Katara put on the borrowed outfit and admired the subdued luster of the silk in the filtered sunlight. She had never worn a red garment before. The maid, who had been waiting respectfully outside the door, led her to the garden. In the tightly built-up center of the royal city, framed in towering pavilions and multi-storied residences in the background, the garden was a restful oasis, spanning a large rectangle framed between walls of stone topped with maroon tile and gilding. Pine and bamboo, regarded as noble plants of the highest esteem, evergreen and persevering through the worst of winter, framed the enclosure, which held a formal garden, a grassy open area, and a small pond bordered with a paved walkway set in the light of a stone lantern. Under the yew tree a figure in crimson sat, staring at the pond and watching the turtleducks glide through the water. When he noticed her arrival, Zuko stood up.

"Is this the place?" she asked. "You spoke a lot about being here with your mother."

"Yes, it is. It hasn't changed at all." He took her hand in his. "It's been so long."

Through the address she hadn't taken her eyes off him, standing before the large crowd upon the dais like he was born for it, with the golden ornament in his hair and the Avatar by his side. Her brother had expected trouble, Suki had kept her reservations, but the miraculous return of the nation's prince, holding his father's murderer captive, transformed from an uncertain boy into a capable and upstanding young man, had won the nation's heart. He'd painted an irresistable story. As a commander in the military had been responsible for the murder of the Firelord, the natural reaction of the citizens was to set aside regard for further warfare. Zuko had announced a new era of peace and kindness.

She had seen it in his eyes that he hadn't expected things to go well, that he was accustomed to disappointment, and that his capability had surprised himself. Between the image of the newly ordained Firelord and his own anticipation of further hardship lay vulnerability, which he was trying to force himself through without drawing attention. Having an idea of what was going through his head, a storm of self-doubt and disbelief carefully hidden, she nuzzled her head against his chest and held him closely.

"It will be summer in a few weeks," said Zuko. "Are you going back to the South Pole? You said you loved the season there."

"My brother is. He wants to introduce Suki to everyone. For now, I have somewhere else I need to be."

"Where?"

"With you."

"You don't have to do that," he said. "I know how important your family is to you."

"My father is staying in Agna Qel'a until next spring. I'll see him there with you in autumn, and return south with him after the winter." Representatives from every nation were invited to a meeting in the North Pole, set for the autumn equinox, to celebrate the end of the war.

"Then, when will I see you again?"

She laughed. "You're coming with us."

He shook his head. "I can't. After what I did to the South Pole, they'll hate me. I'm the last person they want to see."

"I think they'll like you."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I like you."

"Katara..." His hands around her waist were warm. "Is it really okay?"

"Yes. Besides which, it will be good for the new Firelord to make a visit. Someday I want the South Pole to be a proper nation again, to have a future again. Let's start it."

"I'll do anything I can to help."

"I know. Thank you."

Quacking took their attention. When Zuko had stood up, he'd upset the bag containing the promised bread, and they had seen it and were impatient. He grabbed the loaf and split it in half, giving her a part and taking his own up. He knelt and tossed small pieces to the gathered flock, then asked, "How long does a turtleduck live?"

She answered, "Five or ten years, maybe."

"Then they aren't the same ones I fed with my mother. They'd all be gone."

"Maybe they remember. Maybe their parents told them stories."

He laughed and asked, "What kind of turtleducks have you met?"

She smiled and knelt beside him to crumble her own portion of the bread. "Your uncle is arriving tomorrow, right?"

"Yes. I'm going to have so much to tell him. You'll like him."

She liked the softness in his expression when he was happy.

Late next morning, Iroh, brought in by coach, stood at the threshold of the palace on crutches. His expression had a warmth she hadn't expected from the brother of the previous Firelord. Zuko, abandoning propriety, ran to him and embraced him, and his uncle let the crutches drop to the carpeted floor at either side.

#

Aang went by glider in the skies over the royal city. It would be the first time anyone there had seen an Air Nomad, and he didn't know what they thought of him, but he wondered if there was a hint of regret at what had been lost to the ambitions of their predecessors. Untouched itself by the war, the Fire Nation was as he remembered it, when he'd been there with Kuzon and with the monks. He saw the same streets, subtly different, and the same buildings, new fashionings set upon the same foundations. He caught an updraft and soared up with the climbing slope, the ground under him rocky and darkened like the sand at Ember Island, and landed at the ridge of the dormant volcano which surrounded the city. The western ocean was calm. Firelilies took hold at the wild edges of the coast, far below, swaying in the warm breeze.

Old paths were worn into the ground in the same places they had always been. Kuzon, trying to show him a firebending movement, had fallen there and skinned his knee, ripping the new trousers his mother had just finished for him. It had seemed like the largest problem in their lives at the time, and Aang was sure they'd both be scolded miserably for it. Kuzon's mother, seeing the damage that evening, had wordlessly brought him a spare and taken up the torn garment to mend. Two sets of steamed buns had been waiting for them on the table, well marked, one with a spicy ground pork and scallion mixture, the other vegetarian with minced mushrooms. They had placed the lilies in a vase, where the strong crimson reflected down the porcelain into the water.

He sat at the cliffside to watch the sunset come in. When the colors had faded and the night sky clarified in stars, he turned back to the city and saw it illuminated throughout the entire caldera in the gentle glow of lanterns.

#

Lightning streaked across the sky, replacing the starlight hidden behind the sudden appearance of heavy rainclouds on a swift wind. A downpour started. Rain pounded across Caldera City in torrents. Zuko and Katara watched it from the window, seated for tea with three cups between them. Aang had already gone to bed, though he didn't know how the younger boy meant to sleep through the storm. Some minutes passed with just the two of them. She was entranced with the storm and had forgotten the sencha. He loved the way she looked at rain. Zuko wanted to view something the rest of the world regarded as a depressing misfortune with the kind of fondness and longing she did.

Iroh returned. The thunder had covered up the tapping of the crutches as he made his return down the hallway. By his ankles, Yuze was walking on his own, tottering uncertainly in halting strides. He was calmed from his crying, awakened as the child was from the storm, and no longer was in fear. Iroh beamed. Yuze, with small hands, clutched Zuko's pantleg and peered up at him. He brought the child onto his lap and pushed the tea out of his reach. Both of his parents were serving lifeterms in prison, but the child's expression held only innocence. He thought it a shame that he wouldn't remember either of their faces. After his birth the pair had all but abandoned him at the palace, but he was not without family. With neither Ozai nor Azula, without Zhao, he wanted to make sure the child grew up knowing only love and warmth.

"What a healthy nephew you have," remarked Iroh. He'd been having sessions with Katara, but his legs still pained him. Perhaps they always would. Zuko would never forget his own part in the event that caused his injury. He couldn't meet his eyes, and instead looked down to the child, who reached in vain towards the ceramic teacup. Yuze watched the steam rise from it with curiosity. "I wonder if he'll be a firebender."

"It doesn't matter either way. His bending ability or lack thereof won't change his place here." The emphasis came from his own sharp memories. "I still can't believe something so cute came from my sister."

"If I recall, Azula was also rather cute in her infancy, before she could grab or hit or speak. Her flaws are not for a lack of beauty. The staff here adore Yuze. I've missed his infancy, but they've been kind to tell me enough stories that it feels like I've been beside him all along." Iroh took up his own cup. The celadon glaze was a different hue than was used in the Earth Kingdom. The ceramic finish had less green and more of a creamy tranquility, a color hard to place. Zuko wondered what the teaware looked like where Katara had grown up, and what she may have been in want of at that moment. She had still been watching the rainstorm, but looked over as the child cooed.

"Will the rain clear up before the play tomorrow?" she asked. The child moved his gaze from the steam up to her face as she spoke.

Zuko replied, "It should. Rainstorms are daily here throughout summer."

As promised, the rain had resolved overnight. Around two in the afternoon they gathered in the city's piazza, where a stage had been set at one end and seating before it. Zuko greeted his surviving crewmates and their families in their reserved section, and paused as Jee clasped his hand and reiterated how happy he was that Zuko had survived. Zuko, remembering the story Katara had told her of her father's experience, tried to refrain from apologizing again, and gave them, instead, assurance that their troubles were over. He joined Katara, who was seated beside her brother and Suki. Iroh had the child on his lap, though he wouldn't relent from pawing at Suki's arm and hair, which she found endearing. Suki and Sokka would be leaving to the South Pole in a few days, but would join them at the North by the autumn equinox. Aang was beside them, looking at the child with a uninterpretable expression. Around the urban square had been strung paper lanterns on a line for the festival that night which would follow the performance.

He used to see this play every year with his mother, at Ember Island, but after she vanished his father would no longer take them, and he didn't see it again until he was twelve when the troupe relocated their annual performance to Caldera City instead. He'd watched it at twelve and again at thirteen, before he'd been banished that year, and hadn't seen it since. His memories were vague. The story had impressed itself like a recurrent dream, and he recalled only veins of the plotline and vague ideas of the imagery, like a childhood memory eroded by time, and no longer was certain what was truth and what he himself had added, trying to complete something he didn't possess a full copy of in hand.

"Aang, do you know this play?" asked Zuko. "Love Amongst the Dragons?"

"Yes. It's a very old story," he replied. "I saw it with the monks when I was twelve."

Ironically, while Zuko's memories of it were vague, Aang's were likely much more vivid despite being formed a century ago. By his perception it had only been three years. For Zuko, it was going on eight.

The seating gallery filled and an announcer came onto the stage to introduce the troupe and the story. Whereas other acting bands would initially show the performers without costume, this group had always presented them masked, and no one had seen them bare-faced, a choice which made them seem more mysterious and had elicited a dedicated following with fans. Lined on stage, the seven gave a bow, all wearing ceramic masks of dragons and kabuki. As they left to make their final preparations, the crowd waited silently.

Sokka was pestering Suki to spoil the story for him, and whether there would be any fight scenes. Iroh kept Yuze entertained with a toy wooden dragon until the actors would appear again so that he wouldn't fuss.

The performance began, and he listened to lines he knew and lines he had forgotten, seeing more of the story and making connections he had missed previously. It was composed as an epic, but was at heart a romance. As the dragon emperor was sealed to a mortal form, he first railed against his fate and cursed his destiny, he acted vicious and bestial, and it took him most of the story to reform himself and come to accept the terms of his punishment. There, at his lowest point, he gained the admiration of his beautiful lover, who took up a dragon mask over her human face as a sign of her love for him.

Zuko sat up whenever she was on stage. The way she danced was tender and heartbreaking, and the emphasis of her lines was well composed. She seemed to have a deeper understanding of the story rather than only acting upon the surface cues. It seemed to him that she was the same actress who had been there the last time he'd seen the play, before his banishment, and she evoked a deep nostalgia. The masked woman was tall and graceful, and moved perfectly in synchronism with her partner. Their bulky and cumbersome masks didn't seem to burden them—they wore them like a second skin. It was clear why the two held their place as lead performers through all that time. The others were dutiful and skilled, but the pair's performance together was the type that came from years of daily practice, a deep trust in each other, and genuine passion for the story, qualities unable to be fabricated. Every motion demonstrated the deepest, most ardent love for each other.

The dragon emperor was in an outfit of crimson edged in gold, his mask crested with a flame atop. The heroine wore pale blue in flowing, gentle robes, and her feet were shrouded in a hem of transparent tulle. Her mask was an imitation of his in the colors of water, with a brocaded golden band wrapped behind her long hair, kept down in an innocent fashion, which spun behind her through her twirls as dark umber silk.

The actor pulled her close, and the music faded to calm. They gazed at each other through their masks. When he spoke, his words were captivating and rich with emotion. "Though I was trapped in the body of a mortal, you willingly gave me your heart." The actress was a note off, turned towards the audience as if something had caught her attention. He continued, "I cannot help but give you mine in return."

He waited for the reply from the heroine, but she continued to stare into the audience silently. With her heavy ornamental mask, Zuko couldn't tell who she was looking at so intensely. She failed to deliver her line, and the audience noticed the lapse. Whispers broke out. The actor took her shoulder and tried to recapture her attention, then whispered inaudibly into her ear. The next moment she regained herself and followed up, "Only with your glory hidden in false form could you finally recognize my devotion."

They pressed their masked faces together in a chaste kiss.

#

Katara scanned the menu for something not-spicy and settled for a fruit compote sweetened with honey, wrapped in a thin cake formed into a cone. It was topped with cherries, ripe in-season. When she turned, her brother was gone, and she wondered if he had found a more enticing food stall and pulled Suki off while Katara had been in line. She ate while looking for Zuko. Unable to find him, she stepped to the ledge of a fountain, giving her an extra foot of height to see better. Dusk cast the sky in pink clouds, while the paper lanterns had been lit and cast tiny flames blurred through the colored shades. The troupe was busy packing up the stage settings. She had never seen it before and was still lost thinking of the story.

Someone brushed against her arm. In her hand a slip of paper was pressed. She looked down but whoever it was had already left, so she unfolded the note and read it.

"Katara, there you are," said Aang. He dropped from the air and folded his glider wings back into the chassis. "Zuko asked me to look for you."

"Where is he?"

"I'll take you. Did you like the play?"

"It was beautiful." They crossed the piazza and a small group parted to let them through. Zuko had been speaking with his former crewmates, so it was no wonder she hadn't been able to see him through the crowd around him. The men were streaked in scars and one was resigned to a cane in a similar state as Iroh, who was seated nearby on a bench with Yuze next to him, occupied with slices of fruit shaped like stars which his grandfather was helping him eat. Zuko smiled at her and thanked Aang. She finished her crêpe while they finished their conversation, and then the crewmates left with their own families to enjoy the festival. She took the note from her sleeve and handed it to Zuko. "Someone gave this to me."

He read it. "I request a meeting in private with Firelord Zuko tonight, in the empty field to the northwest of the city near Egret River." After some time looking it over, he handed it to his uncle, who had a curious look on his face. "Who gave this to you?"

"I don't know, I didn't see their face."

"Uncle, what do you think?"

"Go." His voice had assurance. "Take the Avatar and your friends. There is no one in the city who could pose a threat to the group of you together. However, I think you will find this person to be a friend."

"Are you coming with us?"

"Yuze and I can't make it quite that far tonight. I'll wait for you to return."

Under a full moon they walked down the trail leading out of the caldera, which followed a creek as it gradually built into a gentle river with the addition of converging brooks. As they descended the land grew rich with wildgrass and slender trees. After a certain branch of the trail, Zuko led them across a bridge, and they stood at the border of a field of wildflowers. A lone woman stood in their center. The flat landscape made it evident she was honest. She watched their approach, holding a handful of cut flowers. As they drew close, Zuko, recognizing her, broke from the group and crossed the last distance at a jog. "Mother!"

She held the flowers out for him. He disregarded them and hugged her.

"Zuko, I've waited so long to see you again."

"Where have you been? I looked everywhere for you."

She was a beautiful woman with elegant features, and wore the same dress as the heroine of the play. "I've been here this whole time, Zuko. The only way I could see you was in disguise. Once a year, I had that chance when you attended the play. I couldn't speak to you—Ozai would have killed me. That was as close as I could get to you." Her voice broke, and she began crying. "Then, you stopped coming, and I heard he had banished you. I kept performing the play, every year, hoping you would return one day. And you did."

"He's gone now. He won't hurt you again. You can come home."

She cupped his cheek in her hand, staring at his scar, with her eyes overflowing. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Mother."

"Zuko, there's someone I want you to meet. Please don't be angry with me."

"I could never be. Everyone, this is my mother, Ursa. I haven't seen her since I was eleven. Well, rather, I have but didn't know it."

She led them down a path to an inn,