says. “Maybe one day you’ll be able to spend some time with her.”
The effect is immediate. Katara straightens her shoulders and focuses a little too intently on the remainder of her tiles, rearranging them in a manner that is simultaneously deliberate and aimless. “Sure,” she says, tone clipped. “Maybe we can work something out once I don’t have so much on my plate here.”
Her words sting and something in his chest aches with their impact. It’s an impulse that he allows his hand to touch the scar on his sternum, but he misses the way Katara’s eyes track the movement.
“Katara,” Zuko says and he knows that pain is evident in his voice. “Have I done something to hurt you?”
Her head snaps up, blue eyes wide with shock. “What? Zuko, no.”
“Well, I talked to your dad and he says that you’ve been the one rejecting the ambassadorship all these years, not him,” Zuko fires back. “Not once have you ever mentioned that to me. So this feels a little personal, Katara. If I’ve done something wrong—”
“You haven’t.”
“Then why?”
“I…” Katara pauses, running a finger around the rim of her teacup. The liquid inside swirls in time with her movement. “Zuko, I missed being home. And I like what I’ve been doing here for my people. I teach waterbending to the little ones and I work with our warriors who can bend to refine techniques. I have my work with the healers. It’s comfortable and it’s...familiar.”
Zuko looks at her, taking in the way she won’t meet his eyes and continues to fiddle with her tea. “You mean it’s safe,” he says. When she bites her lip, he shakes his head. “Since when does the woman I know play it safe?”
She shakes her head, brown curls dancing about her face. “It’s your move, Zuko,” she says, tapping the pai sho board.
He doesn’t think, just selects his red camellia tile and places it in an open slot on the board. “Tell me you don’t want more,” he says.
“Of course I want more!”
“Then what’s stopping you, Katara?”
Sighing, she brings her eyes to meet his at long last. Zuko gets the distinct impression that she’s pleading silently with him to see something in her face, but whatever it is, it’s just out of reach. Cautiously, he reaches out to take her hand, pulling it away from her teacup and into his own. The tea swirls to a stop and, though her hand twitches, Katara doesn’t move to pull away.
“You and I both know that you would make an incredible ambassador for your people,” he says earnestly. “You’re well aware of how brilliant and qualified you are. The reach that you would have would be so much broader. You’d influence trade and policy, and… Katara, we could work together to make life better for our people.”
One of Katara’s eyebrows quirks upward. “I wouldn’t go easy on you,” she says.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“The Fire Nation has some pretty shitty trade policies in place with the Southern Water Tribe. The tariffs on fruit and vegetables alone…”
Zuko can’t hold back a grin when he sees the telltale glitter in Katara’s eyes. “So let’s work on fixing that together,” he says.