Avatar The Last Airbender Fan Fiction ❯ Tempestuous ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

TEMPESTUOUS

Summary: Ten years have passed since Sozin’s war ended. Alliances must be forged between embittered nations, and Katara must marry to keep stable the peace. But can she ever find love in the arms of an old enemy? (Zutara)

Chapter One

Ten years have passed since last I saw him. He had grown in that time, matured into a handsome young man with a quiet, thoughtful air. He seemed older than his twenty-two years, older and wiser. The eyes he first rested upon me seemed as if they looked upon centuries, but the smile that broke through his serious frown was one I would recognize anywhere.

“Katara!” He closed the distance between us and enfolded me in a hard hug of welcome.

“Aang! It has been far too long!” I stepped back to look again at him, to see how he had fared in the years we had not seen each other, and returned his smile when I saw that he was weighing the changes in me as well.

“It has been too long, Katara,” he said warmly, the merry glint in his grey eyes still as devilish as ever. “For I had forgotten how truly beautiful you are!”

I flushed, picturing every bit of dust and dirt on my travel-stained clothing, and teased him, uncomfortable with the compliment. “False flattery has never worked on me, Aang!”

“How well I remember, Katara.” His look was slightly wistful. “I have missed my---friend.” He lightly touched my cheek, and there was a wealth of understanding in that simple gesture. There had once been a time…but that was long ago, and many things had changed between us.

“I have missed you, too,” I said, and impulsively hugged him again. I was startled to realize that he now stood a few inches above me, though he would be considered short by other men, for I, myself, was not very tall. Still, there was solid strength in the arms that enfolded me, and a maturity of bearing I had not known in his younger self.

“I am glad you came. I knew you would.” He stepped back as I grabbed one of his hands, worried by the fervency in his low voice.

“Aang, what is it? Is something wrong? Your letter said nothing, just that you needed me. I came as quickly as I could. What has happened? Tell me how I may help.”

He patted my hand, an almost fatherly gesture. His eyes were gentle, and showed too much knowledge for one so young. It was easy to forget that he was often more than what he appeared, for he was the Avatar, and bore the burden of many past lives on his young shoulders. “You are always so quick to help others, Katara. You have a generous and kind spirit. Never lose that.”

“Aang, whatever it is, it will be all right,” I said, hearing the sadness behind his warmth.

“Perhaps it will.” He touched my cheek again, and smiled gently, as if to a much younger child. It felt odd, for him to be so serious and mature. Our roles had reversed, in more ways than one. It felt strange, and put a pall upon our reunion. He shook himself, as if shedding the heavy burdens that haunted his every step, and said with a lighter smile, “But all that will keep, Katara. Nothing is so dire that I can’t take a few moments to welcome back my oldest friend, and hear all that has been happening in her life.”

He pulled me to the table, where a light luncheon had been spread out invitingly. A young woman, dressed in the light linen robes of a novitiate of the Southern Air Temple, came forward to pour the tea as Aang guided me to a low seat. He sat across from me, his saffron robes of state whispering across the smooth stone floor as he settled himself.

He smiled at me, knowing how uncomfortable I was at being served by another, and waved the girl away. “How is the Southern Water Tribe, Katara? Is Gran-Gran still bossing everyone around?”

I bit my lip, still surprised by the stab of sorrow that hit my heart at any mention of the strong old woman, whose death had come suddenly, though it was not unexpected. “She passed away. Two years ago, in her sleep.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And he was, for it was there, in his troubled, grey eyes.

“Thank you. She…I miss her.” I distracted myself from too much raw emotion by picking up the delicate cup of tea steaming gently before me. Taking a careful sip, I let the soothing warmth pour down my throat and curl inside my belly.

“Are you then healer for your tribe, now?” Aang redirected the conversation with an adroitness I had never known in him.

“No, actually.” I smiled at his surprise. “There is another Waterbender, who came from the Northern Tribe. His name is Wayan, and he knows more of the healing arts than I do. My tribe was lucky to get him.”

“Master Pakku has mentioned that many in the Northern Tribe have gone to help out their brothers in the south.” Aang offered a dish of fruit and nuts, and I took some with a smile of thanks.

“Yes, they have. Many that came to help have decided to stay and make their homes among us. You would not recognize the village, it has grown so big.” I thought fondly of the icy, clean tundra of my snow-wrapped homeland and wished suddenly that I was there, amongst the familiar. It had been many weeks since I first set foot on the wooden boats that had carried me across the icy waters of the South Pole---which had only been the start of my long journey to the Air Temple at Aang’s request.

“I am glad that there is new life in your war-torn village. It’s a shining example of what people should be doing in healing the bitterness of past enmity, rather than spending time bickering over who has what now that the century-long War is over.” Aang scowled into his tea cup, swirling the dark liquid around as if it might hold some type of answer to his many problems.

Sensitive to the bitterness in Aang’s low voice, I said gently, “Peace is never easy, Aang. You are doing your best in what must be a rather difficult situation.”

“You are ever understanding, Katara. That is what I treasure most about you, and hope that it will help you to understand what I might eventually have to ask of you.” Aang’s eyes rose to hold mine, and I blinked at the sadness in their dark gray depths.

“Aang, what is it? Tell me.” I laid a gentle hand on his, and he seemed about to speak, but we were interrupted as an older monk, dressed much like the woman earlier, swept the curtains aside and bowed deeply.

Aang pulled his hand out from under mine, and nodded courteously to the monk, though his voice was slightly irritated. “What is it, Genshi?”

“Master Aang, word has just arrived from the Fire Nation. You asked to be summoned as soon as they arrived.” Genshi bowed again, his black eyes flicking to me and back.

Aang sighed, and waved assent. “Very well. I will receive them in the First Hall. They would take offense at anything less.”

“Shall I see if someone can escort our guest to a room and---may I suggest---a bath?” I flushed at the implied criticism, too much aware that his suggestion was a good one. I had not waited to refresh myself before being shown to Aang’s presence.

“Yes, yes, whatever she wants.” Aang seemed distracted, his words lost in thought as his gaze turned inward. Standing up, he came over to me and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead as I looked up at him. “I have missed you, Katara. There is just so much to do. I have little time. Perhaps we can meet for dinner later? Then we might have some more time to catch up…come, Genshi, I will need your council.”

He did not wait for my reply, already sweeping from the room, his long saffron robes swirling across the stone floor. I stared after him, confused and slightly hurt, for it seemed Aang had no time anymore for an old friend. But then I chided myself, remembering just who he was. Aang was the Avatar first and foremost, and the demands on his time were endless. We would have more time later, and I, for one, would be glad to get the road-dust from off my itchy skin.


“You seem quite popular, nephew.”

Zuko relaxed as his uncle stepped inside the room. He made no reply, but kept staring out the arched windows that provided an uninterrupted view of the rocky heights the castle sat upon. Mist shrouded the lower hills, and only the distant watch-beacons, ever-burning, could be seen through the cloudy gloom. The air was slightly chilly and touched with damp. Winter had been a hard season this year.

There was a rustle behind him as the old general shuffled through the curling parchment that littered the young lord’s desk. His secretary, a fussy little man, made an offended noise as Iroh shifted the neat stacks, disrupting the orderly piles.

“Leave us,” Zuko ordered without turning around. The secretary abased himself flat on the floor in fearful apology before rising to his feet and scuttling out the door, which he closed firmly behind him. The Fire Lord was not known for his patience.

The old general grunted as he settled himself in one of the padded chairs scattered round the small room. Leaning over, he helped himself to the cooling teapot, pouring a cup of lukewarm ginseng. Holding the delicate cup between his large hands, he warmed the contents until steam gently rose from the heated tea. Taking a long sip, he settled back with a sigh of contentment.

“Ah, ginseng is my favorite. It’s kind of you, nephew, to have it here for me.” Iroh took a second sip, watching the Lord under half-closed lids.

“I thought jasmine was your favorite, Uncle.” Zuko still faced the window, his hands clasped behind his back, deceptively at his ease. His hair, thick and as luxuriant as a girl’s, would have hung just past his shoulders if he did not keep it up in the simple topknot he had favored as a boy. He kept his face clean-shaven, disdaining the sideburns and beards the older men wore. Iroh liked the look on his nephew, though he knew Zuko kept it more for expediency, and not for political reasons. Still, everything was politics in the Fire Nation, and it made a good statement that the young Lord would not follow in the footsteps of his father.

“Jasmine is my favorite,” Iroh baited, idly taking another sip of the ginseng.

The Lord let that pass. Abruptly switching topics, a particular trait of his, he said, “I must marry.”

Iroh eyed the strong young man he had always considered like a son. He waited for the Fire Lord to elaborate.

“I must consolidate the throne. The kingdom is in turmoil. Not all of my father’s supporters died with him. The people are restless. They speak of a time when we were great, when our supremacy was unquestioned in the world, and how far we have fallen since the war ended.” Zuko spoke in a flat voice, though he had always been a bit touchy about any show of inadequacy or question about his fitness to rule.

“The people are not restless,” Iroh said dryly. “It is the court you speak of. How stands the army?”

“They are divided, though they will remain loyal to my hand. But you know that already, don’t you, Uncle?” Zuko finally turned his head to fix the wily old general with a piercing look of appraisal.

The Dragon of the West only smiled, and raised his tea cup in salute of his Lord’s astuteness. “Proud is the teacher when his prize pupil learns past his teaching.”

Zuko smiled slightly at the implied compliment, but it was gone as quickly as it had come, his face an emotionless mask once more. Only his golden eyes could sometimes betray the emotions he kept locked tightly within. He had learned through harsh teaching how to keep his inner self hidden.

The thought made Iroh sad for a moment---that his nephew might never be allowed to let that guard down, for the Court remained the same viscous place of honor and intrigue it always had, though the World itself had changed. He wondered sometimes if it might have been easier for his nephew to have remained an anonymous peasant, rather than have aligned himself with the Avatar Aang to defeat the old Lord and his sister, and claim the throne over their fiery deaths.

But Zuko would never have settled for anything less than what he felt he was entitled to. It was his force of will that had seen him through the difficult first years when he had consolidated his power and forced the rebellious factions in both army and court to accept his rule. Not all in the Fire Nation had accepted Ozai’s humiliating defeat and the end of Sozin’s War. Others still balked at the Avatar’s forced peace and the humiliation, hatred and suspicion the Fire Nation was still looked upon with by the other three nations. They spoke of how far the Fire Nation had fallen since Ozai’s defeat, and how little honor was left in their once-great land.

“Silencing the dissidents with a carefully chosen political marriage would go far to heal the breach that separates the various factions, my Lord,” Iroh broke into the subject carefully.

“Perhaps.” Zuko stalked over to the scattered papers that lay across his ivory-inlaid, black ironwood desk. He shifted through them, idly flipping through the various offers he had received from interested parties. Many sought his favor now that he was Fire Lord, hoping to strengthen their own political ties by allying themselves in marriage to the throne.

“I noticed quite a few offers, my Lord, including a rather interesting one from the father of your sister’s friend, Mai.” Iroh sat back at his ease, wondering how his nephew might react to that.

Zuko betrayed nothing, only sifting through the pile until he came across a particular scroll bound in yellow ribbons. The old general raised a thick brow, curious as to what the Avatar might want with his nephew.

Working around a hard subject was always a good tactic. “Marrying Mai would do much to quiet the unrest caused by the remaining loyalists who favored and supported the war. Her father was a close advisor to Lord Ozai, and was even rewarded governorship of Omashu when the Earth city surrendered. Marrying his daughter would restore great honor to the family name, and do much to heal the breach between the various factions at court, nephew.”

“I can control the court, Uncle,” Zuko said tightly, certain of his own strength as he never would have been ten years ago. “The court does not concern me. They can fight and squabble among themselves all they want as long as they know that I am the Fire Lord.”

Iroh hid his smile behind his cup of tea as he took another sip. Zuko had changed in the intervening years, and he approved of what he saw. He was a man of strength and purpose, with an iron will the nobles would respect. Weakness was not tolerated in the fiery field of political strife that had always marked a way of life for the fire-fueled Nation of proud warriors. Only the strongest survived, and his nephew had proven time and again that he was more than a match for his dead father.

“It is the world I worry about, Uncle, and the people under my rule. They do not care who I ally myself with so long as I produce an heir. It was the Nation’s people who welcomed the Avatar’s peace ten years ago. They were tired of the long years of fighting and of losing their sons to my family’s unending ambition.” Zuko stared down at the scroll, and touched it lightly with sword-calloused fingers.

“You have grown wise, nephew. Your father and your sister never even considered that the people ever had a voice, let alone an opinion, or that it even mattered. The people were just nameless rabble to them, beneath their notice. Your time of poverty has helped shape you, my Lord, and I am pleased with the result. Very pleased.” Iroh’s wide smile of approval was genuine and his golden eyes were bright with unshed tears. He was proud of this tall young man who had been tempered in the fires of difficulty and hardship to become an unmatched blade of finely forged steel.

Zuko did not acknowledge the compliment, only handing the old Dragon the scroll held in his hand. “Read that, Uncle, and tell me what you think.”

Putting down his tea cup, Iroh accepted the letter and unrolled the fine parchment as the Lord walked back over to the window to stand and stare out on the gloomily harsh landscape of his regained home.

The general’s bushy grey brows rose as he read the graceful lines of the Avatar’s missive. He read the words a second time, pausing to decipher any nuances hidden in the letter’s persuasive arguments.

“Well, Uncle?” Zuko finally broke the heavy silence, though he did not turn around to gauge the old man’s reaction.

“He makes many a fine argument, my Lord,” Iroh said, carefully rolling the crackling parchment back up. “Does the idea displease you?”

“My personal opinion does not matter. It is a political alliance he suggests, not a personal one,” Zuko answered tonelessly.

Iroh might try to argue the point of that. Marriage was a very personal thing. But any arguments he made would fall on deaf ears. Zuko had always been rather stubborn about learning things for himself. He would never draw on the experiences of others, never truly trusting any opinion but his own. If the Lord had any faults, it was that he was perhaps too rigid in his beliefs that what he alone knew was important.

“It is not unheard of, this marrying outside our own borders. Many of your forefathers, Zuko, have made alliance with other nations in the past. Why, your great-great-grandmother was an Earth Kingdom princess.” Iroh stroked his short, grey beard thoughtfully, wondering if the Lord was truly entertaining the idea.

“This girl is not a princess, Uncle. Far from it, actually,” Zuko said dryly, still staring out on the mist-shrouded, craggy hills below.

Iroh grunted, as if that was of little importance. “She is a beloved heroine of the war, my Lord. Our people might even welcome her as one of their own, seeing as she is not of noble birth---though I beg to argue that fact.”

“And how is that, Uncle?” Zuko asked, not particularly interested.

“Her grandmother was named Kanna and came from the North. She can claim kinship with the current King. Her brother, in fact, eventually married a headman’s daughter in Kyoshi, and is now headman himself. She is not without some name,” Iroh commented mildly.

“Distant, at best.” The Lord dismissed the argument as trivial.

“So. You are really considering the Avatar’s proposal?” Iroh cut right to the heart of the matter.

“Yes,” the proud young man replied bluntly.

“The Avatar makes many fine points, nephew. The world still resents us. The war still sits bitterly in many men’s memories. Taking this one in marriage and sealing a solid alliance with the other nations would do much to show the world that we have moved past our former aggression. It would do much to seal the peace made between us.” The general folded his hands across his substantial girth, burying them in the wide sleeves of his kimono.

“I agree, Uncle,” Zuko said shortly. The wind rose a bit, restlessly stirring the black ends of his high queue and rustling through the various papers on his desk.

“You have already decided then, haven’t you?” Iroh asked, amused.

“Yes.” Golden eyes stared broodingly out onto the harsh landscape but did not see it.

“You will marry her then?” Iroh asked, just because he could.

“I will. I see no other way. I will marry the girl.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only as Iroh commented rather mildly, “It has been ten years. I don’t think she is a girl now, my Lord, but a woman.”

The Lord said nothing.

The old general smiled to himself, his golden eyes twinkling as he once again picked up his favorite cup of ginseng tea.