i really like your works of book 2 zutaraaa. i hope i get to see you draw them realizing that they might actually have feelings for each other.
Thank you anon!! Honestly, it would take them so long to come to terms with their own feelings and it would take even longer for one of them to just admit it. But when it does eventually happen, I'd like to think it'd happen pretty naturally. Like they would just be in the middle of a conversation, joking around and messing with each other and it just slips out
"Of course, my waterlily. Then you and mommy will be the prettiest girls there."
"Just like from the song!"
~~~~
Merry Christmas, everyone! ❤ just going to post here an animatic I made earlier this year for the zutara month.
I like to think that this is the only song Zuko memorize back when Iroh constantly sings this during his banishment in his younger days. This song used to annoy him so much, but this changes years later when his daughter asked him to sing a lullaby for her.
He likes to point out that the girls who are meant in the lyrics are the girls he loves the most, and that's Katara and their little daughter, Kya 🥺
Sorry about work! Zutara - in the rain, longing - or any combination that appeals to you more! <3
There’s a heaviness to the air, a cloying feel beyond Caldera’s usual humidity that tells Katara rain is imminent; when she glances up, sure enough the clouds that have been hanging low overhead all day have grown darker, more foreboding.
It’s not terribly surprising - it is the Fire Nation’s rainy season, there’s usually a downpour at least once a day - but it’s annoying. She had hoped they might get another couple of hours before it started.
(Being a waterbender might let her control the rain, but turns out it doesn’t really help her predict it accurately).
Zuko doesn’t seem to have noticed. He’s wandered a little further that her down the beach and paused, bending down to look at something in the sand. An unusual seashell, or a fossil, maybe - he’s found more than one on their walks down here, and is always excited by them. He’ll turn to her with all the excitement of a little kid, eyes bright and smiling widely, holding whatever he’s found out to share with her, and she’ll feel that fluttering against her ribs and the tightness in her chest.
They take walks like this once a week, sometimes more. Walking down into the city itself isn’t really an option, not unless they’re surrounded by guards, but whichever ancestor of Zuko’s it was that built the palace anticipated that the Fire Lord might occasionally want to get outside and away from everything and a short walk from the palace there’s a stretch of sandy beach, hidden from the city by tall, craggy cliffs, that belongs to the royal family and only they (and their invited guests) are allowed to set foot here.
On a moral level Katara can’t say she really agrees with the concept, but practically speaking she has to admit she’s been glad of the privacy here. They need it, both of them, a place where they can get away from the constant clamour of the palace, from the never-ending politics and manoeuvering, the petitioners and the councillors. A place where they can just be Zuko and Katara, not the Fire Lord and his Advisor.
Which is why she doesn’t say they should be heading back inside before it rains, even though she knows she should. Zuko was a hair's breadth away from challenging one of his councillors to an Agni Kai earlier - there had been actual smoke coming out of his nose at one point - but now his shoulders are relaxed, and the frown that seems permanently etched into his forehead is actually smoothed away. She can’t bring herself to drag him back to reality any sooner than she has to, whatever the little voice of responsibility at the back of her mind might say.
And, perhaps, there’s a selfish little, or maybe not-so-little, part of her that wants as much time with him to herself as she can get - especially when she won’t have many more opportunities.
Foolish, really. But then, her heart has always yearned for more than it should.
If asked, she isn’t sure she could say when exactly she fell in love with Zuko.
Was it when he stood in front of his council of Fire Nation nobility and told them if they did not respect Katara and her position then they would be banished from his court? When she was homesick and he had the kitchens make her as many Southern Water Tribe dishes as they could and spend the night on the roof eating them with her, listening to her talk about her childhood? The day she arrived in Caldera, after he’d written to ask for her help in unravelling a century’s worth of imperialistic policies, and he had come running to meet her, pulling her into his arms and saying, “Thank Agni you’re here”?
Or did it go back further than that? To when he had jumped in front of a lightning bolt for her? When they had travelled the world together?
To the two of them standing in the caves beneath Ba Sing Se, bathed in the cool green light of a thousand crystals, and for the first time she had seen the wounded, conflicted and entirely human boy instead of the enemy?
She really isn’t sure. It happened so gradually, like a sun rising or the seasons changing, she wasn’t even aware of it happening.
She does know the exact moment she realised it. Six weeks, four days and two hours ago, give or take a few minutes.
***
It had been the end of another long day, one Katara had spent variously reading through the latest draft of Zuko’s treaty with the Earth King, replying to unpleasant letters from conservative councillors who didn’t feel a waterbender could have any insight to offer regarding funding for medical facilities throughout the Fire Nation, and trying to trace the provenance of a number of the Fire Nation’s “spoils of war” - read, stolen cultural artifacts - to determine what should be returned where.
Tired and not a little frustrated, she had made her way to Zuko’s office to invite him on a walk much like this one but stopped when she heard voices coming from inside.
“ … talk about this now?” Zuko had sounded defensive and exasperated, a tone Katara knew well; it was how he had often sounded around her when he had first defected to the Avatar’s side during the war, and how he occasionally sounded now when he knew he was losing a fight with his councillors.
Wondering which of them he was arguing with now, she reached out a hand to push open his door but stopped dead when a voice she hadn’t expected replied.
“If not now, when?” Uncle Iroh had demanded. Katara hadn’t even known he was visiting - he must have just arrived.
“I was thinking never, preferably.”
Iroh snorted. “I’m afraid that is not an option, nephew, as well you know. Perhaps if we were an ordinary family … but we are not. You are the Fire Lord.”
“I’m aware of my title, Uncle.” Zuko’s voice was laced with sarcasm.
“And are you aware of the responsibilities it brings? You are doing a wonderful job of rebuilding, but leading is not the only duty of a Fire Lord. It has been ten years since you took the throne. You cannot put off marrying and producing an heir forever.”
The words had hit her like a physical blow, squeezing the air from her chest and making her feel momentarily unsteady on her feet.
Zuko, marrying?
She leaned forward, trying to hear Zuko’s reply; he had lowered his voice and she couldn’t catch every word through the door.
“. . . can’t marry . . . did allow it . . . am I to do? Write to Mai? … have me … a noble girl at random?”
There was a pause, and then Iroh also spoke in a softer tone. “I know it is not what you wish . . . will not ask . . . elsewhere. I do not want you to be alone, nephew.”
A wave of indignation burned through Katara and she almost stormed through the door to tell Iroh that Zuko wasn’t alone - she was here for him. More than his uncle was, these days. If Iroh was so concerned about Zuko being alone perhaps he had better spend more time in Caldera and less in Ba Sing Se –
– but she couldn’t say that. What was she thinking? Iroh was expressing a reasonable concern. And it wasn’t as if he were the only one; the councillors were never hesitant to express their opinions about the fact that there was as yet no Fire Lady. Some were anxious, concerned that the only heirs to the throne were Iroh, an old man who lived in the Earth Kingdom, and Azula, still viewed with suspicion despite having apparently accepted her brother as Fire Lord. Others saw it as proof of Zuko’s weakness. Others still clearly saw it as an opportunity, not having quite given up on the dream of a Fire Nation empire that spanned the globe.
But it was different, somehow, hearing it coming from Iroh - he was someone Zuko listened to, whose opinion mattered.
Stumbling back from the door, she pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the racing of her heart, and asked herself for the first time why it bothered her so much. Why the thought of Zuko marrying someone, of another woman being closer to him than she was, left her feeling sick and angry and hurt, like something thorny and jagged was twisting around her insides until she thought she might choke on it.
Tui and La. It wasn’t hard to figure out. She was jealous.
Because she was in love with him.
***
In weeks since, she’s come close to telling him several times. When they’ve been up late working and he smiles his lopsided smile at her, when they exchange entire conversations in the span of a single look across the council chamber, when they spar in the training grounds and she lets herself admit it’s not just adrenaline that makes her feel so exhilarated, the words come crowding up her throat, wanting to spill out into the air.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Could you ever love me too?
But what good would that do?
He’s the Fire Lord. It would be unbearably selfish of her to ask that of him, to put him in a position that would inevitably cause an uproar throughout his country. Not to mention what it would mean for her, and her own future, the things she would have to give up to stay by his side - and it frightens her, the way she thinks she would be willing to do that for him.
Of course, all of that’s assuming he even returns her feelings. There are moments, when she catches him looking at her, when their hands just brush, that she really believes he might; but other days it seems like nothing more than wishful thinking.
To put herself out there and tell him, for him to reject her . . . she isn’t sure her heart could bear it.
But it absolutely could not bear staying and watching him marry someone else. So there really is only one thing left for her to do - to finish her work here, and return to the Southern Water Tribe. Perhaps with half the world between them she can actually get over him and be the friend he deserves. Or she can pine after him without worrying she’s going to do something stupid like blurt out her undying love for him over breakfast. Either way.
“Katara!”
Glancing over, she sees Zuko is wandering back towards her, holding something in one hand.
“You found something?” she asks.
“Not much but,” he holds it out to her. “It’s kinda cool.”
Taking it, she sees it’s a small, uneven bit of rock, the end of which has broken off to reveal a gleaming inside of swirling blues and purples that shimmer where the light hits them. It’s hypnotic to look at, and she smiles widely as she holds it up and watches the play of colour as it moves.
“Zuko, this is gorgeous.”
“Wish Toph was here to tell me what it is,” he chuckles.
“An opal, maybe? Kinda looks like that, although I’ve never seen one this colour,” Katara guesses, peering closely.
“Could be. I just - I thought you’d like it,” Zuko says quietly. Katara lifts her eyes up to meet his, and feels her cheeks warm when she sees him smiling down at her. And is it her imagination, or is he blushing a little himself as he adds, “You know, since it’s Water Tribe colours.”
Oh.
Her heart flutters against her ribs.
“I love it.”
He smiles brightly, then glances away and lifts a hand to rub awkwardly at his neck. “You could, uh, get it, you know, properly cut and polished. If you want. Make it into a bracelet or something …”
“Yeah.”
She looks down at the rock again, and rubs her thumb across the coloured edge. Maybe she’ll do that, get it threaded onto a cord she can wear around her neck or wrist and every now and then she’ll look at it and remember these walks they took together along this beach, remember the moments when it was just the two of them and she got to see a part of Zuko that she liked to believe was reserved for her alone.
She’s going to miss this.
“What do you mean?”
Too late, Katara realises she’s murmured her thoughts out loud and looks up to see Zuko frowning at her in confusion.
And that, of course, is when it starts to rain.
In a matter of moments a few drops splash on to her forehead, and then like the sky has been ripped open they’re drenched in a sudden downpour. Water sluices down Katara’s hair and skin, soaking through her clothes.
She laughs nervously and wonders if she can deflect from her slip of the tongue. “We should head back inside.”
But Zuko’s not that easily fooled. “Katara. What do you mean you’re going to miss this? Are you going somewhere?”
Somewhere behind her annoyance and alarm at having given herself away, it occurs to her that it is spectacularly unfair that being soaked to the skin somehow makes Zuko, a firebender, even more attractive. His dark hair, grown almost as long as her own, has started curling slightly around his ears, and his robes are plastered to his body so that she can see the full outline of his tall, broad frame and is reminded of how he has filled out since they were teenagers. The rain running down his face highlights his high, sharp cheekbone, and his golden eyes seem to burn even more brightly as the light has dimmed.
Looking at him makes her breath catch in her throat and she has to swallow before she can reply. “N-no, not now – but, I mean, eventually I have to, right? I’m not - I can’t stay here forever.”
Something twists in Zuko’s expression.
“. . . of course. You’ll . . . want to go home eventually. You must miss it.”
“Of course. It’s only natural.”
It is natural, and she does miss the tribe. She misses her father and her brother and grandmother, she misses the food she grew up with, seeing the incredible lights that dance across the sky over the ice some nights. She misses penguin sledding and wrapping up warmly in furs to escape the bite of the cold. She misses the tribe’s rituals and celebrations.
The Southern Water Tribe is where she came from and it will always be a part of her. But she’s not entirely sure it’s home for her any more.
Home, she fears, is the man standing in front of her, and she is quite sure that the way she misses the tribe is nothing compared to the way she will miss Zuko when she leaves.
Zuko smiles at her, but there’s something so deeply sad about it that she wants to cry. Maybe she does; with the rain falling so heavily it’s difficult to know the distance.
“I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” he says.
“You’ll be fine.” Katara’s voice cracks a bit on the last word. “You’re a great leader, Zuko. And - and eventually you’ll get married and she’ll - she’ll be with you –”
Zuko’s eyes widen and he shakes his head.
“You sound like my uncle.”
“He’s a wise man.”
He laughs, but there’s no humour in it.
“He is . . . but I think I might have to disappoint you both. I don’t know if I’ll ever get married.”
Katara stares, so taken aback that for a moment she doesn’t know what to say to him except that what he’s saying is ridiculous. He would never turn his back on his duty like that.
“Of course you will. You - you have to. I know things didn’t work out with Mai, but you’ll find someone. Why wouldn’t you?”
Zuko shakes his head again.
“No. I don’t think I can, for the same reason it didn’t work with Mai. It - it wouldn’t be fair to whoever I married.”
Katara frowns. “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t it be fair?”
For a moment Zuko doesn’t answer, just lifts a hand and drags it down his face and over his scar. Then to her surprise, he leans down and rests his forehead against hers, bringing his hands up to clasp her shoulders. He’s so close she can feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.
When he speaks, his eyes are closed and his voice is so soft she almost doesn’t hear it over the pattering of the rain on the sand all around them.
“Katara . . . do you really not know?”
She breathes in sharply.
“Zuko -”
“I’m sorry,” he cuts across her, his eyes still closed. “I know you don’t - and that’s okay. It is. I understand. But I -”
“Zuko.”
Now she really is crying, tears mingling with the rain on her cheeks. The rock falls from his fingers and she brings her hands up to cradle his face, brushing his thumbs over his skin - smooth and unblemished on one side, rough and ridged with scar tissue on the other - and she wasn’t going to do this but she can’t, can’t let him believe she doesn’t want him.
He’s so close, it takes hardly any movement to press her lips to his, to kiss him softly once, twice; his lips are warm and slightly chapped beneath hers, and part slightly as his breath hitches in surprise – and then his hands are at her waist, pulling her flush against him, and he’s kissing her back, hungry, desperate, his mouth open and his tongue teasing her lips apart.
Katara lets her arms wrap around his neck and gives herself over to it. The drumming of the rain merges with the thundering of her own heartbeat and she feels dizzy, almost drunk, the world fading away as she presses herself as close to him as possible. The heat of him radiates through their wet clothes, and she’s dimly aware that some of the rain is now curling around them as steam; it feels as if he had breathed his fire into her and it now moves like liquid gold through her veins.
Her fingers curl into his hair and he groans into her mouth. Her legs have gone weak beneath her and it is only the strength of his arms holding her up as she kisses him over and over until her lungs are burning with the need for air, and even then she is reluctant as they break apart - though he makes no move to let her out of his arms and she makes no move to leave them.
“Of course I do,” she says, as he rests his forehead against hers once more. “I just didn’t want to be selfish. It will be hard, Zuko.”
“I know. I don’t care,” he replies. “I’ll give it up if I have to.”
“No, you won’t. Your people need you.”
“And I need you. Either they take both of us, or neither.”
He says it so simply, even though they both know it won’t be, that she cannot help but smile.
“Stay with me, Katara,” he says.
“. . . okay. I’ll stay.”
He breathes a deep sigh of relief and kisses her again, long and deep, and it feels like her heart is not just fluttering but soaring.
“We really do need to get out of this rain,” she laughs in between kisses.
“Well that’s easy enough,” Zuko shrugs. “I’m with a master waterbender that can control the rain. And I can dry us off. I think we could stay out here for hours yet.”
Katara considers this.
“You know -” With a flick of her hands she directs the rain away from them, bending it to rain around them rather than on them. At the same time, she feels Zuko’s arms around her become warmer and her clothes begin to dry. “You make a very good point."
"The longer I live, the more deeply I learn that love — whether we call it friendship or family or romance — is the work of mirroring and magnifying each other’s light."
Anyway if nothing else matters then I hope people remember that Pope Francis used his last public address to call for a ceasefire in Gaza and call Israel a terrorist state:
"I continue to receive very serious and painful news from Gaza. Unarmed civilians are subjected to bombings and shootings. It is terrorism."
The thing about Aragorn's line to Eowyn, about the importance of "valour without renown" is that it's one of those lines that sound good out of context, that holds merit in itself, but then you look at who is saying it, and who they are saying it to, and then you think about how Aragorn, male, with a famous lineage, has renown for the taking, whereas Eowyn's gender means she has been raised to do all the labours in her society that; while needed, will never bring renown, and you think of the wider context of women through cultures and centuries taking on the burden of "invisible" labours, which is still a phenomenon in modern day across the globe, and the history of women having their impact on society and their achievements in Science, Art, Mathematics, Literature and other areas of study being forgotten or undermined, which Aragorn won't consider because he's never taken a moment to think about the lot of mortal women, and it's like, oh my God Eowyn, please hit him with a stick!
Because in general, talking about service, humility, doing good for good's sake, not for reward, are solid principles. But when you hold a privileged position, with opportunities and liberties, and you're preaching all the above to a person whose life has been one of oppression, one of enforced servitude, humility, and constant good deeds with no hope of reward, you need to be hit.
Precisely!!! I watched the movie before I read RotK, and this irked me very much. Aragorn is arguably my favourite character, but kudos to Tolkien for writing a perfect, virtuous, 'loved by everyone' character such a controversial line. I'm not sure what it says about Tolkien's own ideologies, but it sure takes a jab at how society still places gender biases on women, despite proclamations of equality and whatnot.
That's just how our society is shaped, and more often than not that disparity goes unnoticed ESPECIALLY by people who have more power, opportunities, or are of a different gender.
Even Aragorn, with all his empathy and wisdom simply cannot understand what Eowyn is going through, because despite all his trials, and struggles, he does have more renown, power, and strength of lineage. Eowyn is, in a lot of ways, a character with far more strength of character than Aragorn.
This really does raise some thoughts about privilege and position. And on one hand, yeah, it kinda stinks to think that our beloved Aragorn would say such a thing. But on the other hand, what he said is kind of objectively true. Valour without renown is still very important. "Deeds are not less valiant because they are unpraised" or whatever. Aragorn probably recognizes that Éowyn is "between a rock and a hard place" here. He knows she wants to do great deeds, but responsibility demands otherwise, and I think he's trying to help her see that mundane responsibility can be just as important as the deeds of grandeur.
Later on, Gandalf has to remind Éomer of the privileges he has as a male in Rohan, whereas Éowyn has the same strength of spirit and yet does not get to do the same things because of her gender. It seems like Éomer genuinely has never thought of it that way before. Their society may have some fundamental elements of misogyny. So I can see how Aragorn might not have been able to see it from Éowyn's perspective either. He's not meaning to be misogynistic or belittling, he just doesn't think of it because he's seeing through his eyes.
However, I think what he says to her is more along the line of what Galadriel says to the Hobbits about "even the smallest person can change the course of the future," or what Elrond says about "sometimes small hands must move the wheels of the world because the eyes of the great are elsewhere." But what do Galadriel or Elrond know of smallness or insignificance? What do they know of, say, Sam's life as one of the lowest classes in one of the simplest societies, or the mundane work he does in the Shire? You could say Galadriel or Elrond are being condescending, speaking from a place of position and privilege, spouting off ideologies without understanding how far removed they are from the people to whom they're speaking.
But what they're saying is true, at the end of the day. The humble, the people who are overlooked or work behind the scenes, are often the ones who do the greatest and worthiest deeds. While their sage advice might be condescending in the mouths of some people when used as a device to just brush off those lower than them, that doesn't take away the fact that the principles are true. And when spoken by the wise and noble, though those people may indeed have greater positions, it doesn't always necessitate that the higher individual is being condescending or misogynistic, etc.
What I'm saying is, Aragorn could have had a moment where lacked the ability to see from Éowyn's perspective, and he could've been speaking from a place of privilege. That's all possible. But being that what he says is objectively true, he could be just trying to offer the best advice he can. He knows Éowyn is forced into a position she doesn't want, and he doesn't really have the authority to change that, so he does his best to help her realize that she can do things of great value even if she's stuck in a spot she despises. It doesn't necessarily mean Aragorn holds the misogynistic views that may be integrated into the society.
Also, Aragorn later expresses that he feared what would become of Éowyn even after he left her behind. I think he knew she wanted to go to the battlefield seeking glory, but also seeking death. She wanted to die. And when people get into that mindset, one where they see despair and no other way out, they can do irrational things. I think Aragorn perceived that about Éowyn, and I think he was afraid of what irrational thing she might do. He knew she wanted a suicide mission. And he was trying to help her do the reasonable thing rather than letting her rashly run off to a "glorious" end. It was the best he could do as a gentle let-down.
Sure, Tolkien's works were a product of their time, and from then even till now, misogyny has been an issue. So yes, Aragorn was speaking from a place of position and privilege, and maybe he never could fully understand the situation from Éowyn's place as a woman - but even had he been a nobody, I think he would have offered the same advice because that's what his values are. It's why he understood Frodo had to take the Ring to Mordor, because even though Frodo was small and comparatively unskilled and insignificant, Aragorn recognized that sometimes the inglorious saves the world.
truly, truly hilarious that people would have this take-
as if Aragorn hadn't spent the last 67 years of his life in utter hiding, fighting under assumed names (or no name at all!) for most of those years, living in horrible places and never having his own home or getting to live with the woman he loved. as if he didn't have to spend those years knowing that Sauron was killing his people and the other citizens of middle earth, but also knowing that he couldn't do anything.
Eowyn does have power and strength of lineage ("You are the daughter of kings," anyone?) but she is also deeply suffering. she is a beloved leader of her people (Hama suggests that Theoden put Eowyn in charge when he leaves, because the people already deeply love and respect her), but she doesn't hold "domestic leadership" in as high of regard as "dying with a sword in her hand because she thinks the world is going to end anyway." Aragorn is offering her hope, as is befitting of his elven name.
Aragorn is one of Tolkien's "wise" figures (with Samwise and Gandalf being the other two of the trio), but Aragorn's wisdom about the deep, deep pain that comes with having to work without acknowledgement or gratitude isn't just because he can figure out a logical syllogism, but because he *lived* that life.
if anything, Aragorn is letting Eowyn into his own life experience, encouraging her with words that he wished someone would've said to him- that there truly are more important things than valor and gratitude and dying with a sword in your hand, that some things are worth fighting for even if no one thanks you, and that in truth, no deeds of valor will be unthanked in the end.
