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The Price of Peace	By : Looneyluna Category: Avatar - The Last Airbender > Het - Male/Female > Katara/Zuko Views: 19166 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter Fifteen –

The sky was dark. Not that she could see it. Toph hadn’t slept in the past few days – the nightmare that her father had lived through summoning vibrant pictures of death and torture to play in her head every time she closed her eyes. It had taken a while to calm Lao Bei Fong down and even longer to convince him that his daughter was still alive.

So much had transpired over the last several weeks. She still wasn’t too sure about half the stuff that had gone on and doubted that she would ever understand most of it. She was home now and knew that she would never leave again.

“Hey,” Sokka’s voice disrupted her reverie.

Sitting on the ledge of the balcony, Toph hugged her knees to her chest and ignored him.

“The last of the bodies have been buried,” he informed her, shivering as he recalled the gruesome task of burying the various servant girls. Most of the servants had not returned to their places. Not even the presence of the Avatar could calm their fear.

“I’ve cooked some…er…thing,” he continued, holding a bowl of gruel out. Truth be told, he wasn’t much in the kitchen even when there was stuff to cook.

“I’m not hungry,” replied Toph as she moved farther away and closer to the edge.

Sokka took a step closer and set the bowl next to her. “You’ve got to eat something.”

“No, I don’t,” the Earthbender argued.

He edged the bowl closer to her dirty foot. “Yes, you do.”

Sweeping her foot on purpose, Toph kicked the dish into the bushes and looked non-repentant. “No, I don’t,” she repeated.

His frustration with the events and his growling stomach got the better of him and Sokka snapped. “What’d you do that for? You did that on purpose! I admit that I’m not much of a cook, but there isn’t much in the kitchens and…well, I’m not much of a cook!”

“You can say that again,” Toph retorted, throwing her legs over the side of the ledge and standing up. “I doubt the ants will even eat that slop.”

Sokka gaped, speechless with anger.

Reigning in her temper, she sighed with resignation. “Look. I’m sorry, okay? I’m not hungry.” Her excuse sounded flimsy even to her own ears.

Sensing his sudden movement toward her, she ducked out of the way. “Leave me alone.” Her heart hammered in her chest as she shunned his offer of food and comfort.

“Look, Toph,” Sokka sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair in frustration. “I know this hasn’t been easy. I know it’s not going to get better over night. You shouldn’t blame yourself –”

“I don’t!” she jumped up and poked him in the chest. “I blame the psycho asshole who did this to my father. I blame my mom for dying! I blame my dad for being weak! I blame –”

Firm lips against hers silenced her rant. Heat spiraled through her, settling in the bottom half of her body. She wanted to push him away, but she pulled him closer instead, her frustration and desire forcing her to act against her bitter nature. The intimacy of the act made her forget. The taste of it begged for more. In the deep recesses of her mind she retched. She was kissing Sokka! Sokka – the womanizer! Sokka – the idiot!

Someone groaned. It sounded like a low growl of warning. The press of the hard planes of his body sent chills up and down her spine. She wasn’t naive. She knew what the various parts pressing against her were. And whatever god existed! She wanted to lie back and pull those parts inside her. This could be her only chance to experience something like this.

Fumbling with Sokka’s tunic, she slid her hands inside and scraped her nails against his chest. His hands grabbed her wrists and the kiss ended.

“We need to stop,” he mumbled huskily, reluctant to break the kiss. A few more seconds and he would have lost any sense he may or may not possess. He wanted her, but “not like this.”

“Why?” Toph huffed, trying to ignore the flush of embarrassment in her cheeks. “Why not like this!”

It was then that he realized that he’d spoken out loud. Looking at her, he could tell she was mad. Actually, she always looked angry. He could feel her desperation – desperation to feel something other than anger and fear. Her reaction surprised him. He had anticipated rejection, a swift and harsh reprimand. He wanted her, but he would not take her like this.

“You really should eat something,” he replied, not able to answer her question with the frankness she deserved. “You’re father is calling for you.”

--

The coronation had been uneventful and bleak, the atmosphere dull and lifeless. Iroh could feel the apprehension in the air. He was old. He had no heir.

He hadn’t needed to hear the soft whispers of worry – the whispers of civil war once he was dead.

Chuckling mirthlessly, Iroh stared at the beauty of the courtyard below and the way the sunset settled over the ponds. He was in his sixties and had another sixty years ahead of him, barring assassination and disease. Besides, when this was all over, his nephew would take his rightful place. The burden of siring an heir would fall to him.

With Zuko in hiding, the execution of the scheme relied on Iroh’s cunning alone. To make matters worse, there had been no response from Qiang. Perhaps he had underestimated his relative’s intelligence and ambition. Word had surely reached his encampment by now. It was disheartening to say the least. Perhaps he was just being too impatient.

Hearing the screen door open and close, Iroh set his cup down and sighed. “What is it?”

“I – I wanted to thank you,” Jia Li mumbled quickly as she dropped to the ground and kowtowed to the new Fire Lord. “I saw Hui today…just a glimpse.”

Iroh unfolded his burly form from his seat and turned toward his concubine. He was about to chastise her for her foolishness and punish her lady-in-waiting for allowing such a risky venture.

“I saw him and his grandparents as they walked through the courtyard as honored guests for your coronation,” she explained hastily, hearing the displeasure in his voice. “I was careful. They did not see me.”

“Stand,” Iroh issued the command with ease. Walking past her, he pulled the screen back and motioned for her to follow him.

She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat and entered his private sitting area. She could tell he was not pleased. “I am sorry to bother you. I just wanted to thank you.”

“Your gratitude is unnecessary,” replied Iroh lowly. “But appreciated.”

Chewing her bottom lip nervously, she stared at him. His eyes were solemn as they drank in her appearance. She wanted to show him how much his actions meant to her. She had spent so many years whoring herself that she was quite skilled in the art of pleasure. She knew of no other way to show her gratefulness.

Taking a hesitant step toward her “husband,” Jia Li untied the sash of her robe and moved to pull the silk apart.

Iroh’s hands stilled her movements. “No,” he rasped.

“I owe you so much,” she replied, pressing her body against his suggestively.

“You owe me nothing,” the Firebender growled against the porcelain skin of her cheek, drowning in her alluring feminine scent.

“My life is yours,” she mumbled against the column of his throat.

Calling upon a strength he did not realize he possessed, Iroh set Jia Li away from him. Her robe was open, giving him tempting views of her fleshy curves. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman – longer than his memory would serve. Make no mistakes. He was no honorable man.

In his younger days, he had practiced the ways of the conqueror, debauching unwilling women. It was a dream so long ago that enabled him to seek a higher path – a path to Lu Ten’s mother. She had been the light to his darkness, giving him the most precious gift of all – a child. He had been devastated when she had died during childbirth.

Lu Ten had been his light then, chasing away the darkness that he had harbored in his soul. When his son had died, a great hatred had captured his heart and he had done things he could never make up for.

His gaze lingered on her welcoming flesh, the desire to make her his boiling in his venerable blood. “Your life is your own. As soon as it can be arranged, you will be sent away.”

She could not conceal the wounded expression in her eyes. She covered herself and tears spilled down her cheeks. “Have I done something wrong, my lord? Why do you mean to punish me in such a manner?”

“It is not a punishment,” Iroh answered, his hands itching to reach out and comfort her. “It is protection.”

Tears spilled unchecked onto the floor as she sobbed. “I meant no offense, my lord. Please do not send me away.”

Cupping his hand beneath her chin, he forced her to look at him. “You did not offend me. I do not want to see gratitude in your eyes if you come to me. I would much rather see passion. I am an old man. I have no delusions of grandeur. If you were to come to me, let it be out of love, not gratitude.”

Reluctantly, he released her and walked out of the room.

--

TBC

All hail Moncapitan! He listens to my ideas and makes suggestions. Not all of them are in the story, but his guidance and nudges point this in the right direction.
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The Price of Peace