Chapter 50: Ashes and Answers
The arena's sand still smoldered in patches, the acrid stench of ozone and burnt flesh clinging to the air. Servants scurried to drag Zhao's limp body from the pit, his armor screeching against the stone. Zuko stood at the center, blood dripping from his split lip onto his scorched tunic. His ribs screamed with every breath, but he refused to slump.
Katara hovered at the edge of the arena. Despite herself, her eyes traced the burns on his arms, the jagged cut across his collarbone. 'He's just a monster', she told herself. 'Monsters don't bleed this much.'
Iroh reached him first. The old general's usual twinkle was gone, replaced by a furrowed brow. "Nephew," he said quietly, "how did you learn to redirect lightning?"
Zuko wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing blood. "Waterbending scrolls. I studied their forms. The way they redirect energy… I thought it might apply to lightning."
Iroh's gaze sharpened. "Waterbending? That is… interesting."
"You taught me to guide energy, not force it," Zuko said, avoiding his uncle's eyes. "I just… adapted it."
A beat passed. Iroh's silence was heavier than judgment.
Ozai's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Impressive, Prince Zuko. Your mastery over fire has certainly taken you beyond the upper eshelons of our ranks."
The Fire Lord descended the arena steps, his robes pooling around him like liquid shadow. The crowd parted like frightened minnows. Azula trailed behind, her smirk razor-thin.
"Father," Zuko said, bowing stiffly.
Ozai circled him, inspecting the burns, the blood. "Lightning redirection. A technique even brother struggled to master. How did you acquire such a skill?"
Zuko kept his voice flat. "Trial and error."
"Liar," Azula sang, twirling a lock of hair. "Uncle's been tutoring you in secret, hasn't he? All those cozy tea sessions."
Iroh stepped forward, his tone deceptively light. "I assure you, brother, I did not teach him this. My nephew's… resourcefulness continues to surprise even me."
Ozai's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Resourcefulness. Yes." He leaned closer to Zuko, his breath hot with the scent of ash. "You have proven yourself time and time again since your return. In my mind there is no doubt you are worthy as my successor."
Zuko nodded once. "Thank you, father."
Azula snorted. "Don't look so smug, Zuzu. You still fight like a peasant." She flicked a speck of dirt off his shoulder, her nails grazing his burns. "But I suppose even peasants get lucky."
Katara watched the exchange, her stomach churning. Zuko's jaw tightened, but he didn't flinch. 'He's used to this', she realized. 'The insults, the games.'
As Ozai turned to leave, Azula lingered. "Oh, and brother?" she purred. "Do try not to die before our next spar. It'd be dreadfully boring."
The moment they were gone, Zuko sagged. Iroh caught his arm, steadying him. "You should rest."
"Later," Zuko muttered, shrugging free. His gaze flicked to Katara. "We're not done here."
She stiffened as he approached, his shadow swallowing hers. Up close, he looked younger, exhaustion hollowing his cheeks, sweat matting his hair. For a heartbeat, she almost pitied him.
"Enjoy the show?" he rasped.
Katara lifted her chin. "You're still a monster."
"Good." He leaned in, his voice dropping. "Monsters survive."
As he limped away, Katara's fists clenched. 'I suppose they do...'
---
The bath attached to Zuko's chambers was a space of black marble and steam. Sunlight filtered through high, narrow windows, casting yellow streaks over the water's surface. Medicinal herbs floated in clay bowls, arnica for bruises, crushed lavender to dull pain, their bitter-sweet scents clashing with the metallic tang of blood.
Zuko sat submerged to his shoulders, his back to Katara. The water around him rippled faintly red. Burns crisscrossed his skin like cracked porcelain, raw and blistered along his ribs where Zhao's flames had seared deepest. Katara knelt on the edge of the bath, her sleeves rolled up, a damp cloth clenched in her fist. She'd stopped shaking minutes ago. Mostly.
"Your shoulder," she said, voice flat. "It needs cleaning."
He didn't turn. "Go ahead."
Katara dipped the cloth into a bowl of antiseptic, a sharp-smelling tincture of fire poppy and honey. Her fingers brushed the jagged gash where Zhao's fire dagger had pierced him. Zuko flinched.
"Don't."
"Don't what?" she snapped. "Don't touch you? Don't help you? You're the one who dragged me here!"
"I didn't drag you. I ordered you."
"Because you're too proud to ask nicely!"
The words hung, too loud in the steam-heavy air. Zuko's shoulders tensed. Katara stared at the nape of his neck, the damp hair clinging to it, and wondered when hatred had become so exhausting.
She dabbed the wound. Silence stretched, broken only by the drip of water from the cloth.
"Why waterbending?" she asked abruptly.
Zuko stiffened. "What?"
"You told your father you studied waterbending scrolls. Why?"
He shrugged, a ripple disrupting the water. "They were available."
"Liar." The cloth pressed harder than necessary. Zuko hissed. "The Fire Nation burns waterbending scrolls. You'd have to look for them. Risk finding them."
"Maybe I did."
"Why?"
He turned suddenly, water sloshing. Katara recoiled, but not fast enough, his hand clamped around her wrist. His eyes were fever-bright, his breath uneven. "Why do you care? You think this is some grand redemption tale? That I'm secretly good?"
She wrenched free. "I think you're desperate. And scared. And it's making you sloppy."
Zuko laughed, a hollow sound. "Sloppy. Right." He sank lower, water lapping at his chin. "You want the truth? Fine. I studied waterbending because it's the opposite of everything I was taught. Fire is destruction. Water is… change. Adaptation. I needed that. Knowledge is power Katara, always was and always will be."
Katara's pulse quickened. 'Adaptation'. The word echoed in her bones. "So you stole our techniques. Turned them into weapons."
"Yes." His voice dropped. "I turned them to be my own, it may have come from waterbending techniques but I adapted it for fire, my fire, for my survival."
She hesitated, then reached for another herb poultice. "You're not the only one who's had to survive."
"I know."
The admission startled her. Zuko was staring at the water, his reflection fractured by ripples. "You think I don't know what it's like? To have your home taken? Your family scattered? Not speaking to your family for months and years on end and never seeing them."
Katara's throat tightened. "Your family did the scattering."
"Not by choice." The family he spoke of was not the same family Katara was thinking. He was talking of his family on earth, before he awoke in the body of Zuko. In that instance it was him however, that pushed his family aware for his goals and ambitions and when he lost it all, he was all alone.
"You had a choice!" The bowl clattered as she slammed it down. "You chose to hunt Aang. To burn villages. To, to chain me!"
Zuko's head snapped up. "And what would you have done? If your father told you your honor, your life, depended on catching one boy?"
"I wouldn't have obeyed!"
"Because you've been scared and afraid before but never like I was!" He surged upward, water sluicing off his torso. Katara stumbled back, but there was nowhere to go, the bath's edge dug into her knees. "You've never knelt in a throne room, begging for mercy you know won't come. Never felt fire melt your skin because you dared to speak!"
His chest heaved, the scars there mottled and shiny in the low light. Katara's gaze flickered to them, then away. Shame burned her cheeks.
"You're right," she whispered. "I haven't. I was hiding away when they took my mother so I didnt get to experience that myself."
Zuko exhaled sharply, sinking back. The anger drained from him, leaving something brittle. "Just do your job."
Katara reached for the cloth again. This time, her hands didn't shake.
"You could have killed him," Katara said quietly. "Zhao. When you redirected the lightning."
Zuko's jaw flexed. "I know."
"Why didn't you?"
"Would you have?"
The question hung between them. Katara thought of her father, of the bloodied water tribe men in the war, of the countless Fire Nation soldiers she would happily drown, left to die, including Zuko himself. 'Yes', she wanted to say. 'For my mother. For my tribe.' But the words curdled.
"I don't know," she admitted.
Zuko glanced at her, sidelong. "That's why."
Her fingers stilled on his shoulder. "What?"
"You don't know. Neither do I." He leaned his head back against the bath's edge, exposing the pale column of his throat. "Killing him… it wouldn't have fixed anything." In reality he wanted to kill him but he couldn't control the attack enought to aim it properly. Yet he wasn't going to tell her that now.
Katara's laugh was bitter. "Since when do you care about fixing things?"
The cloth slipped from her hand, sinking into the water. Zuko didn't move to retrieve it. He didn't answer.
"You're different," she said, the words spilling unbidden. "From before. From the ship."
"Am I?"
"You don't yell as much."
A smirk tugged his lips. "I yell plenty."
"Not at me."
Their eyes met. Katara's breath hitched. Zuko looked away first.
"You're not worth the effort," he muttered.
She flicked water at him. "Jerk."
"Peasant."
The old insults landed differently now, blunted, almost fond. Katara busied herself with rewrapping his ribs, her fingers brushing the rise and fall of his breath.
"Will you teach me?"
Zuko stiffened. "What?"
"The lightning redirection. The… waterbending parts."
He barked a laugh. "You're joking."
"No." She tied the bandage tighter than necessary. "You stole from my people. I want to know how."
Zuko studied her, his gaze weighing. "It's not something I can… explain. It's a feeling. Like holding a river in your hands. You don't control it. You… trust it."
Katara's brows furrowed. "That's the worst lesson I've ever heard."
"Yeah, well, I'm not a master."
"Obviously."
A beat. Then Zuko snorted. Katara pressed her lips together, refusing to smile.
The moment shattered as the door creaked open. A servant shuffled in, head bowed, bearing a tray of fresh bandages and a steaming pot of tea. Katara snatched her hands back, putting distance between herself and Zuko.
He didn't move. "Leave it," he told the servant, not looking away from Katara.
The door clicked shut.
[A/N: Can't wait to see what happens next? Get exclusive early access on patreon.com/saiyanprincenovels. If you enjoyed this chapter and want to see more, don't forget to drop a power stone! Your support helps this story reach more readers!]