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Grief is a peculiar thing, something Iroh was well too aware of. It struck him to his core. Grief was just a part of war, a certain part no one spoke of. No one, but mothers who had lost their sons. No one, except those willing to talk. Unlucky Iroh. For Zuko had no mother, and was not willing to talk. The poor boy was banished by a horrid father, was deemed inferior to his sister, and had lost his fiancée. His sweet, perfect fiancée. The one who’d have done anything for him. Who taught him bending better than anyone could, who had the patience to deal with his temper, who gave him space when he needed it in a house that never did.

Oh sweet sweet girl, who was killed by the one boy she loved so much.

Iroh loved his nephew dearly. But oh my, was he a pain. The boy never got his teas right. The two were on their way to Ba Sing Se, and all his little nephew could do was complain. Not that that was anything new, the boy had been a big complainer his whole life. Especially after his quest for the Avatar had started. He’d come close to catching him a few times, but he never quite succeeded. And he always blamed himself for that. 

Ba Sing Se would lovely, Iroh thought. Perhaps they’d open a tea shop, and Zuko would finally learn of how great tea could be. Not that the boy could ever learn. For some reason, Zuko was immune to learning from his mistakes. A great example would be when Azula showed up to imprison them, and Zuko followed her blindly. As if Azula had ever been honest about anything. The girl was strong, sure, but she was never honest. 

you, years ago.

Politics were never Y/n’s thing. Regardless, she were right in the middle of it. Being the daughter of one of Ozai’s most trusted Generals, she was somehow always involved. Especially now. After the great ‘cleansing’ of the Air nomads, her family had been praised up into the sky. Not that she agreed. 

She was standing inside the most magnificent hall she’d ever seen, yet she had no way out. The walls were lavishly decorated with ornate tapestries and gold filigree, but with every second she looked at them, her hate grew. She’d never leave this damned castle. Not since her father wedded her off. Sold her like a bull at auction. 

To Prince Zuko, of all people. 

She’d never met the boy, but the stories exceeded him. The lesser of the two siblings, yet angrier than anyone. More obsessed with his honor than her own father, who’d sacrificed an entire people to protect his. 

“You must be the loveliest girl I’ve ever seen,” said a soft voice behind her. She turned around to see a taller woman, dressed in robes fit for royalty. “My name is Ursa, dear.”

“You’re his mother,” Y/n uttered. Ursa smiled. “Yes I am.” She laid a hand onto Y/n’s shoulder. “And I will protect you, sweetness.”

“From your son?”

“Never from my boy. I do hope I raised him well enough to treat you as you deserve.” She spoke softly. “What do I deserve?” Y/n prodded. Ursa smiled that same laugh. It was soft, but there was something calculated behind it. “You deserve respect, my girl.”

Zuko, present day.

Zuko was alone once more. His uncle had left to find tea, and so the boy was left to his own devices. The ferry was filled with people, but their noise could not overpower his thoughts. Everyday, he’d imagine reuniting with her. His dearest love, yet biggest regret. Zuko sighed. She was dead. Reunion would only exist in the spirit plane. And there was no guarantee he’d find her there. No, he reassured himself. He would find her. He’d look forever if he had to. He just prayed she’d wait around for him. 

He rubbed his eyes. Sleep would overtake him soon.

That night, Zuko dreamed of the ocean. Of the spirits there, taking revenge for killing the moon. Rough waters banged against his warships, waves crashing against the icy shore. But the water stilled, slowly. He was on the shoreline, waiting. What had he been waiting for, again? Waiting, for anything. For a god, a higher being or a spirit. A sign. A glimpse of her. 

Zuko dreamed of an ocean to escape to. To never be alone again. Never having to feel jealousy or anger again. A love, to clear his conscience and air his heart. An ocean, how nice would that be?

There she was. The person he had been waiting for. 

“I cannot forget you,” he spoke. But his voice didn’t carry. Her back stayed turned to face him. Zuko started running, but the distance never closed. What if it was not meant for him? Love. 

“You taught me how to love!” He yelled. Oh how he loved her. Her clear voice, ringing like bells in a cold breeze. Her soft jasmine scent, easing his senses before he could see her. The way she spoke to him. Not like he was a child or a prince, but like an equal. 

Her head turned.

“Time will pass,” she said. “Time will be fed.”

When Iroh opened The Jasmine Dragon, Zuko was yet again hard to control. The boy had come a long way since his banishment, but had very far to go still. He didn’t have any friends his age, a girlfriend or any family to care for him aside from Iroh himself. “So, I was thinking of names for my new tea shop. How about the Jasmine Dragon? It's dramatic, poetic, has a nice ring to it.”

Zuko showed Iroh the flyer of Appa he found. “The Avatar is here in Ba Sing Se and he's lost his bison,” he said. Iroh grabbed the flyer and sighed. “We have a chance for a new life here.” Zuko glanced out of the window. “If you start stirring up trouble, we could lose all the good things that are happening for us.”

“Good things that are happening for you! Have you ever thought that I want more from life than a nice apartment and a job serving tea?” Zuko sneered. “There is nothing wrong with a life of peace and prosperity. I suggest you think about what it is that you want from your life and why.” Iroh responded slowly.

“I want my destiny. I want my honor. I want her.” Zuko’s voice cracked. “What ‘destiny’ means is up to you” Iroh said, “but she? She’s gone, my boy. You will have her in the spirit realm. Once you pass on, you will reunite.”

The time in Ba Sing Se passed slowly, but that was exactly how Iroh liked it. “Pass me the honey please, Zuko?” he asked. Zuko grumbled, and shoved a pot of honey into his uncle’s hands. The boy was so aggressive and hostile, yet he reminded Iroh so much of his own. Lu Ten. Oh how he missed Lu Ten. His son would’ve been happy to see him in such a domestic setting, serving tea and taking care of Zuko. Even if Zuko rejected his affections, Iroh loved him dearly. Poor Zuko needed the affection dearly, for he had no one left. He had been on his own for far too long.

Often he found Zuko wiping away tears, sniffling silently or brooding in anger. There was no consoling him. Iroh had tried hundreds of times, but it proved futile. 

Zuko sat alone in their shared hut somewhere in the Earth Kingdom, feeding the fire. He didn’t know why or how, but tears kept silently rolling down his face. His uncle had gone out to collect wood for the fire, and he silently prayed he wouldn’t return. If he came back now, what would he think? That he was a weak, powerless man? Zuko would rather die. The fire cast a long shadow over the tent walls. 

Iroh huffed and puffed when he entered. “I got some wood!” He turned to face Zuko, only to catch him furiously wiping his face. His cheeks were flushed red, and his eyes were glazed over. “Oh, my boy.” He laid a hand on Zuko’s shoulder.

“Shut up!” Zuko slapped his hand off. “I know how you feel, Zuko.” Iroh responded solemnly, clasping his hands over his lap. 

“You don’t know anything! Leave me alone!”

Zuko sat upright in his futon. Sleep wouldn’t come, and Iroh’s loud snoring didn’t help. So, he snuck onto the roof of the teashop. The floorboards creaked under his feet, but Iroh’s snoring continued. The rooftop was cold, but the cold was welcome. Zuko had been burning up the whole day. Maybe his firebending had run rampant without frequent use or training. Or perhaps he was consumed by something else. It wasn’t anger, like usual. Still it felt similar. 

Zuko had always been terrible at distinguishing emotions. Everything in him was fed by the same thing. That same flame within him that loved her, now burned brighter without her. Was this grief? Zuko could scarcely believe it. Could it be regret? Or was it actually that lingering love he felt, with no place to go? 

Zuko laid down. He wondered, would she lay with him? Would she hold his hand, and just forget everything else for a moment? If they could grow wings, would she fly with him? Be free with him? 

Could he ever have that again? Or was he doomed to a life of eternal grief and pain? 

Zuko didn’t want to know. He dragged a hand through his hair. He and Iroh had cut off his ponytail, for which he was grateful. Y/n always pestered him about his hairstyle. Would she like his hair now? 

Would she like anything about him now? He’d changed so much. Yet still, he was the same person as before. She’d probably say something along the lines of “remember I’ll always love you, Zuko.”

He shook it from his mind. Time for sleep.

Zuko was back on the shoreline, but the landscape was gradually shifting. The waves lapping on the sand were slowly becoming little poppies, and soon he was standing in a field of beautiful red flowers. He heard a giggle coming from deeper in the field. He looked up, and there she was. Holding a bouquet of flowers she’d picked, looking at him like her carried the most precious feeling she could have. Her dress wasn’t her usual fire robes, but instead she wore a simple white garment. It wasn’t fit for a girl as beautiful as she, he thought. “You look exceptionally beautiful today, my girl.”

“My love,” she spoke. “Let me die.”

Cold water drenched him. “No,” he muttered. She smiled. “I care for you dearly, Zuko.”

Zuko shuddered. “Then let me keep you here,” he said. “Let me love you while I can.”

“Our story isn’t over yet, my love.” She replied. Zuko huffed. “How could you say that? I kill–” he couldn’t finish his sentence. She smiled again, and dropped the bouquet. “I know. But we will find each other.”

“I didn’t mean to kill you, I swear.” His voice trembled. She stepped closer, and her palm grazed his cheek to stop the tears from falling. “I didn’t mean it.” He shook his head, and a tear slipped from his eye. 

“I meant it all,” she said. 

Zuko awoke in a cold sweat. What did she mean? “Are you okay, Zuko?” Iroh asked from the far side of the room.  “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Let me be.”

“You were talking in your sleep.”

Iroh slowly moved over, and sat next to Zuko on the futon. “What’s troubling you, my boy?” Zuko sighed. “I guess I just miss her.”

Missing was far too simple of a word. But he’d rather lie to Iroh and tell him that he was fine, when he would kill himself just to hold her one last time. It hurt so badly to miss her, like the flame inside him was split into two. But it was worse to know that he was the reason she would never come home.

“I wonder, all these mornings you’ve been sitting here on your futon, have you had any moments of peace?” Iroh asked. Zuko laughed. “Peace is for the more fortunately born, uncle.”

“How’s your sleep?” 

“Let’s just stop talking and start working. Clients are waiting, uncle.”

The weeks crept by while Iroh helplessly watched his nephew sink deeper and deeper. Zuko talked more and more in his sleep, and it didn’t take Iroh long to figure out who he was talking to. But alas, Iroh respected Zuko’s boundaries rough to respect them.

Zuko stopped waiting for her to come home, but his heart never got the memo. The world kept spinning, and he hated it for that. Gradually, he learned that memories could rot. They blurred around the edges until he was terrified to forget the sound of her laughter. Her sweet, raw laughter. Oh, how he missed it. His life was never haunted, until her laugh became the only thing missing. Zuko still turned his head when he heard a laugh similar to hers, as if his love could mistake a stranger for a miracle. He used to hear her giggles all the time, but now even that sound had escaped him. All he’d ever loved had left. Now, all that was left was a ribcage becoming a prison for a heart that barely beat anymore. It only beat for her. 

His uncle always said that grief was love with nowhere to go. But Zuko’s grief buried itself into his bones, until it called his body home. His soul was diminishing, the only thing keeping him breathing was the hopes of seeing you in his dreams again. 

Zuko needed you.

He needed someone sent down from the moon to make him feel like he used to. He prayed that in a next life, he’d be the avatar the visit you in the spirit plane. 

In every room he walked into, it felt like it expected two people. Yet still, only one showed up. She became a ghost in every happy moment. The first person Zuko wanted to tell, yet the only one who would never know. But Zuko carries his grief like he carried her hand. Instinctively, constantly, unable to let go.