Avatar The Last Airbender Fan Fiction ❯ Tempestuous ❯ Chapter Four ( Chapter 4 )

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

Disclaimer: I do not own any of “Avatar: The Last Air Bender's” characters, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

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)

A/N: This has been one of the hardest chapters I’ve ever had to write. I debated over re-writing the whole thing, especially in light of DOBS. I wanted to wait and see how Katara and Zuko interact in the next episode, which I am dying to see, but finally just decided to post as is. This story is already pretty much an AU. LOL. Anyhoot, here it is and let me know what you think. Are they both still in character? (I am wondering if I’m taking too much liberty with them. Any advice on anything would be muchly appreciated!) Thanks, Fate

Chapter Four

The momentous day had finally arrived, and it did so with a sweet serenity that was almost surprising when compared to the unsettled turmoil in my heart as I opened my tired eyes and realized that it was finally, inevitably, here.

Sitting up on the pallet, I drew my legs up and hugged them, my chin coming to rest on my fur-covered knees as I contemplated the future with a wary resignation that seemed almost terrible in and of itself. I had always sought the silver lining in life, and although such an optimistic, hopeful view could sometimes lead to deep pain, I’d rather bear the pain than be caught by the darker doubts of others, more practical---or suspicious---than I.

It was early. The sun had just breached the horizon, unseen but felt and heard in the slow, awakening stir of life around me. The lemurs, usually so chatty and loud, were only chittering now and then in the sleepy dawn. As the sun rose, so would they, until their loud cacophony permeated the Temple with its joyful din. I knew that the women would soon be coming to dress me, for the traditions of the Fire Nation demanded that the wedding ceremony take place at high noon, at the peak of the sun’s ascension across the sky. I had little time, but I was grateful for it, for I needed to sort out a few things in my own mind before I could face the Lord who would become my husband in but a few more hours.

Resting my forehead wearily against my bent knees, I closed my eyes and thought about him---Zuko---for truly the first time since that fateful night when I had agreed to this alliance. I had deliberately avoided thinking of him. It was easier to distract myself with the thousand and one things that I needed to learn or do or become. It had been easy to ignore my own growing disquiet and unease about my upcoming marriage and concentrate on the silly irritations Suni constantly presented me with.

It was a cowardly retreat from facing reality, I admit, and I was still reluctant to confront it. But I was out of time, literally, and faced it must be before I could confront the source of it.

*Zuko.*

I shivered. Of all the people in this world that I had ever expected to see again, he was last and least. There was just so much that divided us---different worlds, different lives, different futures. To have our life paths braided together again after ten long years was something I had never even thought possible. Now that it was hard truth, I found myself floundering in seas too deep for me to delve easily.

Seeking some safe harbor against my tumultuous thoughts, I concentrated first on what I knew of him. Not much, to be frankly honest. I knew more of what he was than who he was. He was the Fire Lord, of course, and a powerful firebender. One could not be one without the other. I knew he was a few years my senior, that he was perhaps twenty-six or -seven now. I knew that he had had a hard time of it, those first few years after the final battle, in trying to hold on to his throne and keep civil war from breaking out across the island nation he had inherited at his father’s death. I didn’t know any of the details, hardly caring at the time, busy as I was with my own life and my own concerns. After Ozai’s defeat, I had returned to my tribe, eager to help rebuild what had been lost.

Having seen the Northern Water Tribe and the beautiful city of ice and snow they lived in, having met Hama---horrific as that was, and something I still willfully shied away from dealing with---I knew what my tribe had once possessed. Master Pakku and others from the Northern Tribe had journeyed south to offer their help and assistance in rebuilding my home and I was eager to turn my own hand to the task. I know now that I was hurt that my brother, Sokka, did not go with me. At the time, I felt a bit betrayed that he was more eager to return to Kyoshi and begin his life with Suki there than in returning to our home on the icy tundra of the South Pole. It was selfish of me, yes, and my anger and hurt had led to a sullen and dismissive farewell on my part that had hurt him deeply at the time. We had remained distant for a number of years, a fact which pained me now in recollection. I was so often filled with such pride that I could not see past my own selfish pain to see that Sokka had needed to pursue his own happiness as I was trying to do with mine.

The war had left many wounds, some not as obvious as others, but ones that cut just as deep as a sword’s sharp thrust. One of mine was the loss of my father. He had died in the final siege, and I had felt left behind once again as Sokka had taken his leave of me to build his own life with Suki. The hurt---and anger---had lingered for years. It was only at Gran-Gran’s death, two years ago, that we had finally been free of the shadow of it. I was happy for him and his family. He had a son, a sturdy three-year-old with his father’s features and his mother’s dark grey-blue eyes, or so his proud letters to me said.

It hurt, though, that I had never seen my nephew. And from Sokka’s last missive, there might be another in a few more months, if their hopes were realized. That hurt, too, that I might never see any of their children now, born and yet to be.

Funny how it was that my family was intruding upon my thoughts, twisting around those worries for the unknown and unknowable future. I could not know what type of marriage I would have with one such as Zuko. He was as much a mystery to me as I must be to him, and I wondered if he was as taken with apprehension as I was. Possibly not---he had never seemed to me to concern himself overly much with anything outside himself. To be honest, the moody prince I had known back then had been a bit of a brat, a rather whiny, spoiled brat.

I could not picture him a brat now. Somehow it did not fit with the image I had of the Fire Lord---though that image came more from the title than any actual knowing on my part. I didn’t know what or who Zuko was and that was where all my apprehension came from. I could not know what type of path my life was now being bent down and I was uncertain how to proceed.

I could take comfort in the thought that he had, at least, agreed to this marriage. Though that was a cold comfort indeed. Zuko had always seemed to me to be someone who would always take the expedient path, no matter what the cost to him or others. He confused me---or the memory of him did. At times he had seemed almost honorable, almost human---at others, the most despicable and lowest of bastards. I could never forget how deeply he had affected me in the buried city of Ba Sing Se. Even now, I flinched away from the memory. What a trusting little fool I had been! I had learned my lesson and not trusted him again, even when he had finally came over to our side near the end. It was Aang and Toph, surprisingly, who had trusted him, while I and Sokka remained suspicious of his motives.

He had proven his loyalty to Aang, though. Even after he had consolidated his throne and his rule, he had remained true to the Avatar’s peace, though the treaties often went against his nation’s best interests. The proud Fire Nation had had many a bitter pill to swallow as the demands for reparation and tight control on how much power was granted them were battled out in the suspicion-ridden peace councils between the four lands. I knew little of the actual sanctions and monies paid by the Fire Nation; politics had never concerned me overly much. I was too busy helping to rebuild my own home to care how the World itself fared.

Stupid of me, perhaps, but it was the truth.

I sighed and tried to shrug the tension from my curled shoulders. I felt entirely stupid and far too ignorant. I just didn’t know what I could expect from the man who would become my husband in less than six hours. I knew that I did not trust him, but perhaps I was being too harsh and critical. It had been ten long years since then, and perhaps I should give him the benefit of the doubt. He might have changed in ways I could not even comprehend and I, at least, owed him an open mind. My life would now be invariably twined with his, and while I could not expect love as such as my brother and his wife had, I could at least see mutual respect. We were both adults, we had both agreed to this marriage, this alliance, and we were both old enough to go into it with our eyes open. Perhaps, in time, we could even build something along the lines of an understanding, maybe even something akin to friendship. I could not see that now, of course, but I was ever an optimist.

I smiled faintly, and felt calmed enough by the comforting thought to finally slip back under the covers and into a sweet sleep, untroubled by the doubts that had plagued my restless night. There was little time for me to try and catch up on my missed slumber, but I would need every bit of it if I were to be ready to face the day with any kind of vigor...


The Fire Lord had always kept himself to a strict schedule. Time was ever important in his increasingly busy days, and today was not an exception. He refused to give up his morning routine, even though it would cut into his personal preparations for the ceremony that would take place at midday. Dismissing an invitation to breakfast with the Avatar, he sent a suitable representative in his place with a polite apology, and used the time to hear the latest trade proposals offered by the supercilious Earth Kingdom delegate. His mind would not cooperate, however, and he found his attention wandering as the Earth King’s aging representative droned on and on as the tea in front of him grew tepid and the un-tasted breakfast grew rancid on the platter between them.

Having finally had enough, Zuko abruptly stood up. The representative, caught off-guard, stopped in mid-sentence and gaped as the Fire Lord waved a dismissive apology and strode out of the room before the man could even form an offended protest. Leaving his advisors to soothe offended Earth Kingdom nerves, Zuko stalked from the small side chamber to his own. Waving off the attentions of the single servant he had seen fit to bring with him, he stripped off the formal morning robes he had donned to meet with the trade delegate and donned clothing more suitable for working out his silent frustrations.

Feeling too edgy for simple meditation, the Fire Lord used the hour set aside for such things to double the time he allotted for his daily exercise. Making his way to the simple courtyard allotted for his use, he summoned a few of his men to work out with him. Focusing his excess energy and unspoken irritation on the traditional kata did not help---fighting without fire helped somewhat more. Ruthlessly controlling the hard moves that would normally allow fire to sear from spread fingers, fist or foot allowed him to bank the irritation while expending the restless energy in controlling his own chi. He worked himself to near exhaustion in a frenzy of ferocity his sparring partners had not seen in some time. Impressed anew by their Lord’s precision and the strength of his control, they bowed with deep reverence as he finally motioned for them to rest.

It was his uncle’s discreet presence that had recalled the Fire Lord to the fact that time had slipped past him without his ever realizing it. Irritated by the fact, Zuko waved the old Dragon forward as he dismissed the weary men. Taking a towel from the servant who stood patiently near, he mopped the sweat from off his brow and neck as Iroh surveyed him with a measuring eye.

“There is little time left for you to bathe and dress, my Lord. I suggest you put it to good use.”

Zuko paused. His voice was muffled behind the towel as he demanded coldly, “Are you trying to bait me, Uncle?”

“I?” Iroh feigned innocence, even as his amber eyes twinkled. “Never.”

“Hmph.” Zuko handed the crushed towel back to the servant, who bowed.

“I have secured use of the ivy fountain in the lower court for your private bath, nephew, but we must hurry. There are many others anxious to use it for themselves.” Iroh waved at the servant to proceed them. The servant bowed with graceful thanks and then turned and bolted. He needed to hoof it if he would have all the things the Fire Lord might need for his bath assembled and ready by the time they got there.

Almost unconsciously considerate, Iroh slowed his pace to a mild amble, giving the poor servant time to do his duty. Zuko automatically matched his uncle’s stride, his thoughts turned inward as his golden gaze grew cold and remote. It was a habit of the Fire Lord’s whenever he brooded, and the distant look had made more than one man in his company nervous for no true reason. Amused, Iroh stayed silent as they made their way toward the lower courtyard, where the Temple’s rather simple plumbing made use of a natural spring as a bathing pool.

The spring was fresh and freezing as only mountain streams could be. Clever---if simple by Fire Nation standards---engineering hidden by graceful stonework allowed a small spray of continual water to fall from the lip of a wide, bowl-shaped fountain into the roughly oval-shaped pool surrounding it. The Air Nomads had always sought to work with nature, rather than against it, and their odd tendencies showed even in their primitive bathing facilities. The courtyard, open to the elements, was still hidden from casual view by tall stands of intertwining ivy. The verdant growth covered every surface, even the upper fountain, where their long strands floated lazily in the mild current of the spring’s sway.

The servant, red-faced and panting, stood up at attention as the two men approached. Iroh spared the man a brief smile of thanks as he saw the towels and the Fire Lord’s preferred toiletries neatly arranged at the pool’s edge. Zuko ignored the man as he stripped the sweaty clothes from off him, only noticing how out of breath the servant was as he wheezed a bow and accepted the Lord’s discarded garments.

“I should have brought more than one servant, Uncle,” Zuko said with a frown, troubled that he was just now noticing how ragged his man looked.

Iroh only raised a thick brow, waiting. He had already bathed, so did not follow as his nephew knelt at the edge of the sunken pool. Sticking a hand in to test the temperature, Zuko shivered in distaste. Summoning his chi, his hand glowed in the pool’s troubled waters until steam wafted up from the agitated waves.

Using one hand to brace against the stone, Zuko plunged lazily into the heated water, which splashed around his flat stomach and hips at the abrupt intrusion. Rolling his tense shoulders to loosen the muscles, he paused and addressed the waiting servant. “You may leave. Take the rest of the day for yourself. I won’t need you until tomorrow.”

“Uh---” The servant paused, uncertain.

Zuko scowled, impatient and almost regretting his spontaneous generosity. “What?”

“My Lord, should I…uh…do you want me to see to your chambers first? They must be made ready for tonight…” The stuttering man turned a shade of red that had Iroh laughing outright, he looked so much like a blushing virgin caught at a bawdy house.

Zuko looked mildly stunned. Iroh laughed harder.

Growing irritated, the Fire Lord waved the man off. “Yes, yes, do whatever you feel you should, then retire.”

“Th-Thank you, my Lord,” the man abased himself and then fled.

“You can stop laughing now, Uncle,” Zuko growled as he picked up a bag of sweetsand.

Iroh wiped tears from his eyes with the draping red sleeve of his formal kimono and grinned. “I apologize, nephew. I could not help it. Your expression was priceless.”

Zuko only scowled, pulling a handful of the sweet-smelling sand out to scrub impatiently at his skin with swift, precise strokes. The Lord never wasted time or action, even at his bath.


Finding a convenient seat on a nearby wall, which encircled a low stand of fruit-bearing bushes, Iroh watched as his nephew made quick work of his ablutions, diving under the water to wash the sandy soap off. Coming back up, Zuko flung his wet hair back off of his forehead, reaching for the stone jar of creamy hair-cleanser. Fumbling off the simple lid, the Lord swiped a generous dollop of the scented goop and proceeded to scrub it into his scalp with short, impatient motions that could not hide his annoyance.

Iroh regarded his lord and nephew with half-closed eyes, lips twitching in amusement. His nephew was a fine specimen of a man. He’d grown into his height, having shot up at the age of seventeen to a few inches over six feet, and the firm play of muscles along his back and shoulders spoke of a controlled strength that made the general almost misty-eyed with pride. This man, this Lord who he was proud to serve, was like a second son to him, and this was his wedding day. Iroh had never thought he would live to see it. He was proud, damn proud, and truly grateful that the spirits had granted him the privilege to witness it. His idle thoughts turned to the pleasurable speculation of his future grandchildren---or rather, his grand-nephew or grand-niece. If all went well, he might even be able to hold one in only nine months. Wouldn’t that be something?

Zuko, unmindful of his uncle’s thoughts, dipped back under the water to rinse the soap from his hair. The water was growing cool again and he didn’t bother reheating it, as he was pretty much done with his bath. Hopping out of the pool, he finger-combed the dark locks back with one hand as he reached for a towel with the other.

Zuko eyed his uncle as he toweled himself dry. Iroh was staring dreamily off into the distance, a bemused smile on his expressive features. Knotting the damp towel around his hips, Zuko raised a brow. Irritated for no discernable reason, the Fire Lord demanded abruptly, “Uncle? What the hell are you smiling about?”

“Grandchildren,” Iroh said, his voice wistful. “Think I could have one in nine months or so?”

“What?”

“Fine. I’ll give you a year, then. That should be more than enough time.”

“What?”

“What do you mean, what? That should be more than enough time, I should think.”

“Uncle…” The Fire Lord’s eyes grew dangerous. He looked like his father when he did that. Scary thought. Even as kids, Ozai had been rather ruthless and that dangerous expression had always heralded a temper tantrum of epic proportions. Come to think of it, Azula had often sported that same expression as a child. The younger children of the royal line had always seemed to inherit a little bit of Sozin’s madness.

“Maybe you should limit yourself to one,” Iroh said regretfully. He would have preferred to have many children to spoil, not just one.

“What?”

“Wouldn’t want a little Ozai or Azula running around,” Iroh explained with an alarmed expression at the hideous thought.

The Fire Lord found himself speechless. Only his crazy uncle could ever render him thus.

“Isn’t Katara a second child, though? Come to think of it, she is. That might help. Good blood. That’s what’s been missing in the family. Good blood. Too much inbreeding, you know, can cause all kinds of peculiar birth defects. That’s why I made sure my own wife was no closer than a fourth cousin. There’s been too much of that in the nobility as of late. Inbreeding.” Iroh smiled at his nephew, content with his own précis. “It should be all right, then. You can have more than one. I would hope for a good dozen or so. That would be nice.”

“A dozen?” Zuko looked appalled.

“The Avatar has a good dozen or more. The oldest is only five, but is already showing signs of being a great airbender. You need to hurry and catch up. There’s no time to waste.”

“No time to…”

“I wonder how good her hips are,” Iroh pursed his lips. “Too narrow and childbearing could prove difficult. I’ll have to make sure she has good hips.”

“Uncle…” There was sharp warning in the hard voice as the Fire Lord’s eyes narrowed.

A sudden thought occurred to the general. “Zuko, you do know what to do with a woman, right? I know you have quite a bit of a reputation, but that’s not just rumor, right? I’ve heard the Painted Ladies call you Lord Rhino Pants, but I haven’t really paid that much attention.”

The Fire Lord couldn’t believe his ears.

“No, no, I don’t think it was Rhino Pants. It might have been the Royal Rhino. Yes, that sounds right.”

Zuko remained stunned.

Iroh grinned. “You know, I was once known for that. The Mighty Cannon, they called me. My wife, may the gods rest her soul, used to giggle over it. Ah, such a sweet woman. How I miss her.”

The Fire Lord looked faintly desperate.

“Now, your cousin, my Lu Ten---he always had a good reputation with the ladies. Made me proud, it did. Seems it runs in the family.”

Turning on his bare heel, Zuko left. Quickly.

“Zuko?” Iroh’s brows furrowed as he watched his nephew rapidly disappear behind the curving ivy that hid the pool and fountain from view. A sudden thought warmed the puzzled general. Perhaps Zuko was just eager now to start the family that both he and the Nation desired. Yes, that must be it.

How…sweet. Though “sweet” was not precisely a word that Iroh would first consider when thinking of his prickly-proud nephew. Still, one quite never knew what marriage would do to a man. How sweet a thought that was, and one the general determined to savor. Sitting back, a contented smile on his dreamy features, Iroh contemplated the future with a hopeful sense of happy expectation.


I was awakened not an hour past my dawn musings by a caustic Suni. I had barely opened my eyes before a veritable flood of giggling women had swarmed over me, pulling me from my pile of furs and fussing over the dark shadows under my tired eyes. Aang---and worry---had lent me little sleep the night before, and I was still half asleep as I was pulled upright and drawn to a steaming bath hauled into the room even as multiple hands started yanking me out of my sleeping robes.

That woke me up, and I protested, loudly, as my clothes were whipped off and I was virtually knocked into the tub of scented water by women who ignored me, chattering away as they were with excited laughter. Suni’s sharp orders punctuated the gossipy encouragement of the women, who ignored my shrieks as cold water was summarily poured over my head. Sputtering under the onslaught, I tried to push the wet hair out of my eyes as helpful hands sponged and tugged and hauled on bits and pieces of me until I could not figure which end was up. Furiously embarrassed, I bent a wide splash of water to drench the lot of them, but they only laughed and made crude jokes that they hoped my poor husband-to-be wouldn’t be treated to the same on our wedding night.

That thought stopped me cold, and I suffered the rest of their attentions in silence as my mind ran in frightened circles over the startling revelation. Stupid of me, yes, but I just hadn’t thought about it. At all.

And now I was thinking of it too much. Far too much.

Blushing, I was hauled back out and a cup of lukewarm tea was thrust into my hand. Gulping it down, the cup was whisked away and a piece of bread put in its place. My stomach rebelled at the thought, so I discarded the proffered food as I was pushed into a dry robe and my hair yanked up into a towel. Irritated, I made a quick, sharp motion with my hand, and bent the dripping water off of me. Suni’s sharp complaints over the water drenching much of the floor made me sweep it back into the tub, much to the young girls’ delight, for women of all ages had come to see me prepared for the ceremony that would be held later that day, at high noon.

“Handy, that.” An old woman pulled the towel off of my now-dry hair. She raked her fingers through the long, heavy length and I winced as she caught on a tangle. Suni was suddenly there, pushing a scented comb into the old woman’s hand and snapping orders at the others to gather up the bath and other abandoned items and take them out. As the fluttering crowd left, another came to take its place, bearing the soft blue and white robes I would wear for the wedding ceremony as if they were prized treasures.

There were ooh’s and aah’s and I don’t know what else as the carefully wrapped robes were bared for viewing. I was busy trying to keep my head attached to my neck as the old witch combing my hair did so with a callous disregard of how hard she yanked at the tangles snarling her comb. Yelping at a particularly nasty pull, I was glad when Suni came over to bark at the woman, who barked back. That drew the other women’s attention back over to us, and I huddled under their annoyingly helpful chatter. Gentler hands took over the combing of my hair and I almost sighed with grateful relief as another pair of hands massaged the tension in my neck and shoulders.

I remember little after that. It was all a blur, as was much of the ceremony that came after. I remember nibbling on wine-soaked fruit at one point, though I still could not stomach much of it. I remember the hard argument that followed, as some women applauded my decision to not eat---better to keep a husband if you kept your figure, they said---and as others protested---loudly---that bad advice. Feeling annoyed, I ate more of the fruit than was perhaps wise, for it had been soaked in potent wine for some time, but at least the hazy stupidity of being slightly drunk kept my pounding headache at bay.

The robing---for I could not call it anything else, being wrapped into the smothering confines of multiple layers of fine silk and being laced and stitched and tightened to within an inch of my life as my rib cage was forced into a shape not meant for deep breath---left me dazed and creaking as I tried to take shallow, ladylike breaths. My hair was pulled into a heavy coiffure around a golden brace that felt like a ton of bricks, enough good-luck charms intertwined within the braided coils to make me feel like a fair-merchant’s stall on display. The whole contraption was much admired and then completely hidden by the huge, billowing folds of the golden coif that would fasten the multiple veils to my head. Veils that would also hide the carefully applied pancake on my face.

I had gotten only a single, quick look in a polished mirror before the first veil---a misty white one---was attached to either side of my temples with gold clips. My eyes had been darkened with kohl, my lips painted red. I looked like a masked raccoon-owl, too pale and my eyes too big in my face. Laughter greeted my startled exclamation and then the other veils were added in a flurry of colorful silk. Pale blue and light green, pale red and paler yellow. I felt trapped by all the fabric and wondered sourly how I was supposed to breathe through all that silk.

But time had flown quickly and it was now time for me to descend. I could not see past the multiple layers of my veils. I complained, and Suni shushed me with a laugh. “You’ll be able to see soon enough, my lady! Soon enough! Remember your bows, you will not disgrace me, now.”

With that final sally, the old buzzard led the procession of fluttering, giggling, irritatingly helpful women out the door. I was trapped in the center, helplessly drawn along to a fate I was sorely dreading right about now.


Iroh waved dismissively at the guard who would have announced him. Slipping quietly through the doors to his nephew’s rooms, he paused as Zuko stiffened, his head turning sharply to the left at the sudden intrusion.

“Uncle,” he said, the battle-ready tension dropping from his shoulders as he recognized the old general. Turning back to the wavy mirror he faced, he studied his reflection critically for anything he might have missed.

Eyes bright, Iroh turned away for a moment to wipe surreptitiously at them with an ornate sleeve. Zuko would not welcome such emotions right now, but damn was he proud of his nephew in that moment, standing so tall and regal in his ceremonial armor. The fluted black armor, lined in red and gold, was tailored along the same lines as the armor he had worn as a young prince, rather than the more traditional robes of his royal office. Zuko had always disdained those robes and had refused to wear them even for this, his wedding day.

Zuko’s golden eyes narrowed on the mirror’s reflective surface. He had not missed his uncle’s veiled action, and frowned slightly with faint unease. Relieved when the old general turned away rather than make a scene, his throat still tightened at the thought of his uncle’s quiet understanding of how he would not have welcomed it.

He was truly blessed to have the old Dragon at his side. He knew that, but could never seem to make the awkward words slip past his lips to tell his uncle so. Words had always escaped him. Adroit phrases and polished, pretty speeches had never been numbered among his few true strengths. He had never had the patience to learn such skills and was too entrenched in his blunt ways now to start learning. Iroh would understand, though---he always had, and he always would.

Gathering his gifts and traditional tokens---ones that harkened back to a far simpler time, when the first refugees had huddled together on the shores of the smaller islands that had harbored them, and exchanged gifts of food, fire and shelter in a simple ceremony between man and betrothed---Zuko slipped them inside the red silk bag that hung alongside his uncle’s knife at his hip. There were candied fruits and gold coins to represent his ability to provide, dried herbs and sacred incense to show his willingness to protect, and a variety of other small things to fulfill the other oaths demanded of any husband. Fire, the most important provision, he would summon himself from his own hand, showing his ability to sustain life---for without fire, there was no life.

There hadn’t been, back then. It was the fire that kept the dark and cold and wild beasts at bay. It was fire that had helped those first refugees to tame the dragons that would eventually show them how to make fire for themselves. It was the harsh lands of their birth that would shape them into what they were---a strong, hard people proud of their ability to overcome difficulty and triumph over adversity.

Fire was ruthless, and so were they. Fire was harsh and unforgiving, refusing to bow to just any master. Zuko had had to prove his fitness to rule over his people by proving that he was the most powerful among them. Weakness, especially in the one named their Fire Lord, could not and would not be tolerated or forgiven. It was not even imaginable to a people so hardened by a harsh history of bare survival on the strength of their own ability to do so.

Iroh straightened, his mobile face assuming the concealing mask of stoic indifference every Fire Nation lord prided themselves on. To show emotion---that was weakness. To show pride or shame---that was intolerable. One’s strength of character and mastery of self were shown in how one conducted themselves, not in how one reacted. While great emotion was understood and acknowledged, even lauded in some circumstances, the true noble was one who did not allow his fierier emotions to take hold of him, especially not in public, when he was on display before the World.

“Are you ready, my nephew?” Iroh asked, his gravelly voice thick with the unspoken and unspeakable. “The sun rises.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Zuko said, his own voice flat and expressionless, if firm in its resolve, “I am.”

“Let us go, then,” Iroh said. “Your bride awaits.”

The Fire Lord nodded once, sharply, and turning briskly in a militarily correct about-face, he led the way out of the room and down the long, winding corridors toward his chosen destiny. His step was firm and sure as he strode toward the unknown with no outward sign of the turmoil hidden deep within.


I stumbled more than once over the long skirts that swathed my legs and feet until Suni scolded me with an almost happy laugh, taking one of my hands and showing me how to pull up my skirts so I would not trip as I was led, dragged, and pushed down the spiraling stairs to the palanquin that awaited me in the small courtyard below. A simple wooden frame, it had been painted blue and yellow, to signify Air and Water, and bedecked with enough ribbons and flowers to look like a milliner’s shop had exploded. I was pushed willy-nilly into the cushioned bed, my skirts straightened around me with fussy kindness. I was thankful as Suni, eyeing me with shrewd assessment, stole a glass of fire-wine from somewhere and forced it into my hand. She carefully held away the veils so I could gulp the wine down. It was potent stuff, and I gasped and choked as fire poured down my throat and pooled into my belly.

The cup was whisked away as I hiccupped. Suni scolded me even as she tenderly pinned the veils back into place. “You will do well, my lady. I expect nothing else. You will not shame me.”

*Hardly encouraging,* I thought muzzily to myself. I blinked as the giggling throng of women abruptly silenced, parting like water as a broad man in a red and black robe and armor stepped forward. I could not make out his features through the veils that hid the world from me, but his outline seemed somewhat familiar as he bowed deeply.

“My lady, you shine like the very sun on this auspicious day. I hope you will remember me, for we met so briefly, though not so long ago.”

I instantly recognized that deep, gravelly-stiff voice. “General Shaolin?”

“Yes, Lady Katara.” He was clearly pleased that I remembered him, and pressed my hand lightly before bowing again, deeper than before. “I asked for the honor of escorting you, since I understand your own brother could not come in time for the wedding, and that your honorable father, Hakoda, was one of the sad casualties of the war. I was pleased when the Fire Lord granted my request. That is, if you will allow…?”

My breath caught at mention of my father. I had tried not to think of him, as much as anything else on this uneasy day. Still, I was humbled that so stiffly honorable a gentleman as the old general was would ask for the honor of escorting my litter to the central court, where the formal marriage ceremony would be held with Aang’s blessing at the height of the sun’s ascension at noon. Perhaps, somehow, I had made an ally of the general, though I was still confused as to how I had. I was touched, and whispered a thank you, hiccupping again. I clapped a hand to my mouth (or to the five veils covering my mouth) in embarrassment. I could feel Suni’s beady eyes boring into the back of me, though she did not dare say a word. The General only laughed, though, and squeezed my hand comfortingly in his wide, calloused palm.

“Fire-wine, eh? Had more than you should? That’s all right, girl. We all do that from time to time. Hah!” He turned to wave an acknowledgement as an anxious monk came forward to summon us. “Time to go, then, as the sun won’t wait on mere men!”

I let out a yelp as the litter abruptly swayed and jerked beneath me. I felt myself sliding off of the slippery pile of silk cushions, but General Shaolin steadied me with a firm hand as the strong, young monks allocated to the task lifted the ceremonial litter up on their shoulders. I could imagine Suni’s hot glare scorching me through the back of my head as she took up her position with the other women behind me. Bells abruptly clanged as a fanfare of flutes and jangling gitterns and bleating suni horns struck up a joyously heinous wedding march that left my ears ringing and my head spinning.

That raucous, jarringly obnoxious parade was thankfully brief. The litter, borne along by men not used to the task, swayed and lurched until my stomach clenched in time with my head. I was truly grateful when they abruptly stopped marching to a last flailing shriek of the flutes and bells---an entrance of truly head-throbbing proportions. The tilting motion as they set the whole thing back down almost knocked me off the litter again. General Shaolin was a saint, never twitching once as I squeezed his firm clasp with a white-knuckled grip to keep both my balance and my dignity somewhat intact.

The sun was hot in the central courtyard. I remember that, and not much else. Open to the elements, the wind had a field day flapping the ribbons and snapping the various pennants hung around the filled courtyard. They sounded like sharp blasts of Fire Nation firecrackers, and I was glad of the concealing veils, though they stifled me, as I flinched. This high up, the wind howled and whistled as the sun beat down on me with total disregard for the sweltering silks that bound me from head to toe. The scent of dying flowers was almost cloying, the hum of the wind beneath the bedecked litter all but masking Aang’s formal words as he presided over the ceremony.

I must have made the correct responses, which were mostly made up of bowing at various times with a few muttered phrases of agreement or acceptance. General Shaolin, bless him, helped me then, by squeezing my hand to tell me when it was my turn. Aang would mumble something, and then there would be a pause as first the Fire Lord bowed, and some ceremonial token was given, and then a shuffle of footsteps across the pavement as Aang would come over to stand in front of me, a shadow that slowly materialized as each veil was lifted in turn, until only the last one was left. By then the sun had reached its zenith, and I could almost see, though the bright sun made me squint.

There was a stir, and I blinked as General Shaolin’s hand left mine. He bowed, making way for someone else. I looked up, startled, as a harder palm encircled my smaller hand and pulled lightly. My head swam again as I tried to scramble off of the litter. My legs had gone to sleep and protested with sharp pins and needles when I tried to move them. I was more than sure I was about to fall flat on my face when the strength of his arm tightened on mine, lending me enough support to get shakily to my feet. Biting my lip at the ungraceful movement and feeling like an idiot, I dropped my eyes as the last veil was torn away. A warm breath on my lips, a quick, firm press of his lips on mine that had me blinking in surprise, and it was done. A cheer rose as the Fire Lord turned and raised one arm in acknowledgement. I stared at his profile, as he turned his face away from me to wave at the flaming fanfare that swirled around us in raucous shouts and swirling music. He was taller than I remembered, far taller, and the lines of his jaw more defined and hard. That was all I took note of before Aang swept me up into an embrace, his whisper making my throat tighten as the tears burned briefly in my eyes.

“Thank you, Katara. Thank you…”

He was swept aside for others eager to offer me their congratulations and best wishes. I was surrounded by strangers eager to bow and greet me, though some were not as welcoming or congratulatory as others, their eyes hard or piercing as they mouthed the frivolous phrases tradition demanded. I bowed and nodded and smiled until I thought my face would crack. I saw Suni briefly, wiping tears from her old eyes as she smiled like a proud little hen, accepting the other women’s accolades over the beauty of the whole ceremony. I was too busy being pushed on a wave of laughing well-wishers as they all turned at some unheard signal to head toward the feast laid out in the main hall, which had been thrown open for the occasion.

It was traditional for the bride and groom to share a toast with each person who presented them with a glass and a wish for good fortune. Not a wise tradition, as my vision swam and my head felt light with so much wine. But I could not turn away a single offer, lest I offend the person who shared it. There was much laughter and applause as I knocked back glass after glass, and eventually I was too stupid drunk to care about much of anything at all. I felt oddly outside myself as I was ensconced on one end of the hall, my new husband on the other. Separated until the bedding ceremony---the thought of which had me actually reaching eagerly for the next glass extended to me---I don’t remember much of the lavish feasts spread out in our honor. Aang’s wives surrounded me on all sides, their chatter like so many birds twittering and cackling to one another as I blinked sleepily and smiled again and again as various men and dignitaries approached my raised seat and bowed, cup of wine or folded charm in hand.

A basket was thoughtfully provided for the folded paper charms or small, offered bits of sentimental verse. These would be read aloud as I was finally taken off for the official disrobing and made ready to greet my new husband in our bridal chambers. I was so flustered by the thought that I welcomed the various men in matching red and black armor who approached me with a full cup and an appreciative shout as I drained each glass in one swallow. I nibbled at the carefully created confections and could not remember anything of what I ate afterwards. The time seemed to drag on and on as my eyes grew heavy and by responses slurred to simple stupid smiles as the alcohol took its revenge. My head throbbed and I wanted nothing more than to fall into a bed and sleep for a thousand years.

Eventually, the long afternoon waned as the sun slowly arced its way across the sky. Fire Nation tradition demanded the bride and groom be bedded together before the sun completely set, and as the golden light glowed welcomingly across the airy halls of the Temple on its western face, I was hustled away out a side entrance almost without notice from the rowdy celebration still going on strong behind me. Escorted by a bevy of giggling girls and smiling women, I could barely remember to pick up my sweeping skirts before stumbling up the long, spiraling staircase. Mind muzzy, I counted the steps, hoping that would help remind my feet that they actually needed to step up onto them. It did, somewhat.

I did not recognize the western-facing tower rooms I was led down, or the suite of rooms that opened up at the very top of the tower. Even one as tipsy as I could not miss the stylized flames made in abstract red-orange waves around the creamy stone walls and what it signified. I was in his rooms, the Fire Lord’s, and now, I guess, my own.

I suddenly wished for more wine. A lot more wine.

That desire grew as I was herded into the bedroom. Sparsely furnished, as was the Air Temple’s way, it was still richly appointed. Every effort had been made to please touchy Fire Lord honor, and the bed---well, I was rather taken aback to find such a huge monstrosity of bad taste and intricate Earth Kingdom carving set so obnoxiously on top of a dais of carved stone. It was…well, it was…ugly. And huge. And garish. And huge.

There were ooh’s and aah’s over the monstrous testament to bad taste and not a few ribald comments that left my ears burning. Suddenly everything seemed clear and hard, all my muzziness gone, in that strange way that alcohol has of giving one the impression that they are not drunk, but perfectly in charge of their senses. I tolerated the women who swarmed over me, helping me out of my gown and unpinning my hair as others read some of the sentimental little poems given to me as gifts at the wedding feast. Some were quite good, others obvious quotes from well-known verse, still others plain drivel that made me wince. If I heard one more time how love’s breath will keep till death I was going to scream.

There was a deliberate cough behind me and I blinked as Suni gestured with a grand wave for the last robes I would wear this day to be unfolded for all to squeal and admire over. I blushed as the satiny blue silk was unfolded amid the knowing smirks of the older women and the gleeful squeals of envy from the younger.

“I had this made special for you, my lady,” Suni actually sniffed, her black eyes bright as the smooth silk slid over me like water, so delicate it was. The hem pooled around my feet, the lines simple and straight, though it clung to my hips and breasts in a way that seemed too obvious. Not that my bare shoulders and the plunging neckline did much to hide the blush that suffused my dusky skin. Thankfully, there was a silky robe to match, one that covered my shoulders at least, and tied at the neck. It hid the goose bumps that dotted my arms, at least, though did little to conceal the plunging neckline that clung to my firm breasts.

It was Suni who tied the simple closure around my neck, under my mother’s necklace, which I had worn throughout the ceremony. “Always you must wear that,” Suni sniffed again, tears brightening her black eyes. She could not help but scold me, a familiar defense against showing how much she truly cared, I guess. I bit my lip, touched and surprised at the old woman’s emotion, as if I were truly her daughter, and not just someone to order around.

She patted my cheek, smiling weakly. “You will be good, child. You will not shame me, I know it. That man who is now your Lord---well, we shall see, shall we? I think he means well, but he is full of pride, that one, as all Fire Nation men are. Still, I think there is goodness in him. You will be all right, child.”

I blinked, taken aback by her words. They seemed almost fearful.

Suni squinted up at me, her gaze suddenly piercing as her lips pursed in sudden thought. “You do know what happens between a man and his wife, my lady?”

I nodded weakly, a bright blush rising to stain my cheeks as the women laughed and howled around me, their comments and suggestions growing even more coarse and explicit. Their noise seemed to attract more---which I abruptly realized was coming from beyond the room, as the ribald crowd of men escorting my new lord and husband drew nigh. The women around me must have realized it as well, for they suddenly fell silent, their eyes wide and smiles growing. Several winked at me encouragingly as Suni gave my weak hand a final squeeze, whispering tersely, “Do not shame me or your family, child. All will be well.”

The women fell back away from me as the doors were abruptly thrown open amid a cheering banter of shouting encouragement and jokes that had me blushing and dropping my eyes in acute embarrassment. A tall man was pushed in front of the pack as the women squeezed past, giggling and tossing back ribald comments as they exited. I felt oddly bereft as they left, the men staring at me with knowing grins and a few choice observations that made me want to disappear.

“Enough!” That single, harsh word cut through the raucous merriment and I flinched as silence descended heavily in its wake. My eyes remained glued to the floor as there was an uneasy shuffle amid the onlookers, until one of them grinned.

“Impatient, eh, my lord? Can’t say as I blame you!”

A roar of laughter greeted the man’s crude sally, and there was goodhearted advise fired off.

“Can’t be too impatient or hasty, my lord, or else she won’t welcome you back a second time!”

“Or a third!”

“Do you think he can last a third?”

“If she wearies him, than I wouldn’t mind taking his place!”

“Nor I!”

“He’s strong, our Fire Lord. He’ll breach her walls with his mighty cannon---”

I wanted to die then and there, truly die. Oh, to be an Earthbender so I could bend the chilly stone floor beneath my feet into quicksand and let it swallow me whole!

“I said, enough!” The command cracked out like a flashing whip, and there was no mistaking that this time the Fire Lord meant business. The crowd went, hardly cowed, but respecting the fact that the Lord had had enough. The doors slammed with a hollow boom behind the last of them, leaving the room echoingly silent.

We were alone at last.

It was not a comforting thought.