βYou remind me of her.β He says it into her shoulder.
Katara pulls back a little and drops her hands. He releases her, though sheβs still standing in his personal space. His heat still holds her even if his arms do not.
She has to look up at him to meet his eyes.
βI remind you of your mother?β
He looks a little embarrassed.
βNo, I just - itβs the- itβs-β He huffs an exasperated breath before speaking again. βYourβ¦goodness. Itβs innate for you the way it was for her. That kindness-β he shifts around for a moment, like maybe heβs a little choked, too.
βWhatever it is that makes it up, yours and hers are the same.β
Heβs not looking at her when he finishes, choosing to stare off to the side.
She takes a moment to assess him again. Really assess him.
His robes are vermillion in the low light, softer than the bright reds she sees during the daytime.
Everything in the Fire Nation is red. Itβs her new normal.
Blue is a comfort to her, always has been and always will be, but she saw too much blue at home- the tents, the sky, the parkas, the snow reflecting off water. Everyoneβs eyes. All blue, all the time.
Blue and red take up many corners of her mind.
What she really misses is green.
There was some in the gardens around the palace, but it wasnβt like the lushness of the Earth Kingdom.
Mossy river beds and verdant grass that explode with color when spring is in bloom. Yellow and pink and purple covered meadows- wildflowers that smell like honey and sage.
But sheβd be lying if she said that was what came to mind when she got the pang.
When she misses green, she misses Ba Sing Se.
She thinks of an emerald cave.
She looks at Zuko and even surrounded by his Nationβs color, sheβs reminded of jadeite crystals.
His face, softened by shadow in his office, could almost pull that near jasmine color, and the force of it rips something inside of her in half.
βYou were willing to die for me like my mother was.β She says this suddenly. βThe fact isnβt lost on me, and I- I donβt-β
His eyes snap to hers. She huffs, nearly choking on the words as the spill out of her.
βI donβt know how to deal with that, what to do with it, with the fact that it makes me feel close to you even if thatβs not fair. Even if thatβs not true, and itβs part of why Iβm so angry-β she stops.
It was too much. It was too much and not nearly enough. It skimmed the surface of the way she felt about Zuko.
One layer to peel. One layer to shed. One layer to burn.
She canβt reconcile his sacrifice. Sheβs never been able to.
βI feel it, too,β he says, and itβs barely a whisper.
This knot that binds them, is what she thinks he means, but he says it like itβs something tragic.
New chapter of my fic The Princess in the Tower is out! Check it out if you want ;)
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