Chapter Three: Reflections
Look into the water,
Look into yourself,
The ripples fast are fading,
Yet still you do not see.
Ask your many questions,
And hear them echo back,
Then splash your own reflections,
They answer what you lack.
Unsurprisingly, the main reason that Mai hadn’t enjoyed prison was because it was boring. Period. Between the short spasms of time that the prisoners were allowed out to exercise, there was only the company of her cell and herself, and nothing could be quite so bad as that.
Because Mai had too much to think about.
Not only that, the environment didn’t particularly give her much to distract herself with. The walls were cold and dry, the door locked and useless to her. She warmed herself up sometimes by moving through her forms, but then she would invariably stop, depressed at the uselessness of reaching for darts that weren’t there.
So mostly she sat and stared at the floor.
Mai was no stranger to hardship. She’d known the bite of hunger as they’d travelled across the Earth Kingdom at Azula’s furious pace. She’d known cold, and she’d known some pain in their fights. To tell the truth, she was certainly no stranger to loneliness and boredom; she’d known both for long enough in the company of her parents. But she was completely and utterly new at this. The experience of being someone but no-one. Of being stripped of her clothes of rank and title, given shapeless red cloth instead. The only function her prison rags served was to hide her body, and it was so different to her robes that had hidden her weapons and proclaimed her as a lady, as someone important, all at once.
It was so different, and Mai was so shocked at the alien nature of it that she had not even known how to respond when she’d been asked her name.
It had been at ‘exercise’ time - the few hours of the day where they were taken out of the solitude of their cells and thrown into groups to breathe fresh air again. Usually, Mai never talked at these except to Ty Lee, but on this occasion Ty Lee hadn’t been part of the group allocated to this area. And so she’d stayed back in the shadows, inhaling and exhaling, waiting to be taken back to her cell.
“Hi, I’m Seni,” someone had said. “One of the Kyoshi Warriors.”
She’d jerked her head up sharply, surprised that anyone had noticed her. When she finally responded, her voice was drier than normal from disuse. “I’m Mai,” she said. “I’m...”
She stopped and paused. Who was she? Who was she now? She knew what she had been. For far too long she’d simply been the Governor’s Daughter. Then the Fire Princess’ friend. Then Azula’s puppet. Then the Fire Prince’s Girlfriend... Zuko. Mai’s long, graceful, exact fingers clenched, No, she certainly wasn’t the Fire Prince’s Girlfriend any more. Zuko himself had seen to that.
So who was she?
“I’m a prisoner,” she said, and the other girl looked at her oddly.
“I can see that. So are we all.”
Of course she wouldn’t have understood. Mai just shrugged and said nothing, bowing her head back down. It had been a few days since she’d been able to wash her hair, and the lanky strands disgusted her. But they were proving rather effective at shielding her eyes, so she supposed she couldn’t complain.
This time, however, it didn’t seem to do much.
“Hang on,” Seni said abruptly. “I recognise you. You were with the girl who captured us! You’re...”
Mai didn’t wait for the Kyoshi warrior to finish speaking. After all, Seni was a person who knew who she was, so she obviously didn’t have anything of use to say. “Not anymore,” Mai cut her off abruptly. Then she walked away, and murmured something under her breath so quietly that she knew that other girl couldn’t possibly hear her.
“Whatever you’re going to say, I’m not that anymore.”
Around her, haggard people in haggard clothing gathered in the yard. Mai swept past all of them without a second blink. They might all be prisoners, but none of them were imprisoned quite like her.
8 8 8
Without Appa, it took the wounded Sokka, Suki, Toph and Aang a day and a half to reach the Fire Nation on one of the reserve war balloons. What with the time difference and their much-needed rest after the battle, it was already late afternoon when word of their approach finally came. And so it was that Zuko and Katara stepped out into the cool, tangy air of a Fire Nation afternoon to greet their returning friends.
The path was short, and crowded with people unsure of what to expect. Amidst them, Zuko walked heavily, the robes of a reinstated Fire Prince swathing his shoulders. It felt good to feel their weight, but even better to feel their weight and walk at the same time. It made it different from the last occasion he’d been shrugged into these clothes, when a royal palanquin had been his feet. Compared to the bulkiness of the litter he felt light, airy even, as he strode down to the docking station, where Appa was already waiting, to meet them.
Katara moved quickly at his side, her face shining around her bruised eyes. He took another look at them and exhaled quietly. She didn’t know it, but she’d become the living symbol of what they’d accomplished in the last forty-eight hours. It seemed that every time things became surreal, every time he needed peace before he tore up the throne room, his feet would instinctively excuse themselves and take him down to the infirmary. And then he’d find her, the figure of his friend bent over the beds of the grievously injured or the pallets on the floor for the less severely burned and the sick. Sometimes, he’d even had to push part the onlookers to find her, the small blue form amidst all the red, humming softly to herself as she’d pushed and pulled the pain away from her patients. His people.
Zuko smiled again at the memory, and at his own moments of healing. Bandages still wove around his torso under the heavy cloth of his robe, but now at least the injury they hid didn’t spasm with pain every time he turned. “They love you now, you know,” he said suddenly, his mouth moving before his mind.
She stumbled in surprise, and he had to wave away an overzealous member of the guard escorting them. Within seconds, she’d regained both footing and composure, looking up at him with a quizzical expression in her eyes. “Excuse me?”
He gestured expansively, the sweep of his arm taking in the marketplace, the museum, the people that rushed and bustled past. “You’ve been healing our injured almost non-stop since we’ve finished here. If I’d known it was so easy to sway public opinion, I would have tried something like that a long time ago.”
If only you knew, Katara shook her head slightly and kept walking, braid bouncing as she increased her stride. “And what would you have done, oh Fire Lord?” she grinned, her eyes teasing. “Splash water over them and pretend you were a peasant?”
The guard directly behind them stifled a laugh, but before Zuko could say anything another of their escort stepped forwards.
“It’s not just that, my lady,” he said, his eyes hidden behind the visor of his helmet. “You and Prince Zuko took away the Fire Princess. The people who were there will not forget.”
There was a sudden, dead silence around the royal entourage. Zuko felt his mouth wanting to open and close, but nothing came out. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Katara go white beneath her dark skin, and he was suddenly unreasonably angry.
“Shen Li? ”
The guard captain took off his helmet, and Zuko breathed. He’d been right. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised at that - the young man had been by his side for much of the last day. He was still uncomfortable around him, however. It hadn’t helped, the way they had met once more.
“Tell me, do you know any reason why my Uncle would recommend you to me?” Zuko had said in the privacy of the great throne room, the crackle of the dancing flames shielding his words from unfriendly ears.
The golden fire had reflected in Shen Li’s impassive eyes. “Your uncle befriended me as a boy. I am in his debt.”
Zuko’s gaze hadn’t wavered. “But you’re not in mine.”
Shen Li had looked right back. “I could be.”
Even now, the ambiguity of those words rang in his ears and gave him a headache. Zuko exhaled through his nose. The guard captain raised an eyebrow in question, and the Fire Prince resisted the sudden urge to add fire to his breath.
“Don’t... mention my sister in front of Katara again. Is that clear?”
Shen Li met his gaze wordlessly, then nodded before moving to replace his helmet. “Yes, your highness.”
Zuko turned back, not feeling better in the slightest, and felt Katara’s hand hover uncertainly at his elbow. “Zuko, it’s all right,” she said quietly, her eyes to the ground. “I’m going to have to deal with it eventually.”
It was the way she looked away from him, the way that she kept looking away from him that made him clench his fists in frustration. It wasn’t fair. “Katara, you don’t have to do this to yourself,” it was like being up against a solid wall of ice. “You did what you had to. We all did.”
She didn’t respond, just refocusing on the road ahead of them and the tenseness of the surrounding crowd. “We’re here.”
And then there was no time to press it, because Appa lifted up two of his feet in front of them and bellowed out to the sky. A stream of wind rushed forth, catching the belly of the balloon as it descended, and all thoughts of Azula were lost as they caught sight of their friends. With an excited cry, Katara flung her arms outwards, and within seconds Zuko was standing stiffly by, ever aware of his new office and his people around him, as the rest of them tangled in a group hug.
It was Toph, funnily enough, who realised who was missing. “Hey Sparky!” she yelled. “Get over here! We just won a war, and all you want to do is stand there?”
Katara laughed, and soon everyone else joined her as the suddenly sheepish Fire Prince joined the circle. Instantly, he was caught up in the tight embrace of arms and legs, and Katara felt the warmth that had been building up in her heart spill out to her fingers. They were there. They were all there, alive, and this was how it was meant to be.
And then she saw Sokka’s bandage.
“Sokka!” she cried, and her brother looked at her blankly before he followed the direction of her eyes to his leg, and then smiled sheepishly.
“Uh, yeah, about that...”
But his sister was already unravelling the bandages. Slowly, the group hug dispersed into a circle as Sokka leaned uncomfortably on Suki’s shoulder, watching as Katara disposed of the soiled linen, and then exposing the broken bone beneath.
Katara blew air between her pursed lips as she gently prodded the flesh, flinching back a little when Sokka uttered a sharp howl in reprimand. “Sorry,” she apologised, smiling at Sokka’s grunt in response. Her hand moved down to her water flask, and she swirled a stream of liquid out to press it against her brother’s leg. It shimmered for a moment, and she concentrated on letting the tendrils reach down through the skin, seep in through the muscle, and play around the expertly-set bone before sending it back into its container.
“I’m glad you got it set,” she said, looking up. Her relief-filled eyes told Sokka all he needed to know - that the Fire Nation physician hadn’t been lying, that he’d be able to walk again. He exhaled slowly as someone handed her a new bandage and a proper piece of wood to replace the stick that had held his bones immobile before. A few minutes later, he was feeling better than he had since the damn thing had first broken, and as Katara stood up, smiling, they finally heard one of the guards clear his throat behind them.
Katara turned. It was Shen Li again, his face tilted downwards so as it might not seem out of place. “Your highness? Perhaps the Avatar and his companions would like to be attended to after their travels?”
Katara picked up the suddenly annoyed glint in Zuko’s eyes as he remembered his contingent of guards, and she had to stifle a smile behind her fingers.
“Of... of course,” the Fire Prince stuttered, and then looked back. “Well? I suppose you might want to bathe. And then... then maybe I can take you around the Palace?” At their looks, he pulled a face. “It looks different when you’re not trying to invade it. Trust me.”
“Okay, I’m up for that,” Aang ventured, grinning, and then the rest of them followed suit. At their nods, Zuko felt something that had been seized up within him relax a little. It was over. It was really over and...
He turned around and found himself face-to-face with his people.
He hadn’t really noticed their numbers before; most of them had been going about with their own business, the news of the Avatar’s arrival too recent to have spread too far. But now as they realised just who had landed, they seemed to mass in front of the elevated balloon docks uncertainly, numbers poised as if unsure whether to stay or to flee. And Zuko saw the fear, the apprehension on the faces, and swallowed at the sudden dryness in his throat.
For one hundred years now, they had been taught that the Avatar was a threat. An uncontainable barrier to Fire Nation greatness. A myth to look out for, to ward against, to seek. And now the war was over, a war they’d been winning, a war that had certainly seemed to be mostly popular, and it had been ended mainly by the airbender’s actions.
Aang’s broad grin wavered as he too suddenly noticed the crowd, before vanishing completely when his friend suddenly grabbed his hand and dragged him out to the front. The indignant protest, “Hey, Zuko!”, was already on his lips, before it died away the moment he realised exactly how the elevated docks were now doubling as a stage.
And how he was now standing in front of hundreds of Fire Nation people, who suddenly seemed more frightening than Ozai himself.
Aang gulped. “Zuko?”
The scarred prince said nothing, still and rigid as his hand curled tightly around his friend’s hand. And then he was moving, jerking his arm upwards and throwing interlinked pale and tattooed fingers into the air.
“The Avatar!” he cried out, and Katara could see the ripples of his voice where it struck his people, hear the echoes as it rung across stone and metal. And then it was as if Toph had invaded her body, because she swore she could feel the collective heartbeat of the Fire Nation pause, slow, and then quicken into a replying roar.
The sound was astounding. It reverberated across them, rolling with displaced air that brushed their faces as it passed. It was not a roar of approval; it was far too new, too raw for that, and the fears were still to ingrained. Yet those closest could see the balance in the slight child’s gray eyes, could see the unearthly way he held himself, the utter composure and strength in his shoulders. And most importantly, they could see that there was no danger in the set of his lips, and so their collective minds began to remember even older stories, even older myths, and those vaguely recollected shreds was enough to give him their respect.
And they felt it. Six children on the wooden docks, who had just stopped an impossible war brought on by the follies of Lords. Katara felt it; a force deep inside her which had seen the effect of Zuko’s words, and despite it all she smiled.
There was hope.
And it was only a pity, a real pity that none of them felt or saw the smaller groups like the ones who spat on the ground, or the ones shouting curses instead of wary acknowledgement. Still, even they were noticed by some of the guards, Shen Li and Zuko in particular noting them down in their minds, eyes narrowing at the implications.
But even they missed the others, the ones who arguably mattered more. There weren’t that many of them amidst the rest of their countrymen, and they were alike enough that they were easy to miss. Still, when they retreated into the shadows cast by the midday sun, they left holes that remained long after the crowd itself had dispersed.
8 8 8
Perhaps it was because they were hungry, but dinner that night was incredible. True to his word, Zuko had suspended his royal affairs and taken them around the palace. It was a tired and yet content group that trooped back into the royal dining hall, and one soon convulsed in laughter when upon seeing the feast spread out in front of them, Sokka’s eyes widened until they looked as if they were about to pop out of his head.
Still, it wasn’t all perfect. Katara bit her lip as she picked up her chopsticks again, well aware that Aang had been staring at her with that inscrutable expression on his face, before lowering his gaze for the hundredth time that day. The lemon duck-chicken suddenly tasted a little more sour in her mouth than it needed to be. Surprisingly enough, given the Gaang’s closeness for the past few hours, she and Aang hadn’t really talked much yet. Sure, there had been the congratulations, the hug, the praising of his final decision to take away Ozai’s firebending instead of ending it and hadn’t that just dug the guilt in a little bit more?... but despite Aang’s thoughtful looks, he hadn’t properly approached her, and she hadn’t questioned that.
Katara somehow managed to worry her lip while she ate, turning her thoughts over in her mind. Perhaps it was because they’d invariably been interrupted by Zuko asking Aang his opinion on various matters of the peace summit (to be held as soon as things in the Earth Kingdom settled down), or by one of Toph or Sokka’s snarky comments. But still, it was strange. It was almost as if he was deliberately holding himself back.
Not that she could really complain, however. Somewhere deep inside her, Katara knew that she was actively avoiding Aang, and it was more than just Azula staying her hand. Besides the fact that she wasn’t sure how to deal with this new Aang, she still didn’t feel like she had a response to the old; to his kisses, his questions... and that made her feel worse than ever.
Was she still confused? Hell yes. Even the war ending hadn’t stopped that, although mind you... she still wasn’t so sure it had happened. It seemed so overwhelming, sitting here in this golden hall, the table still spread with food. Katara took another bite, and her appetite returned. But even as she ate, picking up another few pieces of lemon duck-chicken and roasted cow-pig, her eyes never stopped roving around the faces of her friends, drinking in their wholeness and joy. How far they’d come from foraging for nuts and rocks in the forest.
Katara suddenly wished they could stay like this forever. Just the six of them, Momo perched on Aang’s shoulder and Appa being well tended to outside. Sokka and Suki were feeding each other tidbits, laughing and talking animatedly with Toph, who was digging in herself with gusto. Zuko and Aang were talking quietly, the lulls in their conversation punctuated by Aang’s sidelong glances at her. Aside from the last fact, Katara was comfortable. They were safe, it was finished, and she didn’t have to worry anymore.
Of course, like all good things, dinner did indeed finish, and by the time it did, Katara was half-glad it had. She was sure that after dinner, her stomach wouldn’t have been able to fit anything else in, but then there was dessert, and she found that she’d been wrong, and the deliciously refreshing sorbets and selections of Fire Nation fruits were eaten with gusto. But when the plates were all being packed up and they’d retired to one of the side rooms where they could just ‘hang out’, as Toph had said, the solace of the present was soon over.
Sokka sat in one of the chairs, his arm draped around Suki, and the implicit reminder of Aang rose up from just looking at them. Katara flushed and looked away, besides, she wasn’t ready to think of Sokka like that. He was her brother, her sweet, goofy, intelligent brother, and she didn’t really need to think of him as anything different yet, but then had to look back as Sokka finally spoke the words that had been weighing on their minds.
“So... what now?”
Sokka had chosen his moment well, in the natural lull between conversations where the vicissitude of breathing suited his question. A sudden solemnn air fell over the group as they came down from the thrill of having finally won, having risked it all and won, and they pondered that question.
“I guess the peace conference is our next big thing,” Zuko finally said. Katara looked at him. The mention of the peace conference had made him sit straighter from where he’d been slumped, the few strands of hair escaping from his topknot framing his eyes. “We’ve made peace for now, but we’ll have to ensure it continues. Even though I’ve no doubt that Chief Arnook, King Bumi, and King Kuei will be highly amenable to peace, hatred of the Fire Nation runs deep. It will be very difficult to ensure a lasting peace, but with all of us involved, I’m sure we can do it.”
They nodded at that, but then Sokka interrupted. “Well, actually, I meant for those of us who aren’t going to be dealing with the greats. What will we be doing in the next few days?”
A small corner of Zuko’s mouth lifted. “You could help me with the paperwork I have to do. I never knew that reclaiming troops would involve so much reading.”
Sokka smirked, the look of friendship they shared belying the sarcasm in his voice. “Sorry Zuko, I like you, but I don’t like you that much.”
When their ribs finally stopped aching, Zuko spoke again. “Seriously, though?” he shrugged and sat back. “There’s not really that much to do. We just have to recall back the troops we can, and get set to working on the peace conference and sending word to everyone that the war is officially over. And then I’ve got a meeting tomorrow with the Ministers to discuss what else the Fire Nation is going to do. I don’t know. You guys could always take a well needed rest. We’ve all been running ragged for at least a year.”
Suki curled her arm possessively around Sokka’s side. “A rest sounds good,” she chipped in, her eyes pointedly never leaving Sokka’s leg. “Some of us need to heal, and it’ll be good to relax. Do you have any recommendations, Zuko?”
The Fire Prince grinned slyly. “I don’t know,” he said, affecting an innocence that was completely betrayed by his twitching lip. “There’s not much to do in the Fire Nation at this time of the year... other than say, pick up where we left the beach party... or, I don’t know... the royal bathhouses... or you could take a trip to the Fire Nation markets, or...”
His grin widened at their rapt expressions. “Does that sound like enough? I haven’t even started.”
“Awesome!” Toph punched the air. “We so have to finish that beach party now that Angry Boy isn’t trying to kill Aang again.”
“Hmm... the bathhouses sound nice as well,” Katara said dreamily.
As though remembering something, Zuko’s brow suddenly furrowed. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Well, you guys are right in that you pretty much have the next few days to yourselves until the peace process starts heating up. But...”
He hesitated, seemingly unsure. Aang looked up, his gray eyes curious from where he’d been playing with Momo, just listening in.
“Zuko? Is something the matter?”
The Fire Prince rubbed the bridge of his nose and then looked down. “Actually, something is,” he finally said. “I’m not sure how you guys feel about this, but... but it’d mean a lot to me if you...”
He breathed, and stopped. Katara suddenly felt all the warmth of the past hour evaporate and freeze in her heart. She had a very bad feeling where this was going, and she looked up at Zuko, trying frantically to signal with her eyes that no, it wasn’t the time yet, and...
Too late. Zuko was looking at Aang as he spoke. “I know that we were never close, that she spent most of the time trying to kill you. But it’d mean a lot to me if you came to Azula’s State Funeral in two days time.”
For a moment, there was true silence. Too late, Zuko looked at Katara and realised how wide her eyes were, and what a big mistake he’d just made.
Oh crap.
“Wait, when did this happen?” Toph spoke up, her voice cutting cleanly through the air. “All we heard was that you and Sugarqueen got the best of her. What’s this about her being dead?”
“Good question, Toph,” Aang said, his voice deceptively calm. “Is there something you’ve been forgetting to tell us?”
The look that he aimed at Zuko was accusing, and Katara felt her heart spasm in her chest for a moment. There was no denying that she was annoyed at the Fire Prince for letting the bombshell slip so soon, but at the same time it galled her that Aang looked at Zuko first. She wasn’t sure why. Objectively, if anyone were to have killed Azula, Zuko probably would have seemed the most likely culprit.
To anyone who hadn’t been there, of course, watching the duel with their own eyes. Zuko had never once aimed to kill, Katara knew that. And so it stung just a little, and the hurt that opened up in Zuko’s face for a second was enough to spur her into action.
“It wasn’t Zuko, Aang,” she said.
The look he gave her was uncomprehending, open and confused, and suddenly Aang had never seemed so much like a child to her, not even when she’d found his small form curled in ice.
“It was me.”
