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ifitsworthit's Journal

Created on 2008-05-11 22:59:02 (#15571804), last updated 2008-09-29

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Name:	katara.

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Katara squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think of the sunrise on glaciers, of ice bathed in peachy gold and violet, of the rare and precious sight of polar tigers frolicking under their mother’s constant gaze. She had seen the whole world. She had lived in the First Tier of Ba Sing Se and she had watched erupting volcanoes and falling stars and battled serpents that dwarfed Fire Navy vessels. She had met pirates and spirits and princesses, both good and evil. But now all she could think of was the simple beauty of a lone lichen struggling up through ice in the first week of what passed for springtime at her home, pushing with all its tiny might, tender and green and fragile. And she thought of that being lost to her forever and wept.

This must be how Zuko felt, something reminded her. She remembered how big his boat had seemed, at first, until she saw real Navy ships later and understood that his was just a tiny little thing out there on the sea. It was a practice ship, no better than the rafts that Water Tribe boys fashioned before they crewed their first fishing expedition. He had lived there for three years. And he had been nursing two wounds all that time – the one on his face to match the pain of exile. And when he had tried to warn her – over and over again, when he had begged her not to take this mission and had even challenged her and tried his hardest to stop her – she hadn’t listened.

And now, he was probably being questioned by the Dai Li. He was probably in a torture cell in the prison tower, maybe even in a cage. And right now Azula was probably shooting lightning at him just because. Because she was vindictive and vicious and hateful and because Katara had thought she could outsmart the whole royal family. She had thought she could cover for them both with cleverness and a single lie she had convinced herself was harmless. Only it wasn’t – it had hurt everyone involved. It had only made things worse.

Hours passed. She tried to sleep but it wouldn’t come. Opening her eyes in the darkness was the same as shutting them. She listened for Zuko but he didn’t come, either. Ozai and Azula are probably deciding what to do with us, she reasoned. Maybe they’re using Zuko for target practice. Her stomach churned and she sent her wishes toward her mother and Yue: Please let him be all right. Please. This is all my fault – let me be the one who gets punished, not him.

Finally she heard murmuring at her door and it creaked open, and someone pushed a stumbling shape inside. Zuko. The door slammed shut and Zuko directed fire at a sconce in one of the room’s far corners. He looked only a little bit worse for wear: tired, but not visibly hurt. He stood there breathing hard and looking sorry for something she didn’t understand. He licked his lips and opened his arms a little and then she was moving – she didn’t remember starting to move – and crushing him. Her arms came up around his neck and his circled her waist.

“You’re okay,” she said into his neck.

~Stormbenders, chapter thirteen.

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