princess

Shoko tucked her hair behind her ear, “He’ll stop when he sees you happy with anyone who isn’t him. One, he doesn’t like seeing you happy while you were dating him. Two, I guarantee you that he’s going to get his panties in a twist when he sees you with another man quick like he’s nothing. I’m saying, I gave you two options, one didn’t work. We always have the other one,” she offered slyly, “Suguru?”

You grumbled under your breath, shaking your head. Your fingers held onto your straw, mindlessly swirling the (drink) sitting on the wooden coaster right in front of you, “I think I’m just going to focus on myself for now. I don’t have the energy to deal with . . . Fake dating and all, especially just to spite Naoya. He can suck my non-existent dick.”

“Alright then.”

“You sure that you don’t want me to drop you off? I don’t mind,” Shoko offered you, gesturing to her car.

You declined politely, “Yeah, I need to drop by somewhere, don’t worry about it,” and by somewhere, you meant the convenience store to get your hands on more instant ramen —or maybe this time, udon, at least you could cook it as you like, “thanks for today, Ieiri. Safe trips home, yeah?”

“Mm, you text me when you get hom, (Name). Don’t forget,” she pulls her car handle, waving her hand.

Shoko drove by, honking twice. You watch as her car turns around the corner before you set off to the nearest convenience store, the little automated bell chime greets you a syou made a beeline to the instant food section. Eyes immediately drawned towards the usual instant ramen brand of your choice, but your hand hovered ove rit hesitantly. For once, worried for your own health.

“Instant ramen serves excessive sodium, in case you aren’t hesitant enough. One packet —or serving— contains at least one thousand and seven hundred to two thousand miligrams of sodium, and up to eighty percent of the recommended intake of two thousand and three hundred miligrams. If you don’t know, high sodium intake increases your risks of obtaining hypertension, stroke, or organ diseases. Like the kidney.”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile on your face, shifting your attention to the right where Satoru stood, cradling a few chips and energy drinks, “What else?”

He blinks, stammering out, “Studies shows that consuming noodles more than twice a week also associates your body to a higher risk of metabolic syndrome, which is a group of conditions including high blood pressure, blood sugar, and excess body fat. Also, instant ramen is very low in protein, fiber, vitamins, and minerals which leads to poor nutritional intake. Lastly, many instant noodles contain Tertiary Butylhydroquinone or TBHQ, a petroleum based perservative that causes you nausea, abdominal pain, and could potentially give you a long-term health issue if you consume them frequently.”

“Thank you, doctor,” you joked out, “I’ll get the udon, then.”

“You can add additional protein, like egg or meat. And veggies, it’s still a health hazard —but, at least you have everything your body needs,” he spoke out, eyeing the instant ramen section, “we keep bumping into each other in unlikely places.”

You look around, “It’s a public area. What is unlikely about it?”

“That we keep seeing each other.”

“Alright, good point, are you stalking me?” You questioned.

Satoru stepped a few steps away, “S . . . talking you? No, gosh, no! Never, I just happened to be passing by the area while walking home from work . . . I had to stay back late because of extra lessons,” the apple of his cheeks turned a deep pink color, tips of his ears raging red from your lighthearted accusation, “I’m sorry if it made you feel like that.”

You laugh, slidding the udon in between your arm and hip, “I’m joking, Satoru.”

“Oh,” a nervous laugh to cover his embarrassment echoes out through the aisle, “um, how did your client go? The commission, I mean.”

“I just sent it last night. She sent me the rest of the money, it’s done. After a lot of revisions, blood, sweat, and tears,” you recalled back, “and you? Teaching going well?”

He rubbed his head, “Yeah. Just going normal. Usual students making pranks, fialing classes . . . You know.”

“What brings you here?”

“It’s Friday, so I thought I should restock on my snack box . . . I don’t go out much on weekends, so I’m stocking up for tomorrow and Sunday,” the chips crinkled under his touch, “and you? Stocking up on instant ramen?”

You chuckled, “Was about to. But, thanks to you, I think I’m gonna be mindful about my own body now, I did have a lot of instant ramen the past two weeks because I kept forgetting lunches and dinner,” Satoru nods his head, “well, I’m not gonna stop you from shopping. Thanks for explaining about the whole health hazard.”

Satoru shakes his head, “I don’t mind. I actually enjoy giving out random facts.”

“Give me one.”

“About?”

“Anything.”

Satoru puckered his lips, and his eyes lit up, “The sea is home to the world’s largest living structure, such as the Great Barrier Reef. It measures around two thousand and six hundred kilometers, and it could even be seen from the moon. Also, the name ‘Pacific Ocean’ comes from Latin that says Tepre Pacificum which translates to peaceful sea,” his smile was proud, like he had won a superbowl. You laugh, nodding, “another fun fact. If you see a cloud, they look fluffy and . . . whimsical, but in reality? They weigh around a million tones. A cloud typically has a volume of around one cubic kilometer and a density around one point zero zero three kilograms per cubic meter, that’s a density around zero point four percent lower than the air surrounding it. Pretty cool, huh?”

Your jaw slightly dropped, “How do you know all these?”

“I’m a fast learner.”

“Or a memorizer?”

“Yes, that too,” he pointed out, “I can give you a couple more.”

“Go for it.”

He clears his throat, “The fear of long words is called hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia, this thirty-six letter word was used the first time by pa Roman Poet, Horace in the first century BCE to criticise writers with an unreasonable likeliness towards long words. It was an American poet named Aimee Nezheukumatathil, assumably afraid of her own surname who coined the term back in the year two thousand,” he spoke elegantly, his tongue didn’t twist over his own words, each word flows out as if he was reading out from a book, “orcas wear other animals as hats. This was observed by scientists. They said dolphins play catch with pufferfishes and octopus while orcas wear dead fishes as hats and nobody could explain why.”

“Interesting,” you crossed your arms, “you’re a genius.”

Satoru blushes, “Me? No. I just happen to read.”

“That’s what geniuses do, no?”

“. . . Yes, I guess,” he breathes out, “okay then, I won’t be bothering you anymore. Happy shopping,” he evaded, waving his hand towards you before he turns his heels and walks away with rushed steps, “bye, (Name)!”

“Bye, Satoru.”

A few steps before he turns around a corner, he halts. Stepping back with light pink cheeks, “Are you . . . Um, are you walking home alone?”

You nodded, “Why?”

“Do you want me to drop you off?” Your heart warmed at his offer, but you didn’t want to bother him, especially with your apartment complex being located deep amongst darkness and the slum, “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

“That’s so sweet of you. Thank you, Satoru. But, car access to my apartment is a bit . . . complex, I don’t want to bother you at all,” you shake your head lightly with a small smile, “I appreciate your offer though, thank you so much.”

Satoru swallowed a few times, “Okay. Be careful on your way home, (Name).”

“Mhm. You too.”

Cheek pressed against his chest, somehow replacing your thin blanket with his arm and wrapping it around yourself like he was your own comforter. If that wasn’t bad enough, you clung to his waist, fingers running down his abs on the days he chose to sleep without a shirt— Sighing into the crook of his neck as you slept atop of him.

(It was sinisterly cute.)

He tries to be a gentleman about it, tries to ensure that you remain asleep with a hand on your lower back, gently soothing when he attempts to get up for night watch, but you would groan— Stirring slightly the moment he even chooses to sit up; moaning softly as your eyes squeeze— And only relaxing when he laid back down.

If it were Sokka or Aang he’d probably pick them up and move them off of him, if it were Katara or Toph he’d try to be as subtle as possible but still be willing to let them rest a little longer—

But he can’t bring himself to wake you. It looks like another night shift will be spent with you in his arms.

But— The worst isn’t over yet.

“Zukoooo…” You’d stir in his arms, still clinging to him like he was your personal, giant pillow as you blearily look up at him through half-lidded eyes. “You’re awake already…?”

He’s already been awake. Especially with how you were shifting in his lap and rubbing up against his body with your own.

“Good morning to you too.” It’s meant to sound that little bit sarcastic with how he had quite literally watched you sleep, to make fun of the way you barely even stirred just because you were held in his embrace.

But with you— It just comes out so unintentionally soft; especially when he’s treated the sight of your half-lidded, sleepy gaze as your arms go around his neck to bury your face into his chest.

“You’re so warm, Zuko…”

“Mhm.”

And Sokka— The third to awaken; has to sit there and witness this before his eyes, has to become the unintentional third-wheeler as his jaw drops and his eyes narrow.

Who wants to watch a couple cuddle and coddle first thing in the morning when you desperately have to pee?

He still can’t believe you both aren’t dating yet as he ties his blanket around his shoulders, inching away as he grumbles under his breath.

“Damn lovebirds…”

You were quickly introduced to the trio by an elder from your tribe, a healer who had mentored you. Thanks to Katara’s previous visit to your tribe, things had begun to change, and women were now allowed to become warriors and hone their bending skills beyond healing. This finally gave you the opportunity to train under Master Pakku. Up until then, you had trained your bending skills in secret, watching the boys train and mimicking them in the dead of night, when no one was watching. Healing was an essential skill, something you thought everyone should learn, and when you finally mastered your bending, becoming one of Master Pakku’s best pupils, you gathered the elders to suggest the development of a new mixed training program. This coincided with one of the most important international events of the time: The Southern Restoration Conference, where world leaders were invited to discuss the Southern Reconstruction Project.

After getting the elders’ approval, the creation of the new waterbending education program became one of the official matters of the conference, and it was your responsibility to develop the project to present to the committee. That was when you finally met Toph, and when you and Zuko first saw each other. He was beautiful, his hair was dark and soft, and its shine was only surpassed by the glow of his golden-amber eyes. You expected the Fire Lord to act like, well, a Fire Lord, but his demeanour softened as soon as he laid eyes on his friends.

“Flameo, hotman!” Aang greeted as he flew in Zuko’s direction before hugging him tight.

“Aang, it’s so good to see you." The others quickly joined him in greeting the Fire Lord and began to catch up. When he laid eyes on you, standing there smiling at the sight of such a happy group of people, he instantly warmed up, so much so that Toph felt it and pulled you in to introduce you.

You would have found the blush in his cheeks strange if it weren’t for his sudden awkwardness and the warmth you felt emanating from him, like the heat from a bonfire on a cold winter’s night. What you didn’t realize was that this wasn’t common. Sure, Zuko, like most firebenders, could keep himself warm better than most people, but radiating this much heat was something that only happened when he felt something intense, usually rage.

When the time came for you to present the new education project to be discussed and established, he found himself fascinated by your proposals. You hadn’t just created a waterbending training program, you brought an entire project to create an international educational subject on the history and culture of all four nations, incentivizing an open, honest, and complete telling of history, as well as interaction and cooperation between the different peoples. Zuko had begun educational reforms in his own nation, and this project seemed to be exactly what he had been looking for.

All in all, the Fire Lord was enthusiastic about funding the Southern Reconstruction Project, and he requested a copy of your education project to take back to the Fire Nation so he could implement it in the reforms. You and Zuko spent most of the free time you had during the conference going into detail about each other’s ideas for a new cultural studies subject, and the way you hit it off had Katara and Aang exchanging knowing looks and coming up with their own thoughts.

“Why don’t you travel to the Fire Nation to help him?” She suggested a few weeks later as she watched you read yet another massive scroll sent by Zuko. “You’ve already set up everything here; the elders and I can manage the rest. Who better to help him implement it than the person who created it? Besides, we’ve been meaning to select a diplomatic envoy, and I think you’d be the perfect fit.”

“Me? Katara, I have no diplomatic experience.”

“That’s crap, and you know it, look how well you did during the summit! I understand if you don’t want to, but I’m also asking you as a friend.” Her expression became serious and her voice lowered. “Aang and I are worried about Zuko. There was an assassination attempt not too long ago, and there are many problems that were created by the hundred-year war that some will try to stop him from solving. You’re sharp, and one of our best healers, if something were to happen to him, you’d be his best chance of surviving. If we lose him, we won’t just lose a friend, we may lose the peace we fought so hard to achieve.” She wasn’t wrong. During the conference itself, a group of southern nationalists had kidnapped the Earth King and tried to sabotage the Southern Reconstruction Project, and surely there were more like them out there, intent on stopping any attempt at change.

“In that case, if you really think it’s important, and if the Fire Lord accepts it, I’ll gladly go.”

“Of course he will! I’ll write him a note and you can start making arrangements.” You prepared to get up, but Katara laid her hand on your shoulder to stop you from doing so. “One more thing, though.” She had that solemn expression again. “Do you remember how you saved Sakala after his seal hunting accident?” Your eyebrows knit together.

When Sakala had his hunting accident, the other tribe members had quickly dragged him ashore, and he was bleeding out quickly, way too quickly. You and Katara were trying to heal him as he was carried to the infirmary, but the blood kept pouring faster than you could, and he had already lost a lot, so you stopped it from flowing out. The rigidity in your movements gave you away, and she immediately knew what you were doing. When you got to the infirmary, she watched closely as you healed him, cleansing his blood and drawing as much as you could back into him. The way you moved now was different, more fluid, the same way you moved when healing or bending; she had never seen anything like it. “You know how I feel about bloodbending. You know how dangerous it is.” Katara made sure you knew. She asked how you had learned, and told you about her own skill and how she came to have it. To her surprise, you were horrified, and she quickly realized that you hadn’t even considered the possibility of using it for anything other than healing. “But you also know I trust you.” She held your hand with both of hers. “I know you’ll do the right thing if you ever need to.” You were confused by her statement. Of course you would use your skill to heal Zuko if it came down to it. Your relationship to bloodbending was different than Katara’s. You didn’t use it often, because it was seldom necessary, but you had only come to see how it could be dangerous when she told you. Until then, it had only ever been something good, something that saved lives in the most hopeless of moments, something you didn’t fear.

After only a couple of months at the Fire Nation royal palace, Suki, one of the Kyoshi warriors guarding the Fire Lord, knocked on your bedroom door in the middle of the night.

“I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, but I need you to come with me.” She said quietly.

“What is it?” You rubbed your eye as you sat up.

“It’s Zuko.” You quickly got up and threw on your blue silk robe. “He tends to have trouble sleeping, but it’s been really bad lately. He hasn’t slept at all the past two nights. As soon as he falls sleep, he wakes up screaming, and now he’s getting paranoid and feverish.”  The Fire Lord had been particularly busy for the past two weeks, so you hadn’t met to discuss the education reforms that had begun being implemented. You had seen him in passing a few days before, and although he was far away from you at the time, you could see the exhaustion in his face.

When you finally got to Zuko’s room, you noticed how much warmer it was. He was startled by the sudden footsteps and quickly sat up, his vision blurring for a moment, until it finally focused on the flowing blue silk of your robes. “Suki, I told you not to fetch her, I’m fine.” His voice was hoarse, his hair stuck to his forehead and neck, and the hollows in his eyes had a dark grey tinge.

“My lord.”  You walked closer to the bed, and you could see a sheen of sweat over his burning skin. “Suki, can you open the windows and put out any fires in the room?”

“It’s Zuko.” He protested with a cough. The room fell into darkness as the fires were put out, until the window was opened and bathed it in bright moonlight.

“Sorry, Z-Zuko.” His bed was so big you couldn’t even reach his forehead to check his temperature. There was now a slight breeze clearing the stuffiness from the room. “May I?” You stretched out your hand toward him.

“Of course.” You sat on the bed so you could reach him, and he took a deep breath of relief when he felt your cold hand on his forehead.

“You’re burning up, much more than usual.” Suki came up beside you and laid a basin full of water on the floor, handing you a small towel in case you needed it.

“Do you need me to bring anything else?” She asked.

“The water is enough. Thank you, Suki.” You gave her a weak smile.

“I’ll be right outside standing guard with Ty Lee if you need anything.” With that, she left the room.

“I’m sorry she disturbed your sleep.” You bended some of the water from the basin to surround your hands and laid one on his chest and the other on his forehead, inciting another sigh of relief that made his eyes flutter closed. He was so hot, you instantly felt the water heat up in your hands.

“You should have asked for me sooner.” You moved the now warm water between your hands, turning it to ice before melting it again. “There’s no need to suffer through this by yourself and allow it to get to this point.” This time, your right hand found his chest, and the left came down to his lower belly, making his eyes shoot open and another surge of heat take over.

“What’re-“ Your hands were glowing faintly in a soft shade of green.

“Relax, Zuko. I’m just trying to bring your fever down.” He looked up at you as you tried to focus on your healing, and he couldn’t see how hard he was making it. Every time you got too close to him it made your stomach flutter, and it was even worse when you felt his amber eyes fixed on you.

“Do you know what’s wrong with me? Do you think I’ve been poisoned?” He asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Suki says you’ve not been sleeping well, and you’ve been having nightmares. A restless spirit can be just as harmful as poison.” His temperature was now lower, so you removed your hands and let the water pour back into the basin. “Do you want to talk about it?” Your eyes met his, and there was a softness to them that made him want to tell you everything.

“I’m scared.”  Zuko’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Of what?”

“Everything. Of failing in my role as Fire Lord, of becoming like my father, of making the wrong choices, of being assassinated.” His breath quickened as tears bloomed in his eyes, and you laid a hand on his chest to help him calm down, the glow coming from it was now lilac. Usually, your touch would have his heart racing, something he did his best to hide, but he felt it slow down along with his breathing.

“The Kyoshi warriors will always be here to protect you, and if someone does come, I won’t let you leave us. This kingdom needs you, just as the rest of the world, to help wash away the horrors of the past." Your thumb made a small caressing movement over his chest, something so natural you didn't even notice you did it. "As for your choices and your role, I’ve been working with you for a while now, and I can tell how much you care about your country and its people. The way you worry and burden yourself shows me you want to do the right thing. Aang and Katara have told me so much about you; I can see how much they love you and why.” He unconsciously brought his hand to yours, and the glow stopped. “I can’t imagine you becoming anything like the previous Fire Lord, even if he is your father.”

“Thank you.” He whispered.

“I know you’re under a lot of pressure, but it’s important to share your burden, even if it’s just by telling someone. Otherwise, I’ll have to keep your fevers down forever.” You both chuckled lightly, until he looked down and saw he was still holding your hand. He quickly removed it, the burn in his cheeks returning, and you nervously pulled your own hand away from his chest. “About your nightmares. Finding a way to feel less lonely would help relieve you greatly. " You hesitated for a moment. "You can talk to me anytime, if you wish to.”

“I’d like that.” He replied with an earnest smile.

“I can help keep them away for tonight, though. You really do need some rest.”

“How?”

“It’s a form of healing. I can ease your distress and bring you some relief as you sleep, and hopefully you’ll have some peace.”

“You’ll have to stay up, though. I couldn’t ask that from you.”

“I’m well rested, I can handle one night without sleep. You, on the other hand, have been trying to run a nation on no sleep.” Zuko meant to protest further, but something told him it would be useless. Besides, he really did need some sleep, and the thought of having you next to him through the night was more comforting than he’d ever admit to himself.

“Alright. But only for tonight.” He conceded.

“Only for tonight.” You smiled. “Lay as comfortably as you can.” Finally, he laid further down, on his back, and you got closer to him, sitting sideways against a mountain of pillows. “Ok, now just relax and try to sleep. I’m right here, I promise you’ll be okay.” He barely needed you to say anything. As soon as he felt the silk of your robe against his arm, the scent of your perfume, and your cool palm on his forehead, exhaustion began to take over, and for the first time in weeks, he wasn’t scared of sleeping.

After dawn, Suki came in the room to wake Zuko before she and Ty Lee switched shifts with two other Kyoshi warriors, and she found you half asleep against the pillows, your hand had come to rest on top of Zuko’s head, where your fingers were threaded through his hair, making it glow.

“Hey. You got him to sleep!” She whispered excitedly.

“Yeah, he really needed it.” You looked down at the Fire Lord’s serene expression as he slept. “I know he has a lot to do, but I’m sure you can talk to his assistant to have him reschedule some duties and maybe even cancel a few. I’d like to let him sleep a while longer.”

when the mask drops and the armour clatters to the floor after it — zuko can be himself, let the tension roll off of him like the ocean’s steady drum beat against its sandy substrate counterpart. he can be free. like he is with his friends and the people who truly love him.

so it comes as no surprise when fire lord zuko becomes just zuko and chooses to spend his twenty-four hour release with you. 

duties have decided to be kind to you both. falling away and granting you a day where the stars align as though they’ve been perfectly hung next to each other in the sky — and the two of you have time to spare, time to spend by one another’s side. the princess no longer adorning her crown and the fire lord abandoning his armour. 

“what will you do?” zuko averts his eyes, amber finding cold slabs of stone beneath his feet more entertaining than the natural grace of the western water tribe’s very own princess. it’s amusing how shy he turns in the presence of someone who’s known him so long. even still, you treat him with the same amount of care as one would a beloved keepsake, as though he is the very book you reach for when new material runs dry. whose pages greet you with familiar scents of ash mixed with lost love. “w-with your time away?” he adds quickly.

the final council meeting of the week has long since ended. he finds himself at your side and a tower too high above your head as you walk with nowhere particular in mind. away from duty. away from honour. free. like a bird making use of its wings after hibernation. 

the grin you give zuko slips onto your face as though it’d been hiding somewhere away from the world, buried in the kinetic sand. “home.” where the water warms you and the sand is smooth and white and soft between your toes. a tropical solace away from the claws of advisors and military clerks. you stop in your tracks, the sea that you wear on your clothes fluttering around you — light, like sakura petals drifting in the breeze. then you pause, as though you’ve been struck by a poised tip of lightning — and if you lean into him any closer, the shock might wind between you both and zap right through him. “would you like to join me? you could use the sun on your skin and some warmth to your face, fire lord.” 

accepting your invite is as easy as turning a page, following the kind of naturalness that accompanies the desire to read past the final chapter before bed. zuko finds himself wanting to investigate between the lines of what he already knows from reading about you. you’ve been scorched by him before, as children, teenagers who moved with the type of attitude that feels like the world has dubbed them a mistake. he couldn’t tell you how he felt about you then, when he hadn’t learned the words or known how to protect you from himself. but he can now, now that you’re older and perhaps willing to forgive him. 

zuko follows you home for the day, with the hope of understanding the involuted web of his feelings. spider’s silk interwoven into a future he can't see, a mess he can’t make sense of.

those emotions that linger between every breath of saltine air — inhaled in his nostrils fresh, crisp like the snap of an apple. biting against his cheeks. different to that of the fire nation. his feelings sit there, ones he can’t explain away with battle plans and politics. things that make sense to him. not blurred or jumbled. you are confusing, complex, a puzzle piece he has trouble finding the right place for or an equation that has taken several centuries for even the best mathematicians to solve. yet, he’d follow you away from his home just for a taste of yours.

the western water tribe welcomes zuko with wide spread arms, as though he has finally come home. he’s visited before, on state business and for missions lead by aang… but not just for you. not with just you. at first the fire lord thinks that those of the tribe turn towards him just as if he were a source of godly light or heat — much like the spirited wildlife that weaves its way through the walls and arenaceous streets of your equatorial kingdom — because, like you, he is royalty. he is respected.

instead, zuko’s heart beams and yours shies away ( like the running tide, back home to its mother, the moon ) once he learns that is really because of  how fondly you spread word of him around the kingdom — the cabbalistic message is passed onto him from the people of your tribe. tales told to children born of salt water depicting him as a hero, your hero, in battle. secrets and gossip shared with elders who are loose-lipped confirming his beauty, his kindness. harsh critique and comparison to the fire nation passed onto the guards in the most leery parts of your kingdom — that compliment his battle strategy rather than disparage it like his elders.

in his absence, you speak of zuko with a certain air of fondness; the type that goes hand in hand with missing someone. someone more than a friend, but not quite a lover. someone who passes you like you are two ships passing by on different routes. different waters. longing lingering in the sea spray, heartache from the stars and the moon directing their crew.

perhaps, zuko observes, it is time to stop sailing on by. 

your laughter is light and kind and submerges him like the roots of a lily pad making a host out of spring stream — polite behind your hand — when the handmaids in your palace make an attempt to convince the fire lord that blue looks best draped against the pearlescent notes of his skin, rather than red. there’s a look of dread that washes over zuko’s features like a spill of oil on the surface of the sea. slick on his lips as they downturn at the corners, forming an amusing pout, whilst he turns in the mirrors. fabrics twirl loose and foreign on his body. free. where the lord’s usual armour sits tight and restricting like a militant regime. 

but then you melt when you look at him, as though you’re made of mercury or tungsten touched by a torch burning at the highest torrid degrees. palpable affection generously bubbling over, as though you’re admiring the most beautiful piece of art you’ve ever seen, almost as if he belongs where you do and where that is…is here.

he decides then that casting his anchor here would not be so bad. 

“do not worry,” you are honest when you reassure the fire lord. the beginnings of your heart, which he had once splintered unwittingly in his youth out of fear he could not love the way he had never been taught to, staring to peer out from its glass cage in your chest and behind the rise and fall of your ribs. “the colours match your eyes perfectly.” 

blue and yellow. amber and indigo. the sun and the sky. the tropical fish and the marine sea.

the colours of your home and your kingdom. the same colours that have and will stream through your life from start to finish, only dulling to grey when you inevitably  come to pass and fade from this world. the very colours of the people who have taken their time to help shape you into the formidable woman you are today. 

as soon as you say it, heat floods your face and broils beneath the surface of your sun-drenched skin. as soon as he hears it, zuko averts his gaze — feigning interest in the smooth silk that kisses his fingertips as though an angel had been there. his smile is tiny, breaching his visage. in the same manner that a blue whale would surface for air — gradual, slow, with the need to bring life into itself and the eyes of others. 

“thank you,” he unveils the compliment with carefully crafted earnestness — like protecting a sandcastle from the torrid temper of the sea on a bad day — overcoming the lodge in his throat to force his quiet fondness for you into the salty air. “yours too.”

this time, you look away — but he does not miss the spread of your lips into your cheeks. radiant, yet shy. something precious, a delicate secret. for him and for you. 

zuko thinks that he could stay here, set carefully adrift to become one with the landscape. spilling into the picturesque view of your kingdom as if someone had knocked over a palette of watercolour. 

that afternoon, zuko walks by your side with a little more confidence. the tropic’s coastal zephyr moves through your hair with the same force as unbridled joy — let loose, carrying no weight from the world and its own problems. 

it whips through the airy material of your clothes — shades of sapphire and ruby glimmering in the summer shine to your kingdom. you match each other, parallels of the elements that somehow go together. water and fire turn into fingers in gloves, two sides of the same coin, or two halves of a whole. faultlessly fashioned keys for long lost locks that open things never meant to be closed.

you are harmonious in a way zuko wished he believed in when he was younger. perhaps then there wouldn’t be this awkward distance between you — a push and pull of magnets that comes with the orbiting of one another. if he had realised back then, that loving you was nothing to fear in the first place, he wouldn’t have to wait for a pause in his duties to spend more than a morsel of time with you. searching for scraps in between schedules and missions just to breathe the scent of salt in your hair and sweet hibiscus on your skin — it's a desperation that wouldn’t even exist. 

because you would be his and he would be yours and nothing, not even a whisper, could keep zuko from you.

now, he is six hours into a day by your side that seems to be slipping through his coarse fingers like sand in an hourglass. except the day cannot be endlessly flipped to start again.

“i want to show you around,” you say with the cadence of someone who is proud of the roots their existence is founded on. there’s love in your heart, not just for your nation but it’s mothers and the mothers before them. zuko isn’t sure he knows what that’s like — the pride of being fire nation doesn’t come with tenderness. killing. lying. treachery. love comes from only a few close people in his life,  fleeting presences like a small spark between rocks. his mother. uncle iroh. his friends. you.

“but we don’t have much time left. there’s so much to see.” you add, your wistfulness curling into a pleasant gust of sea breeze as though your tone is reaching for a hand of comfort. these days, memories of your home grow faint despite the manners in which water holds it shape — between royal duties, adventures with aang along with the others and travelling in the hopes of keeping peace — replace what you knew as a child, 

palm trees wave to zuko as though they are friends he seems to have forgotten. something tells him that they know you too, calling to their queen as if to offer some kind of reassurance. the sand is still the same; even when the water dries; the parts of you that die still leave memories that remain. he doesn’t want you to be sad, to think that the kingdom you lead with such grace has forgotten about the lopsided grin from your youth and the funny way that you laugh to fill the silence, when the sound of turning tides is missed. he wants you to know that every flower of every tropical taint wishes to mimic your sweetness and your scent, that the people walking this path pause with awe when you smile at them as though they are family. 

your home loves you in the way that a mother loves her growing child. no matter the time apart, there are hands there to mend the holes in your heart with a stitch bearing threads of affection. 

the fire lord’s thoughts skip back to the present, your swaying fingertips brush. a sign. a vote of confidence for zuko.

breathing clean air into his lungs before he takes a leap, the firelord he claps at your hand in a silent promise of forever — one as vast as the stretching blue, deep as it is wide. zuko stands before you, willing to run wherever with you by the guidance of the beach’s breath — something firm about his grip, tender like he’s been blessed with something more precious than pearls and oil where he is but the foolish man that would dare to waste them. the carefree gentle lines of his face that creep into the edges of his scar read as though he knows which direction to head. as if he’s lived here within the western water tribe all his life and the song of the seashore knows his name, writing it in seashells right next to yours. destined in handwriting forged from the fingertips of the forces of nature. 

“then show me the parts you love the most,” zuko heaves with admission — heart open, flame free. “on our next day off, show me the rest. i want to see it all by your side.” he crafts his response with the same heedfulness as an artist close to completing a portrait — each brushstroke perfectly poised to ensure every colour conveys proper meaning.

the cognac and honey hue to his eyes have always signified safety and virtue.

you can trust when zuko says he wants to see it all. 

see it all. 

with you.

a wave crests against the sea wall that you walk together. thick and bold concrete that once would protect against the fire nation — but today, you think, you might let the defence fall. just enough to let him in.

“what about the day after that?” you whisper.

acting on an impulse of bravery, he squeezes the palm of your hand. 

“i’ll show you my home. more than just the council room.” he murmurs back. 

the implication is flirtatious, yet entirely too honest, see through like a sheet of paper held up to subtropical. perhaps there’s slightly more to zuko that you understand now that he’s older — you see his attempts to try. to fix what he broke as a boy with nothing but his honour at stake. at first your girlish heart feels scared to lean into it and trust the words to catch you like a friend who stands with open arms when you fall. 

but then you remember that you know him, like the salt only knows a home swirling at sea and the fishes know their reef, and the tide knows its tune. 

“okay,” you grin with the easy focus of someone taking the lead. ready to show zuko the world whilst intertwining your fingers like the stronghold rope your ancestors have used to fish and to survive for centuries before your birth. tied and knotted together with purpose. maybe, there is some kind of purpose in sharing this time with zuko — two souls bound to meet under the same sky with their fortune written in the cosmic stars. maybe. you lean into the feeling. you take him where your heart thrives most. 

you take zuko to the places where time stands still. the fish market that bustles with life by the docks, where he haggles with the monger to bring down the price and somehow leaves with three red snappers — that he has no idea how to prepare —  and a lobster he’d grown fond of due to its rich blue shell. (“will you eat it?” “i don’t think i can, it’s too cute.”). then, you spend two hours  rock pooling with the children darting from the school house down to the cove — because apparently they find it mind blowing that the fire lord has never touched a star fish before. 

unfortunately for them, you scold them all. including zuko, reducing the lord to an apologetic mess — because he almost finds himself poisoned by a brightly coloured sea slug lodged between bleached coral and barnacles. whilst bushy tailed and vibrant in personality, the children eagerly show zuko how to crack a muscle with nothing but a rock and the type of strength only a determined child would possess. their laughter meets the sea’s cooling breath at zuko’s many failed attempts.

his temper flares like that of bursting firework, a blush on his cheeks that rivals the red of his scar, because you’re watching and although it’s childish — he feels a need to prove himself to you. the failure, temporary, is worth it. for your hands gritty with sand and yet as soft as the briny ocean air against his cheeks, you teach him how to crack it open. cold water fingers on fiery warm skin. two opposites that make a whole. 

zuko he finds a pearl within a clam, one he gifts to you because it had reminded him of the gleam in your eyes. something about his boyish charm and the way he nearly slips on seaweed slick rocks just to give it to you as you tend to the children, melts your heart into a fond stupor. where the walls of your palace are adorned with the kind offerings and riches of the sea, a simple onyx pearl from the fire lord himself means more than anything in the world to you. 

someone who has everything, including the burdens of her own crown.

around lunch, an auntie at her market stall goads the young fire lord into trying a saltfish fritter — forgetting to mention the notes of scotch bonnet tucked into the batter and you swear on all things avatar that steam rolls from his ears and nose at the level of spice on his tongue. 

“you can’t handle a little heat? you’re the fire lord!”

 “i — hah — don’t see you trying one!” he fans his tongue with the same fierce determination that aang, the air bender, often displays. 

with silver coin you buy him a coconut flavoured ice-drink from another merchant, hoping it’ll cool the fever in his mouth. it melts too quickly between the warmth of zuko’s palms because you’re so close it makes him nervous enough to sweat. 

“ah, here!” you coo without realising. smaller palms gliding over zuko’s like water running over polished glass. “don’t let that melt.”

ice crystallises over the outside of his cup, freezing the condensation in place — it’s not as though you’ve frozen time but to the fire lord, the moment lasts forever. the instinctivity of your touch, the ease in which you tend to him, his stomach turns over itself like the switch of a current when the weather swaps its mood. 

he gulps, swallows — studies you with wonder like you’ve turned wine to water. “thanks… thank you, princess.” 

your own gaze follows the trail of his whispered words upwards, and your eyes meet. his laden with the kind of longing you’ve seen only exist between those destined to love in the stars. yours with surprise, hidden yearning lost in the colours of your eyes that reflect the light of sun on sea.

princess.

the pet name makes you turn away with embarrassment. zuko coughs to conceal his own. 

any onlookers must think their princess and the lord are utterly, tragically hopeless.

eventually, zuko finds himself entertaining the littler water benders, whilst you nurse the village back to order. too kind to say no to the people of your home when they seek your help — even on your day off. he doesn’t mind it too much, a spark of idolatry sitting within his sternum as he kindles flames for them to easily put out using splashes. as they grow bored, zuko sits still and patient as the young water bender girls take to weaving tropical flowers into his ink black hair — three  clambered into his lap and clinging to the broadness of his frame as they work with the better determination than his handmaids back home. you pretend that the jealousy in your gut isn’t there when you catch the sweet little girls  ask him to marry him and if they’ll become princesses when they do. 

zuko laughs them off, polite and patiently, gentle as the wisp of clouds streaking through the sky. “you should want to marry someone because they love you. not because they’re a prince.” 

“do you love someone, fire lord zuko?” one of the girls ask, nuzzling into his arm — eyes wide and glimmering like the surface of the sea catching on the sun. 

like second nature, amber eyes find your figure flowing through your tribe’s village as if you’d never left — carving out your path like water does when forming a new river channel. you move so naturally, playing with children one moment before you’re helping the elders wash their fruit and prep their fish in the next — rinsing it all off with your delicately practised water bending and his heart skips a beat as if it were missing from his chest for just a moment. 

“very much,” he hums around the words that feel like a weight off his chest to say, warm in the sense that they roll through his blood stream in search of replacing any cortisol there. of course, with a sprinkle of dopamine. “i think i always have.”

the fire lord — no — zuko, realises with frightening devastation that he loves you and never wants to leave you. here. home. he wants to be the wind beneath your soaring wings if you were to ever become a bird of the sea. he wants to wake up next to you with the view of crystallised aquamarine waters every morning and sometimes the burnt orange skies of his own nation. he wants to explore the chambers of your heart like a hidden cove off the coast and claim it as his own personal, secret treasure. 

later that night when the cries of gulls have quietened to the simple beat of their wings and the tropical sun tiptoes down the horizon to rest — zuko stands before you on the sea shore, heart on his sleeve so unlike him. so rare. feelings were never something that existed when he was younger, they were to be had and never to be spoken. the only emotions he knew how to express were rage. bitterness. souring anger. 

you’ve found your way to the beach once more; you know that his boat will dock here in the early hours — but you feel it would be better to say goodbye away from prying eyes of palace officials and diplomats that only wish him well for the sake of appearances and peace. quietly, you tip toe along the line of frothing white peaks of water and golden sand — arms out as if the wind will catch you if you fall from the unsteady drum to your heart. zuko follows you, not too close and not too far, as though he needs the space to think.

to speak what’s brewing in his mind, taking on the shape of a storm front. 

now, with the sky tinged pink, like his cheeks with the fresh heat in his face — zuko tells you of the warmth that burdens his heart as best he can. awkward, but still trying. 

“i think i might be in love with you.”

your body is still, then, but your garments — blue robes traded for something looser, teal ocean turned into silk — moves with the sea breeze that whips behind you. takes the ends of your braids and twirls it through windy fingertips. 

“might?” you ask, pure and curious.

“i know it.” zuko swears in return, quickly, like he’s been asked to recite an oath in exchange for his life.

crossing your arms over your chest, as though you’re shielding your vital organs from a cruel jab, you frown. “it doesn’t take a day to fall in love, my lord.” 

formalities come up quickly like a sea defence. you shield yourself from the angry wrath of your sea of memories. rejection from the past spilling over into the present day.

“yes princess,” he is even more hasty in his reply during this turn of conversation, in the sense that it almost feels like he is running out of time. your day off has dissolved like ice on hot rock, trickling away from you into a distant memory. soon, a boat will arrive to whisk him home and then there will be nothing but space between you once again. “but it has been years. since i—” zuko swallows. “since i first knew.”

“zuko.” you’re warning him, as one does before finding themselves eye to eye with an equatorial storm, because you’re not sure if you can go back to the way you felt before. humiliated and foolish. you’re no longer a little girl, a princess waiting for her crown and zuko isn’t the prince who left everything he knew behind anymore  — yet somehow he manages to wave it all away. the duty, the honour, the pressure put on young shoulders and the standards to uphold. 

you’re both children again, ones who feel like the world will end if they don’t do it right — hardly any room between their hearts and their lungs to take in love behind every breath and shout it out from roof tops where words stay trapped behind their teeth. was it love back then? when you had confessed your brewing feelings to zuko like it was as natural as bending and shaping the water to your will. how can it be love now? when you exist as different versions of yourselves. carved like a coast, adapting to circumstances like water takes to the vessel it is contained by. 

he whispers your name. “it doesn’t take a day to fall in love… but it has taken just one… for me to be brave,” zuko’s feelings spill from his lips like the blood of ocean prey drawn into water by a predator —  crimson against cerulean. you didn’t ask for an answer, but his comes as though it is a kiss pressed to your lips, unable to conceal a lie that’s lasted a decade. a falsehood where he doesn’t return your affections. “i’m not… i don’t lead with my heart. i walk into fights with my mind, not my emotions, because if i do, then the people i care so deeply about get hurt. but…  the greatest battle i’ve ever been in, is the one where my heart fought with my head and i failed to tell you what’s really been in my heart this entire time.” 

“i love you,” salt sits in the cracks of his lips as he licks them, anxiety sitting like a rock made of dense peridotite in his chest — weighing down his heart. if there was any inkling of you feeling the same, it would lift him.  “you… you don’t have to return any feelings for now. o-or at all! you may have even lost those feelings for me but…” zuko stumbles through his words, ones that take the shape of bended metal bullets — now that they sit bare between you both like a stretch of sand between shore and sea — he cannot take them back. “but just know it’s always been there, lingering in my mind, and i know now. that i have always loved you.”

the fire lord lays out his confession as though he is stood at the gallows begging for mercy on his life. 

and the realisation does not strike you all at once. instead, it is slow like the slip of the sun beneath the horizon as the world turns on and day fades into night. the whole day, you’ve been walking the edge, the thin and fine line that marks the divide between nostalgic comfort as friends and something a little more than lovers. like offering a shell that shines in the palms of zuko’s hands, he lets the decision land in your court. you decide what comes from this, where the winds take your spirits next.

for zuko, it has always been you. never a doubt. a single fact that rings true for as long as the heavens and sky above remain blue underneath pure white cotton cloud cover. 

what is it for you? was he always it for you? 

the version of the world from your eyes begins to blur with the tears that well in them. everything becomes a mess of water coloured skies and visions of zuko’s sunset silhouette as they fall fast while meaning well, a lifting relief washing away any dark in your heart like the way the waves rinse written word from sand. “you are so stupid, it’s nearly insulting,” you blubber, akin to your childish self from the past — stumbling into the fire lord’s arms before he can even think to hold them open for you. “the audacity for you to even believe, that for a second, that i stopped—” 

you nuzzle into his chest, his arms wrap around you like the sea that welcomes you home every time. familiar. warm against your skin. “that i ever stopped loving you,” you birth the words against his chest, covered in your colours and your fabrics and your life story. you feel his heart beat against your lips, your damp cupid’s bow, wild like the wind and somehow — calming. “the fire nation is ruled by an idiot.”

“i-i’m sorry?” zuko barks out a half laugh, one that whirls between the butterflies ablaze in his stomach. 

“don’t make it worse.” 

“i won’t anymore,” he quips, toes curling in the sand as if to hold himself steady. perhaps he feels faint, because in truth, you want him too. “it’ll be better. i will be.”

“i love you, zuko,” with your chin rooted against your chest, you peer up at the prince now grown into your first and only love — clinging onto his embers that catch in sea breeze as if to keep him in this moment with you forever. your confession vibrates through his bones and settles in their weariness, soothing their ache, letting his limbs rest after swimming against his true current for so long. “like the moon loves the sea. i miss you when you’re not with me, like the moon misses the sun when it sleeps.”

“i know. i’ve always known and i’m sorry that it took me so long to meet you here,” he commits, meeting you the rest of the way. under the same sky, a solar eclipse of two hearts. opposites. “i’m also sorry for being a teenage boy,” zuko chimes, unlocking a memory and distant conversation. “katara tells me that we are all the same.”

“you mean stupid? i’ve come to like you that way.” 

you beam with the same kind of mirth that zuko has always known to make his heart stop. from the moment he met you when the world needed saving up to now — where every person and every nation is coming to terms with the concept of peace. building a new future of harmony has not been easy and every day you do your parts to ensure the world never sees what it was one hundred years ago, ever again. right now, zuko thinks, he could be at peace, adrift with you like this. all the time. forever more, if you’d have him.

“love, don’t you mean?” the fire lord retorts after some silence lost to the roll of waves along the beach. answering your question with another question. his tone playful, voice lowered to a breathy whisper that coasts along the shell of your ear until you shudder wholly against him.

seeking warmth in him amidst the cooling tropical eve.

“shut up.” you say, not cruel. just careful and shy. you don’t pull away — even when the temperature drops to an icy evening chill and the moon breaks through the clouds to take the hand of the tide, luring it back to sleep and signifying the birth of night.

zuko shrouds you, crowds you into a hug — the type you give when you’re trying not to forget the way happiness feels. he refuses to let you slip through his fingers, not now, not ever again. “never,” he murmurs, like a quiet release of breath that runs along the coast of your hairline. “you’ve got me.” 

his final words fall like the precise stroke of a sword and land exactly where you need them. you can’t doubt him now, when they’re as good as a promise. zuko loves you and that is fact, written in scripture for generations to come and read and know like your love is to be treated as a piece of crucial history.

a boat will come in the morning to bring zuko back to the fire nation where he will resume his throne, bare the burdens and lace up his armour once more. except when he leaves, it won’t be dread that courses through his body and his soul — rather, it’ll be a sense of calm, the memories of your heart in his hand as he’s set adrift with you occupying his mind.

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