RUMOUR HAS IT: THE FESTIVAL OF MOLTEN SUN

This story is for you.

For everyone who read Rumour Has It and commented their thoughts, gave kudos, bookmarked, favourited, shared on blog, or just added it to their browser bookmarks bar. Did you know, I get at least 3 emails a day telling me that you wonderful people are still finding this fic and loving it? Guys. That's 3 times a day I'm given a reason to smile and feel valued and frankly I love you all!

If you haven't read Rumour Has It, I would recommend checking that story out first. It's the prelude to the shenanigans going on here and probably my favourite of the fics I've written. Get to it!

Enjoy, humans!

P.S. We're earning our rating this time round. There's less violence but more… shenanigans. M++ because: Sexy is a plot device in this story.

A Note on Characterisation.

One of the recurring comments/reviews on Rumour Has It was beautiful praise for the story's characterisation. I spent a lot of time workshopping the characters as they were before we diverged from canon and (I hope) they earned their character development. BUT… This story picks up six years after the RHI epilogue and twelve years after the comet. There's A LOT of off-screen shenanigans that went down so we're going to be seeing new sides to our characters. They're still fundamentally themselves but they've grown up and life has hurled every kind of thing at them… That changes a person. Zuko and Katara are also not in a very good place at the beginning of this story. Yeah. Stick with me, lovely reader, I'll make it up to you by the end. Promise!

TW.

Zuko's mental health is a mess here and I've made it as real as I could so when I was reading over the story, I decided to flag this up front just in case: Zuko's in a state of almost constant debilitating stress, depression, and self-loathing. For at least the first third of the story. He has the AtLA world equivalent to panic attacks, lashes out a lot, and will probably (if author has done her job well) make you feel The Feels. This is a heads up for those of us who might find that difficult.

-FictionIsSocialInquiry

Chapter 1 - Before

Rumour Has It I

Being an apothecary in the nation's capital is nothing like mixing herbs in the village she grew up in, Janzu decides whilst emptying the chamber pot into the street. It's dawn and sure, she misses the countryside— less so the stench of fish that clung to every surface of her house— but there is something about the city coming alive with the frenzy of an upturned anthill that makes her feel awake. Energised.

Janzu knows she made the right choice marrying Heshi, no matter what her family said— still says. She takes a moment to wash her hands and wonder what she'll wear today. The veil is so old fashioned now, even the Firelady forwent it last year. Rumour has it, the conservatives in the government threatened to strike when the Firelady and Crown Princess wore matching outfits in the style of the still at large vigilante claiming the title of a certain river spirit.

'Burn that,'Janzu snots, rinsing the chamber pot. These days, the festival celebrations of the capital's patron spirit aren't about the past or tradition.

The Painted Lady celebrations are about forgiveness and moving forward.

Rumour Has It II

The festival is wild, but it always is.

The Crown Princess makes the opening address and ignites the effigy of the Painted Lady at exactly midday when the sun is highest in the sky— the crowd roars and the pale girl who will one day rule their nation beams brighter than the twelve-foot burning statue.

The Firelady claps more enthusiastically than any of the other nobles in attendance but that is just more of the same. The people of the Fire Nation have stopped whispering about their Lady's full-hearted enthusiasm where other nobles are reserved. Well, they've stopped being concerned about it anyhow. They find her Water Tribe enthusiasm refreshing after a long line of tyrants with cold, hidden motives.

It becomes common hearsay: Their waterbending Firelady burns for what she believes in, it lights her up.

Rumour Has It III

Sanji's brother is too stupid for words.

No really.

He's thirteen and he's standing outside Mi Lin's place after curfew— not that curfew's even a thing on the Feast Day of the Painted Lady— throwing deep fried fireflakes at her window.

'She's seventeen, dumb dumb,' Sanji hisses from the shadows she's hiding in. She will not be caught tied up in this embarrassing display. 'What the flameo is she going to want with you?'

Sanji knows such things. Sanji's just turned fifteen.

Her brother turns to her with a retort on his lips, a retort that sputters and dies. He's staring over her shoulder, at the roof of the noodle bar.

Sanji's heart leaps into her throat as she spins and sees two figures running— flying, they're so agile it's doubtful their feet touch the ground— across the rooftop. Overhead the fireworks begin and by the bursts of light Sanji catches a glimpse of blue on the near figure, a hint of red in the skin of the other.

'The Painted Lady,' she breathes while her brother leaps from foot to foot, Mi Lin forgotten as he cries, 'and the Blue Spirit!'

By the Grave of the Firelady I

'I thought I'd find you here.'

The words are hushed, respectful; the kind of voice reserved for the resting place of the dead. In the Fire Nation, the dead rest in their ashes while plaques of pale stone record their names through the ages.

It's well past nightfall now. The Firelord is reclining against the bodhi tree a stone's throw from Firelady Mai's headstone. Beside him is the golden head piece he'd swapped the blue and white mask for upon returning to the palace— the crown that weighs so much heavier than gold-plated brass should. Below them, down in the city, the celebrations are not winding down. A warm wind stirs his hair, pulls a strand from its top knot to dangle before his eyes.

The Firelord can't ignore her forever.

He glances up at his living wife.

By the Grave of the Firelady II

Katara is paused by Mai's headstone. She bows— low, lower than decorum dictates— and crouches to place Izumi's latest offering by the marble. 'Izumi wanted to bring this herself this morning before she left but the duties of the Crown Princess are not always aligned with the duties of the heart.'

Zuko doesn't hear what she whispers next, but his heart grows heavy anyway. He could guess. 'She wouldn't blame you,' he tells her again.

They both know he doesn't mean Izumi.

Katara straightens, her eyes glassy and full. 'I know. You've said so before.'

'And yet…'

She doesn't answer, touching her fingers gently to the grass before the headstone, and this silence that's been growing between them like black mould settles in.

By the Grave of the Firelady III

'I wished she'd die once.' The words are whispered and full of regret. 'When I found out she was pregnant. All because I couldn't let go of my bitterness about...' She turns to her husband then, full brimming with the weight of ghosts. 'I may not have killed her, but I certainly have things to atone for.'

Zuko reaches for her, guides her over to sit beside him. She's still dressed as the vigilante she so rarely gets to be these days, crimson paint curling around her shoulders. 'You did nothing wrong,' he mutters into her hair as he kisses her temple. 'Did I ever tell you what I did when I found out about that Northern boy of yours?'

'Tako?'

'The Northern boy,' Zuko insists.

'Tako,' she says again, fingering her painted bottom lip. 'Your uncle said you threw a tantrum.'

Indigation— even after all these years, a wedding, two children, and countless memories of laughter, tears, and intimacy later— warms his cheeks. 'Uncle was… concise. I threatened to sign a bill raising taxes on Northern Water Tribe trade goods and tried to gauge if any of my ministers could be trusted to discreetly employ a political assassin.'

'Oh, for the love of Tui and La…'

By the Grave of the Firelady IV

'Sokka said he'd caught you two kissing. What was I supposed to do?'

She struggles from his embrace to glare. 'Nothing, you crazy person! We were broken up! You were married!'

'Exactly.' He pulls her close enough to kiss, spends long seconds lingering at her lips. 'I didn't do anything… despite the some very carefully laid plans.'

She rolls her eyes.

'You saved Mai, and Izumi, when those loyalists… when they tried to take my daughter from me. You saved them both, brought them home.'

She huffs, tucks hair behind her ear. 'You can't talk me out of this guilt, Zuko. It's mine.'

'What's yours is mine,' he reminds her, distracts her. 'And neither of us is to blame for Mai's death.'

She says nothing to this, only looks away; perturbed by the past.

By the Grave of the Firelady V

'Did Xu Li tell you where to find me?'

'I don't need councilwomen to know where to look for my husband.'

Zuko steels himself even as he searches out distractions. 'Sokka told me the worst cemetery jokes last time he was here. Do you want to—?'

He can feel her trying to catch his eye, it's as difficult to ignore as the cacophony of their city's revelries below. 'So you don't want to talk?' she asks lightly.

No. 'What about?'

'Zuko.' Her tone is dangerous, he glances at the ground and away. 'I can't believe after everything we've been through you won't talk to me. The comet, the Wong Long Chi, that Earth Kingdom summit, the assassination attempt after Ito was born… we survived it all but this thing… you won't talk about?'

Anger boils in his blood. 'You say this thing like it's nothing!' he snaps before realising her ploy. He shoots her a withering look. 'No, Katara.'

By the Grave of the Firelady VI

'Why come here?' she pushes, and her hand grips his sleeve. 'Hm? Why here of all places?'

'You're not the only one Izumi talks to,' he says in a low voice. 'She told me about wanting to visit her mother in a letter when she was touring Shu Jing with the Commissioner. It's the least I could do until she returns from her trip with Uncle.'

'Alligator-bull shit,' his wife says flatly.

'You think she doesn't talk to me too?'

Katara waves her hand impatiently. 'No, I know how close you two are, but it's not the whole reason you've been coming here recently. Don't think I haven't noticed. You come here after we fight. I want to know why.'

And there have been fights.

Numerous ones.

But each and every argument becomes harder and harder to avoid, then fight, then weather. Until Zuko does little more than allow her to speak while he holds the fracturing pieces of himself together long enough to get away, out of the room, the palace. Long enough to seek out comfort in this hilltop of the dead.

The Unsayable Things I

He thinks: Because you're one of the few things that keep me going and when we fight it feels like I'm not going to survive the year. I'm tired, Katara, I'm so tired and it never stops. There's always more to do, more they need from me— you, the kids, the nation. Twelve years I've been Firelord and I've never taken a break. Twelve long, beautiful, painful years that I wouldn't have been able to endure if not for you. You challenge me. It makes me a better man when you do. You challenge me to be the best version of myself but sometimes I'm not up to the task. You think so much of me, but I don't have it in me to be the person you think I am right now. I haven't even been able to firebend these last few weeks. I'm burnt out. Can you believe it? The shame! A Firelord who cannot even summon his element.

He doesn't say that though. For all his time in politics, the words of his heart still trip him up. They come across all wrong.

Instead, he says: 'Because she never fought with me like you do.'

By the Grave of the Firelady VII

Shock first, then hurt. That's how he sees his lie land in his wife.

The regret is instant. 'I didn't mean it like that.'

Her eyes are swimming again but this time in a familiar anger. 'One chance,' she hisses, leaning away from his embrace. 'You get one chance to explain what the hell that means or I'm going to freeze you to that tree.'

He sighs— so tired— and kneels before her, taking her hand in his. 'Do you want to go somewhere? Ember Island? Kyoshi Island? The South? Anywhere, you can choose. There're a few days between the end of the budget session next week and the 100 Year War Summit where we might be able to squeeze in a vacation. Just you and me and the kids.'

He watches it happen, watches her read him— she's so good at it, hearing the words he doesn't know how to say. He watches her eyes dart across the lines worn prematurely into the skin between his brows, watches her anger shift into something softer. Please say yes.

'Anything, my love,' she tells him in that way she has, that soothing water-way, as she places her palm against his cheek. 'Let me talk with Hitashi and Wei. There's at least three days I can reschedule. Izumi and Uncle will be home again in a few days, why don't we talk to her then? She might like some say in our first family vacation.'

The Unsayable Things II

Zuko doesn't have the energy to cry, but he almost wants to. In relief. In gratitude. In love for this woman holding him together even when he doesn't deserve it.

Thank you, he means to say, but the ache inside of him wins out. 'I can't do this anymore,' he whispers instead and with the words, shame bleeds, tangy and sharp, into the vulnerable places inside of him.

Her eyes widen before creasing. 'You're tired, my love. It's been a long year.'

'It's only summer.'

'Exactly.'

He searches her steadiness for doubt and finds none. 'I can't do this,' he breathes, panic gripping him. 'Katara, I can't keep doing this.'

The Unsayable Things III

She holds him up when his body wants to slump to the ground. 'You're going to take a break,' she says calmly, taking his face between her hands. 'Both of us are. No work. No meetings. No sessions. No kids. Uncle Iroh would be more than happy to look after them for the week. We'll go somewhere, anywhere. Just the two of us.'

A strong man never breaks. A strong man does not dishonour himself or his family by succumbing to weakness. A Firelord must be a strong man. His father's words, Zuko finds, are as poisonous all these years later as they were in his childhood. 'A whole week? What about—'

'I'll take care of it,' his wife says with utter confidence. 'Who do you think you married? I took down the Wong Lon Chi and your sister, you think I can't handle our unruly schedule?'

Doubt sucks at him, wants to pull him from his wife's grip. 'Katara, we can't—'

'We can and we are,' she says in that tone, the one that brooks no argument. Their ministers know that tone, their children certainly know it. He's suddenly grateful for it.

The tears come then. He hides them against her stomach as he leans into her lap. Relief is a heady thing. He feels like she's just pulled him back from the brink of some chasm that would have swallowed him whole. 'Okay.'

Katara doesn't reply. What she does instead is bend her body over his until he's cushioned alongside the patterns their children left on the soft skin of her belly.

The Serpent I

If Katara has any trouble rescheduling their responsibilities over the next few days, she doesn't show it. In fact, she barely shows any signs of their late night argument by Mai's graveside, or how long her husband wept in her arms. Zuko had steeled himself for her gentle but firm probing later that night when she crawled into her side of the bed, washed clean of red paint, but the waterbender only smiles, presses a kiss to his lips, and cuddles into his side.

Within moments she is snoring.

Sleep does not come so quickly to him. He finds the dark corners of their room full of figures that disappear when he turns his head to look for them. There is a cold serpent coiling in his chest where his breath of fire used to burn and the snake winds tighter and tighter as the long dark hours drag on.

When dawn arrives, it is almost a relief to abandon the bed and the stale sleepwear damp with fear and sweat. Almost. Before long, the exhausting list of duties expected of him that day returns, and he takes a moment to steady himself against the door before donning his clothes with exhausted, unfeeling fingers.

Their Highnesses, Princess Kana and Prince Ito I

Katara yawns when she joins Zuko at their private breakfast table.

'Here,' she says with a sleepy smile and hands him a piece of parchment.

'What's this?'

'Today's schedule,' she replies, opening her arms as Ito, Kana, and their maids bustle into the room.

'Mama!' Ito is squalling as he hurtles himself into her arms. 'Kaka hitted me!'

'I did not!' Kana shouts loud enough to make all the adults wince. 'He pulled my hair!'

Katara and Zuko both turn to the red-faced nursemaids. 'M—My apologies, your majesties,' Ito's maid, Sen, gasps, dropping into a low bow. 'Their highnesses the prince and princess are out of sorts—

'Boisterous!' Kana's maid interjects nervously.

'— this morning.'

Kana climbs onto her father's lap, wailing, 'He started it!'

Katara sends their daughter a stern look. 'A wise and kind person does not concern themselves with who started what. A wise and kind person seeks always to be compassionate.'

Ito, tears clinging to his eyelashes, tucks his head under his mother's chin. 'It's so hard to be a wise and kind person, mama,' he whispers to her. 'Much easier to smack.'

Their Highnesses, Princess Kana and Prince Ito II

'Did you smack your sister, Ito?' she asks the boy softly.

He winces. 'Only a little.'

'Why, my love? Why did you smack her?'

'Cause she was being a bad girl for Miu!'

The maid's face pales. 'His highness has a strong sense of justice. Truly, your majesties, my deepest apologies—'

Zuko waves his hand, the snake in his chest sinking its teeth into his flesh. 'It's fine.' He gestures to their places beside the children's. 'Kana? Can you sit by Sen now please?'

The young girl pulls her thumb from her mouth glumly. 'But, Papa, I want to sit with you.'

'And I would love that, but you know we cannot eat breakfast until you and your brother take your seats.' He eyes his youngest daughter sternly. 'Cook tells me there might be mango.'

Ito and Kana exchange a look before rushing to their seats, settling down on their knees.

Of Shipyards and Fiscal Sessions I

'As I was saying,' Katara continues, taking the offered cup of jasmine tea in hand. 'There were some changes. You're needed down at the docks today. Admiral Jee has been assured that you'll spend the day looking over the recommissioned naval vessels. You know the ones from my public transportation project?' Zuko stares at her in disbelief. 'I expect it will take you all day, possibly tomorrow too. Jee is very excited for the honour of the Firelord's personal touch in all his hard work over the last couple of years.'

He's shaking his head, his own tea ignored. 'The budget session—'

'I'm more than capable of working with the treasury on the budget, Zuko,' she says in a tone that brooks no argument. 'But you know how unwell I've been this last week. I can't stand on a boat all day, so you're just going to have to do this. For me.'

'You told me you were feeling better.'

'My throat hurts,' she says, staring him dead in the eyes as she coughs pitifully into her napkin.

He gives her the look. Her lip twitches.

Of Shipyards and Fiscal Sessions II

He almost glares at her. Almost. 'The lords of the treasury will be offended if I spend two days on a public initiative during the peak of the fiscal—'

'The lords of the treasury are welcome to feel offended and to bring their complaints to me this morning.' She eyes him in a way that gives Zuko a sinking sense of foreboding; how much work was going to stack up on his desk while Katara played her game?

'Papa, watch this!' Ito is grinning widely as he boils the tea in his cup. 'Grampy Iroh taught me!'

The tension around which the snake is coiling lessens for half a heartbeat. 'Your grandfather is a skilled firebender, Ito, but he knows better than to ruin a perfectly good cup of tea by overheating it.'

The boy giggles but the surface of his tea clears of boiling bubbles.

Katara is smirking at him over the crescent-shaped slice of melon between her fingers. 'I may not see you for lunch, your majesty, but if you're still concerned about the lords of the treasury, I shall report in full at dinner.'

The ambivalence returns in force as he watches his wife stand, kiss their youngest two children, and sweep from the room. What game are you playing at, Katara?

Of Shipyards and Fiscal Sessions III

For three days Admiral— once Lieutenant— Jee drags Zuko up and down the decks of ships once built for war. Colossal cruisers, once-deadly destroyers, stealthy frigates now repurposed by the navy into emergency accommodation, housing for the poor, travelling entertainment barges, and inter-island transport vessels.

His father would be furious were he here to see it.

Katara's ceaseless work on the program is clear; it's a huge project that has involved not only the navy but the metalworking guilds, craftsmen, sailors, developers, businessmen, and— for some reason Zuko is yet to understand— a particularly successful cabbage merchant.

It's a huge success and very impressive but—

'Three days!' He's drinking sake with Jee and it's almost like old times again, almost like those lonely angry years of banishment upon his ancient steam-powered ship with the crew who hated him. This time, his old lieutenant is in cahoots with his wife; on the verge of treason. 'You're telling me three days to show me a dozen vessels is normal and not some hairbrained scheme my wife has put you up to?'

Of Shipyards and Fiscal Sessions IV

Jee refills his cup with the Shu Jing sake, a gleam in his eye. 'I don't know what to tell you, Firelord Zuko, her majesty asked me to be thorough.'

He glares at the older man. 'You took me into every washroom on every one of these ships,' he snaps but the admiral just maintains that secretive smile that Zuko wants to burn from his face. 'One might conclude that you've gone above and beyond your Firelady's command there, Admiral.'

'I live to serve at your lady's command,' the impudent man has the gall to say.

Zuko shakes his head at the man, knocking back the drink. 'You've spent too much time with my uncle.'

Jee just smiles.

Of Floral Arrangements and Trade

The next morning, his assignment at the docks long over-completed, Katara hands him another parchment over their morning tea. 'I've spoken with the gardeners—'

'No.' He looks at her, aghast, over the top of the schedule. 'Katara, no.'

Her smile does little to melt his resistance. 'But, my love, I'm still deep in congress with the trade and treasury ministers and won't have time for this today. You'd be doing me a huge favour.'

'"Accompany Princess Kana and Prince Ito to the royal gardens with Groundskeeper Jeien,"' he reads aloud, ignoring the children's giggles. '"Decide on the floral display for the upcoming war anniversary summit."'

Katara crooks a brow. 'You might want to take your time with that,' she advises.

'So you can have more time to come up with the next ludicrous distraction? I have a nation to run, Katara!'

'No, so you don't preference red flowers over green, blue or yellow,' she replies calmly, hiding a smirk behind her hand. 'You wouldn't want to show an international preference and isolate one of the other nations.'

'"Interview candidates for Izumi's new maid,"' he reads through gritted teeth. 'I have staff who do that sort of thing for us!'

'Oh, they're all busy,' his wife explains, circling the table to kiss the children's cheeks and his lips. Here she lingers, her fingers tickling in the hair at the back of his neck. 'Don't work too late, my love, Izumi will be home tonight.'

Zuko wants to grab at her. Wants to tear up the ridiculous list of chores and feed them to flames. Wants to make her understand that while he's picking floral displays, he's not finding ways to ease the burden of the failing economy on the most vulnerable, on those who are suffering, on—

'C'mon, Papa!' Ito clamours dancing to the door with his sister. 'Flowers! Flowers!'

Miu and Sen are hiding smiles of their own but when he looks up the women are stoic as stone. 'If you ladies would be so kind,' he sighs, gesturing to the two excitable children by the door. 'Casual clothes will do for today. They'll be covered in soil by the time we're done.'

Reunions and Reinforcements I

When Zuko, Ito, and Kana arrive at the family dining room for dinner— each more dirt-smeared than the last— Zuko's eldest daughter is in earnest conversation with her stepmother. The girl is willowy, pale, her black hair sleek and immaculate where Ito and Kanas flyaway curls rarely conformed to neatness.

At their boisterous entrance, Katara and Izumi look up. A grin, contained but joyful, crosses his eldest daughter's face. 'Papa.'

He melts as Izumi first bows formally then embraces him. The irritation that has been percolating low in his gut all day eases and he hugs the growing girl tightly. She looks more and more her mother's daughter even now at eleven than she did when Mai was around to comment fondly on it. She's Mai through and through with his golden eyes and Katara's distinct devilishness in the way she looks at the world.

'You're home,' is all the greeting he can find.

As she draws back, he reluctantly releases her. 'Grandpa and I arrived late this afternoon. Mama was just telling me—'

'How glad I am to have her home,' Katara interrupts, coming to stand at Izumi's side and winking at her. The girl grins wide and slow. 'How glad you would be to see her.'

Zuko glances between them, suspicion and trepidation circling each other like wolf-lions. Before he has a chance to respond, Kana slinks to her sister's side and wraps her arms around the older girl's hips. 'Zumi!'

Ito hollers all the way from the doorway, across the room, and laughs as he tackles his older sister's side. 'Zoom Zoom Zumi!'

Izumi laughs and bends to envelope the two younger children in a hug. 'Agni, you two make more noise than Grandpa when he snores and you're only a fraction of his size!'

Reunions and Reinforcements II

'Where is your grandfather?' Zuko asks, while Katara smiles a watery grin.

'Just running an errand for me, he'll be along soon. Shall we sit?' His wife claps her hands together before her and gives a strangled laugh. 'I know it's only been a few days, but it feels like forever since I've seen you three together. You've all got so big.'

'Muuuuuuuum,' Ito begs as Katara bends to envelope all three of them in a hug. 'Ew, you're waterbending on me!'

'They're tears, dumb dumb,' Kana calls, wriggling from her mother's grip. 'Mama's always mushy.'

Katara sniffles as she stands. 'I can't help it if you're all so lovable, can I? Don't badger your mother, go sit down.'

Zuko, despite his uncle-related suspicions, offers her his arm. 'My lady,' he mutters.

She accepts it, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. 'It must be the new herbal tea Sen gave me, I've cried half a dozen times since I started drinking it.'

'Should you try a different blend perhaps,' Zuko says in a low voice as their three children take their places at the table and Izumi launches into a tale about pirates. 'I can barely keep up with you at the best of times.'

She gives a watery chuckle, easing down into her seat. 'Then you're going to love your uncle's news.'

Reunions and Reinforcements III

'No!' The Firelord shakes the paper at his wide-eyed wife and newly arrived uncle across the breakfast table. 'Katara, I swear to Agni—'

'Grandpa says we shouldn't swear to Agni unless we mean to stake our life on the oath,' Izumi recites, sipping her ginseng with a grace he can never quite replicate. 'He says that fire gods are the least forgiving and we should show them our respect.'

Zuko resists glowering at his daughter. 'Your grandfather is technically correct, but I wonder what he expects when certain people interfere in—'

'Peace, Firelord Zuko.' Iroh is pouring himself a steaming cup of green tea. 'Ember Island's humble Festival of Molten Sun has not had the honour of a personal visit from a sitting Firelord in over a hundred years. It is the responsibility of a good Firelord to pay attention to the poorest among us as well as the lordliest.'

Zuko doesn't miss the spark in his wife's eye. He turns to her. 'And the budget sessions? We need a final document to begin the new financial year with.'

'Done.' She's as satisfied as a lion-cat lazing in the sun. 'I've signed the document into law and the treasury has already begun its interest calculations.'

Reunions and Reinforcements IV

'You signed it without me!?'

'Of course, I've been working on it all week.'

He drops his face into his palms. 'Katara! There were key tenants I needed included in that bill!'

'Oh?' she says sharply. 'You mean the allowance for the five percent expected downturn after last year's poor harvest? Or the contributions from our family's trust? Or the interest adjustment to the Southern Earth Kingdom reparations that are compounding at a higher rate this year than last?'

The snake in his chest is hissing and spitting; Zuko cannot quite meet her eyes. 'Yes. Those.'

'Then rest assured, it's been taken care of.'

Reunions and Reinforcements V

He studies her then, studies the circles under her eyes and the slump of her shoulders. 'What about the new agriculture grants for the drought-stricken farmers in the south?'

'Accounted for. There was actually a mistake in your calculations. We needed fifty thousand less than you thought.' She raises a brow, daring him.

Zuko leans his elbows on the table. 'The monsoon relief fund?' he asks, mimicking her expression.

'Done.'

'The public schooling initiative was due to be reviewed—'

'And I reviewed it. We're saving ten thousand by dedicating two of my recommissioned vessels as floating quarters for rural students who come to the capital to go to school during the week, and home on the weekend.'

He wishes his uncle wasn't there, he wishes the children were chattering elsewhere. Zuko is suddenly gripped by an impulse to spill the waterbender over the table and—

'You can catch up on the details when we get home,' Katara tells him, winking, as she hands him a piece of parchment.

He takes the paper, nervously. 'Get home?'

Reunions and Reinforcements VI

Izumi beams at him. 'Don't worry, Papa, Grandpa and I can handle things.'

Zuko blinks. 'Handle things?'

Iroh covers Katara's hand with his, smiling between them. 'You have both worked so hard these past years and you have much to be proud of. Providing me with more nieces and nephews as well as your duty to our nation.' Iroh's eyes are gentle as always, the sunniest pools on the warmest spring day. 'Now is the time to serve us by resting.'

'We spoke about it, remember?' Katara says gently, not meeting his eye.

The dark and humid hillside by the grave of the woman he couldn't save comes rushing back. Colour stains his cheeks. 'Katara, no, I—'

'I'm afraid it is already decided, nephew,' Iroh says quite cheerfully. 'Tomorrow, I become Regent and advisor to Crown Princess Izumi. We have plans for this place, don't we, niece?'

Izumi practically glows with excitement. 'Grandpa says I can order a National Tea Appreciation Day for—'

Iroh clears his throat sharply, eyes gleaming. 'Ahem, yes, as I said, the best way to serve your people is to rest and recover your strength.'

Reunions and Reinforcements VII

A foot touches his under the table. 'We need this, my love,' Katara says quietly, as though it's just the two of them. As though they do not have the crushing weight of the whole Fire Nation on their collective shoulders. 'You need this, I certainly need this. It's only a week.'

He runs an anxious hand through his hair. 'A whole week? Katara…'

'What's one week out of the hundreds we've served over the last six years?'

He sighs. 'I feel fine. Your little game worked. I've barely worked at all this week and I feel better than ever.

It's only half a lie but her disappointed expression shames him twice as hard. 'Zuko.'

He glances at his children, all three of them watching him strangely, his uncle, patient as ever, his wife, her sunny smiles gone now and replaced with something that makes the snake in his chest hiss and spit. 'One week?'

Katara nods earnestly. 'Just seven days.'

Zuko sighs. He tells himself he's doing this for her. The sad truth is there's no way he'd ever take the time for himself. 'Fine. Where's this Festival of Molten Sun?'

The Serpent II

They don't talk about it as they go to bed that night. The serpent in Zuko's chest is roiling and twisting so hard he wants to take his dao swords, his mask, and spend the energy in a fight against a man twice his size. Anything to escape it's twisting, grinding, gnawing.

Katara is unusually silent, not just with words. Never in six years of marriage has she started the night on the far side of the bed. Even in the middle of the humid Fire Nation summers he would feel her feet pressed into his, or a finger would curl around his own.

He never knew he could feel so lonely with another person an arm's length away.

He almost reaches out to her at one point. Breaches the distance between them to drag her closer, turn her around, kiss her to show how sorry he is for always doing the wrong thing, saying the wrong thing. Kiss her so she knows that despite his hesitation, he wants nothing more than to spend time alone with her without the distraction of their weighty responsibilities.

But he doesn't.

This is Katara asking to be left alone. He doesn't know how he knows it, but he does. To reach past the space she has put between them would be wrong, no matter how he longs for her warmth.

So he says nothing. And he does nothing. Sweat covers his skin in a cold, grimy layer and the shadows at the corners of the room swirl all the more menacing.

By the time the sun rises, Zuko is so exhausted that he doesn't even argue when the snake in his chest spits a hateful diatribe about the woman dozing peacefully beside him.

Woo hoo! Rumour Has It lives again! You might have noticed that the layout is a lil different this time around - longer chapters with more snippets. There's actually only going to be 9 (I think) chapter but they'll be like this - much longer than RHI style chapters. I can't promise the update schedule I kept to last time too - sorry! Depending on irl busy business, we're looking at 1 update/fortnight-ish.