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The Price of Peace	By : Looneyluna Category: Avatar - The Last Airbender > Het - Male/Female > Katara/Zuko Views: 19165 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Summary – Katara listens to the plan.

A/N – I beg forgiveness for the tardiness of this chapter. Real life had other plans for me these last few days. The lag time between updates was not intentional. It was unavoidable. Many thank yous to all who have reviewed.

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Chapter Four –

The door from the council chamber to the antechamber opened with such force it shuddered as it bounced against the wall. He had not been prepared for the sight that greeted him. But there she was, standing before him – Katara of the Water Tribe. Her father and Waterbending master moved behind her. Uncle Iroh was at his side.

“This is not going as smoothly as I had hoped,” grumbled Iroh under his breath.

Closing his eyes, Zuko shook his head as if trying to rid himself of the vision of her. She was here, just as his mother so often whispered in his dreams.

“She will come to you,” his mother had said. “Let her in. Let her heal you.

Zuko shivered with the memory of his dreams. He hated dreaming about his mother. The rumors had to be true. She had disappeared so long ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She was dead, trapped in his dreams, unwilling to move on because of him. But her words were always the same – always about Katara of the Water Tribe.

Katara stood before him like a fallen spirit -- her boots and clothes caked in mud. Her hair was wild and loose, trailing down her back to her waist. The braids on either side of her face were peppered with silvery-white strands and tucked behind her ears, framing her face. Her tanned face was such a contrast to the color of her eyes, the color of which he was constantly reminded of whenever he looked up at the sky. The one woman he wanted that he could not allow himself to have.

He would never allow her goodness to touch the ugliness of his life.

“What is going on?” Katara asked, looking from Iroh to Zuko, and then to her father and Pakku.

Grasping her elbow, Iroh guided her farther into the council chamber and motioned for all the servants and sentries to leave. “Welcome to Wuhan. Would you care for some tea?”

Eyeing the Fire Nation general warily, Katara followed him. She could feel Zuko’s eyes following her.

“I was just explaining the advantages of marrying someone of your standing to my nephew,” Iroh replied as he pulled a chair out for her.

“This is a preposterous idea,” Zuko retorted, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against a pillar.

“Be quiet!” Katara snapped at him, tired and intent on listening to the older man. She sat down, grateful for the small comfort.

Zuko made to reply but was stopped short by the steely glares of the two Water Tribe delegates. He looked to Iroh to reprimand the impudence, but was surprised to see the old man smiling and playing gracious host as he hurried about pouring tea.

“Since I can remember, there has always been a struggle for the throne. The Fire Nation’s history is littered with civil wars, coups, and assassinations.” Iroh set the teapot onto the table and sat next to her. “I deserted the siege of Ba-Sing-Se once I learned of my son’s death. His death ended my line of succession and Ozai seized the opportunity to claim the throne.”

Bowing his head and forgetting his immediate problem, Zuko listened to his uncle’s narration. The pain in the old man’s voice was thick -- Iroh’s mourning a continuous reminder of the nature of their relationship.

“I don’t understand,” whispered Katara.

“My cousin, Qiang, is plotting against Zuko,” Iroh continued solemnly. “With Ozai dead and Zuko still banished, the line of succession was broken. The war was lost. The Avatar had restored the balance. Our nation lay in ruin -- a victim of Sozin’s ambition.

“What was left of the War Council appointed me de facto Fire Lord. I hid Zuko away for those few months. He needed the time to heal, to come to grips with what had passed. We surrendered unconditionally, one of two official acts I took as Fire Lord.

“Weeks turned into months and all nations started the painful process of reconstruction. The Avatar retreated to the Southern Air Temple. The Water Tribes followed the currents to their homes. The Earth Kingdom reclaimed their occupied lands. The Fire Nation…well, we will never be what we once were.”

Katara cleared her throat as Iroh paused. “I still don’t understand.”

The old man patted her outstretched hand reassuringly. “Qiang came to me months after the surrender and demanded that I name him my successor. I named Zuko instead. Ever since then, he has launched attacks against unsuspecting villages. Mt. Mahaku was the latest. I fear that he may be in league with factions of the Earth Kingdom. This latest attack would not be possible for Firebenders. We cannot bend rock.”

“Do you think it was Earthbenders who attacked the village?” Katara looked between her father and former Waterbending master for they had already told her of their suspicions, but she asked the question of his uncle.

“Yes,” answered Iroh. “Just as the elements are intertwined, so are the royal bloodlines. I fear that the Earth Kingdom has ambitions of placing their own puppet on the throne.”

Katara’s gaze captured Zuko’s.

“People are wary,” the old general sighed. “They look to their leaders for hope and stability. If Zuko were to marry…if he were to produce an heir…”

“…Then he would secure the line of succession and Qiang’s claim would no longer be valid.” Katara finished the thought with a weighty sigh, her gaze never wavering from his. He looked just as she remembered. The amber flecks in his eyes flashed as if daring her to look away. His brow was knitted in a scowl as if it were a permanent expression. His hair, no longer cropped close to his head, was tied back in a topknot. His arms were crossed over muscles his royal robes could not hide.

“What my uncle has conveniently forgotten to tell you…” Zuko murmured, the timber of his voice sending jolts of awareness up and down her spine. “…Is that if you agree to this hoax, you will become a target more so than me.”

He left his place against the pillar and walked up to the table, leaning over it. “The child would be a target as well. More than one child… Well, I murdered my sister for all this.” Zuko slammed his fist on the table in emphasis.

Katara did not flinch. She knew his history. “You did not murder your sister. You defended yourself.”

Zuko scoffed. “Either way, she is dead by my hand. Can you honestly sit there and tell me that you would agree to lie with a man who has his own family’s blood on his hands?”

The question lingered, the syllables of his words echoing in the great room.

“I –,” she whispered, choking on her words. His pain was raw, something she knew she could never walk away from.

“Go home, Katara of the Water Tribe.” He straightened, standing tall and glaring down his nose at her. “Forget the deranged strategies of these old men. They would sacrifice your youth and beauty on old traditions and parlor tricks. Go home and live your life in peace.”

Zuko started toward the door and turned to his uncle. “Even if she did agree, send her home. I will defend the throne by myself. I will never marry.” And with those final words, he left.

Watching his retreating figure, Katara shuddered as a chill ran up her spine. She tempered the compulsion to follow him and stayed in her seat. Her father’s hand covered hers, gently squeezing it in silent apology.

“He is young and foolish,” Pakku stated, breaking the unpleasant tension. “And noble.”

“Yes,” Iroh agreed softly. “But not immortal.”

Her thoughts ambled not on the exchange of words between her father and the others, but on Zuko’s absence. Her mother’s words spoke softly in her mind. Heal the people. Heal him. Now she knew. She knew where she belonged. The few years spent at the South Pole paled in comparison to what awaited her.

“I thought you had spoken with the Fire Lord, General Iroh,” Hakoda murmured softly, a slight censure in his inflection. “I did not call my daughter this great distance for this rejection.”

“I have spent years taming Zuko’s impetuous nature,” Iroh replied and sipped his tea. He set his cup down. “He has not rejected your daughter. He has rejected the plan. He seeks to protect her.”

“He seems determined,” her father murmured. “Katara will return to the South Pole as soon as she is rested.”

“Do not act in haste, Hakoda of the Water Tribe.” Iroh smiled beneath his beard and mustache. “Trust your daughter into my care. I will prepare her for the role she will take as Zuko’s bride.”

In a rare burst of temper, her father shot out of his chair. “She has not accepted him. She has a choice! That was the agreement.” His hand on her shoulder trembled as if he were poised to snatch her and run away.

“Your love for your daughter is admirable.” Iroh bowed in agreement. “Her answer –”

“Is yes,” Katara blurted out, patting her father’s hand and standing.

Her father looked shocked and worried, whereas Iroh looked pleased. Pakku, in his usual stance, looked smug. “This is where I belong,” she explained, turning to her father and running her hand over his weathered features. “Mother’s spirit has guided me here. I must stay. I must marry the Fire Lord.”

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TBC
- 6
- 7
- 8
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The Price of Peace