Arctic Flower

Let The Old Bastard Die Alone

Zuko never could bear the sight of crying women. Something about it always made him crumble. Perhaps this was because of his mother, who was given plenty to lament about by his father? Zuko often heard her sobbing in her chambers after his parents had their terrifying rows. He would shudder under his bed and curse himself for not being able to protect his mother. Even Azula could get Zuko to do what she wanted with a few strategic crocodile tears.
Of course, Katara looked breath-taking when she cried. At first, Zuko thought that he only found her beautiful because she was the first woman he'd come across in weeks. But she grew more exquisite with each day.
Katara didn't look like the pale, willowy court beauties of the Fire Nation Capital. Her skin had a coppery blush and a soft dusting of freckles, and she was small and sturdy, her body already starting to fill out its lush curves. That was how Zuko'd heard Water Tribe men liked their women. They preferred the ones who were hardy and robust and looked like they could bear many healthy children.
Something to hold on to at night, they said, Something that'll keep you warm.
Every country had its beauty standards, and each man had his preferences, but a lovely woman was a lovely woman.
No. Breath-taking wasn't the right way to describe Katara with tears spilling from her eyes. "Heart-breaking" and "haunting" were more appropriate. Zuko wanted to dry those stunning, blue eyes, but he'd been the one to make her cry in the first place.
Katara had every right to be scared and upset by his actions that night. She was a young girl imprisoned on an enemy ship, and the kiss Zuko had stolen from her confirmed her worst fears. He could have held her down on the bed and taken what he wanted by force; Agni knew he was tempted, but she would hate him afterward, and he'd hate himself even more. Such an act was dishonorable.
Zuko shouldn't care what a Water Tribe peasant thought about him, but for whatever reason, he did. He couldn't bear the idea that she might think of him as somewhat without honor.
And the gossip about the two of them spreading around the ship probably didn't make things any better. The crew called Katara "the prince's girl" behind her back.
"The prince is a selfish hypocrite," they'd say. "Keeping the best piece of tail for miles all to himself and telling us that we can't make sport of the local women while he has the little water savage to warm his bed." Katara did warm Zuko's bed; only Zuko wasn't in it.
They'd look at the phoenix pendant hanging around Katara's neck and speculate whether or not Zuko would bring her back with him to the Fire Nation and officially install her as a royal consort.
Fire Lords and Crown Princes typically had an official wife, but it wasn't unheard of for them to also take royal consorts. While the Fire Lady and the Crown Princess had to be of pure Fire Nation lineage, royal consorts were typically foreign princesses and noblewomen taken as the spoils of war or given away as part of a treaty. Royal consort was a position of privilege and honor. Though not as strong as an official wife's children, their children had a claim to the throne.
The phoenix was the symbol of a royal consort. Zuko gave Katara the pendant without thinking much about it. Wearing it would keep her safe while she was in his custody, but he hadn't thought much beyond that time frame. If someone asked him what he would do with her initially, he'd say he would give her back to her family once the Southern Water Tribe surrendered. Now, he didn't know what to do.
Zuko could always demand to get Katara as part of the Water Tribe's terms of surrender, to Hell with the Avatar. If he were dealing with any other enemy, perhaps the docile ruler of some Earth Kingdom city-state, they might accept this demand. But Chief Sokka would rather see his sister dead than carried off by the same people who'd killed their mother, and judging by Katara's behavior last night, she agreed with the sentiment. Zuko had read plenty of weepy ballads about maidens who chose to take their own lives rather than become enemy war-brides.
His father wouldn't have bothered with the nicety of asking nicely to be allowed to keep Katara. He would have taken her and burnt Chief Sokka to ash if he made a scene about it. Father would be disappointed in him for hesitating. Zuko didn't know what was worse: doing something his father would disapprove of or doing something he would approve of.
Zuko sighed. Agni, this girl was either going to make him weak or a monster.

"Good morning, Prince Zuko," Uncle said when Zuko encountered him in the hallway outside of their cabins. He greeted his nephew with a warm smile.
Zuko crossed his arms. "Morning already?" he replied. He'd gotten no sleep last night, and the hours had felt like days.
"It's about nine o'clock."
"After the night I had last night, I would have thought it was nine years from now."
Uncle put a hand on his shoulder. "Something troubling you, nephew?"
Where do you want me to begin? "Let's take a walk on the deck. I need some fresh air."
The morning was bright and brisk. Crew members shoveled the snow that Katara had missed from the deck. Zuko leaned on the railing and looked out across the vast expanse of blue ocean, and white ice flows in front of him.
"My Prince," Zuko turned around to find a messenger standing behind him. "Might I speak to you in private?"
"Out here on the deck?" Uncle looked around at the sailors shoveling snow. "Should I run up and down and tell the sailors to cover their ears."
Zuko grabbed the messenger's arm and pulled him into a secluded doorway. "What is it?"
The messenger lowered his head. "Your father, Fire Lord Ozai, is gravely ill and requests that you return home."
"Tell him his request is denied."
How dare he! Father had banished him and said he could only return to the Fire Nation if he captured the Avatar. Now he was asking him to abandon the mission and rush home as if nothing had happened. This had to be some kind of trick.
"But My Prince, I was told to bring you back with great urgency."
"Then I suggest you give him my refusal with great urgency." Zuko walked away.
Uncle was standing behind one of the walls the enclosed the doorway.
"How much did you hear?" Zuko said.
Uncle shrugged his shoulders. "All of it it."
"I know what you're going to say," Zuko rolled his eyes. "If my father's ill enough to send for me, I should go and see him."
"No. Let the old bastard die alone. That's not what I want to talk to you about."
"What is it then?"
"What was troubling you last night?"
Zuko lowered his eyes. He thought the world of Uncle but Uncle was incapable of minding his own business. "It's Katara."
"Oh, I see," Uncle winked. "Trouble in paradise?"
"No...that's not it... I kissed her last night, and she got scared. She's afraid of me, and I don't want her to be afraid of me."
Uncle clapped him on the back. "You'll have to do a lot of work to gain her trust."
"What kind of work?" Zuko furrowed his brow.
"When it comes to women, the bigger the gesture, the better."

When the rest of the ship had gone to bed that night, Zuko led Katara up to the training dojo. He removed the scarf from her eyes, and her face looked radiant in the oil lamps.
She looked around at the gleaming wooden floor and glass walls. "What are we doing here?" she said.
"My uncle has some water-bending scrolls in his library," Zuko replied. He pointed to a low table where the scrolls sat. "I thought you could use them for training."
"Why would your uncle have water bending scrolls?"
"He believes its import for a bender to learn from different styles of bending because seemingly opposing elements like fire and water aren't as incompatible as they seem. They're simply two sides of the same coin."
"Your uncle sounds like a wise man."
Strange how Zuko never knew how useful Uncle's advice was until he found himself saying the same things to someone else.
Katara unrolled one of the scrolls. She adopted the first set of stances: feet apart, moving the arms in a pushing motion, swinging the left leg forward.
"Your arms are too stiff." Zuko leaned in to help relax her arms. "May I?"
She lowered her eyes and considered for a moment. "Yes." He put his hands on her arms, and she tensed up,
"You can relax. I'm not going to burn you or try to kiss you again."
"You better not." She let her arms droop a little. The flow of chi through her body was strong. With enough training, she'd be a formidable bender.
"That's perfect."
Zuko stepped away to allow her to complete the set of stances. Katara pushed forward with her arms and swung her left leg around, creating a small wave. "I did it," she squealed.
"Don't get too cocky yet. That's only the basic technic."
"Killjoy." She glanced at the next set. "Does your uncle know I'm using his scrolls?"
Zuko rubbed his neck. "I kind of...took them without asking. I don't think he'd mind you using them, but I didn't want to tell him that you're a bender. He wouldn't have a problem with you being a bender; it's just that he's a terrible gossip. If he knew, then the entire ship would know within the hour."
He respected her wishes to keep her bending a secret.
Katara put down the scroll and sized Zuko up. "Why are you helping me?"
"Because I don't want you losing control of your bending and flooding the ship," Zuko smirked.
"Don't give me ideas."
"Come on. Let's try the next set of stances."