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Noun. moonglade (plural moonglades) (poetic, rare) The bright reflection of moonlight on a body of water.
/ / /
Zuko is easy to trust, with his poetic speeches about destiny and that softness that tempers the burning glow in his eyes. But the last thing Katara ever wants to do is make the mistake of trusting him again.
She closes her eyes, neck resting against the cool stone of the fountain. Aang and Zuko’s conversation drifts to her from the other side, vibrant twelve-year-old mixed with quieter, starting-to-open-up sixteen-year-old. Ever since Zuko joined them at the Western Air Temple five days ago, eavesdropping has become a pastime of hers.
“Zuko? Do you think Katara’s pretty?” And today, when the question blossoms from Aang, innocent and unassuming as a dandelion, her lips part with shock.
Her name has come up before in their little chats. Often, it’s the catalyst for brotherly heart-to-hearts. Katara will trust you eventually, Zuko, but you have to earn that trust. Until then, at least you’ve got me, right? Or sometimes it pops up more casually, in passing. See you later - I’ve gotta go practice with Katara.
But this time . . . This time is different.
There’s a long pause. Katara counts the seconds as they tick by.
One.
Two.
Three.
“She is,” Zuko says simply, curiously. And just like that, Katara is frozen, her lungs held captive in the tranquil autumn air. This statement has come out of nowhere, has come from a boy who remembers her death threat as clearly as he remembers his own name. “Why?”
“Nothing. I just think she’s beautiful.” She imagines Aang speaking those words into the wind, gazing wistfully at the lowering horizon. Zuko must be perceptive enough to realize just how deep Aang’s feelings on the matter are.
But he doesn’t comment on it. That isn’t how Zuko is. From what she’s been able to tell, Zuko listens but never pries. “Come on. Let’s get back to practice.”
/ / /
Tension is a strange thing. Katara isn’t used to this - unspoken words hanging in the air, gazes averted, thoughts racing like the wind. But that’s the nature of her interactions with Zuko these days, and nothing will ever, can ever, change it.
Their relationship is strange. He’s her enemy, but she isn’t his enemy. He craves her acceptance, but she rejects his. He already has the acceptance of everyone else, so why does he need hers?
The campfire crackles, mixing with the aroma of vegetable dumplings and steamed tofu that Sokka and Zuko managed to find somewhere. They’ve been eating extravagantly lately – maybe to impress Zuko, this fire prince that everyone around her is oh-so fascinated with.
Not that she doesn’t know where they’re coming from. He’s a mystery, a prince from a faraway land, and a former villain (although she isn’t too sure about the “former” part, personally) all wrapped into one. He’s too intriguing for his own good.
Zuko doesn’t say much tonight, not that he ever really does. But that doesn’t stop everyone from inundating him with conversation.
“Sooo,” Sokka begins quite elegantly, mouth stuffed with dumpling, “what did you used to do for fun back in the Fire Nation?”
Zuko stares, blinking while he takes the smallest possible bite of tofu. He’s always so hesitant when he eats, almost as if he feels strange about their hospitality. “I . . .” When he trails off, looking lost in a flashback, Katara can feel Sokka cursing internally at himself for drudging up painful memories. But then Zuko finally answers. “I used to read.”
Books. Literature. None of that fits with her image of a young Zuko, born and bred to be a monster. She tries to picture it, tries to picture a Zuko that’s even younger than Aang, turning the pages of a Fire Nation fairy tale with bated breath, hiding under the covers with a tiny flame in the palm of his hand so that his father won’t find out he’s stayed up past his bedtime yet again.
Sokka’s eyes, sapphire like her own, light up in a way that she really doesn’t like. He nudges Katara in the side. “Yeah? That sounds familiar. You’d be surprised how many novels Katara has stashed in Appa’s saddle at any given moment.”
There’s a tense silence. Teo, The Duke, and Haru don’t understand what Katara has against Zuko, and no one has ever really bothered to tell them, but they still squirm uncomfortably. From across the circle formation they’re all sitting in, Aang gives her an anxious look, while Toph smirks from Katara’s right.
But Katara remains tight-lipped, and so does Zuko. There’s nothing they can bond over when Katara isn’t even willing to speak to him.
Sokka sighs. He has never looked so disappointed.
Half an hour passes. Zuko has yet to smile tonight. He only ever speaks when spoken to but listens attentively as The Duke recounts a series of harrowing adventures involving Jet.
Meanwhile, Sokka turns to his right, whispering to Katara. “I think you’re only seeing what you want to see, you know. He’s not any different from the rest of us. And you know what, Sis?”
But Sokka wasn’t there in the Crystal Catacombs that day. He doesn’t understand anything. “No, I don’t know. Do enlighten me.”
For some reason, he grins. “One of these days, you’re going to forgive him. And I think it’ll be adorable.”
She blinks several times. Is he for real? “Adorable?”
“Yeah. It could turn into the cutest . . . friendship that ever existed. You’d surprise each other endlessly.” Sokka is definitely not whispering anymore.
Zuko’s glancing up at Sokka with the same expression she herself is probably wearing – one of utter puzzlement. She meets his eyes, wonders if companionship ever crossed his mind or if it’s just forgiveness that he seeks. Because it’s impossible to imagine Zuko being an actual friend to someone, engaging in lively banter or asking for advice.
Sokka heads to bed with a satisfied yawn that Katara doesn’t even want to begin interpreting, and Aang gets up to take his place, wedging himself in between Zuko and Katara.
His eyelids are filled with sleep, and he’s slumped all the way to the left, buried in Zuko’s side like he plans to fall asleep right there. How things have changed since Zuko joined them.
She saw Aang and Zuko return from the Sun Warrior ruins four days ago, saw the fire blazing in gray and gold eyes, saw the wild blasts of crimson flames emerge from their limbs in an otherworldly dance. Zuko gave Aang something no one, not even Katara, has ever given him – a friendship founded on a shared spiritual awakening.
If they all survive this war, how long will it be until Katara is forgotten and replaced with Zuko? What if Aang wakes up one day and realizes he no longer approves of Katara’s grudge against his new friend?
Just as the thought enters her mind, Aang places his hand over hers. But the shivers don’t begin to race up her spine until she realizes that Zuko is intently focused on their clasped hands resting against the stone floor.
“You alright, Zuko? You seem kind of . . . tense.” Katara doesn’t know why Aang’s fighting sleep just to worry himself over Zuko. Zuko’s always like this. Leave him be.
Zuko looks up and considers Aang for a moment. She’s spent enough time observing him to know that whatever his answer will be, it won’t be a complete lie. Maybe a deflection. Maybe a half-truth. “How do you know I’m tense? What if I’m just thinking about the books in Appa’s saddle?”
Is he . . . teasing? It’s hard to tell. He doesn’t make eye contact with her, and his tone is nonchalant, just like when he acknowledged mere hours ago that he found her pretty.
But she swears that the corner of Zuko’s mouth twitches for a split second before reverting back to normal. Since when has he ever had a sense of humor?
“Good point,” Aang mumbles. With that, he nods off.
Everyone else has left. She and Zuko are the only ones still awake beneath the night-drenched sky.
Her eyes flick from Aang, a softly breathing flutter of orange and yellow fabrics, to the fire prince who once hunted her down. He stares broodily into the last few flames that sway atop the kindling, presumably to take his mind off the venom and spite in her eyes. She takes in the handsome jawline and the dark hair that falls softly into his eyes. When their group made the decision to forgive him, maybe they were subconsciously influenced by that appearance.
Then she remembers what he told Aang earlier.
So what if they find each other attractive? It means nothing to her, and if Zuko knows what’s good for him, it should mean nothing to him either.
“Katara.” Zuko’s whisper brings her out of her thoughts. He’s never said her name before, and it sounds wrong on his lips. It makes her feel like she’s drowning. “I’m sorry,” he elaborates, swallowing and looking away awkwardly. So, so awkwardly. More so than she would expect from royalty trained to manipulate others with undying charisma.
But she knows what he’s sorry for this time.
Last night, Zuko tried his hand at brewing tea over the campfire while she was sitting nearby, studying her waterbending scrolls. Sokka peered over Zuko’s shoulder and teased him (“Who would have thought you could be so domestic?”), and a smile emerged from Zuko’s lips for the first time in perhaps all his life. He was starting to relax. Starting to feel like one of them.
The smile left as quickly as it arrived, but Katara couldn’t forget it. It was soft and filled with something like . . . sincerity. In that moment, he gave her one more reason to see him as human, and that didn’t settle well with her.
Before Katara knew it, Zuko was kneeling in front of her, offering her a porcelain cup. “Toph said you like tea. You can be the first to try some of this if you want.” It was the first time he’d tried to interact with her since his first day at the temple. This act of kindness, this act of friendship, was the last thing she expected. From the corner of her eye, Sokka’s gaze was focused on them, more seriously than was usual for him.
Dainty rose petals floated atop the fragrant substance. They were the same color as that embarrassed blush Zuko wore – a tender, heart-wrenching red. So many things seemed to embarrass honor-seeking, Avatar-chasing Zuko at the most unexpected moments.
And like that, the paranoia reared its head, unpredictable and irrational. Poison, her mind told her.
She grabbed the tea by the handle and, looking at his hopeful golden irises, tossed it to the side, unsure of whether her spite or her fear was stronger. Sokka didn’t say a word.
Zuko had a hard time meeting her eyes after that.
Even now, sitting with him beneath the new moon, she still doesn’t know where that thought came from. Maybe her subconscious doesn’t want her to forget who the enemy is, and so it conjures lies to rile her up.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, as though that will help somehow. “I know you still see me as who I used to be -”
“You don’t know anything about me, Zuko.” It’s his turn to blink in surprise, because it’s the first time she’s ever spoken his name aloud either. Maybe she’s heard everyone else say his name so often in recent days that it rolls off her tongue with ease.
“I know some things.”
She scoffs immediately. “I wasn’t aware a few days of being around someone makes you an expert on them.”
His tone isn’t combative at all. “I know you’re mysteriously drawn to the fountain. The one in the middle of the temple.” The fountain that she’s hidden behind every day, the one that she only ever goes near to spy on Zuko and Aang. Did he say what he said today knowing she was listening?
“And . . . moon blossoms. You really love those, don’t you?” He almost whispers it, and her breath catches in her throat.
There’s no way he could know about that. She and Aang were the only ones around.
They laid down in between the pillars of the temple yesterday at dawn, Aang cradled in her arms as they both marveled at the startling white of the moon blossom petals raining down from the branches. That was when they kissed without meaning to – it was hard to tell who initiated that small brush of lips first.
And then they agreed to forget about what happened, at least until after the end of the war.
“You know what they say about moon blossom petals?” Katara’s voice has turned to steel. “They bring good luck, but not to those who’ve committed unforgivable sins.”
He has nothing to say to that. His betrayal in the Crystal Catacombs hangs in the air, almost tangible. That betrayal is one of the reasons Aang’s life was nearly extinguished.
He looks so young and lost, the burden of a slumbering child Avatar on his shoulder, and she hopes the shame consumes him.
But her coming out on top in this conversation isn’t enough to make her forget how bitterly Zuko spoke of the moon blossom petals.
/ / /
Once she finally does forgive him out on the pier, somber sunset hues playing against his faintly golden skin, she solidifies their friendship with a promise.
“You found the man who killed my mother. There’s only one way I can repay you for that.”
“Katara?” He seems wary, stepping out of her embrace now that he’s heard that. Maybe the feverishness of her proclamation reminds him of Azula. But the whole experience has been emotional for her and has awoken a determination that she once never had.
“What if I took down Ozai?” She isn’t sure what she’s saying. Maybe she’ll wake up tomorrow thinking that it was all just a dream.
Zuko’s eyes dart to Aang at the other end of the pier before settling on her for a long moment. He never told her that it was Ozai who was responsible for taking his mother away from him, but it wasn’t all that hard to deduce. “Would you have said something like that yesterday?”
“No, I hated you yesterday. Remember?”
He smiles, amused, and places his hand on her shoulder. “Maybe I did forget just a little bit.” She expects him to protest more. But then it dawns on her that he’s nothing like Aang – he sees vengeance the same way Katara does, as something not to shy away from. “If you didn’t kill Yon Rha, then why would you kill my father?”
“I don’t know.” But she does know, studying the outline of his lips and hoping he doesn’t notice.
“I see.” He leans in, initiating a loose hug, and she can feel the hard muscle, the heat radiating from his skin. “Uncle says friendship is all about give and take. If you want to give, then who am I to stop you?”
When he pulls away, she wants nothing more than to be dragged back in.
/ / /
Sozin’s Comet is in twelve hours. There hasn’t been much free time in the three days since Katara forgave Zuko. No time to frolic and play like the children they are. Instead, they’ve been preparing for war.
Aang is missing, and the White Lotus has taken them in for the night, and Zuko has yet to confront his uncle, and too many things are happening all at once. Maybe that’s why Zuko and Katara are trying to block it all from their minds, trying to pretend that tonight is no different from any other night.
Katara and Zuko are the only ones still awake. They always are.
The night sky is too vast for their minds, too beautiful for their hearts. The galaxy could swallow them whole if it wanted to, and then their almighty fire and water would be snuffed out.
At the edge of the encampment, a small pond teems with spiritual energy, and Katara stands tall before it, lifting her arms until a sphere of water rises up, the tiniest splashing sounds dotting the silence when she skillfully coaxes it back down. She knows what Zuko’s face will be like when she turns around to see him lying down in the grass a little ways behind her – solemn but ever so slightly in awe. Where he’s from, there is no waterbending – it must be like magic to him.
In an effort to get to know each other better, they’ve formed a habit of asking each other random questions. There’s something cute about the way Zuko has yet to realize that he’s been asking far more questions than Katara has.
“Katara.” She likes his voice. It’s a little raspy, a little hoarse, but in just the right way. “Do you have a favorite quote?”
She smiles, eyes fixed on the shimmering moonglade, opalescent and infinite.
“It’s hard to remember, since I don’t usually read the same book twice.” She turns around, and there’s something eerily pretty about the way the stars light him up. “Why? Do you have one?”
“I can’t remember it word for word.”
“What was it about?” Katara whispers.
“The end of the world.”
She walks towards him and lies down right beside him, as close as she can get without their shoulders brushing. The moon, that celestial body that gives her inhuman power, radiates above her. “Zuko?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re too young to die.”
“We are.” He’s quiet, too quiet.
“What are you thinking?” she asks.
“I wish we could have been friends sooner.”
She turns onto her side and giggles softly into his shoulder, sturdy and filled with his characteristic heat. “What about Aang and Sokka?”
“Them too. But I only earned your forgiveness three days ago. That’s not enough time.” That’s not enough time before the end of the world.
It’s her turn to ask a question. “Have you ever been in love?” She moves until she’s resting in his arms in much the same way Aang once did under the moon blossom petals. Despite her unwavering faith in the Avatar, a part of her wonders if she’ll ever see Aang again.
Zuko’s eyes are different from Aang’s. They’re not so serene. They remind her of her own eyes – vivid, ever blazing, eternal. His body goes rigid beneath her, like he’s not sure if she should be so close to him or not. “Yes. I love Mai.”
There’s no need to object, to point out that he doesn’t really love Mai. That he simply thinks he loves her. Now that the world’s ending, it would be cruel to shatter that illusion for him. “If we don’t make it tomorrow, then at least we can both die knowing we’ve fallen in love before.”
“You have?” He sounds surprised.
“I love Aang.”
His response is a little absentminded, doesn’t quite fit. “Okay.” His fingers tread delicately through her hair, something he’s never done before.
/ / /
Sozin’s Comet arrives, just like they all knew it would. And by the time it leaves, the former Fire Lord is mysteriously and quite literally without his fire.
Even more mysteriously, the night that Prince Zuko becomes Fire Lord Zuko is the same night that the Painted Lady is seen entering and exiting the prison beneath the royal palace.
/ / /
An hour later, Zuko arrives at her guest room, located somewhere between the throne room and the kitchens. He joins her by the windowsill, leans against it the same way she does. She doesn’t know if he’s consciously decided to mimic her movements or if he’s somehow magically in sync with her now that she’s revived his heart, now that she’s undone the damage inflicted during that fateful Agni Kai.
He’s been studying her all day, even with Mai’s hand clutching his at the ceremony, even with Mai’s kisses and Mai’s whispers distracting him afterwards during the festivities. But Katara doesn’t dare to read more into it than necessary – she and Zuko have been through impossible things together. Their friendship is more intimate because of it, and that must be why Zuko can’t seem to rid her from his mind.
He’s mere breaths away from her, but not touching, not running his hands through her hair like he did last night. The minute his lips met Mai’s just before the ceremony, so casually in front of everyone, an unspoken agreement arose between him and Katara. They need to tone down the intensity of their friendship, at least in that way.
“If you hadn’t done what you did,” he says, voice trembling imperceptibly, “I think my father would have haunted me for the rest of my life.” He’s looking at her like she’s a savior, a goddess. He redirected lightning at his own father during the eclipse months ago, but she came along last night to finish what he started.
“It’s our secret.” Those words feel intimate, and a thrill passes through her veins at the idea of a secret between them and only them. It’s an illogical, wicked feeling, now that there’s blood on both their hands, but nothing about this has ever made sense, so why question it now? “Aang wouldn’t understand.”
The curtains, a soft red lined with gold, perfectly match the more casual tunic he wears now. She suspects Zuko truly does love his regal crown and fancy robes, but it must get old after a while. “I agree. It doesn’t mean I like having to lie to him, though.” He sighs. “It must be worse for you, since you’re together now –“
“No.” He blinks in surprise, and she elaborates. “We’re not together. I told him I’d confused friendship love for . . . well . . . for something else. He took it pretty hard – he’s leaving tomorrow morning.”
It’s silent for a moment. She’s not sure what he’s thinking about or what she should be thinking right now.
“Stay,” he says finally, declaratively.
“Stay?” What reason would Katara have for residing in the Fire Nation palace, of all places? There’s never been such heat in his eyes before.
“Yes.” The heat manifests into a flame. “You can be my personal healer.”
/ / /
Four years pass. She’s eighteen now, while Zuko is twenty and at the peak of his good looks, if the swooning townsfolk are anything to go by. And she would know a lot about the swooning townsfolk – she’s spent all too many evenings with Mai and Zuko during their leisurely strolls through the markets just outside of the palace.
Katara sighs. Zuko and Mai recently broke up, and she really misses Mai’s dark humor and witty sarcasm. It’s been two weeks since that last excursion when the three of them were together, laughing and impulse-buying sweets and trinkets that they really didn’t need, only to give them away to nearby children eyeing them with awe. (Zuko also bought too many roses for Mai and made the mistake of gifting them to a passing teenage girl, who promptly fainted.)
She’s spent years watching Zuko hold Mai’s hand and profess his love to her in the most romantic ways possible, but never once has he thrown his friendship with Katara to the wayside. In fact, he’s done everything he can to foster a friendship between Mai and Katara so that the three of them can spend time together without it being the least bit awkward.
Katara’s hands glow cerulean over the bruise that Zuko has mysteriously gotten on his bicep after firebending practice yet again. She wants to say that their friendship didn’t change at all once she began residing under the palace roof, out of respect for Mai and Zuko’s relationship, but that would be a terrible lie – their friendship only grew more intimate over the years, more intense, more . . . electrifying.
Throughout his relationship with Mai, Zuko avoided being alone with Katara for any reason other than having her heal him. After all, if the palace guards are good at anything, it’s spreading rumors and gossip. They couldn’t do what they used to do before Sozin’s Comet struck – make tea around campfires after everyone had gone to bed, count the stars in the sky and ask each other silly questions.
And that was why, whenever they were alone together during their brief healing sessions, something about it felt unexpectedly forbidden. Unexpectedly enticing.
Right now, there’s a spark in Zuko’s eyes when he speaks to her, sitting at the edge of her bed, a maroon sea of silk sheets behind him. She stands over him, healing him, while trying not to notice that mesmerizing spark. In a sense, they’re starved for time alone together, time to bond without Mai being caught in the middle of it.
This doesn’t feel like friendship anymore. She wonders if Zuko’s noticed it too and simply doesn’t know how to approach it, for fear of messing everything up and bringing them back to square one, bringing them back to the days when hostility was all she ever felt towards him.
“Don’t worry about Mai,” Zuko says. She never once told him that she’s worried about Mai – he’s just scarily adept at reading her. “Aang got over it when you broke up with him. Mai will get over me breaking up with her – she just needs time.”
“You must miss her.”
“But we weren’t right for each other.”
Katara laughs. “Zuko. That doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to miss her. For one thing, it’s probably hard for you to go without receiving those sappy love notes –“
“Do not tell Uncle about those, or he’ll never let me live it down –“
“And I bet you miss holding hands. And the dates. And the . . .” Katara trails off, and her neck heats up.
Zuko raises an eyebrow as Katara finishes her healing with a final burst of blue light. She bends the water back into the ceramic bowl on the floor beside her and takes a single step backwards, crossing her arms. “And the what?”
“Well . . .” They’ve never spoken about this type of thing before. They never exactly had a reason to. “The sex.”
They’re staring at each other, and he looks just a little stunned. Maybe he’s never expected to hear that word fall from Katara’s lips. Maybe he’s forgotten that they’re old enough now to talk about, think about, something like this. “Definitely don’t let my uncle find out about that.” Katara’s eyes widen, and a small, teasing smile seeps from Zuko’s lips.
“Uh . . .” It’s strange how the roles have reversed – now Katara’s the awkward one. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not any of my business.”
He considers her for a while. “No, don’t apologize. I’m just surprised. It’s usually Sokka who brings up this kind of stuff.”
She makes a face at the mention of her brother, and he laughs a little, reaching out for her hand to bring her to sit down next to him. She obliges, sinking into the mattress. “I’ve never slept with anyone, you know.” She looks down at the deep blue of her knee-length skirt, knotting her fingers into the cotton fabric. “The right opportunity never struck, I guess.”
When she looks up, his features are filled with surprise. Probably surprise at what she’s admitted to, along with surprise at the fact that she’s telling him instead of Suki or Ty Lee.
“But I want to try it,” she says. “I’m curious about it, you know?” Her voice grows quiet, and something in the atmosphere shifts. “Zuko, can I tell you something?”
He nods, not protesting when she leans into his shoulder, looks up at him and locks eyes with him and breathes in the scent of him – regal but ordinary, compassionate yet indomitable. When his hand falls into her hair after so many years, dark brown tresses resting against his palm, it feels natural, like no time has passed at all, like his touch was always meant for her.
Katara continues. “When we were younger, I think I had the biggest crush on you.”
“Katara,” he says, that same teasing smile lighting him up, turning his eyes into the sun, “I knew that right away. I’m sure everyone else knew too.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“You were so obvious. Even Sokka picked up on it.”
He laughs while her jaw drops, and she basks in how graceful and rare his laughs are, as well as how lucky she is to be one of the few people he ever laughs around. “How did you feel about it back then?”
“The last thing I wanted to do was point it out and make you feel uncomfortable.” It’s a vague response, one that doesn’t quite answer the question.
“Can I ask you something else?”
His smile fades and drifts into something that looks like affection. It’s a familiar expression, one he wears more nowadays, around Aang and around Iroh, and especially around her. “What is it?”
Her risks are always calculated, planned far in advance, but there’s something uniquely compelling about throwing caution to the wind altogether. “Do you have a lot of dreams?”
“I do.”
“Am I ever in them?”
His hand stills in her hair. “You might be.” If he were still with Mai, would he let something that open to interpretation fall from his lips?
“You’re always in mine.” The dream she had last night comes to mind. “Things usually happen that I wouldn’t mind happening in real life, if you know what I’m saying.”
There’s no way he can misinterpret that. Zuko is anything but oblivious. He’s a sharp diplomat, a warrior who’s always ten steps ahead of his opponent. “I see.”
It’s a dance, this conversation. He’s waiting for her to say something that will firmly turn the tides. He wants to be sure. She can feel his breaths – they’re certainly not coming out steadily.
He watches like a magnet fixed on its other half as she slides into his lap, straddles him.
“Katara . . .” She knows that he knows she can feel how hard he is. His eyes are wide and roaming her face, and he’s swallowing with some apparent difficulty.
“It feels like you’re interested in the same thing I am. What should we do now?” Her hands graze the buttons of her midriff top, and she lets it fall open. The air is warm, sultry, against the bare skin underneath.
His eyes dip low and take her in, and the sight of her only makes him even harder against her. “Is that rhetorical?”
“Yes. I was hoping you’d show me instead of tell me.”
Zuko presses her body inconceivably closer to his, readily beginning the process of taking her up on that offer.