Katara listened outside the open doorway, her ear pressed to the cool, red steel, her heart racing at a thousand miles an hour. This was bad. This was not working out the way she wanted it to. She had half of a mind to run in there right now and demand what need be said to be said, to run even, but it was her feet that kept her glued to that very spot. They were implanted into the red carpet, filled with intricate gold threading, leading up and down the hallway. She kept her eyes down on the fabrics, trying to avert her attention from what was going on in that other room.
"So they let you out of prison?" was his calm voice that entered through the room and echoed into the still hallway.
"My uncle pulled a few strings," her cold voice rang off the high ceiling, once again filling Katara's ears with something she did not want to hear.
She tried to think of a way to stop what was happening, to save the future she had depicted in mind. Her heart felt so heavy she could barely breathe; her stomach suffered like someone had dropped a ten ton weight.
"…ever break up with me again."
There was silence.
She risked a glance into the room and saw their lips intertwined, their arms embracing, and she turned around, finally finding the strength to run. Palace servants were nothing but a blur, voices nothing but a trance. The red and crimson culture around her swirled as she thought of nothing but a wrenching heart that was inside of her. It was he, after all, who had fixed this spell upon her, to make her think this way.
When she stopped, she was short of breath. Breathing heavily, she sat down, tears cascading from her cheeks. She cursed La and Tui. She cursed Yue. She cursed everyone in the last year of her life that had brought these events that had occurred to the table before her, making them a plausible card to play in the future. Damn the war.
Her mind ran with thoughts, making it difficult for her to think. She played with the sand around her, the tears flowing freely when she felt she needed to cry. The thought that would run through her mind, every single second from that day forward would be that of the what ifs and the could bes.
If only I could make you mine, whispered the wind from far away, flowing through the gentleness of the breeze, out into the ocean, where it would be forever lost at sea.