I ended up writing something for “lilac,” even though at first I didn’t quite understand how it became a prompt. There’s perhaps a lot I don’t understand about the big wide world of fandom, ships, and all that, but I do know this...
Zutara has taken over my life, and my most recent fic is seriously eating my brain! I’m losing sleep over it, and I honestly don’t care. And that’s a big deal, because I really like my sleep!
Rising Tide is my work-in-progress, and it’s the sequel to my first ever fiction, Darkness Before Dawn. Below is an excerpt from Rising Tide: Chapter 3, entitled Lilac.
Katara remembered one of her favorite parkas from when she was a child had been purple. A nice soft purple, the color of lilacs. They were a flower, her mother said. She imagined that whenever her mother called her waterflower, one of her many nicknames, that she was a lilac growing somewhere in a field of green, reaching toward the sunlit sky. It was enough to keep her warm on some of the colder days in the South Pole—that and secrets and snuggles and storytime by the fire. Her mother's parka was purple, too.
She screamed the day that Gran Gran insisted she couldn't wear it anymore. "It's too small, dear… you'll freeze in that… you need to let it go." But what Katara heard was, "You need to let her go." She couldn't find that happy place anymore, the one with the field of flowers and the warmth of sunshine. It was just... cold. She had been given her brother's old parka to wear instead. A warrior's style. Perhaps it was time to stop daydreaming anyway. Perhaps it was time to start fighting.
When Katara stood in a fabric shop faced with endless possibilities, only one color caught her attention. Pick something for the Winter Solstice Festival, Iroh had said. It was perfect. But would it be too painful?
"That's a nice color," the store clerk told her. "Lilac is the shade. The flowers bloom in the Fire Nation in late spring."
They don't bloom in the South Pole at all, Katara thought.
When she put on the dress on the day of the Winter Solstice Festival, her friends, Suki and Song, spoke words of admiration and delight. Everything was muddled by emotion, though. Memories of cold winters made colder still by the pain of loss. A purple parka she would never see again—no, two purple parkas…
The weight on her heart only began to lift when she saw his face. Here in the Fire Nation, spring flowers announced the end of winter. Here in the Fire Nation, she had found warmth and love. And here in the Fire Nation, she bloomed.
Summary: Zuko and Katara come to an earlier understanding. Based loosely on the “Love Is a Battlefield” comic. AU.
@zutaraweek Better late than never?
They were counting down the days until Sozin’s Comet, diligently preparing for the task ahead, and yet trying not to think about the end of summer all at the same time. Katara had thrown icicle after icicle at a courtyard wall that morning, envisioning the Firelord as best she could—though she had never seen his face. Somehow, his visage always morphed into Azula’s by the end.
Azula. The surreal glow of the Avatar State; Aang ascending into the air; the excruciating white of her lightning shattering Katara’s world. She could never let that happen again.
Sokka had taken Zuko hunting, of all things—which left her, once again, on her own to look after everyone. She was used to it by now; she didn’t need any help. In a brisk motion, Katara drew the sweat away from her face and went to fetch Aang. He’d been doing hot squats the previous day but hadn’t begun any actual firebending.
She decided to surprise him awake—and caught him off-guard just like she’d wanted. Or rather, like she hadn’t wanted. He’ll have to do better than that, she told herself after pretending to want to talk to him and shocking him with a small waterspout. But Aang didn’t seem to be in the mood for it today.
“Aang, you have to be ready to battle the Fire Lord,” she admonished. “This is not time for games or playing Hide-Aang-Seek.”
Her friend gave her a distressed look and lowered his head. “Who's really playing games here, Katara? Are you sure you're not the one hiding something? I thought you wanted to talk about what happened before the invasion!”
The invasion. The kiss. The last thing Katara wanted to talk about was that. It had all happened so suddenly; Aang had never even told her how he felt, he’d just went straight for the smooching! Katara realized she’d been seeing the signs for a long time, but hadn’t wanted to think about them. She’d invested too much time and energy into making sure Aang didn’t lose anyone else after everything he’d suffered. But Aang had gotten impatient and she hadn’t had the heart to pull away. After all, it was right before he would be facing possible death (or so they’d thought) at the hands of the Firelord.
More than anything, she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. She just wasn’t in love with him, and didn’t know how to tell him that. She had the feeling he’d be angry with her, even though it wasn’t her fault.
“Uh ... I don't know what you are talking about,” she hedged. “I mean ... I can't hear you properly from in there so, um ... just come out and bring the heat!”
Aang gave her a sullen glare. “Ha! Obviously, you can't handle it when things get a little too hot!”
Hot was hardly the word she’d use to describe his kiss before the invasion. Confusing and uncomfortable came to mind much more easily. Maybe if she could just redirect the conversation.
“This isn't about us,” she said firmly. “I mean, me ... I mean, ... you ... I mean, you're supposed to be preparing for the Fire Lord!” He was still using earthbending to block her; she knew if he’d had the chance, he would tuck himself into a ball of earth and refuse to come out. She had to keep after him.
Summoning more water, she flexed her arms and a sheet of icicles pummeled the rock barrier.
“Cut it out, Katara! I said I don't feel like doing this right now!”
But Katara wasn’t letting this go. He would have to be ready, and soon, whether he felt like it or not. “Come on already, Aang! Show me some fire!”
Aang’s voice went low, and Katara’s internal alarm bell went off just a second too late.
“Fine! You want fire? I'll show you fire.”
The propellers of Azula’s airship whirred rhythmically through the skies, Hakoda keeping the craft steady while Sokka assisted him and Zuko pointed the way. They were almost back to the Western Air Temple, and Suki, who’d been imprisoned the longest, was savoring her freedom. Ever since the rescue, she’d been clambering up the walls and railings, doing cartwheels on the catwalk, and opening the hangar doors just because she could. (Sokka had even had to be the level-headed one and stop her from pulling the emergency landing cord.)
Miles of ocean surrounded the sturdy cliffsides near the temple complex, the breakers wrestling each other against a cool summer morning. As they approached the abandoned city, Suki ran to the windows and narrowed her eyes.
“Hey, I think those rocks are moving,” she said. “And—there! There, that was definitely waterbending.”
Sokka and Zuko moved beside her to watch.
“Whoa, awesome!” Sokka exclaimed. “Aang and Katara are sparring! This oughta be good.” He glanced at Zuko. “I thought he was supposed to be practicing firebending, not earthbending.”
Zuko gaze landed on his new pupil down below, then looked away. “She always goes too easy on him. She never fights him the way she fights me.”
“I don’t think she fights anyone the way she fights you,” Sokka pointed out. Zuko gave him a dark look, prompting Hakoda to break off his one-sided conversation with the still unfamiliar controls.
“Everything OK, you two?”
“Yeah, it’s fine, Dad. Don’t worry, Zuko. She’ll come around.”
Zuko scoffed. “Not likely. She really hates me, Sokka.”
Hakoda looked from one to the other. “Is this about Suki’s village?”
“Worse.” Zuko found himself unable to look Hakoda in the eyes. “Katara.”
Hakoda whistled. “Sokka mentioned she was still holding a grudge. Zuko, I’ve known Katara since she was a newborn, and she does hold onto her anger for too long, sometimes. But don’t worry, son. Once she realizes she can trust you, you’ll be just like one of the family.”
Family. The word reopened every last wound he had inflicted on himself over the past year. “Respectfully, Chief Hakoda, I don’t think that’s possible.” Zuko drew a breath; they might as well know everything. “I betrayed her trust.”
Sokka scratched his head. “Uh, no offense, Zuko, but I don’t think Katara ever actually trusted you in the first place.”
“She did. And I trusted her back. When we were alone in the caves together.”
Hakoda’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. He mouthed to Sokka, Alone? Caves?
Sokka was quick to placate him. “Don’t worry, Dad, it’s not like that. They were just imprisoned together under Old Ba Sing Se by Zuko’s crazy sister while they were both enemies. They were alone for hours, and … “ there was a pause as Sokka thought over what he’d said. “ … and now she hates him more than everyone else.” His voice rose. “Wait, what did happen in those caves? Did you hurt—”
“No!” Zuko pulled at his hair in frustration. “No, I never touched her. She touched me.” He blushed. “Um … not like that. My scar. She—” his voice cracked slightly. “She offered to heal me with spirit water.”
But any further explanation was lost as the dirigible hovered over the Western Air Temple.
Aang, fed up with dodging Katara’s attacks, clenched two fire-filled fists—and the ground broke apart with a deafening roar. Zuko could feel the heat from above, shaking their transport as a column of smoke rose into the air. Below them, the earth began to bleed lava.
Zuko’s heart leaped into his throat at he saw a small blue figure take shelter behind a stone column.
Hakoda’s hands left the controls involuntarily. “Katara!” The airship began to veer off course until Sokka grabbed onto the levers and righted it. Zuko made an “unf” sound as Hakoda elbowed him out of the way to get a better view. Luckily, it seemed like Katara had escaped the worst of the fire, but dread still gnawed at Zuko. Unable to stand by and do nothing, he turned to Hakoda. “I can get down there faster. My firebending can slow my descent enough to hit the ground running.”
“You mean like Azula and her fire jets?” Hakoda had obviously paid close attention during their escape.
Zuko didn’t mention that he had never before attempted such a thing. “Yeah, like that.”
Hakoda looked closely at Zuko, as if taking the measure of him, then nodded. “We’ll land and give you back-up as soon as we’re able.”
Zuko gulped and told himself that he had fallen from great heights before, and survived. He stalked onto the landing platform, ignored the wind that whipped past his face, and took the plunge in a heartbeat.
Katara had taken refuge from the surge of rock and gouts of flame that leapt from the Avatar’s hands. She’d rarely seen Aang this mad before, and counted herself lucky that he couldn’t access the Avatar State. The stone columns shielded her from the worst of the heat, the water she’d been holding up earlier spun into an ice shield that wrapped protectively around her. It vaporized almost instantly, but it was enough. She was lucky she had it with her; the air was dry all around and offered poor protection.
Katara peeked out from behind the pillar, dodging back to its shelter as red-hot boulders half her size slammed into the ground around her. The smell of ash invaded her nose, inducing a coughing fit.
It’s okay, she told herself. It’s fine. I asked for Aang to show me his fire, and he did.
As the fallout slowed and the earth around her stopped trembling, Aang came running toward her.
“Katara, I’m so sorry! Are you OK?”
And she was just molding her lips into a false smile of appeasement when Aang was hit by a falling, and very angry, firebender.
The pair of them collided and rolled to a stop in front of Katara. Aang groaned and rubbed his head while Zuko clutched at the arm he’d landed on. Katara started forward to lend a helping hand when Zuko leaped to his feet.
“Aang,” he said. “Are you all right?”
The Avatar began brushing debris from his clothes. “Yeah, I’m fine, Zuko. Just a little—” but before he could finish, Zuko marched forward and, with a face contorted in fury, hauled Aang up by his tunic.
“What the hell were you doing?!”
The shouting match was still going on when the airship safely anchored itself on one of the temple overhangs.
“—didn’t mean to—”
“—control, don’t know how many times I have to—”
“—wasn’t my fault—”
“—your actions, your responsibility—”
“Zuko!” Katara interrupted, and firebender broke off his diatribe. “I told you twice already, I’m fine. And, and it really was my fault, so maybe don’t be so hard on Aang.”
Zuko looked unimpressed. “How is what he did your fault?”
Katara fiddled with her hair. “It’s my fault because I made him angry. If I hadn’t antagonized him, he probably wouldn’t have lost his temper.”
A queasy feeling took hold in Zuko’s gut. He’d remembered feeling the same way, toward … but he stopped that line of thought in its tracks. “Aang is a firebender. We get angry all the time. We fight, we yell, we lose our tempers—but we can’t ever lose control like that.” He turned to Aang. “Fire isn’t like air—you can’t just let it go and think the harmless breeze will drift past those around you. And if I recall correctly, that’s the second time you’ve almost hurt Katara because you lost control of yourself.”
Aang squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head. Zuko chanced a look Katara’s way, only to find her biting her lip as Aang succumbed to guilt.
Apparently fixing on Zuko as the cause of Aang’s hurt, she put her hands on her hips. “Don’t pretend to care about me, Zuko. You never did before.”
Zuko felt the internal blow, but shrugged it aside. “That’s not true. No matter what you think, I’m not a monster.”
“Oh yeah?” Katara’s voice grew louder. “So you’ve never lost control of your bending? You’ve never burned anything by accident?”
Zuko turned back to Aang and deliberately held his gaze. “I have lost control. And I have burned things by accident. Things, Aang. Never—ever—people.” He took a step back. “Now. What did Katara say to make you so angry?”
“Yeah, Aang,” came Sokka’s voice in a cold rage behind Zuko. “What did Katara say that made you hurl fireballs at my sister?”
Zuko had been too preoccupied to notice Hakoda and Sokka’s approach, and Suki could be as stealthy as he was when she wanted to be. The Water Tribe chief had grabbed a spear from one of the weapons lockers on the airship and was keeping a tight-knuckled grip on the handle. Sokka was brandishing the sword he’d “liberated” from prison.
Katara and Aang looked at each other, both sheepish for some reason.
“Um …”
“Well, I …”
“It was my fault,” Katara repeated. “I—I wasn’t giving Aang a straight answer to a question he kept asking me.”
Zuko would have hated to be on the receiving end of the look Hakoda was giving Aang now. “That must have been some question.”
Neither Katara nor Aang rose to the bait.
Zuko looked from one to the other, and between their awkward stances and muttering, it hit him. He felt a pang in his chest (it couldn’t be jealousy, he wouldn’t let it be jealousy). “Oh,” he said. “This is about that thing you two have going on.”
Sokka, to Zuko’s disbelief, looking extremely confused. “What thing going on? They don’t have a thing. I mean, Aang’s been crushing on Katara since forever, but she’s never actually—”
“I’m going inside now!” Katara interrupted before her brother could continue. “I’m going to—to make breakfast. And no one had better bother me, or talk about anything while I’m not here, okay? Okay, good. So that’s all settled then.”
Aang sighed in defeat as Katara practically leaped indoors and sprinted toward the kitchen. “Why isn’t she my girlfriend yet?” he wondered. “I just don’t get it.”
Zuko slapped his forehead at the question. “Aang … “ he began.
But it was Suki who spoke up next. “Guys, I think it’s my turn to tutor the Avatar.”
Sokka sputtered, horrified. “Please say you’re not going to teach him the ins and out of romance!”
Suki shook her head and gave Aang a very serious look. “One of the most important things for a warrior to learn is that some things should never be battles. A warrior should respect her comrades in arms, always, and never misuse her strength on the battlefield toward someone she loves. Your first lesson begins now.” She blew a kiss to Sokka, then motioned for Aang to follow her in the opposite direction of Katara. And Aang, though he glanced over his shoulder at the empty courtyard, did the same, leaving Zuko and Hakoda together.
“I’m sorry I left them alone, Chief Hakoda,” said Zuko after a moment’s silence. “I had no idea he would behave like that. He was always so kind to me, I thought he would never harm her, even unintentionally.” Glumly, “I guess I’m not one to talk. I know I hurt my girlfriend by breaking up with her in a letter.” A sharp spike of guilt hit him. Mai had faced Azula because of him—was probably dead because of him.
He felt a hand upon his shoulder, and for a moment absurdly thought it was his uncle’s. But when he looked up, Hakoda had stepped closer and was regarding him with respect in his eyes. “You can call me Hakoda. All the kids do. And I highly doubt you broke open the earth and sent flaming chunks of rock toward your girlfriend.”
“No, of course not!” Hakoda half-smiled at Zuko’s denial. “I’ve done a lot of bad things, but that wasn’t one of them. I never—not with your daughter, either, sir. I mean, Hakoda. When we were down in the catacombs …” he trailed off, then resumed at Hakoda’s encouraging nod. “When we were alone together, she started yelling at me about how I was my father’s son and what a terrible person I was, and when I tried to defend myself, she told me about her mother.”
Old, deep pain creased Hakoda’s face. “I see.”
Zuko bowed so low he nearly doubled over. “I am so, so sorry for what happened,” he said. “I told Katara the same. And that—“ he fought to get the words out. “—that she wasn’t the only one who had lost someone.”
“So it’s true,” said Hakoda softly. “The rumors that the Firelady disappeared five years ago and hasn’t been seen since.”
“It’s true,” said Zuko. “She was banished for trying to protect me from my father. I don’t know where she is or whether she even wants to see me again. I’d give anything to find her, but—well, Katara and I, we talked about it. About how much we missed them, how we wanted to be like them even when we couldn’t be. It was just such a relief, you know? My uncle was always there for me, but I had no one that I really—no one my own age.” No one I considered a friend. “For the first time, I had someone I could talk to.” With a bitter smile, “She even apologized for yelling at me. I guess that’s all over now.”
“Well, she did offer to heal you,” Hakoda remarked.
Zuko shook his head. “She’ll never know how much I trusted her. I didn’t let anyone but her touch my face after I got burned.” And then, because they’d been through so much together and he couldn’t hold it inside anymore, he blurted out, “It was my father.”
A low rumble emerged from Hakoda’s throat, and Zuko was oddly reminded of the mother turtleduck that had bitten his foot all those years ago. “I know it sounds stupid, but all I wanted was to be like him, to be strong and powerful and not care what anyone thought of me. And for a little while, I thought I could just throw it all away. Be like my uncle, a good man, going around the world with a smile on my face. But Azula showed up, and she knew just how to tell me everything I wanted to hear. And—I was weak. I wanted to go home. I know that’s not an excuse, I just … I just wish I could tell Katara that I meant it. What I said when we were trapped together, I meant it.”
Hakoda inclined his head in the direction Katara had run. “As far as I’m concerned, you still can. But if you don’t mind my asking, what made you go back on your decision?”
Zuko looked out over the balcony, where the world dropped away and the mist rose up from the valley. “I remembered who I was,” he said. “And more than that, I accepted it. I’m not my uncle. And I’m not my father. I’m Zuko, and I had to stand up for my people. That’s another story, though.”
“I’m sure Katara will look forward to hearing it.”
That startled him. “Katara?”
“Yes. When you two start talking again.”
“Ch—Hakoda, it’s not as if I can just wait for her to come around to me. She’s dead set against forgiving anything I did.”
“Oh, I didn’t say wait around. You definitely have to make the first move in that direction. But from what I hear,” with a smirk, “firebenders are good at taking the initiative.”
Zuko couldn’t help it; a smile flitted across his face. “Thanks.”
“And now, if you’ll excuse me. Suki has had her talk with Aang; now it’s my turn.”
With that, Hakoda turned away and started after Aang. Zuko grimaced in sympathy for his student. Aang was on his way to mastering all four elements at the youngest age of any Avatar, but Zuko wouldn’t trade places with him for a kingdom.
Night fell, humid and bright with the nearly full moon on its shoulders. Badger-frogs croaked in the distance as blue mist rose in tendrils toward the lower levels. Katara stood still, contemplating a fountain that she and Toph had cleared of old muck and was now flowing freely again.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
Katara stiffened, but refused to turn around at his voice. “What do you want?”
“To talk.”
“You had your chance.”
“I know. But I also know you have compassion. Even for firebenders.”
A flush heated her face and she stared deliberately at the water pooling in the circle of stone. “Who told you I cared about firebenders?”
“You did. When you helped my people, if what Sokka says about the Painted Lady is true.”
At that, Katara turned around and faced him. “Those people were victims. They had suffered under the war just like my village. I was only trying to help.”
“And you did. Don’t worry; they won’t be retaliated against. The locals still remember the old legends and the village is too obscure for Father—for Ozai—to worry about.”
“Yeah.” Uncomfortable, she kept her gaze off to the side. “Sokka said I didn’t think things through when I tried to save them.”
“That’s something we have in common.”
She blinked, her eyes catching his for the first time, and she couldn’t help a treacherous warmth that stole through her at the thought that he’d remembered his words to her in the cave. “Dad says you weren’t lying about your mom. And that you saved his life and my brother’s.”
His golden eyes widened. “He talked to you? How much did he say?”
Katara narrowed her eyes. “Oh, no, Prince Zuko,” she said. “You don’t get to fool me that easily. I know he didn’t tell me everything, so now you have to spill. And you’d better do it quickly, before it gets too late and I change my mind about waiting here for you.”
Zuko’s mouthed opened and closed. He swallowed. “You? You, were waiting … for me?”
The vulnerable tone in his voice made Katara glare at him, scrutinizing the prince for any hint of insincerity, any sign that he would betray her now as he’d done once before. But she didn’t find a prince or a traitor, or even a firebending master. He was Zuko—a different Zuko than the one she’d met in the catacombs, but Zuko all the same. Just like she was a different Katara.
The image crossed her mind again—white lightning, Aang convulsing, her world collapsing on itself. But her world was bigger, now. Aang was in it, but he wasn’t all of it. There was her father, and Sokka, and Toph, and Suki, and Zuko. There was everyone she’d befriended on her adventures and all of her community back home.
And, for the first time in a long while, there was room in the world for her, too.
“We were all waiting for you,” she said, and stepped closer to him. He didn’t retreat from her. “Thanks for asking if I was okay. And for helping talk sense into Aang. I guess I need to speak to him, too, and tell him how I really feel.” Her spine straightened. “But not now. Now, I am tired, and I would like a warm bath and a good long sleep.” She poked him gently and he made a surprised sound. “You can heat the water for me, and then help train Aang tomorrow, and then help me make breakfast in the morning.”
“Yes, Sifu.” A splash of water flicked playfully at his shoulder, and he smiled. “Provided you’re up for a rematch with me tomorrow. Um. That is, if you want to.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Katara smirked. “The next time an enraged firebender comes slinging flames at me and I have to hide behind a column, I’ll kick their butt.”
The smile widened just a fraction. “They’d have to go through me first.”
She laughed and nudged his shoulder affectionately with her own. “Fine. I’ll kick their butt and then come to your rescue.”
He looked at her then, the same penetrating gaze she’d used on him, and she could see the swell of hope rising to the surface of the face she’d so foolishly thought was a mask. “Katara. You really mean that?”
“If you mean it, Zuko…then so do I.”
He took his hands in hers as the moon rose behind him. “I’m in. And I’m not going anywhere.”
for zutara week 2016 ( @zutaraweek )
day 7, candles
“Here, Mama.”
Their oldest child, already a precocious four-year-old, turns to Katara and hands her a candle she must have culled from one of the baskets filled, ready and waiting, for the attending nonbenders by the pavilion entrance.
It is the day of the midsummer feast, the day of the solstice, and the Fire Nation takes the day off from their labors to soak in their element, to drown in its humid flares under too-bright sunlight.
Being the Fire Lord’s wife has more unnecessary pomp than Katara had expected when she was seventeen and flush with new kisses and even then, more worried about the effect their marriage would have on the nations than about how it would impact her daily life, but she is largely used to it now. Now, she walks with the confidence that she always had but also with the practice that comes from years of navigating this nation’s customs and court, alongside her family to the pavilion where Zuko will light the flame of Agni to honor the day. The ceremony is short, but the feast that follows is long.
And already, Katara is ready for sleep, for shade and shelter from the swelling heat.
Instead, she takes the candle from her daughter and says, “Thank you, sweetie,” just as Zuko says, “Your mother is a waterbender; she doesn’t need the flame.”
The child’s forehead crinkles; she must not remember last year, when Katara stood beside them in a respectful stance but did not light her own flame in the ceremony, being neither firebender nor nonbender. “But everyone needs a flame today,” she protests. “You said so, Daddy.”
“I did,” Zuko says, smiling as they take their place behind the guards at the front of the crowd. “But your mother is an exception. Today isn’t her day, although she still respects our ceremonies.” He smiles at Katara, too, and reaches over to squeeze her hand.
She had participated the first few years that she’d been in the Fire Nation, holding up a candle to honor history not her own, but it had never felt right, and she wasn’t sure of the line to draw between respect and discomfort. When she’d brought it up to Zuko, he’d said she didn’t have to participate if she didn’t want to—but she also didn’t want to provide any fodder for critics who were already uncomfortable with the fact that the Fire Lord had married a Water Tribe wife. They’d had to foil too many assassination attempts already. But Zuko had insisted, and in the end, it seemed that most people understood. The ones who didn’t were the ones who were looking for disruption anyway.
But now their daughter wants her to actively participate…and Katara can’t say no to the hope welling in those golden eyes.
Minutes later, after a minor official has given a short speech and Zuko has given a slightly longer one, Katara raises her candle with the crowd—firebenders making small flames in their palms, nonbenders holding candles aloft—to welcome to the sun and its might.
The flames lower, and Katara breathes in, out, in, out, finding her inner balance again. The Fire Nation is not what it once was—it is recovering, as the world is, as she and Zuko are.
She blows out the candle she holds, Zuko snuffs the flame in his own hand after he’s lit the ceremonial lantern, and she checks to make sure their daughters have appropriately snuffed their candles, too. The younger cries because some wax dribbled on her fingers, and Katara leans down to kiss the offended digits while her older sister tells her, “That’s what happens when you play with fire but you have to be a big girl like me and not let it hurt you.”
Zuko smiles at her over their heads, and she smiles back. As she straightens, she reaches for his hand, and they both take one child’s hand, and walk to the palanquin that will take them to the festival together.
for zutara week 2016 ( @zutaraweek )
day 6, coffee
“There are worse things,” Katara concedes after the fact, “than being dragged out of bed before the sun rises for an emergency meeting.”
It is now late afternoon, and the splotches of golden sunshine that melt through the window-screens of the Jasmine Dragon seem sleepy in the summer heat.
Zuko and Katara, taking advantage of the slump before the early evening rush, maintain the bare minimum of decorum at a table in the corner of the shop. It’s too tiring to sit upright.
Negotiations with leaders of the Earth Kingdom’s many provinces have dragged on for a week longer than originally planned, with the next phase of collaboration for former Fire Nation colonies about to start. The “emergency” meeting this morning had not been an emergency at all, nothing that couldn’t have been discussed at a more reasonable hour, but still, they were dragged from their beds too early.
Zuko laughs, the sound low and rough. “Lots of things are worse.” He yawns. “I still think we’re getting more sleep here than we would if we were home.”
“I miss the kids,” Katara says, even as she nods in agreement and stifles her own yawn with a rueful smile, “even if being around them makes it seem like someone is always awake.”
“Me, too.”
The silence stretches as the last customer leaves and a lull emerges, but then Iroh walks over with a smile.
“This is new,” he says, and passes a steaming cup of something that definitely does not smell like tea to both of them. “It’s made from a bean from the southern Earth Kingdom, helps keep you awake. I know you two have a dinner to attend tonight, and you look like you’re about to collapse.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” Katara says with a smile, but across from her, Zuko eyes the cup suspiciously before he picks it up.
“What is it?” he asks, reaching out slowly and raising it, breathing in the harsh scent before he takes a sip.
“It’s coffee,” Iroh replies, and the old man doesn’t hide his smile as his nephew and niece both make disgusted faces after the first taste. “You get used to it,” he adds generously.
“Thank you, Uncle.” Zuko echoes Katara’s reply politely, but Iroh only laughs and claps him on the shoulder.
Zuko goes into a coughing fit, and Katara has to cajole him before he finishes the cup.
“Zuko, you’re sick. You need to go back to bed.” There is no question in Katara’s voice, but Zuko glances at the children who are waiting to go to the zoo and figuratively plants his feet.
“I don’t need to.” He crosses his arms, and Katara raises her eyebrows. “I’m not sick,” he insists, even though his throat feels swollen and he feels warmer than usual. “I’m on vacation; I can’t be sick.”
Their kids are fidgety by the door, the youngest one halfway out before her older sister grabs her back in; she wails and kicks while her brother pulls the door shut.
“Iroh can take the kids to the zoo,” Katara says gently, and Zuko knows that tone—it’s the one that says she’s going to take care of him, whether he likes it or not. He can’t tell if he’s relieved at the prospect of collapsing back into bed or disappointed that he won’t get to take the kids to the zoo.
But it’s not like he hasn’t seen it before.
(He remembers when it first reopened outside the city’s walls, although he hadn’t known that Aang was the cause, back then. He only knew that Uncle had dragged him there with too much fervor and embarrassed him thoroughly with too much enthusiasm. It’s a zoo, Uncle, he’d said. It’s just a bunch of smelly animals. Uncle had countered with the argument that animals are some of the finer appreciations in life, like a good tea. Zuko hadn’t seen the comparison then. He’s still not sure he sees it now, although he appreciates his uncle much more deeply and much more openly than he did then, as an angry sixteen-year-old.)
“Okay, okay,” he says, slowly lowering the bag he was holding to the floor. “I’ll go back to bed.”
Katara gives him a gentle shove in the right direction and goes to speak to Iroh, who then explains to their (now delighted) children that “Great-Uncle Iroh is taking you to the zoo by himself today, which means you will have to behave extra well—you older ones, help me watch the younger ones—and if you behave extra well, you may earn yourselves some extra treats.”
Zuko barely hears the exchange, and he’s almost asleep by the time Katara comes up and gives him a drink of water.
.
.
.
When Zuko wakes up, he realizes with groggy disorientation that he’s been asleep long enough for the kids and Iroh to go to the zoo and come back, extra treats and all, because he can hear Katara talking quietly with Iroh on the other side of the room before he opens his eyes.
“Katara?” he calls, voice scratchy, and she comes to his side quickly, the bed dipping with her weight as she sits down before he’s had time to creak his tired eyes open. He still feels too hot, his limbs too heavy, and his throat aches.
He hates being sick.
“Hey,” she says, pushing some of his hair out of his face with skin that feels too cool against his own fever. “You awake enough for me to heal you now?”
“Yeah,” he says. “My throat hurts, but other than that, I think it’s just the fever.”
“Okay,” she says with a smile, drawing water from a nearby basin, “let’s get started.”
It’s soothing and strange all at once, being healed by Katara. She has grown more and more powerful as she studies the healing arts, and she can heal subtler illnesses with as much skill as she mends bones and burns, now. Zuko closes his eyes and lets her work while she and uncle talk quietly.
“I told you you’ve been working too hard,” she says to him, but her voice holds no heat. They both have been working too hard—they have, ever since the war. There is so much to fix, and they have a country to rule and children to raise. There’s always too much to do.
“You were right,” he mumbles, “but I still don’t like being sick on vacation.”
“The body takes its rest how it can,” Iroh says from where he’s come over to watch Katara work. “Nephew, you know that as well as anybody.” He hums softly, deep in his throat, and Zuko’s subconscious tells him the story’s coming, but Iroh speaks before Zuko can form the words to warn him against it.
Katara’s healing water is cool against his neck as she works to disperse the infection, and Zuko closes his eyes again and lets himself focus on that while Iroh embarrasses him—even without the zoo in the mix, this time, he thinks wryly—in front of his wife.
“Did my nephew ever tell you about the time he became ill during the war, when we were here in Ba Sing Se?”
Zuko must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing he knows, he hears Katara asking with soft incredulity, “You dreamt you were Aang?”
“It could have been any airbender,” Zuko corrects sleepily. “I don’t know for sure it was Aang.”
“I see,” Katara says. “Because that makes such a difference.”
“It does,” he protests mildly, and he feels the cool of the water leave where Katara had been working.
“I think I’ve done all I can for now,” Katara says, and Zuko hears the splash of water as it returns to the basin. “Rest, Zuko. Iroh and I can handle the kids for the night. I’ll be in later.”
“Mmhm.” Zuko is nearly asleep again, already.
“And I’ll be sure to tell you about all the fun things you missed out on while you were asleep,” Katara adds over her shoulder, just before she leaves the room.
He can’t see her teasing smile through his closed eyelids, but he can hear it in her voice.
note on “research” for this piece: a quick internet search said that lilacs sometimes represent the eighth wedding anniversary, and another quick one said that eight and four are sometimes considered lucky numbers. thus the reasoning for their use here.
When Fire Lord Zuko and Fire Lady Katara announce the impending birth of their fourth child, the councilmen are politely pleased. The public of Caldera takes it as an excuse for a celebration that makes extra work for the capital’s sanitation workers the next morning. Hawky arrives from Kyoshi Island with Suki’s congratulations and Sokka’s, “Man, is this a conspiracy to make me spend all my money on birthday presents so that I don’t have any left to bet decently against you when we play pai sho? Because it will fail; I will still bet that I can beat you and I will win and I will win enough money from you to buy presents for the small village you’re raising, so you will actually be buying them birthday presents twice,” scrawled as a post-script on the bottom. (He sends along another child-sized boomerang, despite his protests.)
It’s only when they tell Iroh in person, when he visits from Ba Sing Se shortly after they make the news public, that they receive sincere joy from their announcement. “This is wonderful news!” Iroh says with a wide smile, folding his hands over his stomach and shaking his head in delight. “Your three older ones must be very happy to have another sibling on the way.”
“The girls are,” Zuko admits, “but they’re old enough to remember when their brother was born.”
“He’ll have a playmate close to his age,” Iroh nods as if this decides the goodness of the matter. “And the baby will be born—” he pauses for a moment, moves his hands and glances at the ceiling as he figures the dates, “—close to your eighth wedding anniversary! Two numbers of good fortune converging—a fourth child on an eighth anniversary—yes, this child will be blessed.”
“More than our others?” Katara asks mildly, raising an eyebrow and smiling at Iroh over her teacup.
Iroh shakes his head and returns the smile, although his eyes look a little watery. “No more than the others, my dear. They are all good fortune, and I am so pleased to see my nephew happy and with a growing family.”
Katara reaches out and places her hand over Iroh’s, squeezing gently. “We think so, too.”
.
.
.
Months later, when the morning sun has risen just enough to paint the cityscape with orange light, sprawling like a broken egg yolk, it slats through the screens in front of the door to the balcony. Katara squints at the intruding light with something like anger, but she's too tired to actually feel the full extent of that emotion. Or to roll over so that her back faces the light.
She almost jumps when Zuko puts his arm around her and scoots up behind her.
"You're still here," she mumbles sleepily.
She feels the movement of his shrug before he leans in to kiss the back of her head. "It's our anniversary. Missing one morning of meditation won't kill me."
"Mmmm, you're sweet." She reaches up to pat his hand.
"Don't tell anyone; it might ruin my reputation."
"I thought it was already ruined. You married a Water Tribe woman, after all."
Zuko snorts and pulls her closer. "Best decision of my life."
"Right." Katara is awake enough now to use her arms to maneuver herself over to face him. The baby is due any day now, and that makes the movement something like a five-step process.
Her ensuing sigh is tinged with hints of bitterness, but Zuko only takes advantage of her change in position to kiss her, and she's distracted enough that she almost forgets that her womb has swollen to the size of a giant melon and every other part of her body feels swollen, too, and she almost looks forward to going through labor just because she knows the feeling of relief that will come afterwards.
It’s not an absolute wish for the baby to come that day, but it’s almost one.
.
.
.
The contractions start a few hours later, and Katara walks into Zuko’s office and sits down with a sigh.
He looks up from his paperwork with a look that softens when he realizes it’s her. “What?”
“Iroh is going to be so smug,” she says, by way of letting him know.
Even though they’ve done this before, he looks a little panicky. “We should call the midwife, huh?”
“Before too long,” Katara agrees.
.
.
.
The baby isn’t born until the next day—“Late,” Zuko pronounces, his tone at odds with the soft awe that paints his face, after their new daughter is safely nestled, calmed from her new-to-the-world squalling, in her mother’s arms, and Katara pushes his shoulder in gentle protest—but Iroh still calls her “little lucky one” when he croons over his new grand-niece for the first time a few weeks later.
He brings her a swaddling wrap of soft lilac material—“wonderful for a princess, to help her sleep, something new that her sisters didn’t have first,”—and Katara laughs because of course Iroh would find the exact shade of blue and red that seems best suited for a fragile baby girl.
for zutara week 2016 ( @zutaraweek )
day 3, memories
"The Shu Jing province is asking for a remission of taxes because of the flooding that destroyed their harvest this year," Zuko says, eyes roaming over the scrolls he holds as he and Katara walk down one of the halls of the Fire Palace. It's late, and their main source of light comes from the sconces that line the walls.
Beside him, keeping pace with his distracted stride, Katara shuffles through scrolls of her own.
"The governor is requesting to keep the extra money so that they can buy food to make up for their food shortage, but we need the money here in the capital to pay for war reparations." He frowns. He dislikes having to clean up other people's messes, but it seems like that's all he's been doing all his life, ever since he came into his own, once his mother was gone and Iroh helped him figure out how to stand on his own two feet.
He’d hoped once the war was over, that would stop, but he is still up to his neck in providing supplies and trade deals for the nations his ancestors oppressed.
"Tell them to send the money anyway and have one of the neighboring provinces send them extra food in exchange for blacksmithing help," Katara says. "You studied under Piandao; you know that region has access to some excellent smiths. That way both provinces have something they need and we can still make our payments on time. We won't have to ask for Aang's help to appease the Earth King—well, the Earth King's officials," she amends, "while we scrape the bottom of the barrel for funds to make our payments on rice taxes."
Zuko stops walking for a moment, and Katara scoots to a stop beside him. He kisses her temple and says, "This is why you were the absolute best choice for me to marry."
"Was it a competition?" she shoots back, but her smile, though distracted, is pleased.
They keep walking in the general direction of their bedroom, but they are so absorbed in their discussion that both of them jump when Mai and Ty Lee round the corner and greet them. The women are dressed in their Kyoshi Warrior garb and Mai holds a small black bundle in her hands.
"Hi, guys!" Ty Lee grins and waves.
"Spirits, Ty Lee, you're going to give me a heart attack one of these days," Zuko grumbles.
“I haven’t yet, and I’ve known you for years,” Ty Lee replies cheerfully, reaching out to pat his shoulder affectionately.
Katara is still studying one of the scrolls, but Mai shoots out a hand and knocks it away from her.
"Hey!" Katara says, finally looking up, affronted. "I was reading that!"
"I know," Mai replies drily.
"So...what's up?" Zuko asks. It can't be anything too urgent—Mai and Ty Lee are two of Suki's best warriors, and if there were a problem, they'd be quick to act and wouldn't stand here making small talk, or some semblance of it.
Mai sighs and pushes the bundle toward him. "You two need to get out."
Zuko raises his eyebrow. "...What?"
"Suki's orders," Ty Lee chirps, starting to count off reasons on her fingers as she speaks. "She says you two are working too hard, and when you work too hard, you get tired, and when you get tired, you won't be able to fight as well if it comes down to it, which we all hope it won't again, but you never know, and..."
"You need to chill out," Mai cuts in, "and live a little."
"So you're giving us black outfits?" Katara lifts a shirt from the pile that now resides in Zuko's arms. "What's that got to do with 'living a little'?"
Mai smiles, the curve of her lips small but serene. "Ask your husband," she says, "and tell him not to get caught on the spike by the eastern gate this time."
Katara turns to Zuko with a raised eyebrow.
"Uh...yeah," he says, shifting his shoulders awkwardly. "They want us to sneak out of the palace."
"...Why?"
"Because it's fun, apparently." He glares at Ty Lee, who flips onto her hands before she grins at him. "And we've been working too hard."
"You have," Ty Lee retorts from her position upside-down. “You’re too busy and too responsible; when's the last time you two even skipped a meeting just for fun—"
"—and that's our cue to go." Mai rolls her eyes. "Suki and Meng are on guard tonight; we just finished our shift. They're outside your room now. Go get changed and...gallivant or whatever."
.
.
.
“Whatever it is they're going to do” turns out to be sneaking out of the palace with only two “hidden” guards, dressed in black under the new moon's prevalent shadows, sneaking through city streets with no particular purpose in mind except breathing without the weight of formal strictures on them.
“I used to have some purpose when I did this,” Zuko grumbles in Katara’s ear when they’ve stopped in the shadows near an alleyway.
“Are you really complaining that we haven’t found anyone committing crimes yet?” Katara asks skeptically, her own whisper breathless from the quick pace they’ve been keeping.
“It’s not that they’re not committing them,” Zuko points out, “it’s just that we haven’t found them yet.”
“Does the Fire Lord really need another vigilante to deal with?”
And Katara is off walking again, leading him through the shadows toward the near-abandoned marketplace.
“I’d need my mask for another Blue Spirit sighting to be reported.”
Katara laughs, the sound bouncing softly into the dulling night.
Another dark corner, and they stop again to reorient themselves. They should head back, soon—it’s past midnight now and they have meetings early.
“But your mask would make it a lot harder to do this,” Katara points out, and pulls him in for a long kiss.
And this, this is better, if much more self-serving, than catching criminals or long-ago nights flying on Appa, seeking vengeance for old wrongs.
This is like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.
“There are guards—” he mutters, pulling away.
Katara grins up at him. “You think they haven’t figured out we like each other yet?”
Zuko sighs. “Let’s just get home.”
They turn toward the palace and take their return pace a little more slowly now that they don’t have a sense of urgency, of finding where they’re headed in the dark.
“But let’s do this again sometime soon,” he says.
Katara squeezes his hand, and he returns the gesture.
AN: Given how awkward this chapter started out, I foolishly believed that it would be one of the shorter ones. Nope.
It’s the kind of awkward that keeps going and is all can’t stop won’t stop like.
Cheers,
Eastonia.
‘A drink made from the roasted and ground beanlike seeds of a tropical shrub, served hot or iced.’
It was four in the morning on the last day of September, two weeks after Sokka came down to help out with Katara’s recovery (from the flu).
And Zuko was up and emotion-baking, again.
Nervous baking to be more specific.
He had approximately five hours of sleep. But nope. He was not going to take a nap anytime soon – no he wasn’t.
...
Seven-thirty in the morning of the last day of September and Katara woke to the smell of baked goods.
So, of course that meant she needed to be in Zuko’s flat’s kitchen. Now.
He probably needed someone to talk to (never mind the fact that Katara was the best taste-tester ever. Sokka shovelled everything into his mouth. Katara shovelled everything into her mouth and could later give a better critique than, ‘that was good make it again’).
She silently made her way into his flat, mentally cheering when it opened and then closed soundlessly behind her. She peeked into the kitchen and fought not to grin.
Scones in all their variants (including the odd but yummy sausage, bacon, ham and cheese scone that Zuko had somehow come up with during the days of the ‘take down’). Four different types of bread: fruit and nut; cheese, ham and chives; bran, oat and seed; and a plain French loaf (all stuffed to the brim with their added ingredients). Breakfast muffins. A lemon-curd cheesecake. His take on a banoffee pie, rocky road and millionaire’s shortbread. Cinnamon buns drenched in a lemony, cream cheese dressing.
Also. Croissants and pain au chocolat. Enough said.
And Zuko was still mixing something in a large glass bowl.
He muttered something under his breath, mixed in some of their better vanilla essence (the thick, syrupy type that was speckled all over with vanilla seeds) and turned back to the hob, popping the bowl on top of a pot filled with bubbling water.
“Morning.” came a rather curt rendition of the greeting.
“How do you always do that?” she asked.
“WHL0 training, you guys never got the full thing. Be grateful.” As he replied he dumped the hot custard over yesterday’s blueberry pancakes (her contribution to breakfast, and she accidentally made enough to feed a small army. Also, since they didn’t feel like having pancakes for lunch, tea and dinner, they ended up with four large dinner plates worth in Zuko’s fridge – Katara overestimated by a lot).
Shrugging, she grinned at him and attempted to steal one of the traybakes.
“No touching the baked goods.”
“Why?” She very nearly whined.
“Yours and mine are coming over today.”
Katara froze. “All of them?”
“Yup.”
“The kids?”
“Yeah.”
“Uncle and my dad?”
“Yes.”
“… Suki?”
“All of them.”
She sat.
“When did this happen?”
“When you were ill.”
“So the baking?”
“I’m really, really, really nervous.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did!”
Katara suddenly recalled a rather serious looking Zuko sitting her down a week ago, after she had sufficiently recovered from that cold. “Oh. Yeah, you did.”
Her coffee mug landed in front of her. Just the way she liked it, too (enough whipped cream to cause a heart attack and homemade salted caramel sauce).
“They’re arriving at nine-ish.”
Something about the tone of his voice sent her straight into planning mode.
“Inside or outside?”
“Outside. Forecast says it’s going to be rather pleasant. Also, less of a need to vacuum after Sokka’s done eating.”
“Front or back?”
“Back patio.”
“Tables?”
Zuko gestured at the kitchen window.
“They aren’t set up yet but…”
“Say no more. I’ll handle set up you finish up here?”
“Thank you.”
...
Setting up was definitely easier than what Zuko was doing.
The wooden picnic tables (yes, tables. There were three) went up easily. Zuko had, apparently, dragged out the furniture from the stable/garage in between baking his storm up.
...
“They’re here.”
“Focus. We can do this.”
“Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh.”
“Breathe Katara. Breathe.”
“How are you not panicking right now?”
“I think that I’ve reached that point of nervous baking in which I’ve become numb to everything but my sore, sore hands, arms and shoulders.”
Katara mentally winced in empathy was she watched Zuko gingerly try to rub said sore limbs and appendages.
...
The good news was that Toph, Aang and Suki seemed to take the same approach as Sokka (and now that he thought about it, Katara) when it came to his ‘I’m sorry I upped and left without much notice and went under radar and basically became a hypocrite spiel’.
They blamed Uncle.
“Gramps. You know that if Zuko doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be found. He was the one that hid us for well over eight months when our safe house was discovered remember?”
Toph made a very valid point. Back then, during their ‘active’ period, Azula had somehow tracked them down. The safe house in which he met his team was discovered and then they were on the run. Somehow, he had managed to keep them hidden – in plain sight at that.
Oh well, better Uncle than him. Uncle would manage to get everyone to forgive him in the next ten minutes anyway.
...
True to Sokka-ish form, he had seen the food and… well, you get the picture. Hakoda Wai had followed his son’s suit. Toph was buried under cinnamon rolls. Aang, apparently, thought that Zuko was going to run out of toast – and was eating accordingly.
Katara felt like the entire coffee morning was awkward. And even though the Team had forgiven them (funny that, but then again, they were family – and nobody else on their team were as liable to hold a grudge as Katara knew she was…) the awkwardness had just headed in a different direction.
“So. When are you going to plant one on that?” Suki smirked at her.
“Suki.”
“What? You’ve been, essentially, living together –”
“We have separate flats! And neither of us have ever spent the night in the other’s!”
“You spend almost all your time together.”
“We’re neighbours!”
“You take meals together.”
“We grocery-pool!”
“You’ve been touching. A lot.”
“No we don’t.”
“Then again, you two did that a lot back then too.”
Katara paused. Really, she was rather glad that everyone else seemed distracted by Zuko’s baking. Then again, Suki was Suki. She spent the least amount of time in the Team (the Kyoshi Strike Force kept her rather busy), and somehow ended up the most perceptive.
It was pretty annoying.
“We didn’t.”
“You did. You also had this habit where you talked to or about each other around sixty-five percent of the time.”
“No…”
“Yes.”
“But!”
Suki fixed a knowing look at her as she sipped at her coffee.
“Katara. About three years and a bit ago you burst into my room – because, and I quote, ‘I can’t do this Suki, I can’t! I can’t have a crush on Zuko!’ remember?”
Katara blushed.
“I don’t really recall.”
“Don’t recall or don’t want to recall?” Suki sighed and grabbed a pain au chocolat. “Look Katara, you two are a good fit. Not in the ‘it makes sense’ way, although it does, but in the well… Look there are reasons why we call you two the parents of our little group.”
All Katara could do was sit and stare at her coffee. Enough whipped cream to cause a heart attack and homemade salted caramel sauce.
Just the way she liked it.
...
Four years, seven months and twenty-four days ago Katara was up way earlier than usual.
And she hated coffee. She always dumped in enough sugar to chance at diabetes mellitus and usually just passed hot milk through her grinds.
But she needed coffee.
She had one of those nights where no matter how much she tried, she just couldn’t sleep. And it didn’t help that they were in a new place.
“Hey.”
Katara nearly jumped.
“Zuko! You could stand to be a little louder you know.”
He chuckled, sending warm waves of something through her (truth be told, she was a little terrified of whatever that something was. Some part of her knew what it was, but she didn’t want to identify it) as he picked out his mug and poured in the chai concentrate.
He almost never drunk coffee. Funny how that little detail made her want to smile.
“Enjoying that mess?” He asked gesturing at her mug before turning around to switch on the coffee maker.
“Hard-ly.” She grimaced, “But it’s caffeine, and it’s the only way I can think of that this becomes bearable.”
Zuko looked contemplative. “Could I try something?”
Katara passed him her mug. “Sure.”
And then she nearly strangled him for dumping out the coffee. But she waited.
And Zuko pulled out the leftover salted caramel sauce from his ‘adventures in baking’ and put a tablespoon of it in the mug. Then he grabbed some of the newly made black coffee and poured it in till it filled a third of the mug. Then he poured in about a sixth of the mug of milk and stirred, before topping it off all the rest of the way with whipped cream and more sauce.
“Try that.”
Katara did. “Oh my gosh – I actually liked that.”
“Had a feeling you would.”
Somehow, Katara wasn’t surprised that he knew exactly how to make a cup of coffee she liked. Zuko might be the fire-power in their team but, to her he was like ivy. He crept up on her and she found him in places of her life she didn’t expect.
It was nice.
Day One - Dragons
Day Two - Reincarnation
Day Three - Memories
Day Four - Lilac
Day Five - Fever
Day Six - Coffee (You’re here!)
Day Seven - Candles
AN: Can you tell I got hungry? I actually have a tiny shoutout to the MacMillan’s World’s Biggest Coffee Morning in there. Zuko may or may not have bought much of his supplies for said coffee morning from them. Donate to your local cancer support charity people!
