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"Did you have a good time?"
Zuko always asked the same question as they walked back to his living quarters, when they were finally alone and no one else was around. Usually, it was an easy answer. Most dinner parties at the palace were enjoyable enough. Sometimes though, the times in which she chose to wear her own colors, her own hairstyles and jewelry, the stakes felt a little higher.
It was silly. When in doubt, Katara had always worn the styles of the cultures that hosted her. It was something between common courtesy, a need to fit in, and an indulgence for her own curiosity and vanity. Fashion had seemed like an odd thing to lose sleep over, so she usually played along. Things were different now that every single one of her fashion choices meant something to Zuko's court and the surrounding people.
And this time, they had found ways to let her know.
Katara sighed. The only reason why their relationship worked to begin with was that secrets between them had never been an option. She would have to ruin his night, the question was how she could do that gently.
"It was... okay. It was fine. I just..." She sighed. "I miss being able to wear whatever without fearing how it will reflect on you."
Zuko's jaw tensed, his eyes narrowing, and Katara couldn't say it surprised her at all when his voice was tinged with righteous indignation.
"I don't care how it reflects on me."
Still, she smiled.
"That's a lie."
It was to Zuko's credit that he didn't immediately jump to his own defense. He went quiet, thinking about it as if the idea had only occurred to him.
"Whatever you do, you can't please everyone." He shrugged. "Might as well do what you want."
"And you're okay with that?"
"I only wish you had an easier time."
It had been easy enough, at first. Katara had been naive enough to believe she'd overblown the potential backlash to her moving into the palace. But the more time passed, the more it became clear that the only reason Zuko's court had turned a blind eye to her presence was because they didn't take her seriously. Surely the Fire Lord won't bring Water Tribe blood into his line. They're both young, and passionate, and their magic would wear off and they'd see reason...
They took Katara seriously now. It should be a good sign, but it came laced with backhanded compliments and false pretenses. Every step she took could fall right into quicksand, and every single one of her actions had more consequences than immediately apparent. And Zuko, for all it would cost him, never made her feel like she had to be anything she was not. He was a perfect gentleman. Perhaps too perfect of a gentleman, staying quiet when he should have spoken up, and giving evasive answers when he should have been honest.
She reached for his hand, catching his attention. Studying his face yielded nothing concrete beyond the imprint of words that he wasn't saying, so Katara was forced to speak.
"What's on your mind, really?"
He looked away, as if her eyes burned.
"I can't think of the right thing to say."
"I'm asking for the truth, Zuko."
He squeezed her hand, a bit too tightly, almost as if he didn't realize it was her cold fingers he was holding.
"This isn't going to stop anytime soon, Katara, and I know you don't want to live like that."
So that was it. There was still much he wasn't saying, but at least she could now read between the lines.
"I'm not going anywhere."
Zuko shook his head. Not yet, he seemed to say. Someday, life in the Fire Nation is going to be too much. To pretend she didn't fear that, to lie to him, or to herself, would be silly. Of course she was afraid, but her home lay where her heart beat the strongest, where the blood in her veins coursed with the most purpose. That was her here and now, and of course love for such an admirable man wasn't the only thing keeping her in the Fire Nation. But it sure was the one thing pushing her to believe that she could do the impossible, that she could be the change she wanted to see.
Some called her hopeful, some others called her stubborn. Zuko among them, sometimes. Either way, the result was the same.
"I'm not going anywhere," she repeated, confident and firm, but Zuko's expression didn't change. Katara had to stop, and think, and cobble together the most truthful answer she could muster. "If I'm ever leaving for good, it's going to take much more than some stuck-up old men making snide comments about my hair."
And now that she put it that way, now that she could roll her eyes and shake her head, it was almost funny. Of course it wasn't easy. Of course her sole presence, whatever she did, was going to stir the foundations of what the Fire Nation's old guard wanted to believe. That was the entire point. Or most of it, anyway.
Zuko's shoulders relaxed, his eyes finally meeting hers in a tired expression that was uncomfortably close to shame. Usually, Zuko was every bit as hopeful, every bit as stubborn as Katara herself could be. Perhaps even more. In their situation, it was easier for him to be. Just then, Katara couldn't begrudge him for fearing what she couldn't promise.
They'd get there. She just needed time.
"For what it's worth," Zuko finally said, without any traces of strain in his voice, "I think your hair looks great."
To her own surprise, Katara laughed. It rang louder than she wanted, especially at that time of night, but she clung to her mirth like a lifesaver. Everything that could be difficult, even impossible, Zuko found a way to make it easy. The tension she'd felt during the evening had fizzled away, leaving only the certainty that everything she had was worth fighting for.
"Thank you," was all she could say. He smiled in response, a tiny smile that made no pretenses, but Katara could've sworn it was the source of the rising sun.
"Thank you for being with me tonight, Katara."