Surely something like that did not happen entirely without reason.

Zuko hated himself for wondering it.

You had been vulnerable. Injured. Exhausted beyond reason after reliving some of the worst moments of your life for hours while your husband remained miles away. You had found yourself in an unfamiliar palace surrounded by strangers, carrying pain that still had not fully settled inside your own body, and he understood all of that perfectly well. 

He repeated those facts to himself countless times throughout the night in hopes they might silence the dangerous hope surfacing beneath them.

Perhaps that was why you asked him to stay, since any familiar kindness would have sufficed.

And yet, some part of him still wanted to believe otherwise.

That realization alone left him feeling ashamed that he could scarcely bear sitting with it.

After Mai, after everything between them had finally crumbled beneath years of distance and exhaustion and becoming entirely different people from who they once were, Zuko had never truly allowed himself to feel deeply for anyone again.

At first, he convinced himself it simply required time.

Then time passed.

Six years of it.

Six years spent ruling a nation still healing from war while advisors reminded him repeatedly of duties extending far beyond politics. A Fire Lord required stability, a wife, children. 

An heir capable of continuing the royal line. 

Those conversations surfaced so frequently within council meetings that eventually they no longer sounded invasive at all, merely inevitable.

And it was not as though he had refused trying.

Over the years, he had met many women worthy of admiration. Intelligent women. Kind women. Beautiful women whose company he often enjoyed enough to briefly consider whether one of them might finally become enough for him to stop searching altogether.

Every single time, however, he reached the same miserable conclusion.

He was not falling in love. He was attempting to settle.

The plan always sounded reasonable in theory. Find someone suitable, someone capable of understanding the demands tied to the throne. Affection could come later, that love itself did not necessarily need arriving first.

That had been his logic for years.

Uncle Iroh, however, always recognized the truth before Zuko himself wished admitting it.

"You are trying to convince yourself that loneliness and peace are the same thing." His uncle had once told him quietly during one particularly exhausting evening within the palace gardens.

At the time, Zuko dismissed the words entirely, but now they returned to him with irritating clarity.

The truth was, he had wanted the search to end.

He hadn't stopped believing in love entirely, but he had grown tired of waiting for something that never seemed to arrive naturally for him. He wanted certainty. 

Something stable and permanent enough that he could finally stop questioning whether he was meant for that kind of happiness at all.

Marriage frightened him more than he ever admitted aloud.

Fatherhood even more so.

There existed nights where he still woke hearing Ozai's voice inside his head clear enough to leave him staring at the ceiling until sunrise, terrified of how easily cruelty could become inherited when left unchallenged long enough.

Yet despite all of it, despite every fear lingering inside him, he trusted himself enough to believe he would never become that man.

Because Ozai had not been the only example of fatherhood within his life.

Uncle Iroh had loved Lu Ten with gentleness Zuko still remembered vividly years after his cousin's death, and despite the grief of losing his own son, he had continued extending that same patience and care toward Zuko afterward too.

Perhaps that was why the realization consuming him tonight felt so dangerous, because for the first time in years, hope had returned to him.

The thought should have comforted him, but instead, it unraveled everything further.

Zuko sat motionless behind the desk, his fingers pressed against his temple leaving faint marks against his skin. Scrolls remained scattered untouched before him, reports awaiting signatures long forgotten beneath thoughts far heavier than politics or court matters.

The more he thought about your story, the less certainty he found within any conclusion.

You had not loved Aang when you married him.

You respected him, even trusted him. Felt grateful toward him. But love itself had come afterward.

The horrifying circumstances surrounding that marriage, despite how premature and desperate the arrangement initially appeared, it had still become real. Somewhere between your grief and his kindness, you and Aang had found something genuine enough that even now, long after hearing you speak of him, Zuko could still feel the shape of your love for the Avatar lingering painfully within every word.

Which meant his own idea had not been foolish after all.

Marriage can come before love.

That was how it had always worked for most people, particularly within noble households and royal families. Duty preceded affection, because for them, compatibility came first. 

Love followed afterward if one proved fortunate enough.

Aang's marriage to you stood as proof of that.

Yet the thought brought him no satisfaction whatsoever, because the moment he leaned too far toward that conclusion, another voice surfaced immediately afterward within his mind.

Uncle Iroh's.

"Love should not feel like resignation, Prince Zuko."

For years, his uncle had insisted that Zuko approached relationships incorrectly, it wasn't because he lacked the capacity for love, he simply searched for practicality before emotion every single time. 

He treated companionship almost like diplomacy, something negotiated carefully rather than something truly felt.

Perhaps Uncle Iroh had been correct.

But if that were true, then what of you and Aang?

Zuko exhaled sharply before dragging both hands down across his face in frustration.

No matter how he approached the thought, the contradiction remained.

If Uncle Iroh stood correct, then perhaps love could not truly be built afterward from mere kindness and circumstance alone.

Yet Aang undeniably loved you.

Zuko had seen it himself.

The patience in Aang's voice whenever he spoke to you. The instinctive way he protected your dignity even during conflict. The softness surrounding him each time he thinks of you.

That love existed unquestionably.

Which should have settled the matter entirely.

Instead, it only worsened the storm consuming his thoughts.

Because if Aang's marriage proved Uncle Iroh wrong, then that meant Zuko himself had wasted years searching for something that perhaps never needed existing beforehand at all.

And if Uncle Iroh still remained right—

Then what did that imply about Aang's marriage?

The thought disturbed him enough that his head dropped forward harshly against the desk with a dull thud echoing through the study.

He remained there, forehead pressed against scattered parchment while frustration twisted tighter and tighter within his chest.

Even entertaining the possibility of Uncle Iroh being wrong felt deeply unnatural to him.

Absurd, almost.

There had been moments throughout Zuko's life where entire nations doubted his uncle's judgment, where generals dismissed him, where nobles mocked his gentleness, where Ozai himself viewed compassion as weakness, yet through every terrible turn within Zuko's life, Uncle Iroh had somehow remained the one unwavering certainty he trusted entirely.

So if his uncle remained correct here too—

Then perhaps Aang still had not truly loved you in the way Zuko imagined.

No.

The denial surfaced immediately.

That conclusion felt false the moment it formed.

Aang loved you.

He loved you so deeply that hearing you speak of him left the air inside the room altered somehow. Zuko could still hear it within your voice, feel it threaded through every memory you shared.

The realization should have ended his spiraling thoughts there, but, another surfaced immediately afterward.

...Did you love Aang the same way?

Zuko shut his eyes briefly at once, disgust striking him almost immediately for even allowing himself to think it.

After everything you told him. After the way you spoke of your husband. Questioning your love for Aang felt cruel.

But, the kiss remained.

No matter how desperately he tried rationalizing it away beneath exhaustion and grief and vulnerability, the memory still lingered stubbornly within him. You had not recoiled immediately. You had leaned toward him too. Your lips had remained against his for one unbearable suspended moment before reality finally shattered across both of you.

Why?

The question returned endlessly.

Because yes, people made mistakes.

People sought comfort while wounded.

But still, why had you kissed him back?

The sharp knock against the study doors shattered the spiral of Zuko's thoughts before he could sink any deeper into them.

He straightened from where he sat behind the desk, one hand dragging quickly across his face. 

The doors opened without waiting for permission, revealing Grand Chamberlain first, parchment clutched tightly beneath one arm while tension stretched visibly across his aging features.

Uncle Iroh followed shortly behind him as he paused the moment he crossed the threshold.

His expression softened instantly at the sight before him, and Zuko knew precisely what he must look like.

Still dressed in yesterday's robes, hair poorly tied back after hours spent dragging restless fingers through it, exhaustion settled heavily beneath his eyes while untouched reports remained scattered across the desk before him in complete disarray.

"Lord Zuko," Iroh said gently, concern threading naturally through his voice, "surely you have not remained here the entire night."

Zuko's brows furrowed faintly at the title.

He had never grown accustomed to hearing it from his uncle.

Most days, Iroh remembered. Sometimes the formalities slipped in front of ministers or council members, though Zuko always hated the strange distance it created between them.

Still, he merely exhaled quietly before answering.

"It appears I have."

Iroh's expression turned increasingly troubled at that admission, though before he could continue, Grand Chamberlain stepped forward hurriedly.

"Was my message to the Avatar sent out?" Zuko questioned.

"Yes, it should reach him by nightfall." He answers before continuing.

"My lord, we have concluded preliminary questioning regarding last evening's attack upon the upper eastern district and—"

"Perhaps, the Fire Lord might appreciate a hot meal and a bath before beginning state matters at sunrise." Iroh interrupted smoothly, his tone remaining pleasant despite the unmistakable warning beneath it.

Grand Chamberlain faltered immediately.

"Of course. I merely thought—"

"It is fine," Zuko cut in quietly before the older man could begin apologizing further. 

"Continue."

Truthfully, he welcomed the interruption.

Anything capable of pulling his thoughts away from your chambers even briefly already felt preferable to remaining alone with them.

The Grand Chamberlain inclined his head respectfully before unrolling the parchment held beneath his arm.

"The attackers carried markings associated with the Shinu clans stationed along the western caldera settlements." he explained carefully. 

"Three separate prisoners bore ceremonial burns matching records from the old noble registries predating Fire Lord Sozin's consolidation of the throne."

Zuko's expression darkened slightly. So his earlier suspicions had not been entirely unfounded.

The Shinu bloodlines.

One of the oldest surviving noble factions within the Fire Nation, descendants of rulers who, centuries ago, had nearly ascended the throne themselves before the royal line of the Fire Lords established dominance permanently. 

Though stripped of significant influence generations prior, remnants of the clan still held wealth and political standing across several outer territories.

And resentment.

There had always been resentment, quiet enough to remain manageable under previous rulers, yet never fully extinguished.

"Their grievances have increased considerably throughout recent years," The Grand Chamberlain continued cautiously. 

"Particularly among traditionalists unsettled by Your Majesty's reforms concerning the colonies and trade alliances with the Earth Kingdom."

"A kinder Fire Lord invites challengers." Zuko murmured flatly.

Neither man answered immediately because the truth lingered too plainly.

Zuko had spent years undoing fear, and to some within the Fire Nation, that alone resembled weakness.

"The timing remains suspicious nonetheless," Iroh spoke at last, his voice calm yet thoughtful beneath the flickering torchlight. 

"The Shinu clans have complained for decades. Open rebellion does not suddenly emerge overnight without encouragement."

The Grand Chamberlain nodded stiffly.

"We considered that possibility as well. There are concerns another faction may be using the clan's existing resentment to disguise a larger operation."

Zuko leaned back slightly within his chair, exhaustion pressing heavily against his skull once more.

"Internal?"

"Potentially," He admitted. "Though we lack sufficient evidence presently."

Silence settled through the study. The attack itself disturbed Zuko less than the precision behind it.

The rebels had known exactly where to strike. Exactly when palace security would thin surrounding the festival routes. Even the explosion near the southern bridge had occurred with enough accuracy to delay reinforcement units without collapsing the structure entirely.

Someone had informed them, or someone had guided them.

"I want the prisoners questioned personally," Zuko said finally.

The Grand Chamberlain straightened immediately.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Shall I prepare the underground chambers?"

Zuko nodded once.

"And arrange escort rotations along the lower corridor entrances. No one enters without direct clearance."

"At once."

The Grand Chamberlain bowed deeply before departing hurriedly from the study, parchment still clutched against his chest while the doors shut heavily behind him.

The silence returning felt entirely different.

Zuko remained staring toward the scattered documents across his desk before Uncle Iroh finally spoke again.

"Are you certain you wish to do this yourself, Prince Zuko?"

The title settled warmly against him in a way nothing else had throughout the entire night.

"I need answers," Zuko replied quietly.

"You need rest first," Iroh corrected gently.

Zuko let out the faintest breath through his nose. "That too, apparently."

A small smile finally touched Iroh's face , though concern still lingered heavily within his eyes while he studied his nephew carefully.

"You carry too many things alone, and you always begin believing exhaustion is discipline instead of injury." he said softly.

The older man had always possessed an irritating ability to notice unrest before Zuko himself wished acknowledging it aloud, and tonight proved no different.

Zuko lowered his eyes briefly toward the papers scattered across the desk.

"There is...something else." He admitted at last.

Iroh remained still. Then gently he spoke—

"What troubles you, Prince Zuko?"

The title nearly undid him more than the question itself.

Because suddenly he did not feel like the Fire Lord sitting inside a cold study burdened beneath politics and personal dilemmas. For one fleeting moment, he felt young again. Sitting across from the only person who had ever consistently remained patient enough to guide him through his worst moments.

And that was precisely why the confession left him before he could reconsider it.

"I kissed her."

The words landed heavily within the quiet room and Iroh did not react immediately.

Still, Zuko caught the slight stillness entering his uncle's posture all the same, as Iroh finally exhaled softly through his nose.

"I see."

The calm response worsened the shame clawing through Zuko's chest.

"It was not intentional," he said quickly. 

"At least—not entirely. We were speaking for hours and she was injured and exhausted and—" His jaw tightened faintly.

"And vulnerable," Iroh finished gently.

Zuko fell silent.

The truth within that single word settled painfully.

"She spoke about Aang," He continued more quietly after a moment. 

"About everything that happened before they married. And then..." He stopped briefly, visibly struggling to explain.

"It just happened."

Iroh listened patiently without interruption.

"She asked me to leave immediately, she looked horrified." Zuko admitted, the humiliation within the memory still fresh enough to leave bitterness coating his tongue.

"And you?"

Zuko let out a humorless breath.

"What do you think?"

Iroh's expression softened faintly.

"Zuko. Moments born from exhaustion and closeness can confuse even very wise people." He said carefully

Zuko's eyes narrowed faintly at that.

"You think that is all this was?"

"I think, you are trying very hard to convince yourself this moment carried certainty when in truth it carried pain." Iroh answered gently,

The words struck harder than Zuko wished admitting, and immediately, instinct rose within him to argue.

"But feelings do not appear from nowhere. People do not simply—" Frustration interrupted him briefly before he forced himself to be calm. 

"She kissed me too." He insisted quietly.

Iroh remained silent, already understanding where Zuko's implications were headed, and so he simply reminded him of the truth.

"And yet she still loves her husband."

Zuko's throat tightened because that had never truly been the question haunting him.

He already knew the answer.

"Yes," he admitted.

The older man nodded once.

"Aang loves her deeply as well."

Another truth, which only added another wound.

"I know."

"And despite that knowledge, a part of you still hopes this moment meant something greater." Iroh continued carefully,

Zuko said nothing. and his silence answered sufficiently enough.

"Love may arrive unexpectedly," he said. 

"It may grow in strange places and under unfortunate circumstances. On this, you are correct." His expression saddened faintly afterward. 

"But I could never encourage you to pursue a married woman, particularly one who is not only your friend's wife, but the Avatar's wife."

The words settled with quiet finality.

Iroh was not condemning him, nor was he judging him. He simply wished for Zuko to see the situation for what it was.

Zuko lowered his head, one hand pressing against his brow while shame twisted together inside him unpleasantly.

"I know," he muttered.

And he did know.

Spirits, that was precisely why the entire thing felt so unbearable, because nothing about it should have happened at all.

The study fell silent once more before the distant sound of armored footsteps echoed faintly beyond the doors, signaling the escorts and guards preparing below.

Iroh straightened slightly at the noise.

"The prisoners will still be there in another hour," he remarked gently, pressing for Zuko to take rest.

"So will my thoughts," Zuko replied dryly.

That finally earned the faintest smile from his uncle.

Before leaving, however, Zuko suddenly reached for one of the blank parchments resting nearby.

"Wait outside for me," he said quietly.

Iroh studied him briefly before nodding once and stepping from the study without further question.

The moment the doors closed behind him, Zuko dipped the brush swiftly into ink and began writing across the parchment with hurried precision. Once finished, he rolled the parchment tightly before fastening it shut with the royal seal.

Then finally, he stood.

Outside the study, several guards already waited alongside the Grand Chamberlain and Uncle Iroh beneath the dim corridor lanterns.

Zuko stepped past them before extending the sealed parchment toward one of the palace guards stationed nearby.

"See this carried out immediately," he ordered calmly.

The guard bowed at once.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Zuko gave a single nod before turning away entirely, the sound of armored footsteps soon echoing through the palace halls while he disappeared deeper within the palace corridors alongside his uncle, the Grand Chamberlain, and the waiting escorts.

The palace prisons rested far beneath the royal compound, carved deep into the volcanic stone beneath the capital where heat lingered permanently within the walls no matter the season above. Torches lined the descending corridors in uneven intervals, their flames casting restless shadows across iron gates while armored guards stepped aside hurriedly at the Fire Lord's approach.

The deeper they descended, the quieter the palace became overhead.

By the time Zuko reached the final staircase alongside Uncle Iroh, the Grand Chamberlain, and the escorting guards, the sounds of court life had disappeared entirely beneath the heavy stillness suffocating the underground chambers.

Then shouting shattered it.

Several guards appeared abruptly from the lower corridor ahead, panic visible across their faces while one nearly stumbled descending the final steps too quickly.

"Your Majesty!" the man gasped breathlessly. "The prisoners—they are dying!"

Zuko's expression sharpened immediately.

"What happened?"

"We do not know," another guard answered frantically. "They regained consciousness only moments ago and then suddenly began convulsing. They are foaming at the mouth—we attempted restraining them but—"

The rest dissolved into alarmed shouting as Zuko moved immediately.

The corridor blurred past rapidly while the guards struggled to keep pace behind him, boots striking sharply against volcanic stone as the smell reached them before the cells themselves did.

Bitter almonds and smoke.

A terrible familiarity settled instantly through the air.

By the time Zuko reached the holding chambers, three prisoners already lay collapsed against the floors of their cells, violent tremors wracking through their bodies while thick foam gathered visibly around their mouths. One guard attempted forcing water between clenched teeth only for Iroh to stop him sharply at once.

"No, do not touch their mouths." He ordered immediately.

The authority within his voice startled the surrounding soldiers making them obeyed instantly.

Zuko stepped closer toward the nearest prisoner, eyes narrowing slightly as the man's body convulsed violently against the stone floor before suddenly going still altogether.

Then another prisoner collapsed moments later.

Zuko already understood. So did Iroh.

The realization settled between uncle and nephew without either speaking it aloud, and the weight of it spread visibly across Zuko's expression while he stared down toward the dead man lying motionless inside the cell.

"No..." the Grand Chamberlain whispered faintly behind them. "Surely not..."

Iroh exhaled quietly through his nose before crouching carefully beside the iron bars, studying the corpse without touching it.

"The emberroot capsules," he said grimly.

The words tightened something sharply inside Zuko's chest because emberroot capsules had not existed publicly within decades.

A poison developed secretly during Ozai's reign for use among covert operatives and royal informants stationed within enemy territories during the war. Small enough to conceal beneath the tongue or within hollowed teeth, the substance reacted almost instantly once bitten down, killing the carrier before meaningful interrogation could begin.

Officially, the practice had been discontinued long before the war ended.

Unofficially...Zuko knew better.

He had spent months after becoming Fire Lord combing through classified wartime documents hidden within sealed palace archives, forcing himself to understand fully the machinery of fear and cruelty his father once wielded so effortlessly. 

Among those records existed references to the capsules, though even reading about them years later had left him unsettled enough to close the scrolls early that evening.

Iroh knew of them differently, through watching his younger brother become someone unrecognizable piece by piece beneath ambition and paranoia.

"They were prepared for capture," Zuko murmured quietly.

"No, They were expecting it." Iroh corrected softly, rising slowly back to his feet

The distinction chilled the corridor because this no longer resembled desperate rebellion.

The Grand Chamberlain stepped forward uneasily then, lowering his voice instinctively despite the prisoners already lying dead before them.

"Your Majesty...If these methods originated under Fire Lord Ozai's intelligence divisions, then perhaps our conclusions regarding the Shinu clans were mistaken entirely." He hesitated briefly.

Zuko remained silent.

His mind had already arrived there moments ago.

The clan markings. The coordinated attack. The capsules.

Someone wanted the palace looking toward the old noble houses, but the poison belonged elsewhere.

Or rather, to someone else.

A cold realization settled slowly through him.

Had they overlooked Ozai loyalists entirely?

Ozai remained imprisoned, his reign had ended. Most of his inner circle either stripped of power or imprisoned following the war.

And yet, fear rooted deeply enough inside nations rarely vanished completely, especially not within men who once prospered beneath cruelty.

Zuko's jaw tightened faintly.

Among his council sat generals who once served Ozai directly. Within his guard remained soldiers raised beneath wartime propaganda before Zuko dismantled it piece by piece after ascending the throne.

Loyalty shifted publicly far easier than privately.

And suddenly, the precision behind last night's attack no longer felt merely political.

It felt far too personal.

Zuko's eyes remained fixed upon the dead prisoner before he finally spoke again.

"How many survived?"

One of the nearby guards straightened immediately.

"Seven remain unconscious, Your Majesty. Two others attempted swallowing the capsules but were restrained before they could fully bite down."

"Good, keep them alive." Zuko answered quietly.

The command carried sharp finality beneath its calmness.

Beside him, Iroh folded his hands loosely within his sleeves while studying the holding chambers thoughtfully.

"Were any of the assailants identified yet?" he asked.

The question should have been simple, but he noticed the Grand Chamberlain hesitated visibly.

Zuko noticed it immediately.

"So they were," he said flatly.

The older man swallowed once before answering carefully.

"Well..." His voice lowered instinctively. 

"You see, my lord...they were not identified through city registries or clan records." He paused briefly. 

"They are all members of the royal palace guard."

The corridor fell silent. Even the remaining soldiers nearby stiffened faintly at the admission.

Zuko turned sharply toward the Grand Chamberlain then, disbelief surfacing across his expression before restraint quickly forced it back beneath composure.

"What?"

The older man bowed his head slightly.

"The insignias beneath their armor were hidden intentionally," he explained hurriedly. 

"However, upon removal of the outer plating, several were identified by captains stationed within the palace divisions."

Zuko looked immediately back toward the nearest corpse lying motionless behind the iron bars.

He did not recognize the man.

The royal palace employed hundreds upon hundreds of guards across rotating divisions, many stationed permanently within outer corridors or lower districts of the compound. Helmets and masks concealed much of their faces during duty hours, and Zuko himself rarely interacted personally with anyone outside the higher-ranking commanders assigned directly to the throne room or private quarters.

Still, the knowledge settled unpleasantly within him all the same.

These men had not infiltrated the palace.

Iroh's expression dimmed subtly beside him.

"That is deeply unfortunate." He murmured.

The understatement almost would have sounded humorous under different circumstances.

Zuko exhaled quietly before turning toward the guards once more.

"The surviving prisoners are not to regain consciousness naturally," he ordered immediately. "Have the physicians prepare sedative incense from moonroot and black lotus extract."

Several guards exchanged startled looks.

The mixture remained notoriously strong, often used only during violent psychiatric episodes among prisoners too dangerous to restrain physically.

"It can be administered through smoke inhalation," Zuko continued calmly. "Keep them unconscious until I arrive personally for questioning."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And conduct full body searches on every surviving prisoner before transport," he added sharply. "Mouths, armor lining, hair bindings, boots. Everything." His expression hardened slightly. 

"If there are additional capsules hidden upon them, I want them found before another man dies."

The guards bowed immediately before rushing to carry out the orders.

Zuko turned toward the Grand Chamberlain afterward.

"I want every personal file belonging to the captured guards delivered to my office within the hour."

The older man blinked faintly.

"All of them, Your Majesty?"

"Everything," Zuko repeated. "Service records. Family lineage. Division assignments. Promotions. Transfers." His voice lowered slightly. 

"I want to know precisely how long each of them served within this palace."

The Grand Chamberlain bowed quickly.

"At once."

Zuko fell silent once more afterward, though his thoughts continued spiraling rapidly beneath the stillness visible upon his face.

Because if these truly were Ozai loyalists rather than merely rebellious guards exploiting old methods, then another far more dangerous question surfaced immediately.

How had anyone maintained contact with him?

Slowly, his attention drifted toward the darker corridor extending farther beneath the prison complex.

Toward Ozai.

Very few possessed access there.

Fewer still after Zuko ascended the throne.

Only his most trusted guards rotated through the lower watch posts surrounding his father's isolated imprisonment, and every transfer assignment required direct authorization from the palace itself.

Yet if these men truly remained loyal to Ozai after all these years, that would mean someone had been speaking to him.

"I should speak to him."

The words left Zuko quietly, the decision behind him already been made before he spoke it aloud.

Uncle Iroh's expression dimmed almost immediately.

"Prince Zuko, I do not believe your father will offer clarity upon this matter." He began carefully,

"No, but he may still reveal something useful." Zuko replied evenly while turning toward the deeper corridor descending beneath the prison chambers. 

Iroh studied him for a lingering moment afterward, concern visible despite the older man's usual composure.

"And what if he reveals something harmful instead?"

Zuko did not answer.

Ozai had never required bending to wound people.

Zuko finally stepped forward, the heavy fabric of his robes shifting softly against the stone beneath his feet while behind him, Iroh sighed quietly.

"You continue hoping there is a version of him you have not yet suffered from," he murmured sadly.

Zuko's jaw tightened faintly at the words, though he continued walking regardless.

Iron doors lined the corridors intermittently while guards stationed throughout the lower watch posts straightened immediately at the Fire Lord's approach, stepping aside without question.

None attempted speaking.

The corridor narrowed considerably near the end, eventually opening into a lone circular chamber separated entirely from the remaining prison complex. Heavy bars enclosed the final cell.

Ozai sat near the back wall when Zuko entered.

At first glance, he appeared unchanged.

Yet prolonged isolation had altered him in subtler ways impossible to ignore. Time clung differently to men stripped entirely of power. His hair had silvered further throughout the years, shadows settling deeper across his face while age finally began claiming him properly.

And the moment his eyes lifted toward Zuko, that old fear returned instinctively within him.

Some part of Zuko would always remain the little boy standing trembling before the throne, desperate for approval that never arrived.

Ozai smiled faintly upon seeing him.

"Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of such an early visit?" He drawled softly, his voice still carrying that same cruel smoothness Zuko remembered from childhood.

Zuko stopped several feet from the bars, his posture remaining composed despite the tension tightening subtly through him.

"I have questions."

Ozai let out a low sound beneath his breath that nearly resembled amusement.

"How unfortunate." His eyes moved slowly across Zuko's face. "And here I believed perhaps my son had finally begun missing me."

Zuko ignored the remark.

"Has anyone visited you recently besides the assigned guards?"

Ozai tilted his head slightly.

Straight to business.

That alone amused him visibly.

"You descend into the depths of the palace after years of absence, and the first thing you ask me concerns visitors." He murmured lazily.

"Answer the question."

Ozai smiled wider at the command.

"There it is."

Zuko's expression hardened faintly.

"The imitation of authority you practice so carefully." Ozai leaned back slightly against the stone wall behind him. 

"You truly do sound more and more like a Fire Lord each time you visit. Though unfortunately..." His eyes sharpened subtly. 

"Still not a convincing one."

Zuko remained unmoved outwardly. Inside, however, fear coiled tightly through him.

"You will answer eventually regardless."

"Will I?"

The taunt slid easily from Ozai's mouth.

"With what exactly do you intend forcing cooperation these days?" His gaze lowered briefly toward Zuko's hands before lifting again knowingly. 

"Mercy?"

The word sounded almost insulting spoken aloud, and Zuko exhaled slowly through his nose before continuing.

"Several palace guards attacked the upper districts last night."

That earned Ozai's attention more visibly in interest.

"And you came to me because your own guards failed you," he observed quietly.

"They possessed emberroot capsules."

Silence overtook the conversation as Zuko observed him for any nuance. 

Then Ozai laughed softly beneath his breath. The sound barely rose above the torches crackling against the walls, and  hearing it again after so many years unsettled Zuko.

"Ah, So you finally discovered that fear remains loyal far longer than affection ever does." Ozai murmured.

Zuko's jaw tightened.

"Did someone contact you?"

Ozai ignored the question entirely.

"You were always too sentimental for this throne," he continued calmly. 

"Your sister would have understood immediately what weakness invites. And now your own guards turn against you beneath your own roof." His eyes narrowed faintly. 

Zuko stepped closer toward the bars despite himself.

"You will answer me."

Ozai observed him carefully for a moment before smiling faintly once more.

"There he is."

The quiet satisfaction within those words irritated Zuko more than outright mockery ever could.

"You still approach me emotionally," Ozai continued. "Still reactive. Still allowing fear to guide your decisions while pretending it does not."

Zuko forced himself still again.

"Has anyone besides the assigned guards spoken with you recently?"

Ozai sighed lightly through his nose.

"You ask questions already knowing the answer."

"I want confirmation."

The older man leaned forward slightly, shadows from the torchlight cutting sharply across his features.

"You want to believe the rebellion inside your palace belongs to strangers." His mouth curved faintly. "Because if loyal men still remember me fondly after all these years, then perhaps your reign has not inspired nearly the devotion you imagined."

Zuko's hands curled faintly behind his back, and Ozai noticed immediately.

"You will answer my questions."

Ozai leaned back slightly against the stone wall behind him.

"You continue asking them incorrectly."

Frustration stirred sharply through Zuko's chest once more.

"I asked whether anyone besides the assigned guards visited you."

"And I heard the question perfectly."

"Then answer it."

Ozai studied him silently for a lingering moment before speaking again.

"You assume loyalty functions through proximity," he said calmly. "That men require direct instruction to remain devoted." A faint smile touched his mouth afterward. 

"That was always your misunderstanding."

Zuko's expression hardened.

"You are implying nothing."

"I simply observe." Ozai said smoothly.

The older man tilted his head slightly then, the movement almost thoughtful.

"You spent years dismantling fear from this nation because you believed fear itself created obedience." His eyes remained fixed steadily upon Zuko now. 

"But fear is not what loyalty truly grows from." His voice lowered faintly. 

"Pride is."

The word settled unpleasantly within the chamber.

"Men followed me because I gave them purpose," Ozai continued evenly. 

"You replaced certainty with kindness and expected everyone to thank you for it." His mouth curved faintly.

"I replaced tyranny."

Ozai let out a low breath that almost resembled laughter.

"Such dramatic wording." His attention drifted briefly toward the torches lining the corridor outside before returning toward his son. 

"Tell me honestly, Zuko. When your guards looked upon me years ago, what did they see?"

Zuko remained silent.

"A conqueror," Ozai answered himself. "A ruler unafraid of power." His expression sharpened faintly afterward. 

"When they look upon you, they see hesitation."

The words struck harder than Zuko wished admitting.

He didn't believe them fully, but a small part of him feared they might be true.

"You speak endlessly, for a man rotting inside a cell." Zuko replied tightly.

That finally earned a fuller smile from Ozai.

"There you are."

Zuko's jaw tightened.

Ozai still knew exactly where to press.

It exhausted him.

"You continue avoiding the question." Zuko said sharply. "If these men acted under your influence, then someone has been communicating with you."

"Do you truly believe, that men require constant reminders to remain loyal to their beliefs?" He asked quietly

Zuko stared at him.

The prison chamber suddenly felt colder.

"Enough."

The word left him harsher than intended, and Ozai observed him for another moment before finally sighing faintly through his nose.

"No one visits me, son."

The sentence came weakly.

"Not ministers. Not soldiers. Not hidden loyalists." His eyes lingered steadily upon Zuko. 

"Only you."

Silence settled heavily afterward.

Zuko should have felt reassured hearing it.

Instead, his confusion only deepened further because Ozai sounded truthful.

"You remain the sole visitor to my lonely little chamber," Ozai continued softly, mockery threading subtly beneath the words once more. 

"Though admittedly your visits have become disappointingly infrequent."

Zuko exhaled slowly through his nose before turning away sharply from the bars.

The conversation had gained him nothing.

Behind him, Ozai's voice followed calmly through the darkness.

"You should be careful, Zuko."

The warning halted him despite himself.

"You spend so much time searching for enemies resembling me, that one day you may fail to notice the ones who do not." Ozai murmured.

Zuko left without answering.

You had slept terribly.

Whether the fault belonged to the wound stretched across your back or to the memory of what had transpired within Zuko's chambers, you could not fully determine, though every attempt at rest throughout the night had eventually dissolved into shallow exhaustion and restless thoughts.

By the time you finally rose from bed, sunlight had already shifted high beyond the palace windows.

The physician assigned to your care had visited earlier that morning, arriving with quiet professionalism and the faint scent of medicinal herbs. He examined your body carefully, replacing the wrappings across your shoulder and back while asking measured questions regarding dizziness, fever, and pain.

To his visible relief, your condition appeared stable.

"You are recovering better than anticipated," he had remarked thoughtfully while securing the final bandage. 

"Particularly considering the extent of inflammation surrounding the wound yesterday evening."

You merely offered polite agreement.

Truthfully, your body felt heavy enough that even sitting upright for prolonged periods exhausted you. Still, the physician seemed satisfied by your progress.

Before leaving, he reminded you firmly of the medicine prepared for you upon the bedside table, instructing complete bed rest and minimal movement before promising to return the following day to inspect the healing more thoroughly.

Complete bed rest.

Unfortunately, isolation and silence proved considerably less tolerable by noon.

And so, eventually, boredom overcame you.

The Fire Lord's chambers had remained quiet since morning, untouched save for the occasional servants arriving briefly with fresh water or food trays before departing immediately. Left entirely alone within rooms far too large for a single recovering guest, you eventually found yourself wandering through them aimlessly simply to occupy your thoughts.

Your movements remained slow, the sluggish heaviness belonging to exhaustion.

You avoided lifting your injured arm more than necessary while crossing the chambers, careful not to aggravate the healing shoulder beneath the loose robes provided for you. Anything positioned too high upon shelves or mounted against walls remained deliberately untouched, and despiie passing the large wardrobe several times throughout your wandering, you refused yourself even a glance toward it altogether.

Some boundaries still felt important maintaining.

Instead, your attention drifted elsewhere as the small study adjoining his chambers stood partially open, and after a moment's hesitation, curiosity eventually carried you quietly inside.

Scrolls remained stacked neatly across shelves lining the walls while maps lay partially unrolled across the large desk near the windows, several marked heavily with inked notes and military positioning routes. 

One corner held old Pai Sho tiles arranged midgame beside an untouched teacup long gone cold, and near the shelves rested a collection of swords displayed carefully upon dark lacquered mounts.

Your attention lingered briefly upon one particular object resting beside the desk afterward.

An old glider staff.

You paused at the sight of it.

The wood appeared aged from use, repaired carefully near one edge where a fracture once split through it years ago. Resting beside it sat several smaller items far less ceremonious than anything else within the room; a faded Pai Sho token carved from pale stone, and tucked partially beneath several scrolls, an old sketch rendered clumsily that made you smile despite yourself.

Aang. Katara. Sokka. Toph. And Zuko himself standing awkwardly near the edge.

The drawing looked terrible, a trait of Sokka you remember Aang describing to you once.

Somehow it only made it feel more precious.

Your fingers hovered faintly above the parchment before withdrawing again quietly.

Something softened unpleasantly inside your chest then, the sudden awareness of how deeply intertwined all their lives truly remained even years later.

Before the thought could settle further, however, a knock sounded sharply against the chamber doors.

You startled slightly at the interruption, instinctively pressing one hand against the desk edge before recovering yourself.

"Come in," you called softly, walking out to the room, closing the study room door behind you.

The chambers doors opened moments later.

An usher stepped carefully into the chambers, dressed in formal palace attire trimmed neatly with crimson and gold while his posture remained respectfully lowered upon noticing you standing.

"My lady, it pleases me greatly to see you upon your feet. I had hoped your recovery progressed favorably." He greeted politely.

You offered him a faint smile.

"I simply needed to move about for a while, though I assure you I intend returning to rest shortly." You replied honestly.

"I am relieved to hear it." The usher inclined his head respectfully before continuing. 

"However, you need not continue resting within these chambers."

Your brows furrowed slightly. The man stepped aside gently then.

"I have been instructed to escort you to your new room, should you permit it."

Your brows furrowed faintly at the usher's words.

"My new room?" you repeated slowly before another thought struck you almost immediately afterward. 

"Were my belongings recovered from the fire?"

The usher hesitated, and the pause unsettled you.

"We recovered what we could, my lady," he replied carefully, a trace of sympathy softening his otherwise formal tone. 

"The salvaged items have already been arranged within your new chambers."

Something about the vagueness of it settled unpleasantly inside your chest.

The usher clearly intended reassurance, yet the faint sadness crossing his expression suggested far more had been lost. You considered questioning him further, though the impending reality made the effort itself feel burdensome.

So instead, you merely inclined your head softly.

"I understand."

The walk through the palace corridors terrified you.

Every passing servant dressed in dark crimson robes made your pulse jump unexpectedly within your chest, and each turn around the hallways left you bracing instinctively for the possibility of suddenly encountering the Fire Lord himself standing somewhere ahead.

You did not know what frightened you more.

The thought of seeing him, or the thought of not knowing how either of you were supposed to behave afterward.

The memory of last night still lingered far too vividly beneath your skin, impossible to separate from the quiet shame curling through your stomach each time you allowed yourself thinking about it for too long. 

Several times throughout the walk, you nearly convinced yourself he would already be waiting within the chambers prepared for you, perhaps out of guilt regarding the fire, perhaps to apologize, perhaps simply because neither of you properly understood how to exist around one another anymore after what happened.

Thankfully when the doors finally opened, he was nowhere inside.

Relief arrived so quickly it almost weakened your knees.

The room resembled the chambers you previously occupied almost identically in structure and arrangement, from the lacquered table to the embroidered bedding draped elegantly across the large bed. 

Only small differences betrayed otherwise.

The decorative screens bore different carvings. The wall hangings carried older Fire Nation patterns woven carefully through black and gold silk.

And standing near the far side of the room rested two portable clothing rails draped heavily with robes far finer than anything you liked.

Beautiful silks cascaded elegantly from polished wooden frames in layered shades of deep crimson, burnt amber, dark ivory, and muted gold, their embroidery unmistakably Fire Nation in craftsmanship. 

Beside them rested a small box left partially open upon a low table, revealing delicate jewelry crafted in the sharp elegant style favored throughout the capital.

You turned slowly back toward the usher in confusion.

Before you could question him, however, he had already stepped aside while one of the accompanying guards approached carrying a small chest carefully between both hands.

The guard opened it respectfully toward you.

Relief struck instantly.

Your jewelry rested safely within velvet lining exactly where you remembered leaving it before the fire, untouched despite everything, and beside it remained several bundled letters tied carefully together with faded ribbon.

Your letters.

You exhaled quietly before realizing how tightly you had been holding your breath.

Stepping forward immediately, you accepted the chest carefully into your hands before checking the letters yourself, fingertips brushing gently across familiar parchment edges while something inside your chest loosened faintly for the first time since arriving within the palace.

The usher smiled politely at the sight.

"These were among the few possessions recovered intact from your previous chambers," he explained. "His Majesty instructed they be transferred personally to your new residence."

You nodded softly, still looking down toward the letters.

"And the robes?" you asked quietly.

"The Fire Lord felt deeply regretful regarding the damage done to your belongings during the attack," the usher answered smoothly. 

"These garments were commissioned this morning in hopes they might ease your stay here somewhat." His expression softened politely.

"His Majesty also expressed hope that the styles and colors selected would prove agreeable to you."

Your fingers tightened faintly around the chest.

Morning.

Meaning he had ordered them only hours after leaving your chambers.

Carefully, you placed you recovered belongings upon the bed beside you before offering the usher a restrained nod of gratitude.

"You have my thanks."

The servants bowed respectfully before departing, the doors closing softly behind them while silence settled gradually through the chambers once more.

Only then did you finally step closer toward the rows of newly prepared robes.

Your fingertips brushed lightly against the fabrics hanging before you, the silks impossibly smooth beneath your touch while intricate golden stitching glimmered subtly.

Beautiful and expensive.

But meant to be thoughtful.

Your jaw tightened faintly.

Was this truly an apology for the fire or for something else entirely?

a/n: i've received a lot of messages after chapter 11, and while i completely understand people being upset or even angry, i need to say something.

this story has always been tagged with infidelity, and i've never hidden that fact. if cheating is a trope you absolutely cannot stand, then this story probably isn't for you, and that's completely okay. however, i do think some people are jumping to conclusions about where the story is heading. just because something happened between reader and zuko does not automatically mean she is going to end up with him.

i'm not writing this story for the sake of shipping wars or proving which relationship is "better." this story is, first and foremost, a character study. it's my way of exploring emotions, relationships, mistakes, consequences, and perspectives that i don't normally get to write about.

more than anything, tbtr started as a way for me to fall back in love with writing after spending over two years stuck in a creative block.

that being said, while i read and reply to every message because i genuinely appreciate hearing everyone's thoughts and reactions, i do not appreciate being scolded in my inbox for writing exactly what i warned readers i was going to write.

you are allowed to dislike the story. you are allowed to dislike the characters. you are allowed to disagree with their actions. But please don't be rude to me because the story did something you knew it was going to do.

if this story is no longer something you enjoy reading, then i sincerely encourage you to step away from it rather than continue reading something that only frustrates you.

thank you to everyone who has been reading, even when the story takes turns you don't personally enjoy.

[taglist open] (please mention under the latest chapter or the story masterlist)

masterlist

She could heal Appa far better than the physicians here ever could, and if he was being honest with himself, part of him simply wanted to see someone familiar again after everything that had happened. 

He wanted to hear Sokka complain loudly about the estate food, hear Toph mock the ridiculous formalities surrounding Hujiang, and hear Katara scold him for nearly getting himself killed in a storm before inevitably helping him anyway.

Spirits.

At this point, he felt he might genuinely cry just seeing one of them walk through the door.

The solution itself had been painfully simple.

Write to Katara and ask her to come. Have Appa healed properly. 

He knew she would arrive if he asked her, and yet, the brush still hovered uselessly above blank parchment, because hesitation had settled inside him.

He was thinking ahead. Zuko had taught him that.

Not intentionally, perhaps, though watching Uncle Iroh guide the new Fire Lord navigate politics and diplomacy for the past years had forced Aang to understand something uncomfortable about the world. 

Every action carries consequences far beyond the moment itself, and it is only amplified so for someone carrying the title of Avatar.

Usually, Aang ignored that lesson whenever possible.

He preferred simpler, kinder decisions.

But tonight he could not stop thinking.

His thoughts kept circling backward endlessly, searching desperately for the exact moment everything had begun unraveling.

Was it when he turned away from you within the marketplace to help the frightened child who had nearly collided with a merchant stall?

Or perhaps earlier, when he agreed to let you accompany him despite knowing you possessed absolutely no sense of direction whatsoever.

Then his thoughts drifted farther back.

To the storm.

To Appa screaming in pain beneath the lightning sky while Aang desperately struggled to keep control against the violent winds tearing around them.

Perhaps this entire nightmare truly began there.

He had known a storm was coming that day.

Any sensible airbender would have delayed travel entirely, especially with Appa already exhausted from weeks of flying across the Earth Kingdom beforehand. But Aang had grown too confident in his abilities recently confident in how much stronger his bending had become since the war ended, and he never stopped to considering whether Appa himself could safely withstand such conditions.

That single choice had led them here.

To Appa crippled within an infirmary. To Momo missing. To you—

Aang shut his eyes tightly.

Then came the next question.

If Katara arrived here, what then?

Lord Shuren already viewed him as the source of disgrace within his household. The advisor had taken enormous pride in personally caring for the Avatar during recovery, no doubt presenting himself openly throughout Hujiang as the man who aided the world's savior.

If Katara appeared suddenly and healed Appa within days, what would that do to Shuren's pride?

And even worse, what would happen to you afterward?

Aang had already come to understand the terrifying truth. 

You did not possess freedom within this estate. Every decision surrounding your life seemed tied directly to your father's approval, to whatever preserved appearances best before the kingdom.

If Aang angered Lord Shuren further, you might suffer for it instead.

Frustration finally snapped through as he abruptly stood from the table, the pen slipping from his grasp before striking against the wood and splattering dark ink across the untouched parchment.

Aang dragged both hands harshly across his face while pacing toward the bed.

Then he simply dropped onto it heavily, staring upward toward the ceiling while exhaustion tangled painfully through his body.

Sleep was difficult as Aang found himself trying to solve a situation where no answer seemed capable of making everyone walk away unharmed.

But he still wanted to try.

Aang had not truly realized until this morning just how separated your chambers were from the rest of the estate.

No servant would answer him directly.

The moment he asked where you resided, conversation tightened around him before polite excuses followed, each servant suddenly remembering another task elsewhere within the manor. 

Some lowered their heads respectfully while avoiding his eyes entirely, while others simply hurried away before he could ask twice.

Everyone knew.

The entire estate already understood how dangerous it would appear for the Avatar to seek you out after the events of last night. The servants did not even need instructions to avoid aiding him. 

Fear for your reputation alone seemed enough to silence them.

Eventually, he came across two of your maids walking together through one of the eastern corridors.

Aang recognized them immediately.

The older one, Lian, carried herself with the same composed firmness she had displayed the first day he barged carelessly into your dressing chambers. Beside her stood Nari, visibly younger and significantly easier to read, her nervousness practically radiating the moment she noticed the Avatar approaching them.

Aang barely managed a greeting before Lian interrupted him calmly.

"My lady is unavailable."

The tone alone made it clear no argument would alter her answer.

"Please, I just need to see her!"  Aang tried anyway.

"You should not." Lian replied simply.

Then, without another word, she continued down the corridor.

Nari lingered behind briefly.

The younger maid avoided looking directly at him while nervously twisting her sleeves between her fingers.

Aang lowered his voice slightly.

"I just want to make sure she's okay."

Nari hesitated, then finally, she answered.

"She is rather upset at the moment, so she remains alone." Her eyes darted quickly down the corridor afterward before she stepped slightly closer. 

"If you insist upon seeing her...please ensure no one notices."

Even with directions, reaching your chambers proved difficult.

Aang stood out too easily.

The blue arrows covering his skin, the unmistakable robes of an Air Nomad, the heavy red outer garment returned to him earlier that morning after finally leaving your grasp—every servant who passed him looked twice before quickly pretending otherwise.

Still, he reached your chambers eventually.

He had spent nearly the entire night thinking of you. Even exhaustion had failed to silence his thoughts properly. Every time sleep threatened to pull him under, his mind dragged him back toward the abandoned house, toward the unbearable helplessness lingering across your face while you cried beneath his robes.

At some point during the night, amidst all the panic and confusion clouding his thoughts, an idea had finally taken shape.

A possible solution.

Something that might repair your reputation without forcing you to carry further humiliation.

Something that might satisfy Lord Shuren, preserve your dignity, and allow this terrible thing to stop swallowing your life whole.

The thought alone had kept him awake close to dawn, and even once exhaustion finally overtook him, he slept so poorly that waking came hours later than usual, long after the noon sunlight had already spread fully across the estate.

Yet despite everything, he had come here with purpose. With hope.

Aang entered the room without knocking first.

He opened the doors carefully, slipping inside quietly before shutting them behind him.

You looked up immediately from where you rested against the headboard of your bed.

The curtains surrounding the room remained partially drawn against the afternoon light while blankets covered your legs entirely, though your upper body remained visible enough that the bruises decorating your skin stood impossible to ignore.

"Aang...?"

Relief struck him instantly at the sound of your voice. He exhaled quietly before walking farther into the room.

You looked alright at first glance.

You looked alright if he ignored the bruising surrounding your wrists. You looked alright if he ignored the darkened marks staining your throat and collarbones beneath the loose robes draped around your body.

You looked alright.

But you were not.

Even so, you still offered him a small smile before lowering your eyes toward the blankets gathered over your lap.

"You truly should not have come here." You murmured softly.

Aang nodded automatically before realizing you had not been looking at him at all.

"...I know, But I needed to talk to you." He admitted quietly.

He hesitated before moving toward the side of your bed and lowering himself carefully beside it, kneeling close so that he no longer needed to raise his voice for you to hear him.

You looked visibly surprised by the gesture. Still, you did not stop him.

Neither of you spoke, then, unexpectedly, you broke the silence first.

"You have woken much later than usual today. Did you struggle to sleep?" You observed gently.

Aang rubbed lightly at the back of his neck.

"...A little."

A faint smile touched your lips.

"Me as well."

The softness behind your voice nearly made the bruises surrounding it harder to bear looking at.

Aang swallowed quietly before finally forcing himself to ask the question that had followed him through the entire morning.

"What happens now?"

The silence lingered and he wondered if perhaps you would refuse answering.

Then finally—

"Nothing."

Aang frowned immediately.

"What do you mean?"

Your attention drifted toward the windows before returning downward once more.

"Gen has disappeared."

The words struck him hard, and he straightened instantly.

"What?"

"I am unsure where he has gone." You continued calmly.

Though something beneath your voice betrayed that you already knew far more than you allowed yourself to say aloud.

But Aang noticed the faint tightening around your mouth.

You knew.

Perhaps not the exact destination, nor the details surrounding his departure, but you understood.

And truthfully, so did he.

No servant escaped the estate unnoticed, especially not during the night following such scandal. Guards remained posted throughout every entrance surrounding the manor grounds, and after yesterday's chaos, the household had become even more alert than usual.

Someone had allowed Gen to leave.

Someone had chosen silence.

You understood that already.

Very few people within the estate believed your accusations. Outside of your four maids and Aang himself, the household seemed far more willing to protect the image of a loyal servant than acknowledge the possibility of such ugliness growing quietly beneath their own roof for years.

After all, accepting your truth would require every single one of them to confront the fact that they had welcomed Gen warmly into their lives while never noticing what he truly was.

It was easier to believe you mistaken.

You smiled bitterly, though anger restrained carefully beneath your composure sharpened every word leaving your mouth.

Aang stared at you in disbelief.

"How is that even possible?"

You remained quiet briefly before answering.

"He left behind a letter for my father."

Something cold settled inside Aang's chest.

You laughed once, because your restrained anger had nowhere else left to go.

"He wrote that he no longer felt welcome within the estate after being accused of such terrible things." You explained quietly. 

"He reminded father how loyal he remained to my brother all those years, and how even following Renji's death, gratitude alone compelled him to stay within our household despite possessing no obligation to do so any longer."

Your fingers tightened against the blankets gathered over your lap.

"He claimed he had begun viewing me as a younger sister," you continued, "and that hearing such monstrous accusations from someone he cared for so deeply wounded him beyond forgiveness."

Aang felt sick.

You inhaled slowly before continuing once more.

"So rather than burden the household further with scandal, he chose to leave quietly out of respect for the family who once showed kindness to an orphaned servant."

The silence felt suffocating. Then finally, you smiled again. A completely humorless smile.

"Quite touching, is it not?"

Aang remained quiet for several moments after your bitter remark faded into silence.

Then, almost instinctively, his hand moved toward yours.

The touch came carefully this time, being gentle so that he could pull away immediately if needed.

A small part of him loosened with relief when you did not flinch from it the way you had the previous night, though your attention lowered immediately toward where his fingers rested lightly across your bruised wrist. 

Without seeming fully aware of it himself, his thumb brushed softly against the discolored skin there, tracing absentminded circles over the injuries.

"I...have an plan." He admitted. 

"And you can say no if you want to. I mean it. If you hate it, then I'll help you think of something else instead." 

He hesitated briefly before adding—

"But just hear me out first."

You studied him silently, then your eyes drifted back toward his hand resting over yours.

Slowly, you lifted your free hand and placed it gently atop his before carefully guiding his touch away from your wrist. The movement carried no rejection within it, and Aang immediately let you move him without protest while you shifted on the bed.

Your legs slipped carefully over the side of the mattress before your posture straightened properly, forcing you to sit facing him fully now rather than hiding beneath blankets and shadows.

"Thank you, Aang," you murmured softly. "But I sincerely doubt you possess a solution capable of salvaging this situation."

"Like I said, you don't have to agree." He answered quickly. 

"It's just..." He hesitated, suddenly uncertain how to phrase it properly. "I don't know how you'd feel about leaving home."

The words startled you visibly.

"Leaving my home?" you repeated slowly, disbelief threading through every syllable.

The very idea sounded impossible. Hujiang had always been your future.

You were born here. Raised here.

Even your eventual marriage would not truly remove you from these lands, merely shift you from your father's estate toward the royal palace waiting farther within the kingdom.

Your entire life had been built around remaining exactly where you belonged.

And yet—

Something within Aang's expression made it painfully clear that the place he imagined for you no longer existed within Hujiang at all.

"Yes," he answered quietly. 

"I mean... I don't know if you're still going to marry Prince Jinhai, but—"

Your brows furrowed instantly.

"What precisely does His Highness have to do with this?" You interrupted. "Are you suggesting the prince no longer intends to marry me?"

The offense beneath your voice surprised him immediately.

"No!" Aang exclaimed quickly. "That's not what I meant at all. I just thought maybe if—"

The chamber doors suddenly opened before he could finish.

"My lady..."

Lian stopped abruptly the moment her eyes landed upon Aang kneeling beside your bed.

The older maid's expression hardened instantly before snapping toward Nari standing awkwardly behind her, the younger girl immediately lowering her head guiltily beneath the silent accusation directed her way.

Then Lian addressed Aang directly.

"Avatar Aang," she began firmly, "it would be wise for you to leave the lady's chambers at once. Had another servant discovered you here, the consequences could have—"

"What is in your hand?"

Your quiet interruption cut cleanly through her scolding.

Lian paused, and only then did Aang notice the rolled parchment clutched tightly within her grasp.

The maid's fingers curled instinctively around it.

"It is a letter. Two arrived from the palace moments ago. One addressed to the lord advisor..." She hesitated briefly. 

"And the other to you, my lady."

You looked ahead quietly for a moment before speaking again.

"I see. Read it to me."

Lian visibly stiffened.

"My lady, such correspondence is intended for your eyes alone—" She protested carefully,

"I shall not repeat myself, Lian."

Your voice silenced the room instantly.

Lian looked genuinely surprised, because even if she had witnessed your tone, she herself had never been subject to it.

Slowly, reluctantly, she unrolled the parchment within her hands while Aang remained perfectly still beside your bed, his entire attention fixed upon you alone.

My Lady, I have rewritten this letter more times than I care to admit, and still I find myself unable to place these thoughts into words that do not feel cruel. For many years, I accepted our betrothal as duty before anything else, yet somewhere along the passing of time, that duty became something far more familiar to me. Your future beside mine had become so deeply woven into my life that I confess I had long stopped imagining a future in which you were absent from it. Which is why writing this pains me more than I anticipated. Had yesterday's events remained private, perhaps matters may have unfolded differently. Yet too many witnessed the aftermath, and the word of your disappearance beside Avatar Aang, followed by Gen's departure from the estate before dawn, reached my father, His Majesty. I cannot burden him more in his ill state. I shall continue searching for Gen so that the truth of this matter may finally reveal itself fully, because despite everything, a part of me still wishes to believe your words. But I would be dishonest if I claimed certainty remains untouched within me. You disappeared beside another man. You concealed your growing closeness with him from me. I do not know the full truth of what transpired that evening. And perhaps that uncertainty itself has become the greatest fracture between us. You deserve honesty from me at the very least, and honesty compels me to admit that doubt has already settled where unwavering trust ought to have remained between two people promised to one another since childhood. For that reason, I can no longer proceed with our betrothal. Please do not mistake this decision for hatred toward you, for I possess none. If anything, I regret deeply that matters arrived at such a conclusion after all the years placed before us. May the Spirits guide you toward peace in the days ahead. — Jinhai

Aang could scarcely process the contents of the letter even after Lian's voice fell silent.

Part of him felt ashamed for the relief that had instinctively surfaced inside him the moment Prince Jinhai's words confirmed the broken betrothal. 

The reaction itself felt ugly considering the devastation sitting plainly before him, because regardless of what future this might open for his idea, the truth remained that you had just lost the final thing anchoring you to the life you possessed only yesterday.

Your future. Your title. Your place within Hujiang.

Gone within a single letter.

And perhaps what unsettled him most was the realization that only moments earlier, before the maids interrupted, you had already reached the very conclusion he intended suggesting himself. 

You had heard him speak of leaving home and immediately assumed Prince Jinhai no longer wished to marry you.

Aang had denied it instantly.

Yet somehow it had become true anyway.

You swallowed visibly before finally speaking.

"Leave us."

Lian hesitated only briefly this time as no argument followed.

The maid rolled the letter shut quietly before bowing her head and exiting the chambers with Nari hurrying silently behind her. The doors closed softly moments later, leaving only yourself and Aang alone within the room.

Then suddenly, you laughed.

The sound startled him.

"So, it appears His Highness found my adventures with the Avatar considerably less charming than you did." You murmured faintly,

Aang immediately shook his head.

"That's not fair."

"Is it not?"

"He should've believed you."

You smiled faintly at that.

"No. He should have trusted me. Belief proves useless once trust has already failed." You corrected quietly

Aang inhaled slowly afterward before finally forcing himself to speak.

"This is what I wanted to talk to you about."

You looked toward him again.

And this time, Aang did not hesitate.

"I'll accept your father's proposal."

The shock crossing your face appeared immediate.

"...What?"

"I'm serious," he continued quickly before you could interrupt. 

"Your father wanted us married because he thought it would give you a better future, right? Then maybe we can use that."

You stared at him outright now.

"Aang—"

"You don't have to stay here anymore. That's what I'm trying to say." He pressed on.

Offense sharpened instantly across your expression.

"You believe marriage to you would somehow free me?"

"No, that's not—" Aang stopped himself before trying again more carefully. 

"I mean...yes. Kind of. But not in the way you think."

You looked thoroughly unconvinced.

Aang hurried onward before losing his nerve entirely.

"You wouldn't have to leave immediately." He explained. 

"Appa still needs time to recover, and I'm not leaving until I find Momo anyway, so nothing has to change right away. But once we're married, your father can't force you into another engagement just because Prince Jinhai backed out."

Your brows furrowed deeply.

"And then what?" You asked quietly.

Aang hesitated briefly before answering honestly.

"Then eventually I leave, but you'd still be my wife, so no one here could really do anything about it." He admitted.

The absurdity of the conversation nearly showed across your face.

"Aang—"

"I know it sounds weird." He interrupted quickly. 

"But listen—I'm not asking you to actually be my wife. You don't have to do anything." He rubbed nervously at the back of his neck before continuing. 

"You can stay here as long as you want. I'll visit whenever I can, and when you're finally ready to leave Hujiang...You could come to Republic City." His voice softened slightly.

You remained silent.

"You said you admired Toph when I talked about her," he reminded gently. "And Katara too. You liked hearing about how she changed things in the Northern Water Tribe." 

A faint smile tugged briefly across his face. 

"Katara would help you. Honestly, she'd probably love you."

That finally earned the faintest shift in your expression.

"And once you're settled, once you have your own life and your own place somewhere nobody controls every decision you make..." He exhaled slowly.

"We can end the marriage completely when you wish. You'd be free."

Zuko listened without interrupting you once.

The room had grown almost entirely dark by now, the torch left burning low and the shadows swallowed most of his features whenever he shifted even slightly beside the bed. Still, you could make out the tension lingering across his expression the longer your story unfolded, particularly once Aang entered it.

"He was only trying to help you," Zuko murmured quietly.

The words carried no accusation toward either of you.

He leaned his head back lightly against the side of the mattress, turning his face slightly away from you while staring somewhere toward the darkened ceiling beyond.

"Yes." you answered softly. 

"It was an incredibly ambitious idea. One I would never have expected from him." A faint breath escaped you then, almost resembling laughter. 

"But I was grateful regardless."

Zuko remained quiet briefly before asking—

"Seeing as how you are here today, I am assuming you agreed."

"Not initially." You paused. 

"I actually struck him across the face."

His head turned toward you immediately, visible surprise crossing his features despite everything weighing upon the conversation, you laughed properly for the first time all evening.

"You hit him?"

"It was not one of my finer moments."

"Why?"

The question lingered between you quietly.

"Because it angered me." You admitted honestly. 

"Not him. The situation itself." Your fingers tightened faintly against the mattress. 

"It was not his responsibility to repair what happened to me. None of it was his fault either, and yet throughout that entire night, a part of me continued wondering how different my life might have remained had he simply never arrived within Hujiang at all."

The confession tasted ugly spoken aloud.

"I blamed his presence for ruining everything." you whispered. 

"And I hated myself for it almost immediately because he was the only person trying to help me while everyone else doubted my words."

You inhaled slowly before continuing.

"The moment my hand struck him, I regretted it." Your voice softened further then. 

"Because when I looked at him, I realized he had already been blaming himself too."

Zuko's attention remained fixed entirely upon you now.

You swallowed thickly.

"Everyone around me questioned my honesty, My father, the servants, even Jinhai..." Your voice faltered briefly before steadying again. 

"And perhaps that was why I finally broke in front of Aang. Because despite everything, he was the only person beside me."

A few tears slipped free before you fully realized they had formed.

You shifted slightly on the bed, pressing your face briefly into the bedding beneath you to hide the evidence of them before finally turning back toward Zuko once more.

"I had not even noticed myself crying at first." You admitted faintly. 

"Then suddenly he was holding me while I sat there mourning the fact that my own father abandoned me the moment believing me proved inconvenient."

The bitterness within those words settled heavily between you both.

"I agreed to leave," you whispered quietly, holding Zuko's eyes through the darkness despite the tears still clinging faintly to your lashes, "because for the first time in my life, I understood Hujiang could no longer remain my home."

A bitter smile threatened briefly before fading just as quickly.

"It is a strange thing," you continued softly, "how words written upon paper can alter the course of an entire life. A few strokes of ink, a signature at the bottom, and suddenly every future you had imagined for yourself no longer exists."

You exhaled weakly.

"Gen left behind a letter. Prince Jinhai sent one of his own. Neither man had ever occupied enough of my life to warrant such influence over it, yet their words carried more weight than my own ever did."

The confession lingered heavily between you.

"I think that was the cruelest part." Your voice lowered further. "Not losing my engagement. Not even losing my home."

A quiet breath escaped you.

"It was realizing how easily a letter can decide whether your life belongs to you at all."

The silence stretching afterward should have been the end of it.

Truly, it should have.

You remained lying where you were, your cheek resting against the pillow while Zuko sat beside the bed in the dim lanternlight, both of you too exhausted to continue speaking yet somehow equally unwilling to disturb the strange quietness settling through the room. 

Outside the chambers, the palace had long since fallen asleep. Even the servants moving through the halls earlier had disappeared entirely.

Zuko exhaled slowly before lowering his head back against the mattress behind him.

"Aang would be furious if he knew you were telling me all of this instead of him."

The remark carried the faintest trace of dry humor.

You smiled weakly.

"No. He would only grow confused why I shared it with you."

Zuko looked toward you at the exact same time.

From where he sat beside the bed and where you lay turned toward him, there existed barely enough space now for either of you to pretend this still resembled proper conversation.

"You should hate me a little."

The statement arrived so abruptly that you blinked.

"Oh, I do."

A weak chuckle accompanied the remark, though it faded when he failed to return it.

"I am truly sorry for what I said this afternoon." He apologized, and the sadness that crossed his expression felt genuine enough to stir a faint guilt within you.

"You could not have known."

"That remains no excuse."

His answer came immediately.

"I spoke carelessly. Worse, I judged you before understanding the circumstances." His eyes lowered briefly. 

"I have spent enough of my life resenting those who did the same to me. I should have known better."

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

"Well, I did tell you that you ought to have been more mindful." You said at last, 

The corner of your mouth lifted faintly.

"But I shall not hold it against you. This once."

The warning earned the faintest huff of amusement from him.

"This shall be the final occasion upon which I forgive you so readily."

"You forgive me?" The disbelief in his voice nearly made you laugh.

"Do not sound so surprised."

"I had assumed I would be apologizing for considerably longer." He confessed.

"Perhaps you should." You stated with a taunting smile.

"Still, I have been informed that forgiveness is considered a virtue." You added after a moment

"And who informed you of that?" Zuko questioned, looking away from you, already expecting Aang's name.

"Unfortunately, my father."

A quiet huff escaped him.

"I find that difficult to believe."

You lifted a brow. "And why is that?"

"Because from everything you have told me this evening, he appears to have possessed remarkably little faith in forgiveness."

The observation lingered between you.

Your smile faded slightly.

"He loved me."

The answer arrived immediately.

"He loved me very much."

Zuko did not dispute it.

You had spoken of abandonment, of betrayal, of a father who refused to believe you when it mattered most, and yet there remained no hesitation when speaking of his love.

For a moment, he found himself wondering whether that made the situation better or infinitely worse.

"Perhaps." He conceded quietly.

"He was not a cruel man." You spoke, and your expression softened.

It was painfully obvious to him that you were trying to convince yourself of a lie. 

"No, I do not believe he was." Zuko agreed so as to not worsened your mood.

Silence settled once more.

Then—

"But I listened to all of that, and the only thing I could think about was how badly I wished someone had protected you sooner." He said quietly,

The confession settled heavily between you.

You stared at him for a long moment, something tightening painfully inside your chest at the sheer sincerity behind the words.

There was no performance in Zuko. No attempt to charm you. If anything, he sounded almost frustrated with himself for admitting it aloud.

For years, you had grown accustomed to people speaking about what should become of you.

Even your grief had only been met with solutions rather than understanding, every wound treated as something to be managed and endured with dignity rather than simply mourned.

Then Aang had arrived and, somehow, without intending to, disrupted all of it.

You still remembered the way he would listen without immediately offering an answer. The way he seemed far more interested in how something made you feel than in what ought to be done about it. 

It had frustrated you at first. Then it had become comforting, and without even noticing, you had grown accustomed to being seen by him.

And tonight, after listening to every humiliating and painful detail of your life unravel, the only thing troubling Zuko seemed to be the fact that no one had stood between you and the suffering.

It left you strangely speechless.

"I am not certain what to say to that." You confessed.

"You need not say anything."

The answer came quietly as his attention remained upon the torch on the wall.

"I only thought it deserved to be said." He admitted.

The room settled into silence once more, one that wasn't the strained silence of strangers struggling to fill empty space.

Your attention drifted toward him, inevitably toward the scar crossing his face.

A scar that had kept you curious ever since you had seen him, one of which you finally knew the suffering behind it.

"Does it still hurt?"

The question escaped before you could reconsider it.

For a moment, Zuko appeared surprised. Then his hand lifted instinctively toward the burn before understanding quietly settled across his expression.

You had not been asking about the scar.

"No," he answered softly.

Something in his voice eased.

"Not anymore."

The reassurance carried more meaning than the words themselves, and whether he intended it or not, it reached far beyond the old burn upon his face.

You nodded slowly.

There was something unexpectedly comforting about that answer, perhaps because both of you understood it had never truly been about the scar at all. 

Pain had a way of convincing you it would remain forever, only for time to quietly prove otherwise when you were no longer paying attention. The realization settled gently between you, unspoken yet somehow understood all the same, and neither of you seemed particularly inclined to disturb it with further conversation. 

The night had already stripped away more honesty than either of you intended to offer, leaving behind a silence that felt strangely easier to inhabit than words.

You simply stared at each other, finding an odd understanding in your vastly different pasts. 

Neither of you moved back.

Neither of you seemed fully conscious of leaning closer either, exhaustion dragging every thought slower than usual while grief and memory and warmth tangled together and you couldn't stop quickly enough.

Then your lips touched.

Softly.

So softly that for one suspended second it barely felt real at all.

You remained there in stunned stillness afterward, your breath caught somewhere painfully high within your chest while warmth spread sharply beneath your skin. 

Zuko did not move either. The weight of the moment rested quietly between you both, neither deepening the contact nor breaking it, simply existing there within the terrible intimacy of realizing what had just happened.

Then his hand rose carefully toward your face, the touch against your cheek hesitant and cold, made to undo you entirely.

And without thinking, you shifted upward, closer toward him in return.

Pain shot violently through your shoulder.

A sharp gasp tore from you immediately as agony ripped across your back, wrenching you completely out of the haze. Your body recoiled on instinct while shock crashed into you all at once, your eyes widening as reality finally caught up with what had happened.

Spirits.

Zuko moved instantly, one hand reaching toward your arm to steady you.

"Did your wound reopen—"

"Leave."

The word escaped you too quickly, your voice trembling that it barely sounded like yourself.

Zuko froze.

And then the moment reached him too.

You watched the realization settle across his face in awful silence while he stepped back from the bed, one hand lifting toward his face before stopping midway there, the slight tremor in his fingers visible even within the dimness of the room.

Neither of you spoke.

There was nothing either of you could possibly say that would not make the moment cease to exist.

Zuko walked quietly toward the doors before leaving the chambers without another word.

The torch on the wall flickered once after he was gone, casting the room into shadow before the flame steadied itself again.

You did not sleep for the rest of the night.

chapter twelve coming soon...

a/n: well.

[taglist open] (please mention under the latest chapter or the story masterlist)

masterlist

Perhaps your father himself would put a sword through his throat and send him into the afterlife, praying your brother's spirit would finish what remained.

Those thoughts had kept you conscious while your arms started to numb and the night began to fall. They had given you something to hold onto until Aang finally found you.

Yet the truth standing before you now looked nothing like the vengeance you had imagined.

The crack of the slap still rang inside your skull.

Your head had snapped to the side from the force of it, the taste of iron flooding your mouth while heat spread across your cheek. 

For a moment, you could only stare at the ground beneath you, unable to understand what had just happened, because your father had never struck you before. 

Not once in your life.

Slowly, your eyes lifted toward him, burning with tears that refused to stay contained because you had to swallow the bitter reality.

This was his reaction.

Not rage for what had been done to you, but only fury directed at you for daring to speak it aloud.

This was how he reacted to speaking your truth?

The moment your father spoke of Gen informing them of what had transpired, the very last thing you expected was to see Gen himself descend from one of the carriages moments later.

He looked devastated.

His eyes appeared swollen red beneath the torchlight while his trembling hands clutched tightly around the silks that had once covered your body, the same robes he himself had stripped from you hours earlier before abandoning them purposefully along the roads leading away from the marketplace.

The sight alone made something cold twist inside your stomach.

Then your father looked toward him, and in that instant, you understood.

Gen had already spoken first.

"He informed us that you and the Avatar had disappeared together for several hours!" Your father continued sharply, his voice lowered to avoid carrying toward all who stood nearby though the anger beneath it was undoubtedly heard by everyone/

"When neither of you returned at the promised hour, he set out searching for you himself. He claims he discovered your discarded robes abandoned along the roadside."

Your lips parted weakly as you attempt to defend yourself.

"That is not true..." You whispered.

Your father barely seemed to hear you.

"He returned to the estate in distress," he pressed on. "Terrified that harm had come upon you."

Harm.

The word nearly made you ill.

Because Gen had indeed looked distressed when he approached you within the marketplace earlier that afternoon. 

Panic had covered his expression so convincingly that concern seized you immediately the moment he reached your side, his voice hurried beneath the noise of the crowded merchant streets.

You could barely understand half the words leaving him.

He had kept glancing over his shoulder anxiously while insisting he needed to speak to you somewhere quieter. And when his hand wrapped urgently around your wrist to guide you away from the crowds, suspicion never once crossed your mind.

Not even once.

You remembered turning your head instinctively toward where Aang still stood nearby helping a merchant, ready to call out to him before following Gen any farther.

Then everything had happened at once.

Gen's hand hand covered your mouth, a cloth pressing against your face.

The unfamiliar scent had flooded your lungs that had made panic explode instantly through your body.

You had struggled desperately against him.

For nearly a full minute, you fought to pull free while your vision blurred unevenly around the crowded marketplace surrounding you both. Through the narrow opening between buildings, you could still see Aang searching frantically nearby, confusion already settling across his face upon noticing your disappearance.

You remembered trying to scream.

Trying to force your body toward him despite Gen's grip tightening harder each second.

Despite the ruckus, no one around you noticed.

The marketplace remained alive with merchants shouting over one another and customers crowding the stalls, far too distracted by entertainment and trade to pay attention to one frightened woman being dragged into a secluded alleyway.

You held onto hope for as long as you could.

Hope that Aang would look toward you, that he would notice.

Hope that he would turn around before the darkness swallowing your vision consumed you entirely.

But the last thing you remembered seeing before consciousness abandoned you was Aang disappearing farther into the marketplace searching for you in the wrong direction.

Everything after only came to you in fragments. You had felt the rough texture of an old robe being thrown over your body. The overwhelming dizziness stealing strength from your limbs.

And the horrible awareness of yourself being lifted helplessly onto one of the ostrich-horses, your unconscious body slumped against the very man who had done this to you.

Every part of it had been Gen.

Aang's attention remained fixed upon you even after your father pulled you away from his side.

Something about the way Lord Shuren held you unsettled him deeply. 

The older man's grip appeared far too harsh against someone already struggling to remain upright, and when you stumbled slightly due to the exhaustion weighing your body down, Aang instinctively stepped forward.

"Wait—! She can barely walk—"

His movement halted almost immediately once Prince Jinhai had stepped into his path.

The two guards accompanying the prince positioned themselves silently at either side of him while torchlight they held flickered across polished armor and embroidered royal silks, casting long shadows against the dirt roads.

"This has become a rather unfortunate turn of events." Prince Jinhai remarked calmly.

Aang reluctantly dragged his attention away from you, though even while facing the prince, his concern kept pulling toward where Lord Shuren had taken you farther beside the carriages.

"Is she going to be okay?" He asked honestly.

The question seemed to catch Prince Jinhai entirely off guard.

For the first time since Aang had met him, the carefully composed stoicism cracked across the prince's face before a brief laugh escaped him in genuine disbelief.

"It appears the two of you have grown rather close within a remarkably short amount of time." he observed, amusement still lingering faintly beneath his words. 

"Though perhaps you remain unaware that the lady is my betrothed."

"I know she is," Aang answered immediately. "And I'm not trying to—" He stopped himself with visible frustration before correcting his words properly. 

"I admire her. She's kind, and she helped me when she really didn't have to. But that's all."

That response seemed to surprise Prince Jinhai further. The prince studied him carefully before speaking once more, his amusement now subtle though no less formal.

"Then I confess myself somewhat confused."

Aang frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"I had understood Air Nomads to practice celibacy until marriage." Prince Jinhai continued thoughtfully. 

"Though I suppose your rather tragic circumstances may have altered certain customs over time."

Aang immediately disliked the direction of the conversation. Still, he forced himself to remain silent.

"Even so," the prince continued, "the lady ought to have exercised greater restraint despite her existing betrothal. This entire matter is deeply unfortunate for all involved."

Aang's confusion sharpened instantly.

"What are you talking about?"

Prince Jinhai looked genuinely puzzled by the question itself.

"You fled together, did you not?" he asked plainly. "Surely I need not pretend ignorance regarding what occurred afterward."

Aang stared at him, then realization struck against him and anger surged instantly through his chest.

"What?!" he exclaimed. "No! I didn't touch her—"

The rest of his words vanished beneath the sharp crack of a slap echoing through the night air.

The sound had silenced everything.

Aang and Prince Jinhai turned at the exact same moment alongside nearly every guard surrounding the carriages, their attention snapping immediately toward the source of the strike echoing through the outskirts.

Your father still stood before you with his hand outstretched from the impact.

Meanwhile, you remained frozen several steps away from him, one trembling hand clutching your cheek while shock spread visibly across your face.

The force of the slap had nearly knocked you sideways, and in your disorientation, your weakened fingers instinctively loosened around the red robes wrapped tightly across your body.

The fabric slipped from your shoulders at once enough for the thin inner robes beneath to become visible, the delicate material clinging unevenly against your body while the bruises scattered across your throat and chest revealed themselves in cruel clarity before everyone present.

You saw your father's expression darken instantly at the sight.

It wasn't disbelief or horror that struck his countenance. 

It was disgust.

The sneer curling faintly across his face struck harder than the slap itself.

Aang felt anger ripple through him instantly.

"Hey—!"

He moved without thinking.

The moment he stepped forward, Prince Jinhai's guards reacted immediately, both men crossing their spears sharply before him to block his path while the prince's calm voice followed only a second later.

"It would be wise not to interfere, Avatar Aang."

"He just hit her!" Aang snapped furiously, struggling against the crossed spears barring his path.

"Why aren't you stopping him?!"

Then his eyes caught movement near one of the carriages.

Gen.

The moment Aang saw him standing there clutching the discarded silks against his chest while avoiding everyone's eyes, something inside him twisted harshly making his snarl.

"You."

The word left him cold.

A burst of air exploded outward before either guard could react properly, the force sweeping both men entirely off their feet while their spears scattered uselessly across the dirt roads.

Several guards nearby shouted in alarm immediately, though Aang barely heard any of it while striding toward Gen with barely restrained fury.

Gen stepped backward instinctively.

Too late.

The earth beneath him had shifted with Aang's hands.

Stone and dirt surged upward around his ankles in one swift movement, hardening instantly around his legs before locking him firmly into place. Gen cried out sharply in panic the moment the earth constricted tighter around him, the sudden force wrenching him downward hard, making his collapse painfully onto his knees.

Aang stopped directly before him.

"You think you can do something like this and just stand here pretending to be innocent?!" He shouted, fury finally breaking openly through his voice. 

"She trusted you!"

Gen looked genuinely terrified.

The silks slipped from his grasp entirely while fear overtook his expression, his hands clawing uselessly against the hardened earth trapping his legs in place.

"I—Avatar—I swear—"

"What exactly were you planning to tell them happened inside that house?" Aang demanded, stepping even closer. 

"That she begged you to drag her there too?!"

"Release him at once, Avatar Aang!"

Lord Shuren's voice cut sharply through the chaos while he strode toward them from your side, fury and alarm both visible across his face.

Aang turned toward him in disbelief.

"Why?!" he exclaimed. "After what he did to your daughter, why would you want him walking free?!"

Lord Shuren stopped only a short distance away from Aang, anger still visible despite the effort he made to compose himself before the guards and the royal company surrounding them.

"That boy," he said sharply while motioning toward Gen's restrained form, "was the one who returned to the estate in panic once the two of you vanished. He came seeking aid while you remained absent for hours alongside my daughter."

Aang stared at him in disbelief.

"He was the one who—"

The words caught in his throat.

You stood only several feet away. Your trembling body, still wrapped in his robes, the bruises still fresh beneath them.

Aang could not force the words aloud while you remained there listening.

Then your voice broke through the silence instead.

"I speak the truth, Father. He was the one who touched me."

The words came quietly, trembling as if you already knew his response.

Tears continued slipping silently down your cheeks while your fingers clutched weakly around the slipping robes, your voice shaking harder with every word spoken toward the father refusing to look at you.

"Why will you not believe me?"

Shuren did not answer. Not even once did he turn toward you.

Several steps away, Prince Jinhai had approached closer during the confrontation to overhear everything despite Shuren's earlier attempts to keep the matter contained. 

The prince remained silent, though the slight narrowing of his eyes revealed a genuine fracture in his calm composure.

Still, it was Shuren who spoke again.

"I do not know what precisely my daughter has told you," he said coldly toward Aang, "but that boy has served my household faithfully for years. She ought to know better than to cast such monstrous accusations upon him after being discovered in such circumstances."

Aang's anger spiked.

"She's not lying!"

"Release him."

"No."

The refusal came immediately.

Aang did not even hesitate.

The earth surrounding Gen's legs tightened instinctively beneath his anger, forcing another pained sound from the kneeling man.

Lord Shuren's face darkened even more.

"This is how the Avatar repays the hospitality shown to him within my estate?" He hissed.

"You call this hospitality?!" Aang shot back furiously. "Your daughter is standing right there telling you what happened to her, and you won't even listen!"

Shuren said nothing.

Since the confrontation began, uncertainty crossed his face for the first time while his attention shifted toward Gen kneeling helplessly in the dirt. 

He refused to lift his head, his breathing uneven beneath the weight of every eye focused on him

Then Prince Jinhai finally stepped forward.

"Avatar Aang." he called calmly, and authority in his voice immediately quieted the surrounding tension.

"If the accusations prove true, the boy will not escape punishment."

Aang did not move, and Prince Jinhai continued regardless.

"However, if you continue restraining a citizen of Hujiang through force before witnesses without formal investigation, this matter shall become far uglier than it already is." His eyes settled briefly upon you before returning toward Aang once more. 

"And I suspect the lady has suffered enough humiliation for one evening."

That seemed to reach him.

Aang's heart tightened as his anger visibly struggled against reason for several painful seconds before the earth surrounding Gen's legs finally loosened.

The earth cracked apart.

Gen collapsed forward into the dirt with a sharp gasp before quickly scrambling backward away from Aang, fear consuming him.

Lord Shuren wasted no time.

He strode directly toward you before taking hold of your arm firmly to pull you toward the carriage, ignoring the quiet sob escaping you at the movement. 

You offered no resistance anymore, too exhausted to fight while he guided—nearly dragged—you toward the waiting carriage bearing your household crest.

Behind you, Gen shakily rose onto his feet before hurrying toward the second carriage after first bending down to retrieve your discarded silks laying forgotten.

You noticed it, and the sight made you sick.

Aang watched silently while the carriage doors shut behind you.

Only once the servants and guards finally began preparing for departure did he turn toward Prince Jinhai once more.

"You believe her, right?" He asked firmly.

Prince Jinhai remained quiet for a moment.

"The evidence upon her body was...difficult to ignore. As were the circumstances leading to tonight." He admitted at last.

Aang stepped closer.

"I turned my back for one second and she disappeared," he said, frustration heavy beneath every word. 

"Hours later I tracked her here." He motioned sharply toward the abandoned house looming behind them beneath the darkness. 

"And when I found her, she was chained to the wall."

That finally seemed to truly catch the prince's attention.

"The restraints are inside." Aang continued quickly. 

"I broke them myself, but the chains are still there. Her wrists were bruised because of them."

Prince Jinhai said nothing. His attention stayed on the abandoned house before he finally exhaled quietly through his nose.

"...Very well," he said at last. "I shall look into this matter personally."

Then his expression settled back into his usual unreadable one once more.

"For now, we should return to Advisor Shuren's estate." He continued calmly,

Aang had been pacing outside Shuren's study for what felt like an endlessly long time.

The corridor surrounding remained silent beneath the late hour, save for the distant sounds of servants moving through the estate and the occasional shifting of guards stationed nearby. Lanternlight flickered softly against the floors while shadows stretched long across the walls each time Aang turned sharply during another restless pass down the corridor.

He could not stop thinking about you.

Every attempt to sit still had failed within seconds.

The image of you standing outside that abandoned house refused to leave him alone no matter how hard he tried forcing his thoughts elsewhere. Your shaking hands, the bruises scattered across your skin, the way your voice had broken when you spoke Gen's name—

Aang pressed both hands briefly against his face before exhaling sharply.

He wanted to check on you.

Spirits, he wanted nothing more than to make sure you were alright, though he already understood such a thing would never be permitted tonight. The moment you returned to the estate, servants and physicians had hurried you away toward your chambers while Lord Shuren disappeared alongside Prince Jinhai into the study without another word spoken toward him.

And Gen...

Aang frowned deeply.

Gen had returned to the estate much later than everyone else. Aang had noticed the second carriage arriving only shortly after he himself had entered the manor, though since then, the servant had seemingly vanished.

Aang wondered whether Gen stood inside the study now alongside them.

Whether he was still lying.

And whether Prince Jinhai believed him.

The pacing eventually slowed the longer the silence stretched behind the closed doors before finally halting the moment the study doors opened at last.

Prince Jinhai emerged first.

The prince paused briefly upon noticing Aang still lingering outside the chambers, though no surprise crossed his expression at the sight. Neither of them spoke. Prince Jinhai offered the smallest acknowledgment of his presence through a restrained nod before continuing past him down the corridor, his guards immediately falling into step behind him without question.

Aang barely waited for them to leave before entering the study himself.

The heavy doors shut softly behind him.

Lord Shuren stood near the large windows overlooking the darkened estate grounds below, one hand resting behind his back while the other pressed lightly against the edge of the carved wooden table beside him. 

The exhaustion visible across his face made him appear older, still, when he spoke, the authority in his voice remained unchanged.

"You ought to be resting, Avatar Aang."

Aang ignored the remark.

"Where's Gen?"

Shuren's face hardened immediately.

"That matter no longer concerns you."

"It does concern me, because she was telling the truth."  Aang argued, frustration tightening visibly through his voice.

Shuren finally turned fully toward him.

"I do not know what precisely my daughter has said to persuade you into supporting this tale, but I must admit myself deeply offended by the accusations you continue placing upon that boy." He replied carefully.

Aang stared at him in disbelief.

"Tale?" he repeated. "You think she made all of that up?"

"What I think is that my daughter placed herself into circumstances severe enough to invite disgrace upon both herself and this household." Lord Shuren interrupted firmly,

Aang's jaw tightened sharply.

"I didn't touch her," He said immediately. "I swear to you, I didn't do anything."

Lord Shuren finally moved away from the window, crossing slowly toward the chair behind his desk before lowering himself into it with visible weariness settling across his features.

"First," he began evenly, "you are welcomed into my estate and cared for during your recovery. Then, despite refusing my proposal regarding my daughter's hand, which I graciously chose not to hold against you, you proceed to disappear alongside her for hours while fully aware she is promised to another man."

"I already told you nothing happened!"

"And yet she returns half-dressed from an abandoned house while accusing a servant who has remained loyal to my family for years."

Aang took another step forward immediately.

"Because he's the one who hurt her!"

Lord Shuren exhaled slowly through his nose, exhaustion creeping into his posture beneath the strain of the conversation.

"Put yourself in my position, Avatar Aang. Would you so easily accept such accusations?" He asked quietly.

"Yes," Aang answered without hesitation.

The response made the older man off look at him carefully.

Aang continued before he could interrupt.

"If she were my daughter, I would believe her." He said firmly. 

"Because she's my kid. And if my child came to me crying, saying someone hurt her, I wouldn't stand there wondering if she'd made it up."

Silence settled heavily across the study, and Shuren lowered his eyes toward the desk before him, his face morphing into one of sorrow, one more uncertain than anger this time, though whatever thought crossed his mind disappeared with another long exhale.

"I..." He stopped, visibly exasperated. 

"You are young, Avatar Aang. There are certain realities you do not yet understand."

Aang frowned immediately.

"What realities?"

Shuren leaned back slightly within his chair, exhaustion settling heavily across his features beneath the dim lanternlight surrounding the study.

"Had Prince Jinhai not accompanied us tonight, this matter may have unfolded...far differently." He admitted carefully,

Aang stared at him in disbelief.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, that it would have been significantly easier to turn a blind eye toward tonight's indiscretions had the Crown Prince himself not witnessed it." Shuren continued evenly.

Aang's expression hardened instantly.

"You wanted to ignore what happened to your daughter?"

Lord Shuren's composure finally cracked slightly at the accusation.

"It was no secret my daughter had developed an attachment toward you." He replied, irritation sharpening his tone. "The entire estate observed it plainly."

"She was helping me. That's all she was doing." Aang argued immediately.

"And I took great pride in that." Shuren answered. 

"Do you imagine I failed to recognize the honor attached to my daughter standing beside the Avatar himself? Spirits, I believed perhaps your continued closeness would eventually lead you to reconsider the proposal I once placed before you."

Aang blinked, confusion crossing him before frustration overtook it entirely again.

"She never showed any interest in me." He said firmly. 

"And I never gave her any reason to think— I mean...we became friends. That's it. I'm grateful to both of you for helping me, and I care about her, but not like that."

Shuren remained silent for several moments, then he spoke quietly.

"Yet I observed how quickly you grew close regardless."

Aang opened his mouth to argue further, but Shuren continued before he could.

"When you refused my proposal initially, I chose not to resent you for it," he said calmly. 

"You are the Avatar. Your life does not belong entirely to yourself. I understood that much. But once I witnessed the attachment forming between the two of you, I believed perhaps time would alter your perspective."

Aang looked unsettled.

"And instead, you disregarded her position entirely and bedded a woman already promised to another." Shuren continued, disappointment lacing his voice.

"For the last time, I did not touch her!" Aang snapped, and the force behind the words echoed harshly through the study.

Aang took another step forward afterward, anger and disbelief both burning openly across his face now.

"And Gen did this! You were the one who sent him with us!" He exclaimed.

Shuren's brows tightened.

"I instructed him to accompany the two of you precisely to prevent impropriety." He replied coldly.

"Then why are you acting like this is somehow our fault?! You trusted him enough to send him with her, and he hurt her!" Aang demanded.

Shuren's jaw tightened visibly.

"Or, he stumbled upon two young people allowing emotion to overtake reason and returned horrified by what he witnessed."  He countered quietly

Aang looked utterly stunned.

"You can't seriously believe that."

The older man stood from his chair, slower this time, his posture seemingly burdened by the exhaustion weighing on his shoulders.

"I do not know what to believe tonight." He admitted at last. 

"I know only that my daughter's reputation hangs by a thread, Prince Jinhai has witnessed enough scandal to threaten years of careful negotiation, and the household servant accused of this crime has remained loyal to my family since childhood."

He paused briefly before continuing.

"And I know that if these accusations prove false, then an innocent man shall suffer for nothing more than standing between two reckless young people."

"An innocent man—"

"This will harm your reputation as well, Avatar. Perhaps it is best you leave Hujiang altogether." Shuren interrupted him.

Aang could only stare at him, struggling to comprehend how calmly these words continued leaving Lord Shuren's mouth.

The man spoke of reputation more than suffering.

He prioritized his negotiations more than truth.

He only thought of propriety more than his own daughter trembling beneath bruises inflicted by a man everyone trusted.

And perhaps the worst part of it all was that Shuren believed himself reasonable.

The realization made Aang's heart lurch in his chest.

For the first time since arriving within Hujiang and meeting you, he truly understood how trapped you must have been long before tonight ever happened. 

Your life had already been decided for you years before you were old enough to understand what betrothal even meant. Your future had been negotiated between powerful men while everyone around you praised it as fortune.

You would get a palace, a lovely prince.

A crown someday resting upon your head.

And yet no one seemed to care whether you yourself desired any of it.

Aang suddenly could not imagine you remaining here for the rest of your life without feeling your true self slowly disappear.

And beneath all the anger boiling inside him was something far uglier.

Guilt.

He could have avoided the storm, but he was impatient. 

Appa's injuries existed because he failed to protect him properly.

Momo remained missing because Aang had brought him into danger.

And now you...

Aang lowered his head, the guilt piercing painfully through his chest.

If he had never fallen into Hujiang, none of this would have touched your life at all.

You would still be walking peacefully through your gardens. Still arguing playfully with your maids over tea.

Instead, your entire world had shattered within the span of a single evening because his existence crossed your path.

Part of him wanted to leave immediately.

He felt as though leaving would simplify everything.

No Avatar, no more scandal.

Then there would be no reason for suspicion to continue circling your name.

But the thought vanished almost as quickly as it arrived, because if he left now, who would stand beside you?

Your own father refused to believe you. The servants would follow his judgment without question. Prince Jinhai remained uncertain at best. 

And Gen—

Aang's jaw tightened immediately.

Gen would walk freely through these halls while you remained alone carrying the shame of what had been done to you.

No.

The thought alone made him feel sick.

"I'm not leaving," he said suddenly.

Lord Shuren looked toward him.

Aang straightened fully before continuing, determination settling visibly across his expression despite the exhaustion dragging at him.

"I don't care if you believe me right now, but she shouldn't have to go through this alone." He said firmly.

Something unreadable crossed Lord Shuren's face.

He studied him silently for several moments before speaking at last, his tone calmer now though no less careful.

"You speak with admirable conviction, Avatar Aang. Though conviction alone rarely shields a woman from the consequences of impropriety."  He said quietly.

Aang frowned slightly.

Shuren continued regardless.

"A woman's reputation, once fractured publicly, seldom recovers entirely. Particularly when circumstances place her alone beside a man not her husband." His attention lingered thoughtfully upon Aang afterward. 

"The world tends to care less for truth than for appearances."

Aang remained silent.

"And yet, appearances can occasionally be repaired...provided the man beside her possesses sufficient honor to assume responsibility for them." Shuren added slowly.

Aang said nothing after that.

The air between himself and Shuren felt too heavy for further argument, and whatever words still remained inside him no longer seemed capable of reaching a man so devoted to preserving appearances that he could not recognize his own daughter's suffering.

So instead, Aang simply turned and left the study.

The corridors stretching through the estate remained dim, though he no longer needed servants guiding him through the manor halls. His feet followed the same path you had once shown him when his greatest concern had merely been reaching Appa safely.

The memory stung now.

When he finally reached the infirmary chambers, the guards stationed outside immediately straightened upon noticing him approach. Their orders had been strict, no one permitted entry without either yourself or Lord Shuren accompanying them personally.

Still, none of them attempted stopping the Avatar.

Inside, the room remained peaceful beneath low lanternlight.

Appa slept heavily across the joined mattresses arranged beneath him, his breathing deep and slow while fresh bandages wrapped securely around the injured leg still healing beneath weeks of treatment.

Aang crossed the room quietly before lowering himself beside the sky bison's massive body, leaning back gently against the familiar warmth of Appa's fur as fatigue finally settled heavily through him.

For a long while, he simply sat there listening to Appa snore softly beside him.

Then Shuren's words returned.

A woman's reputation, once fractured publicly, seldom recovers entirely.

Aang frowned deeply.

What was he even supposed to do now?

Part of him tried imagining what Sokka would say in a situation like this. Another part wondered how Zuko would handle it, though that answer honestly worried him slightly. 

Katara, however—

Aang suddenly straightened.

Wait.

"Katara!" he exclaimed aloud, eyes widening instantly as the thought finally struck him.

chapter eleven coming soon...

a/n: shorter chapter, i knowww! but i needed the next events to happen separately. chapter eleven is the last chapter of this flashback sequence, and it is where the story changes.

I AM SO EXCITED!

[taglist open] (please mention under the latest chapter or the story masterlist)

masterlist

the past few weeks have, unfortunately, followed the same routine. you're gently woken up way too early by zuko's soft voice, murmuring affection and apologies as he gets out of bed—promising his schedule will be clear soon—before leaving you to fall back into your slumber. this is followed by the next 14 hours, in which, you barely catch a glimpse of your husband while finding ways to entertain yourself while simultaneously juggling your own responsibilities. and finally, when it's time for bed, you get yourself ready to pounce on him—only to be fallen asleep on as soon as you get him into bed.

of course, you won't fault him for it. he's been very, very busy, and you're not a fiend—so what if you haven't had sex in...how long has it been now? whatever! irrelevant. zuko's more important and if he needs sleep, that's all he'll get. that short nightgown you wore to bed the other night? of course it wasn't to seduce him! it's just hot these days. the way you press yourself against him at night, leaving kisses along his neck? it's only because you miss him so much. the long, lazy, kisses you give him in the morning when he leaves? exaggerating as you moan into his mouth? pfft, please. god forbid you want him to sleep in for once—it's just concern.

yup. you're totally okay with his absence. you're independent—crafty, even. lounging lazily on your bed, you roll onto your stomach and groan. you're bored out of your mind, and the heat has been getting worse lately. even in your almost nude attire, you still feel sweat clinging to your skin, thighs sticking together. the external heat you feel, however, is nothing compared to what's been brewing on the inside—arousal so desperate that you feel it almost sharply.

with a frustrated exhale, you rise to your feet, padding over to the bedroom door. you take a quick peek into the hallway to ensure that it's empty before shutting the door, returning to your bed. flopping onto your back, you part your thighs, leaning your head back against the pillow. your thoughts drift to your husband whilst your hand snakes down beneath your clothes, grazing your stomach.

you wonder to yourself what he must be doing right now—how he must be feeling—as your fingers seek out your clit, a soft exhale leaving your lips. having completed your duties for the day, you owe yourself this moment of relaxation—a gentle reprieve from an all too overwhelming position of power.

unsurprisingly, your line of thought shifts to more...intimate memories. the feel of his breath against your neck—your head tilts to the side. his chest pressing heavy onto yours as he settles against you—your legs fall open just a little more. biting your lips, you focus on the memory of his fingers stretching you open as your own try to recreate it.

a small, breathy, sound escapes you when you curl your fingers up, pressing against your spongy wall. you start to move your fingers in a rhythm that feels familiar, but not the same. your thumb rubs messily at your clit, free hand sliding under your shirt to squeeze your breast. lost in your pleasure, you don't hear the footsteps in the hall until the heavy door opens. you freeze, eyes snapping to see who the intruder could be.

an immediate mixture of relief, anticipation, and embarrassment hits you at once when you see the real zuko, standing in all his glory. he pauses at the door, eyes focused on your hand between your legs, a slight pink dusting his cheeks. he quickly snaps out of it, clearing his throat and shutting the door—locking it this time. you keep your hand where it is, watching him through half lidded eyes as he slowly approaches you—gait almost predatory.

he exhales shakily as he sits down on the edge of the bed, gently pulling your hand away from your pussy. he brings it to his face, pressing soft kisses against your knuckles before taking your fingers into his mouth. your clit throbs painfully from arousal, your brows furrowing in desperation. "my love," he finally murmurs, nuzzling his face against your palm. "were you enjoying yourself?"

you can't help but chuckle slightly, cupping his cheek. "i was trying to...but i didn't expect you to be free this early." you respond breathlessly, thumb dragging across his lower lip. he looks down at you, a soft smile gracing his face. "no? have i been too busy as of late?" he whispers, leaning down. you hum out a "mhm" as he presses a kiss to your forehead. his smile grows as he starts kissing you all over your face, eliciting a giggle out of you.

"a little." you admit, trying not to let your disappointment show. you're not disappointed in him, but you know he'll take it as a personal failing. he already feels terrible about how him being the fire lord has impacted your lives, and you're sure that he'd take on a lot more stress to make more time for you if he felt as though he was being negligent.

however, despite your (alleged) nonchalant response, you see the guilt bleed into his expression in real time. panic flooding you, you grab his face and pull him into a rough kiss. he makes a sound of surprise against your mouth, hand shooting out to settle on the bed next to your head. he kisses back, and you slide your hands into his hair. "working too much to keep up with me, hm?" you mend, lifting your hips up to grind against him.

your words and actions make his mind fuzzy, his previous guilt fizzling out and being replaced by extreme lust—so extreme that he can't believe how hard it hit him all at once. he nips at your bottom lip, letting out a murmured curse as he breaks the kiss. "mm, i suppose you're right. leaving my poor wife in such a state..." he breathes, hand sneaking down to run his fingers through the slick collecting between your legs. you whimper desperately at his touch, hips bucking up.

"mhm..." a pleased hum leaving you. "shhh, it's okay..." he whispers, fingers slowly sinking into your heat. "m'sorry, baby. it's okay." he murmurs against your neck, fingers beginning to work you open. his lips against your throat, paired with the practiced rhythm scissoring you open, is so sensual—so perfect. "zuko..."

"yeah, that's it...just relax, my love. can feel how bad you needed this." he coos, also starting to work your clit—keeping it slow so as to not overwhelm you. you whimper, grip loosening in his hair, your entire body becoming boneless as he takes care of you. your thighs, however, stay tense—legs shutting around his hand. he shifts his body to nudge your thighs apart, settling between them.

he gently slots his mouth against yours, the soft kiss a contrast to how you'd roughly grabbed him a few moments ago. it's not long before you start to grow needy, body writhing beneath his, whining into his mouth. "zuko, i need you." you plead breathlessly, panting as he breaks away from you. "m'right here." he replies, kissing your cheek. "i want this to be good...don't wanna rush." he continues, starting to change the pace of his fingers.

your mouth falls open, a long drawn out moan leaving you. zuko kisses your cheek, grinding himself against your thigh while he focuses on your pleasure. experienced and observant, zuko is able to bring you to your peak in record time, mumbling words of affection as he works you through it. you look up at him, dazed from your orgasm, panting softly. he smiles, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"that's it...are you satisfied?" he murmurs teasingly, just wanting to hear you huff. you pout, draping your arms around his neck. "yes and no. i want you, zu...please." you breathe, pulling him into a kiss. he hums, melting into you while he undresses himself. as he settles back down over you, you feel his cock nestled between both of your bodies, pressing against your thigh. he's in no rush, though—continuing to make out with you slow and lazy.

every inch of your body is buzzing with need, you grab his cock almost roughly, drawing out a whine from him. "fuck, wait..." he pants, breaking the kiss to look between your bodies. "can't." you groan, stroking him quickly. he gently pulls your hand away, replacing it with his own. "haah...been too long...i'm sorry." he whispers, nuzzling your cheek as he starts to push in. "fuck, stop apologizing-" you whine, gripping his shoulders. "y'sound so hot..."

he flushes a little at that, huffing. "that's perverted." he breathes, bottoming out. you bite your lip, wrapping your legs around his waist. "uh huh," you reply distractedly, too focused on how deliciously your walls are stretching to fit his cock. he chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "next time you feel this way, tell me. i'd drop everything for you." he promises, pulling out to thrust back in. "mm, i...know." you whisper, clutching at him harder as he starts thrusting. "just don't wanna- fuck! don't...wanna overwhelm you..." you continue.

"you're the only thing in my life that doesn't overwhelm me." he responds, soft voice a contrast to the dirty sounds of his cock drilling into you. the way he's making love to you is so sweet, so intimate—you don't know where you end and he begins. you mouth at his neck when he drops his head to your shoulder, whimpers and gasps forcing themselves out of his mouth. "come on, that's it. you're getting so- ahh fuck...s-so tight..." he stammers.

"mhm- sososo close...don't stop, pleaseee." you plead, tensing around him on purpose. he moans loudly, hips stuttering momentarily before picking back up. "fuck, don't know how i went so long without this...gonna be on my mind for the rest of the day..."

the more he continues to talk against your skin, paired with his thrusts, the closer you're getting. you want to delay it—want to live in this moment for just a little longer, where it's just you and him—but your orgasm hits you so suddenly that you're gasping, back arching up. he moans again, his thrusts slowing but not stopping, a mess against you. as you come down, your body is still twitching a little, finally satiated after weeks of frustration.

he gives you a few more thrusts before stilling against you, spilling into your womb. he gently rolls off you, gathering you into his arms. you drape yourself over him, panting against his chest. "mm, god...i needed that." you whisper. "yeah, me too." he whispers back, gently running his fingers through his hair. "i...actually took a break today to ask if you wanted to go for a walk in the garden but, i think i'd rather lay here." he admits.

you hum happily, shutting your eyes. "you should take breaks everyday."

"anything for you, my love."

credits: dividers from @noxtiia

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It’s not like you expected a paying gig right out the gate when you moved to the big city to chase your dream of becoming a musician, but you at least figured you would be able to get something that pays in the meantime.

At this point, every rejection is a shot straight to the heart.

You applied to every store you could find with a hiring ad. Both online and in-person, skipping over the occasional store that you felt you weren’t cut out for. Now, it’s come to the point where you don’t have the luxury to be picky.

Still, the shoe store that wouldn’t hire you? At least you have shoes, even if they’re worn-in Vans and Converse for the most part.

The reception job at the law firm? It’s not like you have a degree or can cite any, but you know general laws.

This? You sigh as your gaze traces the letters across the failing light box, deep red letters spelling out Adult Boutique.

It’s not that you have anything against it.

It’s that you’ve never used a sex toy.

Hell, you don’t know the first thing about them.

You’ve never even had sex before.

Sighing, you throw your head back against the headrest of your old rusting sedan and take a moment to breathe in the harsh disappointment of chasing your dreams. Your hands settle in your lap as you set aside any reservations you have, snatching your resumé from the passenger’s seat and shutting the door behind you. You walk with as much confidence as you can muster into the shop, but it’s almost humiliating how far out of your wheelhouse you are when you’re met with the interior. For as confident as you are, it drains from you in an instant.

Humiliation is a kink though, right?

“ID?” You pause in the doorway before you can get much of a look at the store, staring at a man with piercing blue eyes and white hair. He’s handsome, maybe a year younger than you, and his friendly smile is horribly infectious.

You stand like a deer in the headlights, your lips caught in an embarrassing ‘o’ before your mind catches up. ID. You’re in an age-restricted store. Right.

“Shoot–” Your hands fly down to your pockets, reaching for the wallet…

… That you left in the car.

Your jaw hangs ajar at the realization, warmth climbing from the back of your neck to the tips of your ears as the handsome clerk’s startlingly blue eyes pin you in place.

You shut your eyes, biting down on your lower lip. “I’ll be right back.”

In the midst of your walk of shame back to your car across the street, every thought reminds you that you could just leave. You could forget this ever happened and simply accept you aren’t getting the job. The fact that your wallet is so empty that you left it in your unlocked car in a shady part of town serves as a reminder that, again, you don’t exactly have the luxury of being picky.

With a forlorn sigh and a drag of your hands down your face, you put on your best confident smile and make your way back inside. The clerk grins as you hand over your ID, leaning over the counter on forearms that you swear you’re not staring at.

They’re just veiny.

And incredibly hot.

“Sorry,” you sigh as you pocket your ID again.

“Don’t worry about it,” there’s a small wave of his hand to brush you off, and when you look up to meet his eyes, there’s a particularly sultry look to his gaze. It’s enough to warm your cheeks again, and you can only pray he doesn’t notice how much you’ve been staring. “Looking for anything in particular?” He bears a lopsided tilt to his grin that sets your nerves further alight as your stomach ties in knots under the handsome stranger’s gaze.

It’s gotta be a bad combination to be clueless on everything around you and thinking about the hot man in front of you rather than the job you’re applying for.

Shaking your head to center yourself, you put on your best smile. “Yeah, actually.” The man’s expression changes to intrigue as you hand over your resumé. His eyes skim it, brows raising.

He gives you a once-over, setting the paper down with a more genuine grin. “We could use the help,” he admits. “The owner’ll be in tomorrow morning, I’ll have her give you a call.”

That’s the most positive response you’ve received to an application thus far. Although you find yourself nervously eyeing a bottle of G-Spot Stimulating Gel on the counter that you don’t know the first thing about, you’re honestly relieved that things could be looking up. You can handle this job with a bit of research, surely.

“That would be great,” you offer a smile. “Thank you.”

–

So, the good news is that you have a job. The bad news is that you still don’t know the first thing about what you’re selling. Admittedly, you probably should have done some research or looked over the product offerings on the store’s site, but somewhere between preparation for a new job and trying to sleep through the train shaking your apartment every few minutes, you forgot.

The kind woman who interviewed you over the phone and the store’s owner– Jillian– greets you at the door as you push into the store. Her graying hair is curled tightly at her roots, her eyes wrinkled at the corner and kind. She wears a pale pink wool sweater that compliments her lip gloss, standing at about the same height as you. She’s old enough to retire and still gorgeous all-the-same.

“Welcome, dear,” she smiles brilliantly at the sight of you, ushering you towards the front counter with a hand on your shoulder. “I appreciate the help, it’ll be nice to step back from the counter and keep my job behind-the-scenes.”

“I’m happy to help,” you reply with a kind grin, keeping up your best customer service attitude. As she leads you behind the counter, your eyes flick to the two tall men standing behind the counter. You recognize the first as the hot white-haired man who accepted your resumé. Cheery, charming, and strikingly handsome with toned muscles visible from under his white t-shirt.

The man beside doesn’t bear the same welcoming nature. In fact, they’re the definition of polar opposites.

Standing a couple of inches taller than the one you recognize, he has black hair that must be dyed, pink roots standing out like a rose among thorns. His ears are pierced in a multitude of ways with matching brow and lip piercings and tattoos that travel up the back of his neck, reaching his jaw. He’s in far darker and more casual clothes, arms crossed over his broad and built chest with his hip leaned on the counter, and a look of mild disinterest that does no favors for your nerves.

Where the white-haired man bears a friendly smile and a button-up that makes him look ready for a job in a cubicle, his black-haired colleague is very clearly assessing your every move, and looks like he could be on-stage at a dingy bar.

She introduces you to the men, earning a grin from the one you recognize and… nothing from the man with black-dyed hair.

“I’ll be in every couple of days to do the cash deposit,” she explains. “I’ll also drop by to check on the office and put together paperwork, but Satoru–” she points to the white-haired man who casually salutes in greeting, “and Ryomen–” her hand waves towards the frowning man who doesn’t react save for a glance at the older woman, “will train you. Satoru usually does the opening shift and Ryomen does the closing shift. We’re closed Mondays and Tuesdays, but you’ll work the rest of the week.” You’re grateful for the consistency, if nothing else. “You’ll take the midday Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, you’ll be alone for a bit while the boys are in classes, and you’ll take the closing shifts on weekends to help Ryomen during busy hours.”

His gaze, a crimson so striking you have half a mind to wonder if they’re contacts, flicks to you, indiscernible, then back to Jillian.

“You won’t be alone while you train of course though, the boys and I will cover until you’re comfortable being alone.” She pats you once on the shoulder. “Does that work for you, dear?”

“Not a problem at all,” you nod. You clasp your hands together politely.

“Perfect!” She claps once in glee, clearly happy to step away from serving customers. You can understand that sentiment. “I’ll grab your paperwork.”

Satoru’s gaze follows her as she heads for the back room, then turns cheerily to you. “Hey, newbie!” He steps forward from the counter, outstretching his hand. “Nice to meet you.” Shaking his hand, you match his grin. “Well, by name anyway.”

You turn your expectations to Ryomen, who doesn’t move from the spot he’s standing in. His weight shifts to the other hip, still leaning against the counter when he juts his chin out in less of a greeting and more of an acknowledgement. “Hey.”

“Nice to meet you, Ryomen.” You give him a little wave.

“Sukuna,” he corrects you. His words aren’t sharp per se, but they carry a blunt edge. “Only the old lady can call me Ryomen.” His voice is as gruff as his style and stature, fitting of the brutish impression he gives off. His slightly narrowed eyes give off the notion that he’s evaluating you. Reading you.

With a tight-lipped smile, Satoru scratches at the back of his head. He shoots you an apologetic glance as you uncomfortably gather that this isn’t unusual for Sukuna.

“Got it, sorry.” You offer an apologetic smile, which he accepts with a nod.

Satoru steps forward to save you from the interaction, motioning with his head out to the store’s floor. “Why don’t I show you around?”

You nod gratefully, letting him lead you away from the counter. Sukuna’s gaze is quick to drop to the counter as he leans over a book of some sort, his chin resting atop his hand. You turn your attention back to Satoru as he leads you through the long back area of the store

A colorful assortment of dildos and vibrators line the walls of the first aisle, anything from glass to silicone in different shapes and size varieties. The light in the far corner flickers when you step into the aisle, faux wood creaking under-foot. The store has that sort of old strip mall feel where, although well-maintained, its age is evident in the old fixtures and failing lights.

“Sorry about him,” Satoru’s voice is a near-whisper as he shakes his head. His hair falls in front of those striking blue eyes as he leads the way down each aisle. You’re not sure you’d really call it showing you around, but you’re certainly walking the floor. “He’s uhhh–” he waves his hand through the air as he searches for the right term. “Moody, or something.” He chuckles. “I don’t know, you get used to it. Don’t take it personally.”

“He doesn’t seem like a customer service person,” you admit sheepishly, keeping your voice down.

Satoru does no favors keeping his own down as he barks a laugh. “No, not really, hey? He’s Jillian’s friend’s son, so–” he shrugs as you mentally connect the dots that landed him this job. “It’s an easy enough gig and honestly business is slow.”

“That’s a shame,” you offer, mostly for Jillian’s sake, although you don’t mind it being slow.

“I said it was slow, not bad,” he grins, eyes narrowing to that sultry gaze he shot you when you dropped off your resumé last week. “We have a lot of regulars. People who spend a lot. You’ll recognize them in time.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “It’ll be nice to have some company for the end of my shifts,” he adds, tilting his head to eye you. He crosses his arms over his chest, catching your attention as you glance at his muscles just long enough to consider yourself caught. He takes the opportunity and swings with it. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you.” His voice drops a tone, the flirty lilt warming the tips of your ears.

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to get to know you too.”

Jillian returns with paperwork before Satoru can take the opportunity to flirt any further– but you get the feeling he will. It seems to go hand-in-hand with his personality. Once everything is signed and Satoru has headed off for class, Jillian leaves training in Sukuna’s hands as she retreats to the back to file your paperwork.

Sukuna’s gaze is a slow drag down your form as he evaluates the dark blouse and nice jeans you chose to wear. Admittedly, you now feel a little overdressed given his relative comfort and ripped jeans, but in spite of the judgement clear as day in his eyes, he keeps it to himself. At least, as long as you don’t count the frown he bears. You can’t really tell if that’s meant for you or if that’s his neutral expression.

With a sigh, he shuts whatever book is on the counter behind him and gives you a rundown in short, clipped sentences. “Floor work first, cash after. You worked cash before?”

You nod, though the register looks fairly old here.

He gives a hum of approval. “Good. The floor's pretty self-explanatory. Everything is ordered by brand, then color. Shipments Mondays and Thursdays. Back room for any overstock.” He points over his shoulder to where Jillian disappeared as he lays out instructions like facts. “No clock system. Just work when you work. Pay is every second Friday. You’ll get a check.”

Again, you nod.

His gaze travels the length of your figure, but it doesn’t feel as though he’s checking you out. It’s an evaluation. And you’re pretty sure you’re failing before you’ve had the chance to start. “I don’t care what you do when customers aren’t around. Study, read, go on your phone. I don’t give a shit.”

“Oh, okay. That’s kinda nice.”

His tone is apathetic as he hums in agreement. “I didn’t have time last night and I know Satoru’s lazy ass didn’t clean this morning, so I’ll get you to organize the shibari while I put some shit away.”

You nod, slipping away from the counter onto the floor. His gaze tracks you as you very unconfidently thread through the rows in search of shibari. To your horror, nothing is well-labeled, which means there isn’t a distinct section with some big flashy sign to point you in the direction of a kink you don’t know the name of.

“It’s at the back,” Sukuna’s low voice calls out. Biting down on your lip, you move towards the back of the store, your gaze trailing along the wall. There are a number of bondage devices you can’t name, ropes that you assume go with bondage, and chains and whips that all feel bondage-adjacent.

So, more or less, you’re still at a loss.

Really failing that evaluation now.

Behind you, Sukuna is replacing products that were atop the counter at the front, but his movements stop when he fixes you with his narrowed gaze. “The ropes,” he points them out on the wall with displeasure prickling around the edge of his sandpaper-scraped voice. Now that you look at them, it feels obvious given how out of order they are.

“I know!” Heat flares beneath your skin in all the wrong places. Still, you won’t let him get to you. “I was just looking.”

He doesn’t reply, his crimson gaze boring into your expression so hard that you’re pretty sure he can see right through you.

At least you can’t fuck up the organization of the ropes.

Quietly sucking in a breath, you turn to the wall, pulling down the plastic-covered rope bundles that are out of place.

“So,” you turn your gaze over your shoulder. “You’re in school?”

“Mhm.”

“What are you taking?”

“Business.”

He’s difficult, too. Great.

Once the ropes are in a more sound order, you spin on your heel to face him. He’s already turning away, moving to a different area to put away a vibrator.

“Can I–”

“Here.” He tosses a bottle of lube at you, caught clumsily in unexpecting fingers. “Put that away, too.”

Pressing your lips into a tight line, you nod, more to yourself than him. At least you know what lube is.

You search the store for the spot where it belongs, twisting it on the shelf so the label faces out, then make your way to the counter where Sukuna’s already standing over his book again. Before you have the opportunity to speak, the bell over the door rings as a customer walks through the door. She’s around your age, and quickly flashes ID towards Sukuna, who nods.

A regular, you suppose.

The tattooed clerk’s eyes trail to you, jutting his chin out expectantly towards the customer.

Making your way up to the woman with cute blonde hair cut short, you fall into your customer service voice. “Can I help you find anything?”

“Hi!” She beams at you, her smile putting your first day nerves at ease. “Thank you, but I know where most things are,” she waves you off politely. “I appreciate it, though!” She moves past you towards the back of the store, whirling around suddenly as her gaze shifts between you and Sukuna. “Oh, actually, did you get any more of the cherry stimulants in?”

You turn your attention to Sukuna, who fixes you with a lazy unsure expression. “She can check for you.” He leans his hip on the counter again, arms crossed over his chest as he faces you. “It’ll be in the back. They come in a box with a cherry logo on them.”

Worrying your lip between your teeth, you nod as you make your way to the back.

Truthfully, the cramped room is a bit of a relief from the uncomfortable tension Sukuna just seems to naturally exude. Him and Satoru are big personalities in the most opposite way you can possibly imagine, but at least Satoru is willing to chat.

Jillian glances over her shoulder from an old computer at the back of the room. “Everything going well, dear?”

“Yeah,” you grin, though truthfully this already feels like a disaster where you’re being scornfully judged by your colleague and accidentally making enemies on day one. With one of the only people you work with. So that’s great. “There’s just someone looking for stimulants.”

She shifts in her chair, doing a once-over of the boxes. “Not back here. There’s an inventory list on this computer that you can usually use, but I don’t want to lose progress on your files. Can you ask Ryomen to check the holds drawer? Satoru might have put some on hold if he knew they were looking.”

“Sure, thank you!”

With a grateful smile, you head back to the front and relay the information to Sukuna.

“Holds drawer’s there.” He points to a handle on the lower inside of the counter. Within are a number of boxes and small sachet packs. “Mm, there they are.”

Clearly one of the sachet packs is what she’s looking for. Unfortunately, they all fail to say exactly what they are on the front with bright and bold brands rather than descriptors or even a damn cherry logo, which means you haven’t the faintest clue what you’re looking at.

“The orange one,” Sukuna adds when you’re still paused staring at the drawer. There’s an unimpressed lilt to his tone that has you wincing before you pull the sachet pack from the drawer. You do what you can to keep your expression neutral and feign confidence when you stand upright again.

The whole situation is tense and embarrassing. It might at least be tolerable with Satoru, but Sukuna either enjoys your suffering or he’s an asshole.

The unfortunate third possible option is both.

His grimace as you set the pack in his hand isn’t lost on you, although you choose to head towards the register in hopes that he can at least teach you how it works and you can get on with this day. He chooses not to say a word to you as the customer finishes looking around, returning to the front with a rose-shaped vibrator.

“Ooh, thank you!” She grins as she spots the packet at the register.

Sukuna nods, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you’re paying attention. “Just type the amounts into the register,” he explains, putting both prices from the stickers into the old machine. Once he hits the equals button, the cash drawer pops open as he gets the total and it calculates tax for him. The customer flashes a card, so Sukuna shuts the drawer and types the amount into the machine to his right. “While she pays, get the serials on each tag and write them here,” he explains, pulling the number from each barcode and writing them on a pad of paper left of the register. Once her payment is processed, a receipt prints, which he hands to her, keeping the second copy under the till. Finally, he bags the items.

She thanks him, giving you a polite little wave and retreating out the door.

You let out a breath, nodding. “The register seems easy enough,” you try more friendly commentary in spite of his half-assed teaching, but you suppose by now you shouldn’t expect Sukuna to be receptive. He hums, a judgemental flash in his eyes as he pins you in place with a narrowed gaze like he can see something you can’t.

He works his jaw in a slow grind of teeth like he wants to say something but thinks better of it, dropping your gaze. “I’ve got to study. There’s not much else to the job besides that, so keep yourself busy.”

Thankfully the rest of the day passes without much of a hitch and you’re able to leave as evening hits, with Sukuna staying to close the store.

He doesn’t give you another word for the remainder of the day. He doesn’t expect you to handle customers. He handles the till. He doesn’t even look at you as you let him know your shift is over. You aren’t sure whether to be grateful or dread the rest of your shifts with him, but thankfully you’re able to spend more time with Satoru tomorrow.

Given that you’re off a couple of hours before close, you use the opportunity to stake out local bars with stages and take note of a small pub tucked away in a little corner. The outside has a sign that doesn’t light up in the night’s cover, but within it’s rather warm, with string lights hung over a stage in the back. While you work on your online presence, it’s the perfect spot to get your stage skills up.

The thick metal of the door is cool on your hand, creaking on its hinge as you press through to the interior warmth. There’s a small two-man group on-stage performing low-energy grunge that seem to be garnering decent attention from onlookers and groups you would be willing to bet are regulars based on the way they move around the small scene.

Adjusting your jacket over your shoulder, you make your way to the bar. The bartender looks to be a couple of years senior to you, with short brown hair kept neat aside from a couple of stray strands that fall over his forehead. He has a prominent nose and sunken eyes that give him an overall air of tiredness.

The apron he wears over a clean-cut button-up pulls taut across his chest as he reaches overhead to set a bottle of whiskey along the back wall before turning his attention to you with a polite smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Oh, um, actually,” you begin with a polite smile, “I was wondering who I need to impress to be up there.” You point to the grunge band at the back as his gaze follows you.

He hums, his calm demeanor shifting from the routine of bartending to something more friendly. “I can give you the owner’s email. If you fit in with the crowd, he’ll work with your schedule.”

Casting another glance at the two men on-stage, you nod, chewing on your lip in an effort to hide your giddy smile. “That’d be great. So… what– a little moody, kind of chill? Maybe some minor chords in there?”

The bartender chuckles, picking up a glass like routine simply fills his subconscious. “Sounds to me like you’ve already got the gig.”

Leaving behind the smell of drowned sorrows and shared laughter, you can hold onto the fact that while your day took a turn for the worst, it’s just a job. Once you leave the building, you don’t have to think about it and can focus on music. Sukuna isn’t the end of the world and if you can manage to stay out of his hair, surely you can find some sort of common ground with him.

–

Wind whips too fast across the street when you lock your car behind you. Your unzipped coat flails in the wind, leaving you with a flustered expression as the shop door slams shut behind you.

“Hey newbie,” Satoru greets you with an amused grin. You flash him a smile as you smooth down your outfit, far more casual than the previous one with jeans and a band shirt. “How was yesterday?” He asks, wiping down the counter and tossing the wipe in a garbage as he claps his hands together to brush them off.

The chuckle that parts your lips is half-hearted as you drop your laptop bag atop the front counter. “Kind of a disaster?” You wince, shaking your head. “Is he seriously always like that?”

Satoru stands upright, running a hand through white locks. “He gets better when you get to know him, but yeah he’s kind of an asshole,” he laughs brightly, unbothered. “I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips.”

“Sure, if the chips are sour,” you mutter.

Satoru snickers, nodding. “What happened anyway?”

“I didn’t immediately know where everything is without being shown,” you wave a hand through the air, letting it hang there for a moment in disbelief.

Satoru, unphased, grins. “Oh, yeah. Sounds like a classic case of not running on Sukuna’s schedule. You should really get on that.”

You throw your head back with a sigh, giving a dismissive wave of your hands. “Whatever, it’s a new day, right? Maybe it won’t be so bad today.”

Satoru teasingly sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Sorry newbie, but my sources are telling me today’s weather is looking cloudy in Sukuna-land.”

Satoru’s unseriousness helps settle a modicum of your nerves as you find yourself laughing at his charm.

“But hey, you’ve got me for a couple of hours first.” He grins, settling the balls of his palms atop the counter as he leans his weight back. One of his sleeves, rolled to the elbow, slides down his forearm to his wrist. “What did he go over with you, anyway?”

You laugh loosely. “Like, nothing. He gave me a thirty second run-down of the till and told me I don’t need to clock in or out.”

“That’s gold,” Satoru shakes his head in an effort to get hair from falling into his line of sight. “I thought he’d be nicer to a pretty girl like you.” His face lights up as you avert your eyes, smiling at the scuffed floor underfoot. He keeps the conversation flowing like it’s second nature. “Tell you what, I’ll actually try to show you around before he gets here, and you can tell me what brought you to the city.”

Recovering quickly, you fix him with a humbled expression at the callout. “Is it that obvious that I’m not from here?”

Satoru barks a laugh. “Yeah. You’ve got small town energy.”

“Small town energy? What does that even mean?” You follow him out from behind the counter as he leads the way to the back room first.

“Just vibes,” he shrugs. “It’s good. Cute,” he grins. You get the feeling he’s a bit of a flirt through and through, but truthfully you enjoy the attention.

Plus, he’s hot.

“Thanks,” you murmur with a bashful smile, chewing on your lip. “I uh– I wanted to give my dream a shot before tying myself down in a career I hate.”

His eyes light up as he turns to you with a palm on the door handle for the back room. “Oh yeah? What’s your dream?”

“Singing. Music,” you admit, feeling just shy enough that you avert your gaze in spite of your giddiness.

“No way.” He’s grinning widely now, his hand leaving the door handle as he chooses to lean against it instead, arms crossed tantalizingly over his chest. “I feel like I’m obligated to be the annoying guy who asks you to sing for me now.”

You laugh heartily. “At least you know it would make you that guy.”

With a chuckle, he finally turns around to lead the way into the back room. He peppers actual explanations of the job’s inner workings between personal questions.

After explaining the inventory system on the back computer and how boxes are organized, he leads the way back through the aisles, pointing out different sections as you walk. “So, do you take gigs between shifts?”

“When I can,” you nod. “I’m trying to put together the money to get some studio time soon. I have some self-recorded stuff, but I don’t think I’m much of a producer.”

“Will you at least tell me what genre?”

“Um,” you shrug thoughtfully, “I guess like punk or indie rock?”

“Oooh, so you’re a moody guitar girl. I like it, I like it.” He nods his approval with a wide grin. The faintest of dimples forms at the corners of his lips, giving him a charmingly boyish smile.

Your genuine shared laughter sends flutters to the pit of your stomach, warm and welcome, as you finish threading through aisles and head back to the front counter. Satoru pushes up on forearms that flex under his weight as he settles atop the counter. You follow suit on the opposite counter, head tilting as you inquire about him.

“Jillian mentioned you’re in school, what are you taking?”

“Business,” he replies with a lopsided smile.

“Oh, like Sukuna?”

“Damn, you got an answer out of him?” Satoru chuckles. “Yeah, he’s a year ahead of me but we’re in the same program. I think he wants to do the whole company startup thing though, I’m looking to kinda take over for Jillian and eventually buy this place if things work out. She’s holding out until I finish.”

Your brow raises as you fix him with an inquisitive look. “You wanna take over here?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” he chides, gaze lidded with an almost-cocky attitude. “Don’t get me wrong, I know it doesn’t seem busy even with online orders, but I actually think there’s a huge untapped market here.” He straightens and you can see the passion and drive gleaming in his eager gaze. “I think the way sex toys are sold both online and in-stores is outdated and makes a lot of people feel uncomfortable and I want to try to do something new to help people feel more comfortable and open in terms of sex.”

You blink, nodding at the insightful way that he goes on to explain the ins and outs of his opinion on the industry and how, although he loves Jillian, he can see a lot of ways to use his knowledge to improve the business and hopes to change the way kinks are viewed.

It’s not like it hasn’t occurred to you just how inexperienced you are, but as you nod along to his passionate explanation, it occurs to you just how experienced he is. He doesn’t say it outright, but he talks about the way condoms are made and how bad they can be for some people, how he hopes to bring in products for people who struggle with medication killing their sex drive, and even the intricacies of what products work well and which don’t and how he would love to stop stocking them altogether.

It shouldn’t come as a shock– it doesn’t– after all, he’s hot and flirty, but it certainly gives the butterflies in your stomach an edge that you aren’t sure what to make of. It’s not uncomfortable– Satoru’s still kind and has a welcoming personality– it’s closer to inadequacy. Like you should know more, and not just for job purposes. It doesn’t sit well.

But you shouldn’t be thinking about your coworker like that anyway, right?

Thankfully, before you can think too hard about the subject, Sukuna walks through the door with a heavy step to his boots.

Maybe ‘thankfully’ doesn’t suit his arrival, though. His gaze flits briefly between each of you before he heads straight to the back, giving you both a noncommittal wave as you greet him.

When the door shuts behind the brute, Satoru turns to you. He grimaces, faux empathy shining in cerulean seas. “The weather report was right.”

The day passes so quickly with Satoru even without a single customer entering the store that the rest of the day feels like a slog without him. Or maybe it just feels like a slog because Sukuna makes it clear he wants nothing to do with you. He even stayed in the back until Satoru had to leave in spite of the changes in their regular schedules just to train you.

He’s not even that unfriendly with Satoru either from what the kinder of the two told you. He tried to reason that your tattooed co-worker simply isn’t fond of new people, but you’re pretty sure your inexperience grates on his nerves.

And unfortunately, every little slip up seems to tack on. Your shifts with Satoru are a breeze that leaves you grinning bashfully over your new crush while your shifts with Sukuna have you questioning every life choice you’ve ever made.

Your first weekend closing shift with Sukuna, you’re pretty sure you confirm your suspicions that he simply doesn’t like you.

The bell rings overhead as a tall man with dark hair walks through the door. You greet him and offer a hand, but his gait is purposeful as he heads into the back after flashing ID. Passing the time by fiddling with a pen as Sukuna stares blankly at the door with a hand lazily strewn over his textbook page, your gaze lifts when the man returns.

“Excuse me. Do you know the difference between this–” he shows you a bullet vibrator, “and this?” He holds up a hitachi wand next, “aside from size?”

Your jaw hangs open stupidly as you try to formulate a response but find yourself at a loss when size seems like the reasonable answer. Feeling your face flush, you glance sidelong at the business major.

If looks could kill.

The worst part? It’s not even glare.

It’s the most unfiltered and raw disappointment you’ve ever seen.

He huffs, pushing up from the counter. “The bullet is discreet but weak. It takes batteries and they usually only last for five hours overall. It’s still a good amount of use, but they might be watch batteries, which can be a pain.” He shoots you a pointed stare that makes you wonder if you would rather have just embarrassed yourself in front of Satoru in spite of your crush. “The wand is rechargeable, way stronger, lasts about fifteen hours, and has a lot more vibration modes,” he explains confidently.

The man nods, setting the bullet aside as he brings the wand to the counter. Over the course of the past few days, Sukuna’s taken most of the floor-related duties away from you in spite of the fact that you have tried to do some research and are getting to know the sections and general genres of toys. That question simply didn’t come up. Yet for all of the times he’s made a motion for you to take over cash, he doesn’t even offer it this time.

You get the feeling this goes beyond his usual irritation.

You can practically feel it radiating off of him in waves of negative energy.

The moment the customer walks out the door, Sukuna’s palm splays across the counter as he turns with frustrating evenness to face you. Somehow his ability to keep his actions level while being visibly affronted is worse than if he would have just yelled.

“Do you think you’re cute for making my job harder or did you just apply for the wrong fucking job?”

Okay. Fuck this guy.

“You can’t be serious right now.”

He lifts his hands in a loose shrug. “Do I look like I’m kidding?” He replies, dry and even with venomous fangs.

You scoff, but relent nonetheless given that he is close to the store’s owner and you can not afford to lose this job.

Literally.

You can’t call a scoop of peanut butter dinner again.

“Look, I’m sorry, this is just–” you hesitate, your mind muddled as you search for an explanation. Sighing in exasperation, you throw your hands up, letting them fall to your sides with a plop against your jeans. You settle on the truth before you take too long to reply. “Sex toys are new to me.”

His jaw ticks as he leans his hip back against the counter, arms crossing over his chest. Somehow, he makes Satoru look small– not thin or short, but small– given how much bulkier he is. He’s hot too, but his personality stands as a bit of a wall between you. His jaw works, eyes narrowed as he takes in your words.

At last, he chuckles. Dry and devoid of any amusement. “Why the fuck did you apply here if you don’t know anything about the shit we sell?”

“Because I need a job?” You reply incredulously.

He huffs a sigh. “Just my fucking luck.” He turns back to the register, haphazardly tossing the receipt into a small bin under the counter before he grabs the bullet vibrator and heads out onto the floor. “Figure that shit out,” he calls sourly without looking back at you. “Watch porn or buy something, I don’t give a shit. Just don’t make my job harder.”

Leaning back against the counter where it meets the wall, you let your head fall back in disbelief.

Asshole.

–

You wish you could say your first month passes seamlessly, but Sukuna makes the seams painfully obvious.

With Satoru, they’re subtle but you still feel them.

They both present separate problems.

Sukuna is an outright asshole and you want to get things right if only to not hear his virulent voice. The silence is somehow better.

Satoru is kind, open, and caring, but leagues ahead of you in experience and you have a massive crush. There aren’t enough customers in the morning to embarrass yourself in front of him, but you do find yourself wanting to impress him and against your better judgement, you’re pretty sure you’ve given him the impression you know what you’re doing from what little research you’ve done and what you’ve picked up over the month.

At least you’re trained enough that you get a couple of hours to yourself between Satoru’s departure and Sukuna’s arrival now that their hours aren’t extended in order to train you.

“You gonna be okay on your own?” Satoru asks, shrugging his jacket over his shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” you brush him off with a smile.

He nudges your arm, unknowingly sending goosebumps in a trail up your skin. “Good. Text me if you need something. Or, I dunno. If you’re bored.”

Your heart does a little flip. “Yeah. Okay, thanks.”

You watch bashfully as he leaves, offering a little wave. Once he’s out of sight, you lean on your forearms over the counter. With a forlorn sigh, you drop your chin to the vinyl below, staring blankly out the window. Truthfully, it’s nice to have a breather between each man. You need the time to prepare yourself to handle Sukuna.

Your mind’s distraction comes in the form of your phone buzzing a few minutes later.

1:36 PM Satoru || not bored yet? ;)

A distraction to be sure. Whether it’s fortunate or not– yet to be determined.

The door seems to be opening more and more with him these days and as giddy as that makes you, nerves are beginning to show more and more at the seams. It’s foolish really, and you know that, but you find yourself constantly coming back to your lack of experience.

1:37 PM You || Give me like 5 more minutes and then I will be

You can practically hear the laugh he barks, having grown fond of his company.

You’re still casually texting back and forth when Sukuna’s shoulder presses on the door. He moves confidently through the shop, casting a single glance at you before dropping his bag off in the back room.

He’s still a pain in the ass, but Satoru was right that you do get used to it. You’re not sure that you’d call that a win, but at least you’ve come to some sort of silent agreement with him out of sheer necessity.

He didn’t leave you with many options after realizing just how little you know about the industry. When he got in the following day and returned your greeting with a painfully mild ‘don’t bother’, you had to figure out some sort of system that would prevent him from interacting with you altogether if it means his attitude is milder.

That’s how you landed here. He handles the floor and questions, you handle cash. You can tell he hates the arrangement given that he’s not a chatty guy, but at least you aren’t pinned in place by his vile appraisal every time you interact.

He’s civil.

Civil enough.

Most of the time.

For him, anyway.

He’s less judgemental, at least, and when you are able to help on the floor, he tends to leave you be more often than not. It’s like the loosest form of appreciation you can think of.

You’re pretty sure ‘tolerates’ is a fitting word for how he sees you. Like some sort of intrusive insect that sits just out of reach.

When he re-emerges from the back with his coat shrugged off, you’re surprised to see him in a black button-up and slacks, carrying his usual aloof expression as he makes his way to the counter. Admittedly, it’s a good look for him.

It’s unfair that he gets to be hot and an asshole.

“Is there a reason you’re staring?”

Thank god you don’t find him intimidating anymore. He’s a dick. Even to customers from time to time, but you don’t find yourself feeling small under his judgement. Maybe you should, but your ability to quickly bounce back could easily be placed at fault.

Blinking, you avert your gaze. “Sorry. I’m just not used to seeing you so dressed up.”

He examines your expression as though he suspects a lie in your words. “I had a presentation,” he explains, surprisingly open as he offers the explanation willingly.

Holy shit. It’s the first sunny day in the Sukuna forecast.

“What sort of presentation?”

“A marketing pitch.”

“Oh, nice.” You nod, trying to keep the peace. “How’d it go?”

He nods, turning to the counter to open his laptop. “Good. We’re gonna workshop it a bit, but I’m hoping to pitch to investors soon.” There’s pride within the evenness of his voice that has you tilting your head, intrigued to get something genuine from him.

Leaning in, you push to see how much you can get from him. “Like, a startup idea?” You recall Satoru mentioning something of the sort.

His gaze fixes you from over his shoulder. You get the feeling with him that he’s always trying to read you. “Yeah. A platform where people can pitch their businesses to customers within a certain distance without needing social media.”

“Oh,” you blink, mildly surprised. “That’s a really good idea.”

He hums, turning back to his laptop.

“You don’t really strike me as the CEO type, if I’m being honest.”

“I’m not,” he agrees, surprisingly unbothered by the observation. You consider yourself lucky he doesn’t take it as an insult. “I’d be looking for a co-founder to handle the personal, financial, and sales bullshit. I’d run strategy and go-to-market.”

Admittedly, yeah. That suits him. He’s sharp and straightforward, he seems like the type to be more inclined to work on strategy and run everything without the constant need for approval and help from others.

“That sounds more your style. What made you think of the platform idea?”

He doesn’t look back as he replies. “Just seemed like something that would make money.”

You recognize that as Sukuna being polite. He’s shutting you down without a look that makes your skin crawl for once. You suppose it’s as good of a time as any to return to your texts. Your friend from back home has been religiously sending memes during your shifts to get you through the Sukuna days and today is no exception. You laugh at a few of them under your breath.

The day is as uneventful as usual. Sukuna even casts an approving glance in your direction when you correctly answer a customer’s question. He’s not so bad when he isn’t glaring every couple of minutes.

You pray the weather stays sunny in Sukunaland.

Shutting the register as a customer leaves, you turn back inside the store to find Sukuna back to work, hunched over his textbook and regurgitating the information into notes. You opt not to bother him, turning your attention instead to a flickering bulb in the back of the floor. Much like both men have chosen not to mention or fix it, you have too.

Turning your attention back to your phone, you cast a smile at your latest text from Satoru.

5:49 PM Satoru || how’s the pretty newbie handling our favorite co-worker??

5:53 PM You || The weather's looking surprisingly sunny today!!

5:54 PM Satoru || be on the lookout for rain. the weather can change on a dime

5:54 PM You || I can handle a bit of rain

5:55 PM Satoru || i’ll bet you can ;)

There your stomach goes doing flips again. Your thumbs fiddle with the edges of your phone case, pulling at the plastic as you stare at the message with that horrible mix of nerves and your stomach tying in knots. You get so caught up in your own self-doubt, you don’t realize you’re staring at Sukuna, busy with his own phone.

“What?” He gruffs, retaining that hint of annoyance.

“Hm?” You blink, brought back to the present. Before you, Sukuna is leaning against the counter, phone in-hand as his jaw shifts left and right. His lip ring noticeably catches like he’s fiddling with it. “Oh. Sorry.” With a shake of your head, you stare back down at your screen. Your gaze catches on the winky face. The underlying meaning behind it and his text. The impression you’ve probably given off working at a sex toy boutique.

The goddamn butterflies, though. The same ones causing the wave of self-consciousness that you know is foolish. But fuck is it hard not to feel that way when Satoru is undeniably the kind of guy that has people hanging off his shoulder with little to no effort. Your experience shouldn’t matter, but society has taught you to think otherwise.

“Hey,” you speak up on impulse before your mind can catch up to the move your mouth is already making. You can’t be certain whether it’s bravery or stupidity. “You know a lot about what we sell, right?”

His eyes narrow, minute. Just enough to catch your attention. “Yeah. I’m good at my job.”

The dig at your knowledge has you pressing your lips together. God, he’s frustrating. “Asshole.” His brow raises slightly, like something he once deemed uninteresting or unuseful has caught his attention and he’s appraising the situation to find if you’re deserving of it. “Is there, like… a way to improve without watching porn?” You query, worrying your lip between your teeth.

No longer engrossed in his laptop upon noticing your stare, Sukuna’s gaze bores into you. He doesn’t particularly make you uneasy now like he did when you first started, but it is sharp in spite of the evenness behind it. “I told you. Buy toys.”

You suppose you could have been a bit more specific. “No, I know that. A lot of them need a partner, though.”

He waves his hand in disinterest through the air like you’ve already answered your own question and he’s done entertaining any more. “Find one, then.” He’s already looking away as he replies.

You suck in a breath. “I’m from a small town. I just moved here, I don’t really know anyone.”

Sukuna just stares at you again like he expects you to figure it out yourself. His arms cross over his chest, his hip leaned against the counter. It’s not until the air turns stifling, your words hanging a hair too long as you meet his gaze that he cuts the tension with a disbelieving laugh.

“You’re asking me?” You can’t make heads or tails of his expression when it sits somewhere between disbelief and intrigue. It’s akin to the look you got upon calling him an asshole.

“No! Or– maybe? I don’t know.” The wince you shoot him is humiliating as you try to navigate the stormy seas you’ve set yourself sailing through.

“Why don’t you go ask Satoru?” He queries, pushing a hand back through his black-dyed locks like this question was never meant for him. Still, his tone doesn’t give off the impression that he’s irritated by you, so much as something more curious in nature.

Your gaze averts as your jaw hangs open in a frustrating moment of hesitation. Briefly glancing at the texts sitting in your hand is the only tell Sukuna needs, unfortunately able to read you like a book for some god forsaken reason.

“You’ve got to be fucking with me,” he chuckles, airy and amused. He pushes up off the counter, taking a step towards you like he’s laying out a challenge. “You don’t give a shit about the job. You’re trying to impress that fucker.” He rakes his tongue over his teeth, standing over you like he owns this damn conversation.

You cross your arms over your chest, fixing him with your own judgement. “You don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”

He pushes a condescending breath through his nose, smiling with nothing but mockery. “I don’t, but I’m gonna. You two would hit it off.”

Frowning, you opt to not give him the reaction he wants. Your nails dig into the skin of your arm. “I think I liked you better when you didn’t talk as much.”

“Most people do,” he smirks. He steps forward, hands in his pockets as he leans over you. “You still want me to teach you a thing or two, sweetheart?” His tone drips with condescension now that the person he once saw as little more than a pain in his ass has become something he can toy with.

You roll your eyes. You hadn’t expected your quiet co-worker to be this kind of an asshole. Why couldn’t he just say no and move on? Where did all the theatrics come from? “Why are you such a dick?”

“Answer the question,” he deflects, unbothered and painfully egotistical.

You huff, staring at the lemon-shaped vibrator sitting atop the counter that you’ve been contemplating buying for the last hour. “Fine. Yeah, I do.”

He blows a breath through his nose, standing upright again once he’s gotten your admission in his hands. “What’s in it for me?” The way he stands over you, chin tilted, and eyes narrowed, makes you huff.

You hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead. Hell, you didn’t expect to even voice your thoughts out loud. You barely even know enough about him to offer him anything. “I took business as a minor,” you suggest. “I could tutor you.”

“Nah, I’m set.”

You shrug, exasperated. Your hands wave uselessly through the air before plopping back down at your sides. “What do you want, then?”

He regards you with a thoughtful expression. “I’ll train you to close. Doesn’t matter what you’re doing, if I ask you to take my shift, you drop whatever you’re doing and take it.”

You shift your jaw to the left, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You expected worse.

“And you don’t tell Jillian or Satoru you took my shift. I keep the money.”

Ah. There’s the ‘worse’ you expected.

Frowning, you give the nerves in the pit of your stomach a moment to settle over making a deal with the devil. You want to say figuratively but you aren’t so sure. “Fine.” You extend your hand, but the man shakes his head, frowning.

“Rules first, then we shake.” He holds up his pointer. “Don’t tell a soul. Not even your friends back home.” Another finger. “No kissing. No making out. No sex.” He holds up a third finger. “This isn’t a little romantic fantasy thing. This isn’t a relationship. Don’t call this shit friends with benefits or fuck buddies, either. We’re not friends. Don’t expect anything cute from me. Got that?”

You don’t bother holding back a scoff. “I wasn’t going to, trust me.”

He smirks, unbothered. “Good.” His hand extends first this time.

For a long moment, you stare. You contemplate your life choices. You debate just ignoring your fears with Satoru and praying you can play the role of having experience. You equally contemplate just telling him you have no experience and that you’re nervous.

But somehow, the way nerves churn your stomach makes the butterflies worse. You want to squash them. You want to impress Satoru.

And you know. You know it’s stupid. You know you shouldn’t have to impress him, but the heart and mind don’t always connect, do they?

Against your better judgement, you clasp hands with him. You go to do the actual motion of a handshake but he keeps your hand in place. When your gaze raises to meet his in a silent question, he’s scrutinizing every little movement in your features.

His expression doesn’t hold the condescension you expect. His gaze is devoid of amusement, fixated on the frown you bear. “You really sure about this?”

You don’t hesitate to nod.

His eyes narrow a sliver. “Well, aren't you full of surprises?” There’s that hint of assholery. “One more rule.” His hand remains unmoving, still clasped with yours as he holds your gaze. “Either of us can shut this down at any time. It still never gets mentioned.”

You nod. “Agreed.”

Finally, he goes through with shaking your hand. “When are you looking to start?”

Your nose wrinkles at the way he makes it sound. “Do you have to say it like it’s a– I don’t know, job or something?”

“Oh, my bad,” he sneers, his grin too proud. “When do you wanna get fucked?”

You shouldn’t have asked.

Pulling your hand away from him, you rub your temples. You’re definitely not about to prod any further, lest he get more vulgar. “I’m free ton–”

“Not tonight,” he interrupts. “I got someone coming over to study.”

Scheduling ahead doesn’t sit right with you either. “Can we just decide during shifts? See how we’re feeling?”

“Whatever suits you,” he shrugs. The mild arrogance to his tone is… another can of worms to unpack, but as your colleague turns back to his studies, you only have one question for yourself.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

main masterlist || series masterlist || next ⪢

౨ৎ a/n ; i hope you enjoyed the first chapter of what will be a VERY kinky series LOLOL. i'm having a lot of fun with these two so far and i hope you are too <3

as a note, i'm trying moving tags to another blog which some of you may have seen due to changes in how tumblr's bot detection system is working, so please bear with me while i figure out how to not get my account flagged while doing taglists 🙃 edit; it's not working. if you weren't tagged, bear with me while i try to figure it out :')

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“you don't have to promise me the moon or the stars, just promise me you will stand under them with me.” – danielle p.

“It’s just one month. I’ll be back sooner than you think! No. Hmm…that’s not right... How about, sooner than you can blink!”

“Aang…”

“Trust me, you’ll see.”

“Promise?”

“As the Avatar and as your husband, I promise to come back to you. Don’t worry.”

At least, that was what Aang had told you.

But that was two months ago without a word from him since.

Republic City was many things. Boring was not one of them.

The capital was full of life. It had its usual hustle and bustle from lively merchants advertising their businesses, mischievous children darting through the streets, and the abundance of song and dance that carried through the city as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Daylight was quickly giving way to twilight, and it was thanks to the lanterns that littered the streets that helped you follow the path further into downtown.

Republic City held undeniable beauty during the day. It was a city of life and wonder where all things were made possible, but it was towards nightfall when it was truly able to shine through.

The people of the city twirled to the ratta tap beat of the music, clearly enjoying the presence of one another. They were free to love who they wanted, benders and non-benders alike, and could live however they so chose. In hindsight, it wasn't much but it was reason enough for them to express their happiness and gratitude through singing and dancing.

You were merely thankful that Katara had agreed to stay back and live within the capital instead of with her father and brother at the newly established Southern Water Tribe. She was a part of the city council, like you were, and was your closest friend. If she wasn’t here, you weren’t sure what you would have done without her.

In fact, that was where you were headed now.

Her home was only a couple of blocks away from yours and your husband’s, which you were very thankful for. Even though Republic City was, more or less, safe within its own measures, there was still crime here and there. People that stole from the market square and ransacked shop owners. Not to mention the fact that the Denied remained a pressing issue. It was why Aang never liked when you would leave after dark by yourself. It was dangerous. Even though he could be a bit overprotective at times, he meant well and was right.

Truthfully, that was what made having Katara live so close by such a relief.

Subconsciously, your arms stiffened around the warm basket of food that you cradled against your chest as you moved quickly through the dimming streets.

When you turned another corner, your eyes gleamed, looking up at the towering building in front of you. Katara’s home was three stories high, and had several lanterns strung up. It was a lot of space for just one person, but she tended to have company over so it was actually quite convenient.

You could smell the fresh scent of jasmine and the warmth from the hearth inside. You didn’t waste another second and stepped up to the door, giving it a clean knock in three’s.

A few seconds went by before the door swung open. When her familiar face peeked from behind the door, a smile quickly found its way to yours.

“Hey! Took you long enough. Get caught up in all of the usual festivities?” Katara teased, giving you a fond smile back before she pulled you into a hug.

Not giving you a moment to respond, she ushered you in and closed the door behind her.

“Sorry about the mess. I’ve been moving some things around. Sokka said he’s bringing some things from home and begged me to make room so–” She spread her arms out to show her progress with a sheepish smile. “I made room.”

Katara had a unique style about her that was unlike anyone you had ever met. She was creative and stylish, yet had this comforting homey feeling about the way she decorated her home—something that never failed to fill you with dread when it was time to part ways.

There were several pieces and such that were previously made sprawled around the large space. They were all from her home, things that meant something to her. Things that were given to her by the children in the villages, and trinkets that Sokka made for her. He liked to tell her that they would become useful someday. Usually, they didn't but she appreciated his little farewell gifts either way.

You could tell that some of it was put up, but it would seem that she’d managed to keep the more meaningful ones out in view. A beautiful pot of jasmines sat comfortably in the window that was near her balcony. They had been a birthday gift from you. Something for her to look after and care for while she remained apart from what was soon going to be her new future.

You were enlightened to know that the flowers were flourishing.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, catching her gaze. “A lot of room, I see.”

Katara shrugged, some of her long dark hair falling over her shoulder. “Well, you know. Sokka asks, I deliver.”

You hummed and nodded with a knowing smile on your lips as you followed the familiar path to the cooking area of her home.

“Oh, yeah. Of course. I mean, you making all of this space has absolutely nothing to do with your betrothed. The same one that is on his way here from the fire nation as we speak. No, no. Surely not,” you jested, settling the still-warm basket of baked goods down on a nearby surface.

You didn’t need to look over your shoulder to know that she had followed you with her lip fit between her teeth and that flustered glint in her eyes. She was easy to read whenever it came to her and Zuko’s relationship.

Speaking of which, it was never made clear when Katara and Zuko became a thing.

Toph once mentioned that it had happened a year or so after the hundred-year war ended. Sokka had taken a more…romantic approach. He preferred to remember it as love at first sight. Or, more knowingly when Zuko first arrived at the Southern Water Tribe, looking for the Avatar. Katara never bothered to correct nor deny either of them. When asked, she simply said,

“Zuko and I… Let’s just say that there was a mutual understanding between us, even as friends. Time is a funny thing. You really start getting to know someone when the world is ending. Or…beginning, I should say.”

At the time, you didn’t know him all that well but Zuko on the other hand…

“Katara is the moon, a light and beacon when the world around me got too dark to see. She has anchored me and I only wish to remain by her side, for as long as she will have me.”

Aang, on the other hand, was the most surprising one.

His support of their relationship had always confused you. Of course, you’d joined the group well after the war and the building of Republic City, but you became close enough to understand their dynamics and history together. His feelings for Katara was made out to be quite strong. Strong enough to see a future together. You could never understand what had happened between them and why they were not still together, but it meant little to you when you'd realized how happier they were apart.

Not to mention that, within a few months, Katara was going to be fire lady of the fire nation. Added that she would also continue to act as one of the council members for Republic City as well as back at the Southern Water Tribe.

It was clear, for both her and Aang, that there were no romantic feelings between them. They died the day they realized they wanted different things but, in place, something else was born.

A friendship that they knew would last several lifetimes over.

It was never like you needed the reassurance of knowing that they no longer had feelings for each other. It was never about that. You loved Aang, but always wanted the best for Katara. So it warmed your heart to know that she was happy.

She deserved it.

“Spirits, enough about me. We have to talk about you.”

Your expression fell a bit, feeling the color drain from your face. The last thing you wanted to do nowadays was talk about you. In fact, keeping all subjects away from you was what, somehow, helped make the days bearable.

Except, Katara had this way about her that wasn't exactly intrusive because she cared about you and could feel when things were off with you. However, she tended to meddle more than you wanted. Especially when she knew that something was wrong, even if you promised her differently.

And well, she was never exactly wrong. It wasn't as if things had been all that great since...

“If this is about Aang, then–”

“Yes. It is.”

You paused.

"Katara.”

“Come on–”

“I honestly would prefer not to really talk about it.”

There was a sharp finality to your tone that made Katara give you a puppyish look. You let out a heavy breath, feeling exhaustion seep into your bones like it'd belonged there. Then again, did it not?

At least it made you feel something other than hurt or angry.

“Aang does this all the time," Katara tried to reassure you. "He’s the Avatar. He’s a busy guy. A lot of people are counting on him to help keep the balance of the world. Without that and peace, I’m not sure where things would be right now. There’s also a lot of people that need him–”

“And I don’t?”

Your interruption made her stop and blink.

You should've stopped it then and there, but there was an impulse inside of you. It felt like it was trying to claw its way from your throat, and you weren't able to catch it in time.

"I know the Denied are an issue and I knew that there were going to be people that would need his help along the way but it’s been two months, Katara. No letters, no word. I don't even know if he's okay or not. I don't know anything, and that’s what hurts me the most."

The silence between you and her managed to smother the sounds of the crackling hearth from the other room. The longer that you stood in silence, the easier it was for a wave of regret to burrow itself down deep into your chest.

There was nothing that you loved more than being by Aang’s side and supporting him through all of his endeavors. This was his purpose, his reason for existing. You knew this, and yet—

You knew how that had sounded. It was…selfish, on a grand scale of things. Aang was the Avatar. He was who the people of the world depended on the most, even for the most minute of reasons. If they called, he answered, always. But, for some reason, the importance of who he was—

It was taking a toll on you.

“Sorry. That was completely unnecessary.” You turned and pressed your back against the edge of the counter, your eyes glued to the floor. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No,” Katara shook her head, and walked over to place a gentle hand on your arm. She sighed. “You don’t need to apologize. You have every right to feel the way that you do.”

When you looked up, you were met with soft cerulean eyes that gave you more reassurance than you felt you deserved.

“You love him and miss him, a lot. I know the feeling. So don’t invalidate yours by apologizing for something that you can’t necessarily control.”

“I do,” you agreed, fighting the inner turmoil within you. “I do love him, but that still shouldn’t excuse how I’ve been feeling. He’s out there, alone. Sure he can handle himself but he’s...”

A sting to your eyes, a burn to your nose and suddenly your vision started to blur. It only frustrated you more because there was nothing worse than feeling sorry for yourself than crying when you felt you were wrong.

“To me, he’s not the Avatar, Katara.”

You looked at her, ignoring the way your unshed tears made you see the look on her face.

“He’s my husband, and I want him home. I don’t care about the Denied or any other group of criminals. I just want Aang home.”

Katara felt her heart tug down to the shallows of her stomach.

“Hey…”

She pulled you into a hug, feeling your tears dampen her shirt.

“I know,” she nodded. “I know.”

Because if anyone could understand where you were coming from, it was always going to be Katara.

For the past two months, Aang had been on a long and arduous mission somewhere in the Earth Kingdom trying to find out more information on the exact location of the Denied.

Within the last year, there had been several reports that began to surface across entire villages within the Earth Kingdom that were quietly siding with the Denied. Murmurs of a mutual understanding and rebellion against the benders of the world. There were also reports of supply routes disappearing and the Earth Kingdom officials who were being threatened or worse, vanishing completely. No one knew who was leading them, only that they were growing bolder and larger.

Aang was analytical. He knew that they never tended to stay in one place for long so he figured that if he could find their hidden headquarters, he would have access to their current whereabouts or, at the very least, know their next move.

That was what his last letter said to you before they had stopped coming altogether.

Perhaps that was what aided the storm that had been brewing inside of you. The same one that had been creating a monsoon of thoughts and emotions that you would have normally swallowed down in favor of giving Aang your continued patience and support. Even from a distance now forced between the two of you.

And the thing was, you did understand. The Denied were becoming a very serious threat and you knew that he was truly the only one that could sort this without violence and penance.

Your husband was the Avatar, the most important man on the planet. How much more selfish could you be?

“Thank you Katara,” you said and managed to give her a tender smile as you pulled back from her embrace, silently hoping that it was convincing enough to ease her worries.

“Now,” you sniffled, taking a breath. “I believe that we have a lot to talk about with this wedding of yours coming up. Wanna make the tea and I’ll plate some of the homemade sweet buns I brought?”

For a split second, Katara’s brows twitched inward. As if it had been the trick of the room's gentle glow, she smiled warmly and gave you a nod.

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

When you turned to do just that, her face fell.

She knew that look all too well. You were doing it again. You were letting that vulnerable part of yourself decide to crawl back into the cold shadows of your mind where you felt it was safest. It always hurt when you did it with her. She wanted you to feel safe enough to tell her how you felt and rely on her to help alleviate the pain you carried of constantly wondering if you were still a wife or now a widow. It was not easy, of course she knew that. But, still...

She watched you pull two serving dishes from the cabinet and place a few of the sweet buns onto them. When you turned to check on her, she made herself busy by snagging the tea kettle from a lower compartment and filled it with water. You sent her a smile from over your shoulder, and she noticed that it barely met your eyes.

Katara smiled back and turned around, sighing quietly to herself.

Aang, she spoke from the confines of her mind, shutting her eyes. Please come home.

After a rather long talk about wedding plans, council member work and bellies full of a few sweet buns and tea, the sky completed its final cycle and descent into nightfall.

It was time to head back home and just like every night since you were left alone, you dreaded it.

Without Aang, home no longer felt like home. It lacked the warmth and luminance that your lively husband tended to bring with him. Where it felt as though the sun encompassed the space, once he was gone, he left behind a cold and dark cloud that seemed to engulf everything within reach. Like a black hole that only knew how to consume until there was nothing left.

The thought of having to return back to that only made your stomach turn. He should be here. He should be home, with you.

But he wasn’t.

When you made it to the foyer of her home, you were pulled into another hug but tighter this time. Katara squeezed you as if she, too, knew what you were you going back to.

“Promise me that you’ll come back over the day after tomorrow,” She said, just above a whisper next to your ear. “Sokka’s going to want to see you and Zuko too. Honestly, not seeing you for a day will kill me but I have that council meeting about the trades from back home tomorrow…”

Slowly but firmly, you circled your arms around her form, giving her a promising nod.

“Don’t worry. I will.”

When you separated and walked out, you could feel pieces of her home trying to pull you back in. It also knew.

Katara sent you a small wave, and watched you disappear back into the streets of the city, headed down the familiar darkened path to what you still managed to call home.

As if the universe was aware of your desolate mood, it began to rain.

You couldn't help but stop where you were, craning your neck up to the sky. It started with a few drops along your cheeks until the rain fell in sheets, soaking you from head to toe. However, you didn't move. Not even when those that were leisurely walking the streets, likely going back home as well, gasped and jogged the rest of the way, seeking warmth and shelter.

It was the middle of fall, and it was raining. Usually the city would see a few snow-scares before winter finally came around but rain at this time of the year was rare.

A brief sigh left your lips as you closed your eyes, and continued to stand in the middle of the street, ignoring the feeling of your clothes sticking to you like a second skin. Then, you smiled.

Memories of the last time you were caught in the rain resurfaced and helped you remember one of the last moments that you'd had with Aang.

༄ ... flashback ... ༄

"What about this?"

Aang took a brief glance at you from over his shoulder before he released an airy breath.

"Not everything's going to be something worth taking back home, my love." He smiled and turned back to what he was doing.

You raised a brow, and studied the artifact for a moment.

Under the warm glow of a nearby lantern, you held up long, thin pieces of metal that were suspended at uneven lengths and had fading, almost smooth-looking air nomad glyphs carved onto them. There were some parts of it that had green weathering areas from decades of mountain snow and rain exposure while others had small dents along the edges. The metal parts were divided by tiny beads that were carved from pale wood and chimed quietly together when the wind stirred well enough. They produced a soft hollow sound. It was almost…haunting.

That was when you heard Aang shift to look at you again but this time, his face paled.

He sucked in a breath and held it as he turned to face you. His eyes were wide and on the chimes that you were still holding.

"Is that..."

You watched the way his fingers twitched at his side, almost as if he wanted to reach out to touch it but was afraid to.

"That's... Those are prayer chimes."

He moved closer to you, and finally raised a hand to gently brush along the dusty beads. His eyes were glossy, even under such poor lighting.

"The monks used to use these for mediation and mourning. I haven't heard the sound of these since before the war. Since I was a child."

His voice was barely above a whisper and if you weren't paying such close attention, you would've missed it.

When his eyes shifted onto you, your heart sunk.

"Oh, Aang..."

He brought a hand up to his temples and rubbed them before turning back around. Memories of his old mentor and best friend, Gyatso, surfaced.

Times where Aang would mediate with him and hear those same chimes from the archway of the room. How, on nights where it was difficult for Aang to sleep, the old monk would let him rest in his room while the soft ringing of the chimes lulled him to sleep, finally ridding his mind of the nightmares that ailed him.

Flashes of the past began to filter through his mind, glimpses of his old friend, of the children that he played with, of the joy and the laughter. All of it came rushing back, the dreams of his memories that had been haunting him every night were colliding with his waking mind. It was so surreal, he could hardly tell what was real anymore.

It was like they were there, all of them; he could hear them as if he was there again, back at the Southern Air Temple, enjoying his youth with his friends and the one monk that never saw him as the Avatar. Just Aang, a boy that met a worldly responsibility at an age where all that should have mattered to him was being a kid. In the face of what truly came to matter, he got scared and ran away.

If he hadn’t run away, if he had chosen to stay and fight what was inevitably coming, would his people have survived or would he have just died trying?

Aang knew that it was pointless to still dwell on. It was far too late now.

And it was because of this that he would always see himself as a coward, the coward that ran away yet still called himself the Avatar.

How foolish, and undeserving he was.

Without another thought, you gently placed the chimes back on the surface where you found them and slid your arms around his waist, holding him. You pressed your cheek against the warmth of his back, and closed your eyes.

"We'll take them with us. We'll take as much as Appa can carry, okay?"

You opened your eyes and tried to peek around Aang's broad form to see his face. You knew that he was crying. You saw it in his eyes before he looked away, and you could see it now. He was still covering his face, but you could see the traces of tears that started to fall. You could also feel him trembling, and not from the draft curling through the room.

It pained him to be here. It pained him to be in any of the air temples but more so with having you riding along with him. He never liked to show you the weakest parts of him, but being in these places... In the places that held the memory of his people that were long gone and only here through his own memories—it was a kind of pain that couldn't be put into words.

"I'm sorry," you heard him say, watching him shake his head. "This was meant to be a bonding trip for us. I didn't mean to ruin it by getting all sad and emotional."

Your heart nearly stopped. You pulled back just to turn him back around so that you could see him clearly. You reached up and pried his hands away, finding his teary eyes and red-splotched cheeks utterly heart-breaking.

You took his face in your hands, and rubbed away the falling tears.

"Never apologize for having emotions ever again, Aang, do you hear me? I can't bear it. You are allowed to feel exactly how you feel. No matter what emotion that is, it's okay."

He looked at you with such softness and vulnerability, it almost broke you into a million pieces.

"My love, we are two halves of a whole. I share your pain while you share mine. I know that you wanted to come here and show me pieces of your past, but please don't apologize when the memories get too much to bear. As your wife, I am meant to carry that weight with you. Never forget that."

A distant rumble of thunder shuddered and rattled around the old temple, causing some of the ancient wood to creak and groan. It coincided with the storm that simmered at the edges of Aang's mind. Yet, looking at you while placed into the delicate palms of your hands grounding him—he felt it all wash away. The darkness that filled him began to descend and retreat back into the shadows of his mind until all he could see and hear was you.

Aang lifted a hand to cover one of yours, giving you a warm and familiar smile.

"What would I do without you?"

"Mmm," you smiled back. "I don't know. Miss me?"

"You're right." He let out a low chuckle before he pulled you in closer, one hand on your waist while the other covered the back of your hand that was still against his face. His big grey eyes were back to their usual playfulness and you knew exactly what was on his mind.

"Aang, its going to storm soon."

"Mhm."

"Sooo."

He smirked, his eyes moving down to your lips.

"Sooo?"

You tried to hold back a roll of your eyes, but ultimately failed. He laughed as you sighed.

"You're such a handful, you know that?"

Aang lowered his head until his lips were just a breath away from yours. You could practically feel the smile on his lips as he said,

"Yeah, and you wouldn't have it any other way."

The moment that you took a breath, he wasted no time and pressed his lips against yours, swallowing it whole. You gave in and melted against him, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. You closed your eyes, and imagined a world where it was just you and him living endlessly, eternally bound to one another until the end of time and the life thereafter.

You knew that you did not hold the power to rewind time and bring all of his people back. But, what you did have was hope. You would help him build back what he had lost the best way you knew how and that was by focusing on what was still here rather than mourn what was now lost.

It started with you, him, and a lot of dusty old airbender relics…which had to be put on pause the moment that you felt his lips trail from the curve of your jaw to your neck.

"Aang," you whined.

"Shhh."

He switched places so that your back was in line of an old rickety table, and placed his hands at your waist to lift you up onto it. When it wobbled and creaked, both of you shared a wide eyed look before giggling together.

"If this comes down with me on it, me and appa will leave you here."

Aang chuckled lowly as he mapped his wide hands along your thighs, moving between them, close to the warmest part of you. His lips ghosted yours again as a mild distraction and without you noticing, he bended the air, parting your legs to slot himself right in the middle of them.

Your breath hitched when you felt him grip your thighs to pull you right up against him, feeling a desperate ache below your navel stir awake.

He hummed.

"Then I'll make sure I'm real gentle. Don't worry," and claimed your lips again, groaning at the muffled whine at the back of your throat with terrible plans of wrecking you and that feeble ol' table.

When both of you were finally dressed again and Aang told you that it was time to head back home, it began to pour with rain.

Before you and Aang had set out in search of ancient airbender relics at the old northern air temple, the sky was clear of clouds and any other indication of rain. Now, there wasn't a hint of blue left. There were just dark grey clouds and buckets of cold rain cascading down.

Once all of the old relics that the two of you could fit in your satchels were full, Aang whistled for Appa. The large bison roared in the distance and came barreling through the sky, landing a few feet in front of you.

"Come on, let's get back home before it gets worse!"

He took your wrist and tried to pull you along but was met with a bit of resistance. Worried and confused, he looked back at you with furrowed brows.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?"

There was nothing about you that alarmed him other than the way you were looking around. Well, then there was the apprehension in your voice too.

"I don't know, Aang. You know what they say about flying in storms like this. Plus, we're going to be soaking wet. I think I'll pass on that."

All of the tension that quickly coiled under his skin fell away. He smirked, quirking a brow.

"What? Scared of a little water? The same woman that managed to hold her own against a fire bender and a few lightning attacks? Who are you and what did you do to my wife?"

Without looking down, he felt your hand tighten around his. There was a new air of determination about you that made him fight back a smile. He always knew how to get to you. He just had to press the right buttons, and so he did.

"Let's go," you muttered and with a faint yelp from him, you tugged him out to Appa and saddled up. When you grabbed the reins and looked down at him wearing an impatient expression on your face, he finally smiled to himself.

"Yes ma'am," and used the air around him to push off on the balls of his feet up onto Appa as well, sitting right behind you. Even though both of you were soaked through, he still wrapped his arms around your waist, suctioning the front of his body against the back of yours. He felt you stiffen, and watched the way your hands gripped at the reins. He smirked again, and looked ahead. "Appa, yip yip!"

And then you were off, headed back home.

༄ ... end of flashback ... ༄

When the memory faded and you opened your eyes, you felt the wind begin to pick up, ruffling your clothes and the shutters on the houses around you.

It was definitely time to head back home.

Once you'd made it through the entrance, you made a face, finally feeling the heaviness of your clothes. Eagerly, you peeled off each article and hung them up in the entryway to dry. With each pad of your feet towards your shared bedroom, you left behind a trail of wet footprints that you made a mental note to clean up when you were all washed and dried.

As you stood underneath the copper rainfall-style pipe and let the warm water roll off of your body in steady trails, you could feel your mind begin to wander.

Weeks of waiting to hear back from Aang, and nothing. No letters from his wind-swallow messenger nor any word from any of your connections in the Earth Kingdom. Not even from the one person that would’ve sent you an update the moment she caught wind of his name. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to dig for information from Toph. She just didn’t have anything worth noting to give you.

It was nerve wracking having to wait. To worry and spend almost every single night curled up in a ball in a bed that no longer even smelled like him anymore. It felt like each day came to erase him, piece by piece, until time left you with nothing but what he was. Not as the Aang you'd come to know, but as the Avatar instead.

You had half a mind to set out to his last known location to search for him, but Katara stopped you before you could do it. She’d told you that she understood why you wanted to go, but that it wouldn’t help the situation. Especially if, when he did come back, he came back to an empty home and to the news that you were dead, thousands of miles where no one would ever find you.

You understood that it was not because you were weak or unable to handle your own out there. It was simply because there was not a single person alive that didn’t know who you were, unless they lived under a rock. Everyone knew you were the Avatar’s wife, which made you worth as much as Aang. It made you into a target.

Katara was truly your voice of reason; why you decided to stay put and wait instead. You couldn’t bear hurting Aang that way or ever at all. Plus, you were brave but you were not stupid either.

As painful as it was to sit and be patient, it was your only option.

When the water began to shift temperatures, you decided that it was best to finish washing up and finally get dry.

Once you stepped out of the stone-clad bathroom and into the main bedroom, it was hard to ignore the emptiness around you.

During Aang’s absence, you’d made several attempts at keeping the space well-kept and full of the same vibrance that he was so naturally gifted with. From leaving a few ancient nomad scrolls in one corner of the room to keeping an incense lit in the other. It was always the same scent. Cedarwood and Juniper. He’d once told you that it would help him quiet his thoughts. To rest his mind so that he could meditate in peace.

Your brows furrowed, staring at the meditation corner. Try as you might, but it would seem that dust was drawn to the places where he lingered the most. Maybe it was meant to haunt you worse than the memories and the nightmares. You see, dust was something that you could see. What your mind often conjured were things that you could blink away or distract yourself from.

Something physical, on the other hand…

It only served as a cruel reminder that you were alone and had been for a while.

Your feet crossed the room without much sound, flitting about the room like you were just remnants of a person; a ghost in your own home. Once your skin was dry and lathered in its usual oils, you spotted something from the corner of your eye. On the dresser rested a folded heap of orange and yellow fabric. Your heart clung to the cage in your chest as you took in a slow breath, and shuffled over. As delicately as you were capable, you pulled it down and watched it unravel before you.

It was one of Aang’s robes. It was one that he wore when he was at home and could shuck off his everyday wear to replace it with something that didn’t remind him of his duties as the Avatar. You’d made it for him one day, and he had worn it ever since.

When you rose it up to the tip of your nose, you could still smell bits of him.

“I just want to know that you’re safe. That’s all.”

Maybe Aang was safe, he just couldn’t send his messenger, but you selfishly wished that he would just so you could know something.

With a sigh, you placed it back in the same neat fashion the robe was previously in before dressing in your night gown. It wasn’t completely see-through but just enough to keep your skin cool from the hot temperatures of your shower and the mugginess luring in from the outside rain.

After you cleaned up the wet footprints from the entryway, you decided that another hot cup of tea would help you rest for the night. Or, at the very least, settle your cloudy mind.

Luckily, you still had some jujube-ginger tea left over from earlier in the morning and heated the kettle up atop the warming flame. It was going to be a few minutes so you crossed back into the common room for a moment, and opened a few windows along with the balcony doors. For a brief second, you stood there and watched the rain fall.

Aang always did prefer some of the windows opened, especially when it was nice outside and the wind was blowing. He loved the home more when there was fresh airflow coming through but with the rain, it felt cold; much like how everything else around you did.

With a sigh, you turned and chose to take a seat near the lowered table on a fluffed cushion. The silence was welcoming, but the emptiness was not. You brought your legs up so that you could rest your chin on your knees, and stared out at the balcony doors.

During the first week after Aang left for his mission, you started looking for him to come dropping back in on the balcony. The two of you had a wrap-around balcony but he preferred to come in where you could see him. So you would wait up, every night, until you began to realize that he wasn’t going to be coming back home anytime soon.

You’d told yourself that every week but when it got to be a month and a half, you stopped looking for him completely. You went about your days as if he was already gone and in a way, that was what it felt like. It felt like a loss, even though the better part of you knew that he was still out there.

Or, at least, you'd hoped so.

Hope was a funny thing sometimes but it kept you from doing something stupid like going out and finding him yourself, despite what Katara said. Who knows if you would like what you found anyway...

Still waiting for the whistle of the kettle, you shifted and was about to reach for a book you’d started recently reading when your eyes caught a few scattered pieces of half-rolled up paper on the table. Your brows furrowed, and reached for them instead.

When you unraveled one of them, you felt a wave of sadness crash into you. It was all of Aang’s letters to you. Well, the ones that he'd sent before they stopped coming.

You sifted through them until you came upon the first one he’d sent and sniffled, pulling a spare blanket over your legs as you started to read through them all over again.

༄ hey baby, it’s me! well…guess you already know that by the bird huh? by the time you read this, i’ll already be pretty close to the border of the earth kingdom. i wish i could give you more than that but you know how easily these letters can fall into the wrong hands. anyway, i miss you… so much. these past few nights have been so lonely without you… momo and appa would bite my head off if they could read this but it’s not the same without you

but i hope the necklace i gave you makes up for my absence, just until i get back yeah?

wait for me. i will be home, soon

– A

As you read through it, you'd subconsciously reached up and fiddled with the necklace that hung around your neck. It was the only piece of jewelry that you never took off, not even when you bathed. It was the only thing that you had left of him, other than his robe.

You didn’t realize that you were crying until you noticed a dark wet spot on the parchment. You cleared the tears away, and shuffled the papers so that you could read the next few.

༄ my love, my sweet love, how are you?

i got your letter, don’t worry, i just haven’t had time to get back to you because guess what? i found a clue on where they are! well, actually, sorry i forgot to mention that i’m here in the earth kingdom now and actually met up with toph. enjoyed seeing her again but sadly she didn’t have any info on you know who sooo, i went out and did my own digging and actually found something!

it was details about another hideout but it really feels like i’m getting closer which means i should be home soon! exciting right? to see your face again, to hold you and kiss you… it’s all i dream about. well, when i get to sleep that is. sleeping hasn’t been all that easy lately…

sorry that this letter is longer than the last. i’ll work on that. just got too excited to talk to you but i know we will talk again and next time, i hope to have better news. until then…

– A

Thankfully, the hearth in the common room you were in had still been on when you’d left earlier to go see Katara. It kept you warm as you sat there, on the floor, reading through old letters and reopening old wounds.

With another quiet sniffle, you moved on to the next and final one that almost made you break down while reading it.

༄ hi love.

i don't want to scare you but...momo isn’t doing well. i’m not sure when he started to feel sick or how or from what and i was close to turning back but he’s in toph’s care right now and i’m closer than ever on the group's whereabouts. appa is doing ok, don’t worry. me on the other hand…

it’s been storming a lot here. you know i’m not a big fan of storms but even without you here to keep me calm, i’ve been managing.

i want to come back home. i really do. it’s all i think about now but i know i cant. i have to make sure this group is no longer a threat to our home, to you. you understand that…right?

pls don’t give up on me. i WILL be home soon. i made you that promise didn’t i? do you still believe in it? pls say that you do.

i do…

i can’t say when i will be able to write to you again but hopefully you’ll see me in person so we won’t have to rely on these little pieces of paper.

i love you. so much. you are my heart and my everything. i know i have already asked so much of you but pls continue to wait for my return.

talk soon,

– A

Before you knew it, you were sobbing.

Horribly.

The letters were scattered around you when you tugged the blanket up to your face, crying into it. It felt like your heart was breaking into two all over again. Every part of you felt hollow and in so much pain, you could hardly move. Your body shook and trembled, curling into yourself until you felt like the smallest thing in the room.

The battle of knowing that Aang held the world on his shoulders as the Avatar but doubled as your husband and was only trying to do what was right, weighed heavily on you. It felt silly to be so upset just because you missed him but you also knew that it was not only that. It was how worried you were for him. He was never someone that would not communicate, even if it was just a two-sentence letter. What if something really did happen to him? What if you’d spent all this time crying and being angry at him when there was a real possibility that he might have been…

You shook your head and dug your fingers into your legs, pushing your face further into your knees. No, you told yourself. Aang was fine. He was strong and more than capable of taking care of himself. He’d fought many to make Republic City into what it was. He’d even fought a spirit just to fight for his claim over the land itself. Even through the times that he lost, he got back up and kept fighting until he won.

That was your Aang. That was the man that you fell in love with and trusted more than anything. He told you to wait. He promised that he would return to you. You knew this and believed in it, in him.

So why were you doubting him now?

Was it the absence? The unknowing of where he was and if he was really okay? The cut of communication and no information from Toph? The same person that Aang said he'd seen in his letter to you before he had just...disappeared?

You tried to rationalize some of your thoughts before they got too dark. Toph, more than likely, didn't give you any deep information on his whereabouts because it came in a correspondence and was not a conversation that was done in person. You remembered that letters were intercepted all of the time. It did no one any favors for outsiders to know that the Avatar was gone and had left his defenseless wife, at home, all by herself.

Toph was looking out for you and her friend, Aang. It was the only thing that made sense.

You gave yourself a few more moments before you decided to light one of the incenses that Aang used, if not to breathe and bring you momentary peace. Once that was done, the tea kettle squealed hot on its open flame, grabbing your attention. When you gathered the letters and placed them back on the table, you went to check on the tea.

As you poured yourself a cup, the aroma whirled around the space and blended with the scent of the incense, calming your mind and your body in one. For a moment, you allowed yourself the opportunity to think of nothing. To stand in place, and just breathe.

The one thing you’d forgotten to do in your husband’s absence was meditate. Frankly, it was something that you did together. You knew it was often best to do it alone, but you loved being near him in a pocket of silence to sit, breathe, and feel the things around you. He once told you that meditating was not always a way to connect with his past lives. He mostly did it for himself. To ground himself when he needed it most.

Aang was far from perfect. He had just as many flaws as the next person and knew, through meditating, he could find himself again. Especially during his hardest moments.

You wondered if he ever found the chance to meditate while being away. If there was time for him to just be alone with his thoughts and connect back with the air around him. To try and reach out to you the way you’d tried with him in your dreams.

The thought pulled a smile from you. You pictured him sitting in a cross-legged fashion, fists together with a particularly concentrated expression on his face before it turned into a cute pout. Maybe the demands around him kept him from truly being able to focus. Upon people seeing him, there was no telling what kind of side quests he was put on. It was like him to get sidetracked in favor of helping those that needed it along the way.

You took the opportunity to splash a bit of cool water onto your face to subdue any puffiness that might come from your earlier moment of crying and took your tea back into the common room, crossing out to the balcony.

The rain had lightened to a soft pitter-pat with a few rumbles of thunder in the distance. It would seem that the worst of it was well over and left behind a soft soothing ambience to close out the night.

You were appreciative. The rain never bothered you. In fact, you enjoyed storms. It provided enough noise to shut out the bad thoughts, and it tended to fill the home in a way that made you feel less alone.

As soon as you were about halfway through your cup of tea, you set it down and glanced at a few pots of flowers next to you. Your eyes softened. Wind lilies. On one of your first trips out to the Southern Air Temple, there were only a few left that were healthy enough to take back with you and since then, they’d been thriving wonderfully. It was only due to your frequent tending that they had managed to survive for so long. Still, most flowers, especially brought from one region to live in another, would struggle to acclimate to a different climate. These, on the other hand…

“Thank you for sticking it out with me,” you bent to meet the lilies eye to eye, smiling. “My little troopers.”

Moments of Aang struggling to remember to water them half of the time almost made you giggle. He had many talents, but tending to flowers was definitely not one of them. Funny, considering he was the master of patience. However,

“C’mon,” Aang whined, half of his lumbering body hanging across the balcony railing. “You know I’m not good at that stuff. Flowers require too much work.” You smiled, rolled your eyes and continued watering them. He then grinned and made his way over to you, wrapping his arms around you. “Not that it matters when they’ve got such a good mama to do it though, huh?”

“Aang, you’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, lips against your neck. “I know.”

A sigh left your lips as you studied the flowers a bit closer. There were a few dead leaves that needed trimming and you decided that since you were having some trouble sleeping and was waiting for the tea to kick in anyway, why not cut them now? So, you grabbed a pair of brass trimming shears that were near the flower pots and got to work.

The tranquility of the soft rain, the surrounding city lanterns and the smell of the wind lilies filled your chest with a warmth that you hadn’t felt in a while. You were not often rewarded with nights like this. The ones where you weren’t constantly being haunted and tormented with dreams that would urge you awake, night after night. No, this was one of those nights where you'd almost felt at peace with yourself. Where being at home didn’t feel as though it was draining you. Things almost felt…right.

So, you allowed yourself this momentary feeling of freedom from it all and started to hum as you trimmed, remembering a tune from your childhood. In the stillness of your mind, you'd missed the way the air shifted around you. A breeze that was not there moments ago was now brushing at the ends of your hair like a familiar touch that you’d become unfamiliar with.

Gentle as a breeze, and unbeknownst to you, Aang landed on the other side of the western curve of the balcony that was near the bedroom. He closed his glider, set it to the side, and stepped inside while being as careful and as silent as he could. In truth, it was never very difficult for him. He tended to walk as if his feet hardly ever touched the ground, but he could feel the exhaustion creeping up on him.

It had been a long and grueling journey back home.

Momo finally started to feel well enough to travel so once Aang was able to settle things back at the Earth Kingdom, he knew that it was time to head back. For the first few hours, he had been overly excited. He was coming back home, coming back to you, his sweet little wife, but with the lack of sleep and all of the stress that he had underwent—it was no wonder his footsteps landed on spots in the wood flooring that they normally would not have. They creaked underneath him but he figured that you were probably deep in sleep and wouldn't notice.

When he finally rounded into the bedroom, he discarded all of his damp clothing and slid on a pair of warm loose sleeping pants that he let hang low on his hips. He was fully prepared to slip into bed and cozy up next to you when he noticed that the bed was made as if you hadn't slept yet. It was strangely untouched, almost as if you'd never even acknowledged it at all. Were you not home?

Sporting a small pout, Aang peeked his head into the washroom but was met with the same silence and darkness he'd walked into when he came in.

Softly, he called your name as he moved towards the kitchen area and...nothing. He frowned, but wasn't at the stage of concerned yet. Especially since there was clearly a warm kettle of tea that was left on the warmer. He brushed the back of his hand against it. He was right. You couldn't have made the tea that long ago, so you were close by. He was sure of it.

He was always good at finding you. That was never a problem.

It just helped when he could...cheat a little.

When he stepped into the common area, he circled his fingers through the air, bending the flow of the current to his will so that he could feel for your presence. Since the windows and the balcony doors were open, it was easy for air to travel through the home and wind throughout, being able to cover the entire upper floor before he took his next breath. Suddenly, the torrent of air stopped. His eyes widened, and a warm smile curved at his lips.

There you were.

Before he could walk out to the balcony to you, he heard the sound of paper shuffling to the floor. Curious, he turned and saw what was there. He bent at the knees and with a crease to his forehead, his eyes swept over the pages.

Letters. His letters to you.

Even though he remembered what he had wrote to you, he read over them, ignoring the way his chest flooded with a sinking feeling. They were hard to read, being back home now. He'd missed you, a lot, but didn't want to even imagine how his long and silent absence affected you.

He sighed and dropped his hand, still holding the letters. His eyes traveled over to the hearth that was still aflame, and felt a chill along his naked spine. Maybe he should have rushed the mission. He knew he needed more information on the Denied but was all of it worth it in the end? If you were still up at this late hour and was drinking jujube-ginger tea while rereading all of his letters...

He had been wrong.

He'd told himself that you understood what he needed to do, who he was to the people of the world. You knew he was the Avatar. He had a duty to protect the people and the balance of all nations but more importantly, you.

So did you not understand? Did you pretend to when he first told you that he loved you and wanted to be with you for the rest of his life?

All he wanted was to make sure that the world stayed safe enough for you to live in. It was never like you asked him to take on that responsibility, but he couldn't sleep at night knowing that you were constantly surrounded by danger when he knew that he could do something about it. You deserved what he had to fight for, and that was peace.

But could it really be at the cost of causing you so much pain and unrest?

Suddenly, he was afraid to face you. It felt like judgement day.

Still, no matter what, Aang had to see you. He'd let you cry, scream and hit him if it made you feel better. He just wanted to lay eyes on you. Maybe hold you, if you'd let him. Spirits, he hoped so...

With a firm resolve set in his jaw, he gently placed the letters back on the lowered table and quietly made his way out onto the balcony where you were still chipping away at dead leaves.

Even though you had no bending abilities, you were still able to feel when something...was off. It was like a shift in the air, a turn; a difference. It brushed against your skin like a breath waiting to exhale.

As noticeable as it was, it still didn’t prepare you for what came next.

"You're still awake."

It was as if the world had gone quiet. The rain, the wind chimes, the distant hum of the city below—it all faded into nothing. Even the air in your lungs had abandoned you.

It couldn’t be…

It wasn’t—

But you didn’t turn to look. You didn’t even blink.

Instead, you held your breath and counted down the seconds, hoping that you weren’t having another waking nightmare. Your mind could be terribly cruel that way. It’s enjoyed making you suffer the long and lonely days and nights with your husband gone, tormenting you with memories and phantom touches of his fingers across your skin. It had this peculiar way of creating illusions that it knew you yearned for, if not to silence the thought of losing him.

Aang.

It was him, you knew it. Like the flowers in your palms, this was real; this, you knew. Except, the greater part of you couldn't bring itself to face him.

It was the months of waiting, of spiraling between anger and worry. It took from you until you had nothing left to give.

So, you said nothing.

You resumed snipping at the leaves, and ignored the sharp breath from behind you. By now, he must have realized. How could he not? You'd left things as they were; the bed, the tea, the letters... Oh, the letters. They were the worst. Surely he'd put the pieces together by now. Every fractured part of you was right there in front of him, painfully bare.

Aang had failed to realize the impact of his absence, but he could see it now.

Things were worse than he could've imagined.

After a moment of silence, he took a brave step forward, testing the waters. He let his footsteps create enough sound for you to hear him, but you did not react.

He stepped forward again, and was now close enough to feel your body heat against his own. His eyes assessed what he could see of you. They went from your tensed shoulders to each shallow breath that you took, and down to the rigid way that you were trimming the leaves. His face pulled into a slight frown. He wanted to reach out and touch you, but he wasn't sure how to go about it. You were upset, he could tell, so he wanted to tread as carefully as possible.

But moments like these were handled as they always were.

Aang grinned to himself.

He knew just how to fix this.

He started off by brushing his fingers against your arm, trailing up until they poked against your cheek. Of course, nothing, but he expected as much. He then placed his chin on your shoulder and continued to watch you before sliding his long arms around your waist, holding you against him. Curiosity stirred in his eyes and deep in his chest as he leaned into you, trying to catch your eyes. You were focused, and agonizingly silent.

Aang pouted.

He'd thought that he could fix this the ol' fashioned way.

Guess not.

"Baby... I'm home. I'm here now. C'mon," he closed his eyes for a brief moment, and grazed his lips against your neck. "Talk to me. Please."

He didn't move away, and neither did you. Your mind spiraled as you tried to ignore him. The part of you that was excited to have him back home, safe and sound, had been drowned out by what had lingered after he'd left you in a period of burning silence. You allowed yourself to feel angry, to feel hurt and abandoned because these feelings were coming from a place in your heart where only he occupied.

You didn't love easily. Falling for Aang happened over time. It’d started purely as adoration that eventually turned into something that you knew would ruin you.

It took work to get to where you were with him. He'd spent years pining and yearning after you, courting you with flowers and big gestures that ultimately ended with him proposing to you. You remembered it like it was yesterday. It was beautiful because he had done it privately, just the two of you. That was what made it special.

That was the moment that you'd truly fallen in love with him.

Aang had always been someone that provided you with love, affection, honesty and communication and, maybe, that had turned into your greatest weakness somewhere along the way. You'd fallen so deeply in love with him that a garden of selfishness began to grow. You'd accepted him as the pillar of peace and balance, but that acceptance slowly festered and turned into a nasty thought that wouldn't go away. It wasn't like he could stop being the Avatar. You knew this, but...

You were so selfish. You loved him. You loved a man that was now your husband but still had to give half of himself to a world that would always need him even when you felt you needed him more.

This confliction within you confused you. He needed someone that was willing to be by his side, accept his duties and still love him all the same. You just didn't know how to do that without wanting him all to yourself.

This love for him... It weakened you, and it exposed him. If he decided to choose you over the world one day, what would happen then? Would there even be a world for him to love you in? Would it not go back to the days of chaos and madness? The founding and building of Republic City would be for naught and would fall without his constant influence and protection.

Was it not better this way? To swallow your deepest and darkest feelings lest they come to light and destroy all that you and Aang had built for one another?

A pain twisted in the maze of your heart, settling like a rock in the ocean. Maybe the answer was simple. Maybe it was an answer you knew you wouldn't like.

You paused what you were doing, staring down at the shears clutched in your hand.

When you spoke, you felt his fingers twitch against your stomach.

"Welcome home."

Aang knew he should have been happy. You were talking to him again. However, it was not in the same way that he had become so greedily accustomed to. Your tone was flat, your body was stiff and you still weren't looking at him. His stomach felt twisted in knots. He must've really fucked this up.

The last time you were this upset with him was when he had told you that he was going to the fire nation for a briefing with Zuko and the fire nation council members. There was a border issue that needed addressing and the group behind the incident demanded to speak with the Avatar only. He'd promised you that it was not going to be long before he came back home, and that he would be careful. Except when he did come back home, he was in worst shape than when he'd left. It'd scared you and you told him how the thought of losing him made you feel.

That was the first time, since marrying you, that he'd come to truly realize how deeply and utterly in love he was with you. How it, too, would kill him if anything were to happen to you. It was one of the bigger reasons why he didn't mind being the Avatar. If it meant keeping you safe, then he would choose this path in each and every single lifetime.

Even if it meant having you angry and upset with him more often than not. Much like now, except this...this felt different. He wasn't sure how yet, but it did.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered near your ear, looking at the side of your face like a kicked puppy would. "I mean it. I know I made you worry, and I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Those words...

It won't happen again.

But, it would, wouldn't it? And you knew why.

When he felt you untangle yourself from his arms and step back from him, he felt his body wash over with sand, pulling him down until it nearly suffocated him from the inside. Rejection sat heavy within him, too heavy for comfort. Then the frown on your face, the hurt in your eyes and the way you looked at him.

Spirits, he truly hated that look.

It made him inhale, feeling his head swell with an emotion that he couldn't quite place.

"Sorry?" You closed your arms around yourself, and shook your head. "No, Aang... You have nothing to apologize for. It's your duty, as the Avatar, to put the people first. The Denied needed to be taken care of. I...understand this now. It's fine. We're fine." Your eyes fell to the city beyond you, watching the rain scatter across shutters and the rocky pathways of the streets. "Just fine."

You could tell that he didn't believe you. Spirits, you didn't believe you. It almost made you cringe, but you tried to school your features to remain as neutral as you were able to.

"I don't believe you."

Your eyebrows twitched.

Aang stepped towards you, fully expecting you to step back again. When you didn't, he released a breath. Relief acted like a sedative to the rejection from a moment ago. Better, he thought.

"If you were fine, if we are fine, then you wouldn't still have that look on your face."

"What are you talking about?" You asked, your eyes finding his again.

The way he was staring at you now, it made you feel so exposed. You never could hide parts of yourself from him. He was very good at seeking them out and making you lay them all out where he could see them, plainly; openly. It unnerved you when you knew he was right to.

When he said your name, it was under his breath and there was a rhythmic tic in his jaw. He looked as if he was trying to keep his composure, but the shiver that ran down your spine could not be ignored. You swallowed, and pushed your teeth into your lip.

"Don't do that."

His tone dropped quietly, familiar in a way that unsettled you more than if he'd raised his voice. It sounded practiced, like something that was said to you during moments where he felt you slipping away from him emotionally, and instinctively reached out to pull you back.

Your breath stumbled over the next.

"Do what?"

His lips pulled into a half smile, his eyes darkening.

"Act like you don't know what I'm talking about. How long have we been doing this now? How many years have we danced this dance?" He took another step forward and you'd only realized, just now, that there was nowhere else to go. The closer he got, the more you had to bend your neck back to look at him. Was he always this broad and imposing?

"I know you," he continued, peering down at you, only a few inches from you now. "I know your ins and your outs. I know what you sound like when you're happy or when you're all sad and angry at me. Or..." He looked over you, finding the gown that you had haphazardly thrown on earlier to be quite...transparent. His smile turned into a smirk. He didn’t need to say it. You knew.

A breeze whirled between the overwhelming heat of your bodies, caressing the front of your gown, prompting your nipples to peak against the thin fabric. It was him; he was always the wind. An unnatural current of air that moved around you, against you. It shouldn't have been possible, but nothing was impossible for him. He knew you knew this. He tended to use that to his advantage, and sometimes it worked.

Another inhale, and you could feel a bit lightheadedness coming over you. Breathing should have made this easier. It did not.

Without knowing it, he was unraveling you, seam by seam. You could feel it.

There was no more fighting it.

"You always do this," you tell him, shaking your head. "You think you can say a few words to turn me on. Touch me a certain way and smile at me, and suddenly things are back to being okay between us. That's not going to work this time, Aang. I'm sorry but its not and maybe, that's how things should be for us."

You moved past him to go inside when you felt his hand close around your wrist, pulling you back. With a stumble, the front of your body collided into his. He searched your eyes for a moment, letting you stand in a pocket of silence before he spoke again.

"And what if I don't want things to be like this between us? I mean, I know I was gone for a while but I'm here, aren't I?"

He thought that he understood you. He thought that he knew you better than you knew yourself but again, he was wrong. How could he not see this part of you? A part of you that had been there, all along. Did he not know you the way that he thought?

“You don’t get it,” you let out a humorless sigh, struggling to process what you were hearing. “I was so worried about you, Aang. Do you know what it’s like to be so far apart from you and to not know whether you’re okay or not? I know you can always take care of yourself but I also know you’re not invincible. You like to make these rash decisions that put you in the most dangerous situations. So, not hearing from you for months and for you to just show up, out of the blue, thinking a bit of humor and soft touches just…fixes things?”

Aang’s hold on you tightened rather than loosening to let you go. It wasn’t like you were fighting him but you grounded him, even when you looked at him like he’d said or done something completely unforgivable.

Well…maybe he did.

In fact, the time that he’d spent not writing to you was time that he took to focus on his mission. He figured that the less time he spent on constantly writing to you and worrying you with every single detail that was going on, the more time that he would have to get what he needed on the Denied. The sooner he could return back home to you. Except…it would seem that no matter what decision he’d made at the time, it would’ve still been the wrong one.

Why couldn’t you see that? Why couldn't you understand that what he'd done, he'd done for you?

“So you’re saying that this is my fault?"

Your eyes widened in the reflection of his whirling grey ones, feeling your skin prickle as gooseflesh settled over it. The air around you whistled through the tension between you and him as if it was preparing for its final curtain call.

The ridiculousness of his question froze you.

Even the way that he was looking at you. Gone was the boyish gleam in his eyes and the soft touch of his arms around you. In its place were hardened eyes and rigidness in the palms of his hands. He did not release you nor did you look away.

“You say that like it’s a question.”

“Yeah, because it is.”

Your eyebrows furrowed with the hitch in your chest.

Breathing had never felt so agonizing.

“I don’t understand–”

“Yeah. I know. Me neither."

Finally, his arms dropped back to his sides and when he pulled away from you, it should’ve brought you a sense of relief. It did not. It only made you feel colder than you already were.

Calling him the Avatar…

You’d never done that before. In fact, he held nothing but memories of you seeing him as just your husband. He found that he didn’t like it. Not when it came from you, someone he loved more than anyone in the entire world and was comforted by knowing that when he came home, he could just be himself. Just Aang, without the weight of the world sitting heavy on his shoulders as the Avatar.

Aang sighed, and turned to face the railing of the balcony, eyes hard-set on the night covered city. His hands rested on the wood, gripping it until the whites of his knuckles pressed taut against his skin.

“Out there, I am suffocated by the world and its expectations for me. I know I’m not like other people. I have a duty, a responsibility to all of the nations to be this symbol of peace and be a protector of it but sometimes… Sometimes I regret ever being found in that iceberg.”

Despite the frantic thoughts that consumed you and screamed at you to say something, you forced it all back and chose to remain silent.

The lantern light stretched across his back, illuminating the tension coiled through his shoulders. The smooth but ripped skin moved against tendon as he let his head drop, and closed his eyes to let his body expel some of the tension that hid between the grooves of his shoulders and spine.

“I am tired, my love. So very tired and I have not even fulfilled half of what is expected of me.”

Finally you felt the pull to willingly move towards him, but your feet stayed planted where they were. He looked as worn down as he'd sounded. His slouched form, the bags underneath his eyes and the weight of responsibility that still sat on his shoulders. It almost made you feel bad for how you were acting. Almost.

“Aang,” his head turned to your direction but he did not look at you. It was enough. “I know the duty, as the bridge of both worlds, comes with a lot of weight." He winced, knowing what you really wanted to say. "I know that most days, you just want to spend them looking for more airbender relics at the air temples, but you have to think about the people. The world. They need you–”

“Why do you sound like Katara?”

You stopped, and blinked.

“What?”

Aang let out a heavier sigh this time, then fully turned back around to you, his dark brows knitted together.

“You sound just like her. I mean, what’s next? You’re going to tell me that I’m the Avatar? You don’t think I know that by now?” He asked you, gesturing a hand across the length of his body to point out the obvious. There was a new fire stirring in his eyes now, something you didn’t often see. He looked like he, too, was unraveling. “And what’s up with you calling me that anyway? Avatar. You never see me as just that so what’s changed? Is my absence the reason?”

He was talking too fast, saying too much. You couldn’t keep up.

He clenched a hand around the railing behind him, if only to steady himself. There was a storm brewing in those grey eyes of his. Fires that looked like it would take more power than you had to put out.

Maybe it had something to do with the way he was getting all defensive that made you finally snap back.

“Don’t pull that shit with me, Aang.”

Your chest heaved with each passing word, feeling the sting behind your nose and eyes. You didn’t want to get all emotional, but fuck it.

“You’re a hypocrite. You’re a fucking hypocrite and I’m sick of it. I know the things that you think but won’t say. At least, not to my face. How selfish I am with you. How I don’t care enough about the people, the cause. How I’m not supportive enough of you. Now I give you just that and what? Suddenly I’m a different person? That's bullshit, and you know it.”

For a moment, Aang allowed you to fill up the space with your anger instead of his. He practiced great strength in his patience and a certain level of understanding when it came to you. Usually, it was why things stayed good between the two of you. Naturally, there were differences. That came with the territory of being different people from different backgrounds.

Even so, he hated when things got like this between you and him.

“Don’t talk like that with me,” his tone was stern and curt, but still had that brush of calm that you tended to love about him. Except, this time, it was like the flood gates had opened. You couldn’t stop, even if you truly wanted to.

“I’ll talk to you however I want. You don’t own me, Aang.”

When you stepped closer to him, it was like you could physically see the way he was trying to hold himself back from reacting. His knuckles went white again and the dip in his brows deepened.

“This entire marriage with you has been so confusing. It’s been full of emotions that I never knew I had to prepare myself for. Had I known…” Your eyes fell away from his. “Maybe I would’ve… maybe I wouldn’t have…”

Before you could even think about how to finish that sentence, Aang was on you. One hand flew to your jaw, curling a few fingers under your chin to pull your gaze back onto his while the other hand tugged at your hip, pulling you against him.

Once again, you were suffocating in the aroma of everything that made Aang who he was to you. The scents were comforting, but it did nothing to thaw the ice corroding your heart now that you were forced to look at him.

Aang towered over you with ease, his back slightly curved and his wide yet still darkened eyes never left yours. He should’ve backed down. He should’ve let you speak, but knowing what you were about to say… It would’ve broken him into a million pieces. He would have much rather died than hear anything like that come from you. Easily.

“What is this, this fight in you? Where is this coming from? You’ve never been this angry with me. Have I really been gone that long?”

Your face twisted like there was something foul on your tongue.

“Why do you still not understand? This isn’t about the stupid mission–”

“Okay, then tell me.”

He searched your eyes again, frantically, hoping that he would find his answer there. No matter what, it was as if you'd closed him off. Not even through your eyes could he see what you were thinking. Another pang in his chest.

Your vision of him began to blur. When did you start crying?

“I think…I think I lo…” It felt like a rock was lodged in your throat. You swallowed what you could down, and breathed. "I think I love you too much, Aang, and that’s the problem. Katara was trying to tell me–”

“I knew it.” His face fell into a hard line, if that was even possible.

You sighed, shaking your head in his hold. “No, she was trying to help me–”

“Help ruin this marriage? Yeah, I’m sure she was just trying to help.”

With that, he started to pull away. This time, you were the one to pull him back.

“When did you start villainizing her?”

Aang glanced at you before dropping his eyes to the floor. The flex in his jaw was fluctuating now, as if it was trying to weigh what was morally right and what was wrong. Usually, he could keep a handle on his thoughts before speaking. It was easier that way because it kept him from saying something he knew he would regret.

If only he'd done that now.

“Since she started meddling in our marriage.” He peeked back at you from the corner of his eyes, frowning again. “Filling your little head up with crazy ideas and these…” He shook his head. “All of these misconceptions.” He looked away again, finding a new outlet for his anger and confusion. “I knew she wasn’t over it. I just had a feeling.”

At the mention of old wounds, you gripped at his arm, not realizing how your nails dug into his skin. He was too deep in his own thoughts to even notice.

“Are you serious?” At that, he met your eyes again and saw how he had made things worse for himself. “She’s your friend. How could you say that about her? And she’s engaged, for spirits’ sake!” His eyes flinched at your tone, feeling his heart drop. “Or did you forget that too?”

Aang knew he always had this way about him. How he tended to stuff his foot in his mouth, and didn’t realize it was there until it was too late to take it out. He’d messed up. Being gone without reaching back out to you in those few months was now the very least of his worries.

You let him go and ran a hand over your face, trying to reel your emotions back in before you also said something that you knew you would regret.

“Maybe we should head inside, and get to bed. It’s late. You just got home. I don’t want to fight any more than we already have.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Forget it,” you waved it off, letting out another sigh before you turned your back to him. “I’m tired. I just want to sleep.”

Aang’s shoulders deflated. All of the anger that he’d felt moments ago had dissipated into thin air. His body felt numb with too many emotions to place but the one that he couldn’t ignore was knowing that he had hurt you more than he ever had.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He was meant to surprise you, pull you into his arms and kiss you until sleep took over. He never wanted to fight with you, but this was worse than a fight wasn’t it?

Was the marriage itself on its last and final thread? How could he fix things from here or was it too late?

He should’ve let you walk through those doors. He should’ve let you retire for the night. He’d caused you enough hurt, it was understandable, but Aang started to realize another thing about himself.

He found it hard to watch you walk away from him.

As soon as you started to walk away, you heard a low thump. Worried that Aang had jetted off for the night, possibly off to sleep somewhere that wasn’t right next to you, your body swiveled around with your lips prepared to call out for him when you saw it. Saw him.

Your eyes lowered.

His knees were pressed into the floor, his head hung low and his hands were loosely balled into fists on his thighs. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. He looked defeated, like there was nothing else he could say to fix this between you and him.

So, he figured that the next best thing was to beg.

“Baby… Forgive me… I was out of line. Way out of line.”

His voice was so low, it was almost hard to hear him. You stood standing where you were, your arms by your side. You felt your heart melt in the worst way. He’d never done this before. Well, not in this sort of situation, at least. A man as powerful as him had decided that it was best to meet you on his knees rather than let his bruised ego get in the way.

All you could see was the dark blue arrow that led to his forehead. From his raspy tone, being on his knees and knowing that he was silently giving you back your power—it stirred something inappropriate between your thighs.

Inappropriate because was this really the time for this?

“I’m an asshole. I know that, and I haven’t been all that fair to you. I know that, too. As my wife, you understand what it means to stand by my side through the toughest of times and I love you for that but I have not really seen it through your eyes. I know it’s hard being the Avatar’s wife.”

He sighed to himself.

“Not to mention the fact that I kept telling myself that if I stayed focused on the mission, I’d get home faster. I'll admit, it was the wrong call and I realize that now. I stayed gone for months, and you got nothing. I…I understand how you felt.”

You sucked in a slow breath, and held it as you let him continue to speak.

“You want to be selfish but because you’re so kind, you feel guilty for it. Maybe…maybe Katara was right,” you watched the way his hands tightened back into fists. “You don’t know this but she’d once told me that I was holding you back. That you would be freer if I stopped being so selfish by keeping you here. She thought of you as a caged bird and I’ll be honest,” he let out a humorless laugh. “That broke me.”

And it broke something within you.

Katara never acted nor spoke as if she saw your marriage in such a way. She was the most honest person that you knew. Why would she say something like that?

“Aang,” you interrupted, unable to keep yourself from asking. “When was this?”

His eyes looked off to the side, the moonlight catching them in its cool light, bringing out a gleam similar to that of a moonstone.

“After our last fight.”

Ah. So that was it. The fight after he had returned from that mission at the border in the fire nation. Sure, the argument was bad but you never thought it was that bad.

“So you went to her.”

It wasn’t a question. It was just an observation.

Aang’s head shot up to look at you. He looked ready to get back on his feet and crowd you again, but held himself back. His breath hitched.

“Yes. I did, but only because she’s your closest friend here. I wanted to know if I was truly in the wrong and if so, how to fix it.”

The abrupt silence carried with the wind, allowing you the opportunity to think. It wasn’t worth getting upset over, especially when it was a thing of the past. Plus, Katara was close to everyone. She was Aang’s confidant before you. It made sense that they stayed close enough to still confide in one another so that wasn’t the issue. Well, if there was one to harbor on.

Katara was also nothing but supportive of you and Aang. She was there when you two met, when you started to gain feelings for each other, when you started courting and finally, at your marriage ceremony. It sounded like she had been trying to look out for you and your wellbeing. Though, it wasn't exactly necessary considering you were more than happy with Aang and all of his shenanigans.

Maybe a conversation with her was in order...

Be that as it may, you didn’t care about any of that. You only cared about you and him. That was it. Nothing else mattered.

Slowly, you made your way over to him. When you bent down, you grabbed one of his hands and pulled him back up. When he towered over you again with that softened yet hopeful look in his big grey eyes, you took the chance to pinch one of his big ears.

“Ow!” He instantly pouted, and held a hand to his injured ear. “What was that for?”

There it was. That expression on his face that always did make him look several years younger. He grumbled under his breath, trying to massage away the temporary pain while you let out a snort that easily turned into a laugh. He stopped, and looked at you.

Your laugh was like several bells to his ears. Or, ear. The other one was still throbbing so not much was going through that one but it made his heart jump all the same.

When you’d noticed the familiar light back in his eyes, you felt your own sting with tears again.

“I’m not a caged bird, Aang, and you’re not holding me back. At all. I’m here and with you in this marriage because I want to be. I saw a lifetime with you, and I still do. Yes, it hurts when you have to leave for long periods of time. It hurts when you don’t write for months and leave me waiting and thinking the worst. And yet, I’m still here.”

You raised a hand to his face, sliding a gentle thumb across the apple of his cheek, melting at the realization that you could survive this. That the only reason you’d fought with him was because you never allowed yourself to feel how you felt. It wasn’t going anywhere. You still wanted him to yourself but, at the same time, you were capable of sharing him with the world. You’d realized that there was room within you to do both and in a very healthy way.

He didn’t say anything. He let you continue.

A smile made its way to your lips.

“Maybe I can…travel with you? I know you’ve always said it’s too dangerous and that you don’t want to risk anything happening to me but you know I can fight. I can hold my own. I won’t get in the way. That way I can be right next to you and not a thousand miles away. I want adventure with you, Aang. I want to be with you and never be apart unless–”

For the first time in months, when his lips descended onto yours, you could feel yourself breathe. It was as if he’d given you life and built a new way to inhale, knowing that he was there and always would be. It was what your body had been craving. So, you let yourself finally let go of all the hurt and the pain that came with missing your husband and melted into his touch.

There was nothing more that needed to be said between you and him. Aang understood you completely now. You loved him and with that came the longing of wanting to be by his side more than be in a home that would never be able to replace him.

He could do that. He could take you with him wherever he went because no matter what, he would keep you safe. That had been his only fear and reason why he never wanted to take you with him. But, you were not some helpless damsel that constantly needed protecting. He’d forgotten how well you could take care of yourself too.

For a brief second, he pulled back and looked into your eyes, finding nothing but pure love and devotion staring back at him.

He hummed, and pressed his forehead to yours.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I will never leave you alone again. You go where I go and if I have to leave you back here at home, I promise to write to you every single day. If I slip up, I give you full permission to yell and scream at me as much as you want, yeah?”

A giggle bubbled up as you shook your head, “you are going to be the death of me, you know that?”

Aang released a drawn out whine, and traveled his hands down your sides to your hips. He gripped your waist, giving you a look that said more than what he’d said next,

“In more ways than one.”

He reclaimed your lips, pushing his tongue past the softness of yours the moment you tried to say his name. It fell into a whisper and the wind took it, secretly manipulated by him bending the air around you, pulling you closer until it felt like you were molding into one. This is what he would spend his long nights dreaming of. Being able to hold you, to feel you, to kiss you. To hear your sighs, to feel your smile against his lips and to know that with you, he was whole again. To know that he was not alone, and could be no one but himself.

“Aang…not here,” you mumbled, feeling him spread kisses from the corner of your mouth to your cheek.

You felt a rumble in his chest, finding a faint smirk on his face.

“You sure? I think anyone would feel honoured to watch how the Avatar fucks his pretty little wife. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Your body shivered at the feeling of his fingers drawing your gown up from your thighs, moving around enough so that he'd grazed the lower end of your spine. His lips were on your neck now, suckling and kissing, knowing how easily you bruised. He’d leave as many as possible, just enough to make them hard to fully cover.

Perhaps he had a point. The thought of letting him take you here, on the balcony where anyone might come out on their own in the middle of the night and see the two of you, caused a bigger ache between your thighs than you wanted. Or maybe not having his hands on you for the past few months just made you too desperate to say no to any of his outlandish ideas.

Except, he knew that you knew that was not true.

When you felt him playfully bite at your shoulder, you squealed and pushed at his chest with widened eyes.

“Did you just…bite me?”

Aang said nothing at first. He merely grinned like some rebellious teenager, raising an eyebrow.

“What? Didn’t like it? Where’s all that fight from earlier, huh?”

He reached out and curled a finger around a strand of your hair. He licked his lips, observing the way your breath quickened. It would seem that you were just as needy and as desperate as him. And spirits, if that didn’t turn him on in the worst way.

His hand dropped to your collarbone, sliding his fingers down until they met the edge of your gown that dipped in the front. Slowly, he tugged until he could see more of your cleavage and almost groaned. You made him feel so depraved. Like a rabid, starving man eager to devour. Only you could make him this way. Turn and corrupt him into wanting you more than he’d ever wanted anything else in his life. Nothing could come close to being with you. Simply being near you, in your presence, made him want to be on his knees, serving you in every way imaginable.

You didn’t have to look. You could feel his knuckles skim the side of your breast, your body reacting almost instantly. His throat dried at the sight of your nipple peaking, almost like it was reaching out to him, begging him to touch.

“Aang…”

Your voice was like honey to his ears, so deliciously sinful. It nearly took the power of his past lives to get him to look at you without ripping your flimsy little gown off and taking you against the railing.

“Where?” he asked you, his voice low and broken, barely trusting himself to say much. Else, he feared he would growl at his weakening restraint. “You said not here, so where?”

Aang prayed to whoever was listening that you wouldn’t say the bedroom. He knew himself. He could feel it. The savage within him wouldn’t let him let you make it that far. It had to be somewhere close but comfortable for you because if it was left up to him, he would have you up against the nearest wall and fuck you that way. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger, just let him do all of the work.

His cock stirred.

Restraint.

Before he let his hand drop back down, you grabbed it and smiled.

“Come.”

And he almost did...until he realized that you’d meant for him to follow you instead.

Yeah, well. He could do that too.

Watching you turn and slowly pull him back inside, his eyes glued to the dip in your hips and the arch of your back, made him fully aware of just how much he could actually see through your gown. How it clung to you like a second skin, and moved with the gentle cadence of your steps. Especially when you passed through the warm glow of a few lit candles on the way in. Had those been lit before?

Truthfully, as much as he loved your body, it was how you'd reached for him as if you didn't need to think twice. As if it was your way of telling him that he had nothing left to fear. That you were silently choosing him all over again. It gave him the confirmation that he needed. That he hadn't failed you or this marriage.

That thought brought a certain warmth and haziness to his eyes. It was all he wanted. He hated fighting with you, but he’d misunderstood your feelings. You were only trying to convey that you'd missed him. He just didn't realize how much.

The moment you were about to cross the hearth, he grabbed you by the waist and captured your lips, groaning right into your opened mouth. He didn’t want to think about any of that right now. If anything, he used the long wait of seeing you as his pillar and reason.

He had to have you. There was no waiting to get to the bedroom. He'd waited long enough.

It felt like he was everywhere. The way his tongue brushed against yours, the feel of his hands digging into your waist and how you had to stand on your toes just to stay connected. Your hands moved over the strong ridges of his abdomen and up to his chest, sighing against his lips.

The love that you felt for him went beyond the limitations of the heart. Everything in you, even down to your spirit, knew that Aang was always going to be the one. The only one that could make you laugh, cry and love, all in the same breath.

He was simply and utterly perfection personified.

The kiss deepened, and you could feel it. You could feel the desperation, the longing that had taken place in your absence. How, not being near you, affected him just as much as you. He moved against you like wind brushing over water. Fluidly, purposefully, tracing his fingers up and down your spine to the base where they could spread over the round of your ass.

"Fuck,” he swore under his breath. His rough, raspy voice against your lips almost made you collapse.

He kissed from the corner of your lips to your jaw, down to your neck where he resumed leaving behind a few marks. He didn't want to hurt you but the thought of leaving darkened spots across your pretty skin spoke to him in a way that it shouldn't have. He imagined you failing to fully cover them and someone noticing. Would they be horrified? Concerned?

He smiled to himself.

He couldn’t wait.

Oh, and the noises, the sounds that you were making...

Truth be told, you were going to be the one to kill him in the end. And if this was to be his fate, then he gladly welcomed it with open arms.

"Aang, please," you pleaded, almost pushing him over the edge.

Still, he always did like how pretty you begged.

"Please what?" he asked you, still nipping and sucking at your neck, one of his hands moving to the front of your gown. His knuckles brushed just above the heat between your thighs, sending a chill through your body.

You gasped, and buried your face into his chest, hearing how steady his heartbeat was. He seemed calm, despite how he was making you feel. You just had no idea how close to breaking he actually was.

Months of being without him made your body miss him in ways you didn’t think were possible. It was sensitive to every touch and every breath, keening at the attention it craved for. It made you want to let go and completely fall apart in his arms.

“Touch me,” you breathed and as pathetic as it may have sounded, it didn’t stop you. “Need you touch me.”

“I am touching you, sweet girl,” he said into your skin, smiling softly, eyes closed. “What, you want more?” He felt you nod, and hummed to himself. “My greedy, greedy wife.”

When his lips found yours again, everything around you faded and blurred away into the background. It was easy to get lost in him, in all that he was. With you, in this moment, he was no longer the Avatar. He wasn’t the dependable friend nor was he the savior of Republic City; of the entire world. With you, he had no responsibilities. No one and nothing. He was just your husband, your Aang.

He didn’t rush. He took his time with you, reaching to cup your face and mold himself to you. He felt you quiver, whine and hold him like you would’ve fallen to pieces if not. He kissed you until you felt your head spin. Until he made you feel like you were somewhere else and not in a world where you had to share him. Until you felt your knees touch the soft rug in front of the hearth, and Aang hovering on top of you, his tattooed hands next to your head. Even the sound of the rain waned until there was nothing but the sound of his breath chasing after yours.

With you flat on your back now, Aang could really get a good look at you. Your cheeks were warm, and your lips were kiss-swollen. Part of your gown had slipped down, revealing your skin shimmering with a glow that made his heart squeeze. The mark on your neck was blooming steadily. You wore it beautifully, the gleam in your eyes telling him that you were proud of it even. His chest ached with so much love and warmth, he could hardly contain it.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.”

It was true. He’d met plenty of women, but none held a candle to you. They weren’t worthy comparisons in the slightest. Sure, they held their own unique beauty but you were above that. Everywhere you went, you had a luminescent light about you that made you look so angelic. You also loved with the entirety of your heart, giving away bits of you without caring about what was left. You loved and cared openly, without regard. That made you different, special.

He felt like the luckiest man in the entire fucking world.

As he looked you over, his eyes landed on the jewelry around your neck. He traced a finger along the necklace at your throat. He’d made it for you a while ago; smooth mountain bone carved with an Air Nomad wind swirl, reclaimed glider wood fitted beneath it and tiny bronze pieces. It was meant to mimic the prayer chimes you’d found in the air temple long ago.

Simple, invaluable and perfect, like you. It was also meant to remind you that he would always be with you, even if he couldn’t physically be there. He knew it was not to replace him. Only to keep you company when you felt at your lowest and missed him.

As he stared down at it, he pictured you holding it at random points of the day and crying into it at night. He wondered if you ever took it off even though you’d sworn to him that you never would.

You couldn’t help but catch the distant look in his eyes as he fiddled with the necklace.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked in a soft tone, a hand of yours coming up to brush over the corded bracelet you’d made for him that was wrapped around his wrist.

Pieces of both of you given to each other during the wedding ceremony so many moons ago. While his gift felt like it’d held much more meaning, yours was done through several long and frustrating days. You’d weaved and corded it yourself, despite Katara’s several attempts to help. As much as you could’ve used it, you wanted your gift to be handmade. It felt more special that way but there was nothing truly significant about it.

It was plain cord in a tightly woven fashion. At the time, it felt right because Aang was very simplistic and held no interest over materialistic things. As an air nomad, he was taught not to place value on wealth, extravagance and certain possessions. Thankfully, he didn’t reject your gift but looking at it in the same light that he was looking at his…

“Have you taken this off since I’ve been gone?”

Your eyes widened a bit. “No. Why?”

Aang swallowed, and licked his dry lips.

“Not even once? Not even when I failed to write or you thought that I was never coming back?”

The only reason you’d noticed that his eyes were back on you was because you were already staring at him.

You held eye contact and said, “No. Not even then. Not even when I cursed your name and cried some nights. I held onto it knowing that you would return because you always do.”

The level of faith and adoration that you had in him did something to him that he wouldn’t dare voice out loud. He knew this love for you would be his ruin. It was becoming unhealthy and maddening.

If you loved him, he loved you more. If you put him on some sort of pedestal, then you were the center of his universe and reason for existing. He’d went from believing that his purpose was to the people, to the world as their Avatar. That is, until he met you.

Since then, each breath that he took was for you.

Without you, he was nothing. A ghost walking the earth in service of others, but not living. No, not how he lives for you.

You are the deity in his eyes. The goddess that he prays to on nights that he can spend on his knees, worshipping you from between your thighs. You are his greatest gift, and the greatest weapon to his own destruction. And yet, he did this. He created this. He’d given you all of the power needed to end him because what was a greater tragedy than dying at the hands of someone he loved more than life itself?

“Aang…” your voice brought him back, feeling your hand against his cheek. Subconsciously, he leaned into your warmth and closed his eyes.

You’d always known what his love for you meant and where it came from. Despite the fact that it had happened over a decade ago, Aang was clearly not healed from the tragedy of losing his people. He’d spent years trying to accept it and move on, but you knew the worst of it. It showed through the restless nights full of nightmares, how protective he was of you and how he loved you.

It didn’t concern you the way it did Katara because you understood and accepted that it would always be a part of him. Granted, you didn’t want him to fall into darker places. Yet, instead, you did your best to gently guide him back. If not to remind him that you were not his only reason to live. You reminded him that he needed to come first before you, always.

“You love me so much, I know you do, but don’t let it blind you from what truly matters which is you. I ground you, yes, but you are the epitome of balance within yourself. When you fight, fight for you the way you fight for me. And when you love, love you the way you love me.”

Aang listened because you were right. It was so easy to fall into that place that he held special, just for you. If he let himself think too deeply about where this attachment to you started, he could almost feel the edges of his mind begin to close in on itself. Except, that was where you came in. You quieted the loud thoughts and the burning feeling in his chest that echoed all that he’d lost.

You kept him sane, but he needed to remember that he existed not just for you and the people but for himself too. That he could love you and love himself just as much, at the same time.

“I’ll be better, I promise.”

He turned his head, and placed a kiss to your palm. Another, then another until he held your hand in his, spreading kisses to your wrist before you found him hovering back over you. The way the fire from the hearth danced within the moonstones of his eyes, making them darker than they normally were, it made your stomach curl in want.

“Better,” you breathed and wet your lips, ignoring the way his gaze followed the tip of your tongue. “The way you say that, it’s almost as if—”

“It’s for me, but if I don’t live at least half of my life for you then I don’t know if I could at all.”

Aang parted your thighs with his knee, dropping his eyes down to your chest. He watched as it moved with each passing breath, feeling his mouth water at the sight.

“Earlier…” he started as he leaned down to mouth at your collarbone. “–you told me to touch you. Tell me where.”

He slotted his lengthy body right between your legs, holding himself up to not crush you under his weight but just enough to keep you from feeling how hard he’d been for the past several minutes. Not like he could hide it but the semi dark atmosphere was working a bit in his favor.

His lips moved to your sternum, and ghosted over a nipple. It reacted like he’d hoped it would, reaching out for him again.

Not hearing anything, he glanced up at you and purred against the softness of your breast.

“Can’t touch you if I don’t know where to start, pretty.”

“Aang,” you almost reprimanded, frowning down at him. He figured that you were meant to look a bit more menacing than you did, and it almost made him laugh. You were so cute.

He used the tip of his tongue to swipe up against your nipple. It was warm, warmer than normal and you knew exactly why. It caused you to gasp sharply and wail out his name again, but in a higher pitch. He chuckled.

“You’re not saying anything so I’m going to assume that you’re ready to turn it in for the nigh—”

“Oh, don’t you dare.”

The look you gave him now could’ve stoked the flames next to him. That is, if you were a fire bender. Still, you were a woman of many talents. Talents that he was eager to exploit.

“Then…?” he asked, moving down until his chest met the lower half of your stomach, chin placed perfectly between your breasts. His eyes glimmered with a sudden innocence, nothing like how they were before, and his lips were poked out into a pout.

Your eye almost twitched.

What a little performer.

“I’ve waited months for this, Aang. Just touch me. I don’t care how. Or I’ll just do it without you. Maybe I'll even have you watch this time.”

If nothing else, that got his attention.

Aang’s face paled and fell into a hard line. Before you could protest, your gown was torn into jagged lines, right down the front. It laid in tatters around you, torn apart and utterly unsalvageable. He didn’t meet your widened eyes or the shocked look on your face at all.

Instead, he cupped his hand around one of your breast and closed his mouth over the eager nipple. You let out a long moan, letting your head fall back against the rug underneath you. As if everything about him wasn’t big enough, his tongue covered all that it needed to, not missing a spot.

His throaty sounds of approval made your head spin, yet again, feeling your legs twitch with the urge to close. Except, he was positioned perfectly in between them, keeping them wide open.

When he’d switched to the second bud and used his fingers to tweak and pull at the other, you could’ve cried. Your body didn’t know how to react. It’d been so long, way too long since it felt the touch of another that wasn’t yours. It knew him. It knew his touch like a familiar feeling embedded inside, coded by his hand. Pitifully sensitive and so reactive.

And Aang loved it.

Making you feel good felt like it was a part of his dna. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

Once he’d heard the mutterings of you telling him that you wanted more, he moved further south until he was met with your bare cunt.

He placed a palm just above it and used his thumb to raise as much of you as he could, staring directly at your clit now. It looked terribly swollen and shiny with your own arousal. He felt himself twitch in his pants.

Spirits, if you weren’t going to send him straight to the spirit world early.

He heard you mewl and saw your hips move up, using your body to beg for more this time. He smirked to himself before looking up at you. Like he figured, you refused to look back. Instead, you covered your face with your hands, mumbling about how he should stop staring and get on with it.

“Tell me, have you touched yourself since I’ve been gone?”

When you peeked back down at him, his eyes were back at your clit, massaging around it. He was still refusing to fully touch you, and it started to annoy you.

“Why does that matter? You’re here now. You can touch me—”

“Yeah, but…” Aang stopped what he was doing completely, and maneuvered his arms under your thighs to place your legs on his shoulders. Then, he kissed at the insides of your thighs, smiling into your skin. “Humor me. I wanna know.”

Looking down and watching him give attention to all but where you needed it most made you inwardly sigh. Humor him, he’d said. Fine.

“I did.”

He glanced up at you, clearly amused.

“When.”

“…that night. The same day that you left for the mission.”

A pause. A very long pause, in fact.

“Spirits,” he groaned out your name into your skin, grounding himself with a deep breath. “You’re going to kill me.”

Your clit throbbed.

“Why?”

He took a few seconds to respond, and it was not what you were expecting him to say.

“Because I did too.”

He could practically feel your eyes burning a hole through him, silently wanting him to further explain.

He trailed his lips down your inner thigh until you felt his warm breath just above your weeping cunt.

“After traveling for hours, I stopped at a point and made camp. Leaving you was hard,” he closed his eyes for a moment, reliving the memory. “It’s always the hardest thing I do so, of course, I started to miss you. I didn’t want to trust my dreams to give me what I wanted so I took it instead.”

The way he said that made your legs twitch, and your throat dry.

“When Appa and Momo finally fell asleep, I took a walk. Just to clear my head, you know? Walks usually help me sleep better. Though…” he sighed. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Thoughts of missing you turned into missing your voice, what you were doing, what you were wearing…or not wearing.”

Your breath quickened, knowing exactly where this was going. The mental image that your mind began to paint nearly lit your body on fire.

“I stopped at a tree and just…” he opened his eyes, and saw how hazy yours was. The greys of his darkened considerably. “Well. I’m sure you can imagine what happened next.”

The thought of him getting desperate enough to just…do that in the middle of wherever he was while thinking about you around the same time that you were touching yourself thinking about him…

You couldn’t bare another moment of talking about the past. He was here, seconds away from eating you out. You refused to use that time talking about what was when it could be what is.

“Aang, please stop talking. Touch me or I’m actually going to lose my mind.”

He stopped giving you thigh kisses, his eyes finding yours again, letting his lips curve up into another smirk.

“Yes ma’am,” and focused all of his attention exactly where you needed him the moment he’d laid you down and got into position.

As soon as he covered your clit with his mouth, your back arched and you let out a moan that made him groan right against you. He’d thought about this more times than he could count. Shameless thoughts of him pleasuring you, just like this, and pulling the prettiest sounds from you. Night after night, he laid awake, watching it play over and over. As the days turned into weeks, it only got worse. You made it hard to focus on anything else.

Much like now.

Your fingers plunged into the rug, holding it like it was anchoring you. It was overstimulating. The feel of a hot, slick pressure between your thighs, pressing along your clit, lazily dipping between your sticky folds, parting them for better access. Euphoria, pure bliss rushed through you, coaxing a broken moan that barely made it past your lips when you felt his tongue snake along the slit of your cunt.

"Ah, Aang!"

And the sounds, the slurping and the groaning... He was definitely doing it on purpose. What a little shit.

His name falling from your lips made him grin to himself as he suctioned his lips back around your throbbing clit. He knew that you could come from just this, but he wanted to take it a step further.

Aang let one of your thighs rest completely on his shoulder and traveled his fingers down to your slippery, twitching hole. He teased them up and down, hearing you beg and plead, before pushing a digit inside. His middle finger curled, earning a gasp from you. He hummed into the mess of you, instinctively aware of how to navigate through the warm tightness of your cunt. He'd done this several times, but it always felt like the first. Always felt like a starved-man, unable to get enough of you.

And fuck, if you didn’t taste like the sweetest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of eating.

You wailed and cried out for him, wanting more but not sure what more you could want when it felt like he was giving you too much.

He lapped at you with his tongue and sucked, alternating, as he added another finger. Except, this time he made sure both were warm where you would feel it, just like you'd felt the unnatural heat of his tongue moments ago.

Your body was well on the edge, feeling his pace quicken. He didn't stop, not even when you started to beg all pretty. Once he found that spongey spot inside of you, he aimed for it with each thrust of his fingers and fed on your swollen clit until he could hear your breath hitch and your moans get higher in pitch.

He nodded against you, groaning, "Like that, baby. Doin' so good for me."

"Aang!" you cried out again. "I can't!" he continued as he guided you through it.

"You can, love. You're so close," He said in a husky tone, brows furrowed, and still nose deep in you. "Let me feel it. Let me hear it. Please."

And that was all that it took.

He heard your breath stutter, and felt your walls tighten and flutter around his fingers before the squelching sounds turned into a steady drip of arousal. You'd practically coated his entire hand in it, leaving behind a wet, creamy mess. Your hips jerked, thighs quivering, nearly trapping his head there until you inhaled and exhaled.

For a moment, you didn't move and neither did he. As he cleaned you up with his tongue, you twitched but didn't say a word. You just stared up at the ceiling, your skin clad with sweat and warm with heat from the hearth. The thought of doing this and more here in front of the crackling flame no longer felt like a good idea. It felt like your body was on fire as it came down from its high. There was no way you were going to be able to focus if you didn't move elsewhere.

"Aang..." You called out for him, trying to use your fingers to get his attention. They brushed over his cheekbone then to his jaw. When you looked down, he was just coming up. A smile broke out across your face, your own cheeks warming and not from the heat of the fire. "You are so messy."

He chuckled, and rose to half of his height, settling himself properly between your legs again. He smoothed his hands down your thighs and held your gaze.

"So are you."

And well, he wasn’t wrong. You could feel a warm breeze glide between you and him, making you groan and rest your head back on the rug. From the stickiness, the heat and the way Aang continued to stroke and grip at your legs only made you want more. You’d already admitted to him how selfish you were. Why not raise the bar a bit more?

“Let’s move to the bed. I’m hot and this rug isn’t as comfortable as I was hoping it would be,” you mumbled, letting him tug you up until you were nearly face to face. He was so tall, even on his knees he was still looking down at you. Infuriating, but a turn on nonetheless.

Aang stood up first, and reached out for you to take his hands. You did but you looked down and back up at him.

“Carry me?”

He smiled, and tilted his head.

“Why? Can’t stand on your own?”

Normally, he would’ve just done what you asked but he couldn’t help but tease you. You made it too easy.

Your face fell into a scowl, playfully rolling your eyes.

“Fine. I’ll walk then.”

He hummed. “Poor thing. C’mere.” He bent down and like he would with a child, picked you up from under your arms and held you against him, feeling your arms secure themselves around his neck. Once he’d made sure your legs were also secured around his waist, he kissed your cheek and started walking towards the bedroom. “Such a baby.”

You half-smiled to yourself, looking elsewhere.

“Yeah, your baby.”

“Mhm.”

With Aang’s long legs, it didn’t take him but a few long strides to reach the room. Instead of putting you down, he turned and sat on the edge of the bed, still keeping your legs locked around his waist. Straddling him now, he dropped his arms from your hips and leaned back on his hands, eyeing you down. The intensity in his eyes made your arms loosen but not drop completely. Just lax, staring at him back.

“What?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just continued to look at you. Now that he’d had you fully naked and could see every part of you clearly, there was nothing keeping him from ogling you. Beautiful from head to toe. He just didn’t deserve you. He truly didn’t. And yet, you were made for him. You fit perfectly, in every way of the word.

He was just so happy that you’d chosen him to spend the rest of your life with. It wasn’t because he was the Avatar. No, you’d fallen in love with him as Aang, and that made his heart melt. Even to this day. He just couldn’t imagine what his life would’ve been like without you in it.

Just so completely over the moon in love with you.

You brought him back by trailing your fingers across his face, lightly pinching at his cheek.

“You spend way too much time in here,” you tapped at his temple, making him smile again. “What are you thinking about? Hopefully me.”

Cheeky, he thought before he inhaled and suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning up. His nose brushed yours, earning a giggle from you. But not wrong.

“Yes, you, beautiful girl.” He glanced at your lips, pecking them once then twice. He thumbed at your spine, “always you.”

You fought back a smile, biting at your lip.

“I’ve missed you. A lot.”

“And I’ve missed you so much more.”

The moment felt so perfect, it made you wonder if you were dreaming again. You couldn't help but remember what it had been like for you with him gone. Mentally, it was torture. So, to think that this too was nothing but a dream... Was it really that far-fetched?

But maybe it was the way Aang breathed, the feel of his chest against yours and that familiar glimmer in his eyes that promised you this was no dream. That he was truly here, right in front of you. Kissing you, touching you, and the whisperings of how much he'd missed you. It wasn't in your head. Not his voice, not his scent. Not even the way he filled up the space with his radiance, as faded from exhaustion as it was. It was still him. Your Aang.

"Now you're doing the thinking," you heard him say, feeling him press his forehead against yours.

Your lips split into a small grin, briefly closing your eyes.

"Sorry. Remind me to never think about you again."

Aang snorted. "Hah hah."

You snorted also and broke out into a chuckle, your eyes deep into his. "Seriously though. I know you're tired, but I really wanna...you know..."

"Mm," he took in a breath, ghosting his lips over yours and sliding his hands up and down your sides. "I may be the master of all four elements but I don't think I have the ability to read minds. Especially yours."

You stared at him back, and made a face. He grinned, and kissed you. You didn't hesitate to reciprocate it. A hand of yours nearly made its way to the nape of his neck to pull him closer when you broke apart, still giving him a look.

"Don't distract me."

"Awh, and it almost worked."

"What do you mean especially mine? Are you saying that you wouldn’t be able to read mine? Saying I have a big head or something?"

Aang deeply chuckled at that as he moved his lips to your forehead, laying a gentle kiss there, "No, but since we're on the subject–”

"Goodnight."

"Nooo, I'm joking," he whined, tightening his hold on you the moment that he felt you trying to pull away. You rolled your eyes, trying to keep back a smile. "Stayy."

“Why? So you can bully me some more?”

A bit distracted now, Aang kissed at the corner of your mouth before running the tip of his tongue along the seam of lips, not asking but taking. You let him nudge his tongue in and move against yours. He wasn’t even kissing you and you were already aching and wet again.

You let out a weak moan that was practically a whine, trying to lean in for more. When he’d slapped an ass cheek, you gasped and pulled back in shock.

Aang smirked, “don’t give me that look. You’re being bratty now. It’s not very nice so why should I be?”

Your lips formed a pout.

“Well…I’m sorry. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

He shrugged. “Good.”

“Enough?”

“No.”

“Ugh,” you pulled away from his lap and stood, sighing to yourself.

He leaned back on his hands and watched you again. The burning feel of his eyes on you made your body react as if he’d still had his hands on you. It was maddening. He was maddening.

“Baby,” he called for you in that sweet tone of his that he knew always worked on you. “Come back. You were saying something earlier. Was it about continuing what we were doing in the other room?”

You started to pull on another gown as you answered him over your shoulder.

“Earlier? That was like 30 seconds ago, grandpa.”

Aang groaned, “So mean to me,” and fell the rest of the way, now flat on the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

He didn’t say anything at first so you continued to dress, silently wishing the heat from the hearth could reach all the way to the bedroom. Then again, the upper floor of your home had more space than the others. Which meant it took longer for it to get cool and warm at times.

Once your new gown was lazily tied at the hip, you turned and just…stared. Aang’s eyes were closed. You knew that he wasn’t sleeping just yet, but the lax of his face… It made him look like he was. From the dark fullness of his brows, to the slope of his nose and finally to the soft of his lips that were parted. His chest sunk and rose steadily, his body still as if he was at peace in the silence.

As your eyes drifted lower, you couldn’t help but notice how well defined he was. Years and years of evasive combat training, honing his endurance in stamina and breath control as well as conditioning his mobility to perfect aerial techniques. It came from immense focus and strength that was learned, not necessarily taught.

Aang understood that better than anyone. Despite the fact that he was the Avatar, he learned early on that life was never meant to be handed to him. So he earned it, and perfected himself by doing it all on his own. Once he’d become comfortable with using all four elements, he trained in three until they became as familiar as air bending.

Toned, disciplined and strengthened by all of his hard work truly did pay off, just not in the way he had intended it to.

Honestly, it was completely unfair.

The quiet rise and fall of his chest drew your attention lower, expanding and tracing over defined muscle that was softened only slightly by exhaustion. Even after months of being away, his body still carried that same dangerous balance of gentleness and strength that always managed to unravel you far too easily.

There was not a single part of him built for stillness; not truly. Even laid across the bed in silence, he looked capable of movement at any given moment, like the wind itself rested beneath his skin.

And it did because spirits.

Maybe it was the lanternlight. Maybe it was the relief of having him home and alive where you could finally touch him again, but looking at him now made warmth pool low in your stomach in a way that almost annoyed you.

Because this was Aang.

Your Aang.

The same man that had frustrated you to tears only an hour ago now had you standing there in nothing but a thin gown while your thoughts betrayed you in the most depraved of ways.

You looked at him with a hunger that felt insatiable. Like the moment on the rug moments ago had only lit the fire within you, not put it out.

Slowly and quietly, you crept back up to the bed. You were trying to be stealthy, much like a shirshu. They were patient hunters, and earned their prey by tracking silently while being unsettlingly precise. However, the moment your knee dipped into the mattress, hands found your waist and within half of a breath, you were on your back with a real predator hovering over you.

Did he just airbend—?

Aang’s eyes roamed over your fluttering chest, moving them up to your lips and finally to the surprised gleam in your eyes.

A giggle bubbled from your throat, “You could’ve let me think I had that one.”

“Sorry pretty,” he leaned down and skimmed his nose along the column of your neck. “Maybe next time.”

Giving you a single kiss right at the center, Aang pulled back and was on his feet now. He peered down at you, noticing the new gown that you were wearing. He frowned before pouting, but he didn’t comment. Instead, his tattooed hands glided down your calves until his fingers closed around your ankles. Both of you shared a knowing look before he pulled you right up against his pelvis, helping you lock your legs at his waist.

“Aang—”

“Do you still want more?”

His question caught you off guard, but went right to your aching cunt nonetheless. His arousal felt hard and prominent against you, throbbing with the promise of ruining you. You didn’t dare look down. You knew what you would see. You could feel it.

“Yes.”

His deft fingers languidly pulled at the strings that kept your gown closed, and watched it fall apart to reveal your body to him once again. He caught the groan before it left his throat, opting to clench his jaw instead. The want to be inside of you ruled over his body’s need to sleep away the exhaustion of his long journey back home, back to you. He’d tasted you. Now, he wanted to feel you.

“So beautiful….” He bent down and twisted a bit to the side to spread kisses along your navel and up to valley of your breasts. “So mine…”

Aang reached a hand up to gently twist and tug at a nipple, earning a blissful sigh from you that sounded heavenly through the fog of his mind. He didn’t stop to let you breathe. He shifted his hips so that he could grind his erection directly against the bareness of your cunt, fully aware that it would sully the pants he had on. All for the better, really. The more transparent the fabric became, the closer he felt to you. He could bet all of the moon peaches in the world that you were just as warm and as wet as his mind conjured during the nights he’d spent alone.

He’d felt it earlier when he had his fingers inside you but he was smart enough to know that there was a difference between using his fingers and using something far more sensitive and connecting.

“Ahh, Aang,” you whined near his ear as his lips traveled back up to your neck.

He felt the tip of his arousal snag at your clit, causing him to push his face into your skin, hissing and gripping at your breast. He knew he could end the torturing of all this but there was just something so pathetic and primal about rutting against you like this. Perhaps it was also a result of his hazy mind and exhaustion creeping back in. Or maybe it had something to do with how you sounded whenever his length passed through the soaked folds of your pretty cunt.

Yeah. It was probably that, actually.

Though, as much as he enjoyed the thought of turning your brain into mush from a mere grinding session, he wanted something far more rewarding.

“Hold on,” he told you before pulling himself back. Quicker than he was trying to, he’d shucked off his pants and kicked them somewhere in the dark to be dealt with later.

During the brief intermission, you’d decided to move further up in bed, closer to the wooden headboard. The bed was big enough to comfortably fit several people in it so it was a bit funny when you thought back to the reason it was made this size.

Aang hadn’t always been so tall so his growth spurt shocked everyone. Somewhere along the way, a twin sized bed no longer seemed appropriate. He would always complain about his aching back or the way his legs would practically hang off of the ends. By that point, it was time to upsize.

You didn’t remove your gown completely. You just pulled it up your thighs to rest openly at your waist so that when Aang finally resettled in the valley of them, there was finally nothing that stood between you and him.

Except, when he did join you in bed, he’d noticed that you were a bit too far up and as he rested further down, he tilted his head. You recognized the look in his eyes, and felt your stomach jolt.

“Aang—ah!”

He bended the wind between his palms and your ankles, letting the current pull you down exactly where he needed you. His smirk met your flushed pout.

“Perfect.”

You rolled your eyes, wanting to look away. “Show off.”

The heavy weight of his cock settled painfully present against your cunt, oozing strings of precum that made you hyper aware of how badly he wanted you. Well, that wasn’t the only sign. From his chest up to his face, his skin was flushed. Even through the dark cover of the room, you could see the neediness in his eyes. A swirling grey that quietly confessed how much he’d truly longed for this moment. By the looks of him, you couldn’t even imagine how he was able to survive all of that time away from you.

“Better?” You asked him, feeling him twitch against you.

He simply nodded, lips parted, before wrapping a hand around himself. His eyes dropped down to look at how wet you were while you watched him. Slow, leisure strokes that made the muscles in his arm flex and the veins atop his hand push against his skin. Your mouth salivated, noticing the crease in his brows as he used his other hand to spread your folds apart. Sticky and shiny, and so fucking pretty.

He groaned and tightened his hand at the base of his length, letting out a slow deep breath. When he peeked back up at you, his heart almost stopped.

The way you were still watching him, a hand at your breast gripping and pulling at the sensitive bud with your bottom lip stuck between your teeth—

He must’ve died long before he came back home. This was it, his own little oasis in the spirit world.

Nothing in the entire world could compare to this moment.

And he meant nothing.

“Aang…”

He felt you before he heard you, the softness of your hand brushing his cheek. When his vision reorientated back on you, he saw the gentle smile on your face.

“I’m right here,” you said to him in the same soft way you touched him, grounding him again. “I’m real and here.”

Aang felt you pull at his wrist, tugging him down until the tip of his nose pressed against yours. His hands found themselves caging you, being careful to hold most of his weight. You tilted your head and ghosted your lips over his.

“My perfect husband,” you whispered, his back rippling with shivers that he tried to hide but couldn't. As your hands moved over his shoulders and along his back, you’d felt it. “So good to me…so perfect for me…”

When the tips of your fingers trickled down the line of his spine, he let out a whine that made you clench around nothing. It didn't sound like anything you'd heard from him before and maybe that was due to the time that the two of you had to spend apart. Two months had been the longest, and definitely the hardest. You'd felt the strain of it on your end but realizing what it must have been like for Aang, a man that loved beyond the limitations of the air nomadic ways; it was surely just as painful as a loss.

You'd cried many nights for the spirits to bring your husband back home safe and had the support of Katara during it all, but Aang had dealt with the torment alone.

There was still that lingering tension underneath his skin that he'd made sure to hide well from you but you could feel it; could feel him unraveling. You could tell that he was no longer able to keep it buried inside and away from you.

"Please," he begged you, leaving a trail of kisses from your collarbone to your ear. "Need to be inside you. Please."

And who were you to deny him when you needed him just as badly?

"I think you've kept me waiting long enough," you told him as you reached down the small space between your bodies. Once your fingers wrapped around him, his breath trembled as if he was going to fall to pieces before making it the rest of the way.

He gripped at the pillows underneath you, grinding his teeth together. He was fighting to hold it together. He'd wanted this moment to last, but could feel himself unthreading.

The moment you lined the head of his cock up to your twitching cunt, your hands moved to the curve of his ass and started to push him into you. He gasped into your neck, and groaned when the tip of his cock popped past the first ring of muscle. He shook his head in pure disbelief. You'd felt better than he'd remembered. It almost made him delirious.

Aang swore under his breath, feeling you push him in further. Clenching onto him the minute he split you apart, it almost sent him over the edge.

"If you knew what you felt like being wrapped around me like this," he breathed near your ear, "you'd lose your mind too."

"I know baby, I know," you kissed his cheek and jaw, feeling him fill you up until the fullness of him was all that you could feel. “And you’re doing such a good job…”

There was no escaping him now. No where for you to run or hide. He had you fully pressed into the mattress, arms blocking you in and his cock sunk so deep, it made you move your hands back up to the broadness of his back to help anchor you.

"Mmm, aang, you feel so good inside me," you wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning at how snug he felt. It felt so right, so perfect, you almost didn't want him to move but knew that if he didn't, he wasn't going to last long at all.

Once every inch of him was inside, he took in a breath while you exhaled. You allowed him the time he needed to ground himself before watching him lean up. Your eyes had gotten used to the dark and could see the concentrated look on his face as he moved his hands to your hips. His eyes dropped down to where the both of you were connected, and finally breathed out.

Everything about you drove him insane. Even when you’d finally given yourself to him, every single part of you, he still couldn’t get enough. He needed more of you. He wanted to push his body into yours until he was able to combine your souls into one. Claim your entire essence and being as his, marked forever as the one that saved him from himself.

You were his beaming light amongst the black ocean of his heart.

Where he was once drowning under the weight of all of his responsibilities, you saw him and pulled him out of it. How else could he thank you? Being your perfect-imperfect husband didn’t seem like enough. He wished to pull the stars down from the night sky and hand them all to you because you deserve something no one on earth could give you. Something only he was capable of giving you.

What was that? What was the very thing he could give? Something he hadn’t already given you?

It had to be none other than a promise, a proper promise that he would have to keep for as long as he lived.

He just didn’t realize that he’d known it all along. Known it since he’d made his vow to you the day of the wedding.

You could tell that something was on his mind but you didn’t pressure to ask. Instead, you waited.

Then, his eyes finally found yours again and held your gaze as he said,

“I want to make you a promise. A real one.”

You blinked, and slowly nodded.

“Yeah, okay. What promise?”

Aang’s brows furrowed as he mulled over what he wanted to say, and how he wanted to say it.

It took what felt like minutes before he said anything else, and it was not like anything you had expected him to say.

“I may not be able to promise that the world won’t need me again because it will. It always does, but I can promise that you’ll never have to wait in silence like that again.”

His thumbs rubbed across the skin of your waist, his eyes hard set on yours.

“And no matter where I go, I’ll always find my way back to you.”

Aang knew that he didn’t need to make you that promise, especially considering the conversation from earlier where there was finally a mutual understanding of how both of you felt. Even so, he could recognize how much he has truly hurt you. It wasn’t this one instance but for all of the others in the past. He wanted to make up for it all in a single promise that he vowed to never break.

You were rendered speechless. His wedding vows had been a bit different, vowing that he would always be by your side and would always put you first before any and everything, but not like this.

At the time, Aang did not foresee his duties as the Avatar and founder of Republic City getting in the way of his marriage, but he saw it now and only wanted to reassure you that you would be his true priority; that it was possible to love you and hold the world on his shoulders by doing it together.

He could see it, the tears that started to well up in your eyes and quickly shushed you, leaning down to press his lips against your forehead while holding your face. Your eyes fluttered closed, as his lips moved over each of your eyelids and to your nose.

“Don’t cry, not for this,” he whispered, kissing your cheeks now. “Because this promise to you cannot and will not be broken. Even when I’m long gone, I'll keep it. I promise…”

Your heart sunk hearing him talk like that. Just the thought of it…

“Please, Aang, don’t say that…” You sniffled, holding him back into your arms. This time, with no intention of letting him go. “You’re not allowed to go anywhere, do you hear me? Nowhere but here with me.”

“I know,” he breathed against your lips, staring back at you while using a thumb to wipe at the falling tears. “I just love you so much.”

You could see it in his eyes, the love and the utter devotion that he held for you that was unlike anything you had ever felt from someone. He looked at you like you were all that he could see.

And that was all that you could ever ask for.

“I love you so much more,” your lips pressed against his lips gently, sighing into it, feeling him return it eagerly.

He instinctively began to move his hips, rolling into you without rush but with purpose. The slow drag of his thick cock made you whimper into his opened mouth, your fingers dipping into his back.

He grunted, trailing his lips to your cheek, breathing heavily as he fucked into you deeper. Every inch, every part of you felt like pure bliss, a maze that he wanted to willingly get lost in. He didn’t care about anything else but this, you, being inside you and hearing your pretty moans. The way his name rolled off of your tongue, gasping and holding onto him like you were close to falling apart.

You were going to ruin him.

He bit down into his lip, frowning, as he reached up to hold the headboard above you. Something, anything that could keep him from losing his mind early on because he was close, dangerously close.

He kept his hand locked onto the wooden board, bracing his hulking frame as he began drilling into you with a rhythmic, punishing vigor. Every thrust was deep, deliberate and fueled by the weeks of loneliness and longing he had carried in his soul. He wasn't just fucking you. He was trying to merge with you, to bridge the gap that the distance had created between your bodies.

Aang groaned when he felt your cunt tighten around him and your hips move to match his pace.

“Fuck,” he moaned as his cock drove into you harder and faster, chasing more of you.

You choked out a sob, crying into his shoulder, your body jostling with every deliberate pound into your poor cunt he made.

“O-h, Aang! You’re so good, feel so fucking good inside of me!”

More of your begging, your nails sinking into his back, your cries and the feeling of you sucking him in with each thrust.

Call him a greedy bastard, but he wanted it all.

His movements were reckless, the bed creaking violently against the floor with every heavy impact of his hips against yours. His breath came in ragged, uneven hitches and his sweat slicked skin slid against yours, creating a feverish heat.

“Aang!” You sobbed hearing the sloppy squelch of your cunt with each unforgiving snap of his hips, feeling him directly hit that spongey spot inside of you like he was drawn to it.

He bent and kissed down until his lips found one of your perked nipples, sucking and rolling his tongue around the hard bud until he felt you shake and spill out the most prettiest moans he’d ever heard from you.

Aang was losing himself in you, and didn’t notice when his tattoos began to glow a bright blue hue. For you, it was all that you could see.

With his head lowered, you could see the arrow along his skin flickering until it was stable and illuminating, growing brighter with each ragged breath and slam of his hips against yours. His eyes were closed but you knew that those beautiful greys of his had been taken over by the same blue light.

He was terrifying to most in his avatar state but to you, he’d never looked more beautiful.

The headboard creaked under the sheer weight of his hold as he fucked you, the poor wood wailing and threatening to break under the pressure. He let out a broken groan around your skin before raising his head, his voice sounding a bit off. It sounded overlapped with more than one voice but it was still him. Desperate and filled with an overwhelming need to come as deep inside of you as humanely possible.

Your hands moved from his back to his face, holding him with care to get his attention. When he finally opened his eyes again, all you could see was an endless pool of blue. His brows were furrowed, and his forehead was beaded with sweat.

“Are you close?” All he was able to do was nod, nearly collapsing into your hands, his hips stuttering to signal that he was getting incredibly close. “Good, because I’m going to need you to cum and not pull out. Can you do that for me?”

Even through the haze of pleasure, Aang still made an expression of confusion.

“Don’t...pull out. So you want me to…?”

He left it there, knowing that you understood what he didn’t say.

You smiled, and nodded.

“Yes. Can you?”

Aang didn’t quite understand. Every time that the two of you had sex, you always made it clear he had to pull out. Pouting, he agreed but was never shy about telling you that he didn’t like it. If a baby happened, then wasn’t it meant to be? There was no better way to prevent a pregnancy, other than a certain type of tea, so pulling out was next best. Either way, Aang was not a fan but respected your boundaries nevertheless. Now, you were wanting him to…

"Wanna give you a little airbender, Aang. Would you like that?" You breathlessly asked him, feeling his hips falter at the sound of that. You smiled, stroking a thumb across his warm face. "Would be such a good mommy. Could give you everything you could ever want. Let me do it for you, Aang, please."

And that fucking did it.

Your voice, the feeling of your heated walls clamping down onto him, and you giving him permission to fill you up knowing what might happen; all of it sent him right over the edge.

He groaned out, applying more pressure to the headboard than he had intended and felt it split down the middle. The bed collapsed underneath you, surprising you but you weren't given time to assess what happened when Aang leaned down to bury his face into your neck. You felt his cock twitch and pulsate before filling you up until the mix of his thick cum and your arousal oozed out between you. His hands clutched into fists around the sheets as he tried to control his breathing.

You thought that he was done but his hips hadn't stopped. They just slowed to a steady roll, deep and intentional.

"Aang..." You whined under your breath, your arms wrapped loosely around his neck. Your body was nearly exhausted, but you weren't there yet. Could that be his reason?

He didn't say anything. He just kept moving inside of you, kissing at your neck. He shivered, feeling the way your cunt fluttered around him as your calves slid back into place, ankles firmly locked. He hummed, one of his hands sliding down your side until they reached your thighs to grip at them.

“Want you to cum around me,” he muttered low into the warmth of your neck, lazily smiling. “Can you do that for me?”

When he looked at you, you’d noticed that his greys were back and the arrows along his forehead and his back had dimmed back to their normal blue. It made your face warm.

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he praised, and used his arm to hold himself up while his other hand continued its trek down to your neglected clit. “And don’t think I forgot about her.”

As soon as his middle finger started to draw lazy circles before gradually moving a bit faster while letting his hips roll into you at the same pace, you squealed. You hand instantly reached down to hold onto his wrist as he abused the sensitive little nub, crying out.

“Ah, please!”

Aang was embarrassed to admit but aiming for your pleasure instead of his and watching your face twist up knowing that he was the reason, it made him ten times harder. There was nothing better than servicing you and making you feel good. It was just the simple fact that he had already came.

But who said he couldn’t do it again?

No matter how many times he did this with you, it would always feel like the first. There was just something about being with you in such an intimate way and connecting beyond a conversation or doing anything else together. He was very spiritual and believed that sex was a very sacred act. It was something he would never do with anyone else. Doing this with you, with his wife, felt like the highest form of his love for you.

When he felt your nails dig into the skin of his wrist and your cunt tighten around his cock again, he let out a ragged breath that was mixed with a laugh.

“You’re so tight, it feels like you’re going to cut off the circulation down there.”

You whined out his name, breathless, trying not to laugh at his untimely joke.

“Stop.”

“I’m being serious,” he said, letting another chuckle before groaning out and looking down at you. “Gonna cum, my love?”

You nodded with teary eyes, moving your hand up to his bicep, feeling it flex under your fingers.

“Mhm.”

“Yeah?”

“Aang—”

“Let me feel it.”

He leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours, eyebrows knitted together, fighting to concentrate.

“Please, let me feel it…”

You moaned out his name again and again, your head spinning, being unable to feel anything but his cock fucking into you and his fingers moving against your clit like it was his last day on earth. His whisperings of telling you how pretty you sounded and how much he loved you was all too much. You couldn’t handle it.

With one more sharp inhale and slam into your hips, your back arched and felt a wave of ecstasy crash into you, leaving you trembling and mumbling a string of nonsense that made Aang follow right behind you. You were too warm, too tight, his release spilled into you again, plugged and just as filled as the first.

Both of you stayed just like that, foreheads together and panting into each other as the comfortable silence of the night finally took over.

After a few moments of him trying to catch his breath, he smiled softly and kissed your nose.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”

You were relieved when he moved off of the bed and walked towards the washroom because your entire body refused to move even an inch. In fact, you were very close to falling asleep if not for the warm, damp feeling of a cloth against your inner thighs and over your mound. He knew your legs were going to instinctively twitch closed so he used his hands to keep them pried apart until he finally finished up.

After properly discarding the small towel, he scooped you into his arms so that he could work on the bed.

At first, it took him a moment. Now that he was able to actually see the bed from a different angle, the headboard lowered the bed quite unevenly. The damage wasn’t bad at all, it would just take a few minutes to brainstorm how to fix it. It was definitely going to be a temporary fix, but he knew it would hold long enough for a good night’s sleep.

Still, the idea of him as the avatar, master of all four elements, being humbled by a broken headboard after wrecking it with his wife—it definitely felt like a very comical irony.

But, someone had to do it so, he got to work.

Aang knew that the only way to go about this was to use air to reposition the splintered pieces back into place, or as close as he could, and then smooth some of the rough cracks. Luckily, it wasn’t completely split down the middle so it was fixable. He just knew that come morning, he would need to fully replace the bed.

Once that was done, he moved onto what was next.

As he held you with one arm and replaced the bedding with his other, you couldn’t help but stare up at him. You knew that he knew you were looking at him, judging by the small grin on his face, but he didn’t say anything and neither did you. You just watched him impressively use one arm to do things that would normally take two to do.

Once the bed was replaced with clean linen and warm blankets, Aang gently placed you back down, joining you now. He shifted onto his back and pulled you into him by your waist. You hummed, curving a leg up and over his thighs, your hand across his chest.

The silence continued and just when you were about to fall asleep, you heard the softness of his voice.

“Three days from now, I’ll be leaving again.”

Because it was engrained in your body, your first reaction was your stomach dropping. Still, you calmed your breathing and chose not to say anything. You remembered what he’d said to you earlier. His words on the balcony, his promise to you now, they all meant something. He wouldn’t do that only to lie to you, so you breathed.

Aang could tell that it had shaken you, telling by the stiffness of your body against his. He smiled a bit to himself before his eyes fell down to the crown of your head.

“And I want you to come with me.”

Your head shot up, meeting the playful glint in his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Do you really?”

His hand, that rested at your hip, stroked along your skin, his gaze holding yours.

“I made a promise to you, right?”

He placed a warm kiss to your forehead, making your face split into a smile also.

“I know…but hey! Don’t say that like you have to tag me along!” You pouted.

“I’m not, I swear!” He exclaimed with a brighter smile and laugh that shook his shoulders. “I want you to come with me. I want to travel the skies with you, scour and gather more airbender relics and maybe stop at different places just for the fun of it. Maybe help people along the way, but I want to do all of those things with you by my side this time.”

“Even if it gets dangerous?”

Aang paused for a moment and just looked at you. There was a tiny worry that he was taking the silence to rethink his decision to bring you along when he spoke again.

“You can handle yourself. I know that and when you can’t, I’ll be there to protect you. No matter what we face, we’ll face it together.”

It felt like your heart had crawled out of its hiding hole somewhere in your stomach and had soared right through your chest. It was all that you’d wanted to hear from him. To be able to still love him as deeply as you did and to be able to accept him for who he was to the people of the nations—it was the perfect middle ground. There was never a need to ‘fix’ you or him.

Instead, balance was all you ever needed and you knew you would always find that with him.

Your eyes fell to his lips and back up to the shining grey of his eyes.

“I love you.”

His hand moved from your hip to the nape of your neck, gently pulling you closer.

“And I love you.”

When your lips met, it was softer this time; slower. The kind of kiss that carried understanding within it rather than desperation.

You and Aang knew that there would still be difficult days ahead. That there would be arguments, distance and that familiar sense of fear that came with being the wife of the Avatar. Loving Aang would never come without sacrifice and being loved by you would always leave parts of him frighteningly exposed.

But this—this felt like balance.

Like finally meeting one another in the middle after spending so much time pulling at opposite ends.

And somehow, within the quiet warmth of his mouth against yours and the steady hand cradling the back of your neck, tomorrow no longer felt so frightening.

It felt like a promise for a new beginning.

༄ ... mini bonus scene ! ... ༄ 

The next day was spent making up for lost time.

Which basically means you and Aang barely left the bedroom to eat or even drink water.

Still, despite the time that you'd spent with him, you made sure not to forget about your visit with Katara the next day after that.

When you and Aang arrived, Sokka had answered the door and was happy to see you but as soon as he saw Aang, he'd nearly tackled his taller friend to the ground.

"You're back?! I had no idea you were back!" Sokka exclaimed with a wide smile that instantly turned into a frown, playfully hitting Aang's shoulder.

"Ow?" Aang rose a brow, rubbing his arm with a smile back.

"Don't 'ow' me! You could've let your best friend know you were back all this time, sheesh," Sokka shook his head, scratching his neck. "Some friend you are."

Katara came up next to her brother, and pinched at his ear like they were teens all over again.

"Leave Aang alone. He came back like, two days ago. What are you on about?"

"Sokka," You heard Suki whine in the background. "Give the poor guy a break. He did just come back."

Sokka sweatdropped, looking at the four of you before his eyes stopped on you. He smirked, and fully leaned against the door frame.

"Oh, did he now," He nodded, looking as if he knew something no one else did. "Yep, bet he did come."

Aang's eyes widened and so did yours. That was all Sokka could get out before Katara took him and his ear further into the house, giving him a real good talking to. He'd looked to Suki to help him, claiming that just because they were married, she had to protect him. She only smiled, and continued helping Zuko.

Both of you laughed and stepped inside, seeing Zuko setting up the last part of a banner that said, 'Welcome home, Aang.'

"Aw, guys," Aang pouted at the banner and his friends. "You shouldn't have!"

"Yeah, well, we almost didn't, twinkletoes," Toph grumbled rather loudly to herself, digging her pinky deep off into her ear. "I told them its a complete waste of time. You'll only end up knocking it to the-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Aang used his airbending to bring the gaang all together for a group hug, causing the banner to fly right off of the wooden beam it was expertly attached to. Toph, squeezed right between Sokka and Zuko huffed.

"-ground."

She sighed.

You couldn't help but smile as they all started to laugh, even Toph, catching her shake her head. Suki had her face squished into Sokka's, Katara had her arm around you and Zuko while Aang's long arms nearly wrapped around everyone.

As you melted into the group hug, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else in the world but with your husband and the best group of friends anyone could ever ask for.

༄ author’s end note: tysm for reading! don't forget to tell me your thoughts in the comments and leave a like/reblog! i would lovee to know what you guys think as this may not be my one and only piece of work in this fandom (wink, wink). time will tell... ~

→ taglist: @gyalcapone @llovekats @ladypickles @leefsfandombooknook @carlandoxlestappen @Lucamorax @ilovemollyweasley

With the aid of King Yushan himself, letters had been dispatched toward the Northern Water Tribe requesting healers skilled enough to treat illnesses untouched by Earth Kingdom medicine.

You still remembered the flicker of hope that had swept through the estate once word spread that the King had personally involved himself in Renji's condition.

Then the refusals arrived.

The conflict surrounding the Fire Nation colonies had already poisoned relations throughout much of the world by then, and though Hujiang flourished independently beneath its own monarchy, it remained Earth Kingdom territory in the eyes of outsiders.

No foreign healers wished to risk political entanglement while tensions continued worsening across the continents.

You remembered the night your father received the final rejection.

The sound of splintering wood had echoed through the manor; it had been loud enough to wake servants from their slumber.

By the time you reached his study, shattered scroll cases littered the floor beside overturned furniture, while dark ink bled slowly across ruined documents beneath his desk.

You had never seen your father lose composure before.

Not once.

Yet he had stood there, amidst the wreckage, breathing so hard that his shoulders trembled beneath his robes, one hand still clenched tightly around parchment.

That had been the moment you truly understood your brother would die.

Afterward, you scarcely left Renji's side.

Even while illness hollowed him steadily over the passing months, your brother maintained himself with a dignity that often felt unbearable to witness.

Servants continued dressing him properly each morning due to the fact that he no longer possessed the strength enough to stand unassisted for very long, but whenever visitors entered his chambers, he still straightened his posture before greeting them with the same calm refinement expected of Advisor Shuren's heir.

Only once the doors closed again would exhaustion finally show itself.

You spent countless hours seated beside his bed, listening while he spoke about subjects neither of you truly cared about.

Renji discussed past court affairs, poetry he had recently reread, or your future with Prince Jinhai.

Anything except his illness.

Anything except death.

At times, he even pretended to sport enough strength to tease you whenever you arrived with red eyes from crying elsewhere within the estate.

"You look dreadful." He had murmured once while accepting tea with a trembling hand from his servants.

"If I recover only to discover my sister frightened away the Prince of Hujiang, I shall be deeply offended."

You had burst into tears immediately.

Renji laughed for nearly a minute despite the coughing fit it earned him.

Eventually, however, there always came a point where your presence was gently dismissed for the evening.

Servants would approach quietly, carrying fresh water, medicine, clean robes, and prepared meals. Renji barely touched anymore.

Physicians arrived so frequently that the scent of herbs became permanently embedded within the chambers, mixing so unpleasantly with incense and medicinal oils until even breathing there felt difficult.

And still, every morning, you returned beside him again.

Aside from your own company, which had ultimately been the only thing you could truly offer your brother during those final months, Gen had remained the most diligent in caring for him.

It became difficult to recall moments when he had not been nearby.

Whenever physicians arrived carrying new remedies from distant provinces, Gen stood beside them listening carefully to memorize every instruction before they were even repeated a second time.

When Renji grew too weak to hold chopsticks steadily, it was Gen who fed him without once allowing embarrassment to settle within your brother.

He changed the cooling cloths resting against your brother's fevered skin, helped him sit upright through coughing fits that left traces of blood staining handkerchiefs.

He remained awake through nights where the illness worsened enough that even servants feared sleeping too deeply.

And somehow, through all of it, Renji still treated him less like a servant and more like an extension of himself.

You remembered overhearing older attendants complain halfheartedly that your brother would sooner dismiss noble guests than Gen whenever he found himself irritated.

Renji trusted him recklessly, allowed him liberties no ordinary servant within Hujiang would ever dare approach, and though your father occasionally reprimanded such informality, even he eventually surrendered to it.

Gen had belonged to Renji in every sense beyond blood.

Yet despite how constantly he lingered near your brother, you had barely ever spoken to him properly yourself.

Whenever you visited Renji, your brother possessed a habit of sending everyone away almost immediately.

Physicians, attendants, servants—none survived his dismissals for very long once he decided he wished to speak privately with you.

Gen always obeyed without protest, lowering his head politely before disappearing beyond the doors until summoned again.

Those brief interruptions had been the only moments you truly noticed him at all.

If conversation ever passed between you, it rarely extended beyond practicality.

"Where is Renji?"

"In the eastern courtyard, my lady."

"Has my brother eaten yet?"

"Not yet, my lady."

Simple exchanges such as that, very forgettable things spoken in passing.

At the time, you knew Gen only through the stories attached to him.

The orphan your brother had dragged home from the merchant district after catching him attempting to steal food.

Your brother had dragged the bleeding child directly into your father's study and demanded that he remain.

The boy Renji had refused to abandon.

The servant who followed your brother everywhere with a loyalty so reverent it occasionally bordered on devotion.

Once, when you were younger, you had overheard Renji laughing while complaining that Gen copied everything he did.

Gen had looked offended by the accusation, and your brother nearly fell from his chair laughing.

It had been a warm memory once.

Nobody realized how deeply Renji had woven himself into the boy's entire world until the day he died.

You could still remember the sound porcelain made when Gen dropped the medicine tray from his hands.

The physicians had already stepped back quietly, their silence revealing the truth before any formal announcement ever could.

Your father stood beside the bed, unmoving, while you buried your face against his robes, grief consuming you as you sobbed against him.

Still, through your own crying, you had not missed Gen collapsing beside the bed.

His knees had struck the floor so hard that one of the physicians startled visibly, yet Gen seemed entirely unaware of anyone surrounding him.

Both hands clutched desperately at the blankets near Renji's arm while grief overtook him with an honesty so raw it had frightened you.

It was a complete heartbreak.

Perhaps that was why you remembered it so clearly.

Within noble households, grief was meant to be silent.

Servants mourned respectfully, family members endured condolences with restraint, and funerals unfolded through ritual before any emotion could disrupt the ceremony.

Gen did not know how to grieve politely.

Throughout the funeral rites, you heard muffled sobs escaping him from the distance where all the servants stood.

He wore every feeling openly upon himself, exactly the sort of person your brother would have loved too easily.

Now, without Renji remaining there to anchor him, Gen no longer seemed to possess a place within the estate at all.

His duties had ended alongside your brother's final breath.

Shuren came dangerously close to dismissing him.

Discussions had already begun regarding where the boy might be transferred once mourning concluded, perhaps toward one of the merchant residences connected to the estate or some lesser property requiring additional attendants.

Yet in the end, your father kept him.

At the time, Shuren likely convinced himself it stemmed from pity alone.

Gen had arrived at the manor through Renji's insistence, possessed no surviving family to return to, and had spent most of his life growing beneath your household's protection.

Casting him aside immediately after your brother's death would have appeared unnecessarily cruel.

Still, deep within yourself, you suspected another truth lingered beneath your father's decision.

Keeping Gen nearby felt similar to keeping a fragment of Renji alive.

By the end of the mourning week, you had scarcely left your chambers.

Meals arrived untouched more often than not, curtains remained drawn against the daylight, and every conversation directed toward you eventually dissolved into the same silence.

The manor had grown quieter after Renji's death, yet nowhere did that silence settle more heavily than within your rooms.

You had been seated upon the floor beside your bed when Gen arrived.

Suyin sat across from you, carefully folding fresh robes atop her lap while speaking softly about something you had not been listening to.

Your knees remained drawn toward your chest beneath layers of silk, your head resting tiredly against the side of the mattress while incense burned slowly nearby.

A quiet knock had come first.

Nari, being your newest maid, had been tasked to open the doors as she slowly learned the workings of your chambers.

She had done so swiftly, and Suyin's voice had stopped immediately at the sight of Gen.

You barely lifted your eyes toward the entrance before looking away once more.

Gen lingered near the doorway, uncertainly. He appeared younger than you remembered.

"My lady," he greeted quietly.

You offered no response to his words.

Suyin glanced between the two of you hesitantly before finally rising from the floor. "Would you like us to remain?"

"No." You muttered after several moments. "You may leave."

The maids obeyed immediately, though not before Lian cast Gen one final glance while passing him.

Then the doors closed.

Silence overtook your chambers yet again, while you waited for Gen to explain his arrival.

You expected condolences. Everyone else had arrived carrying them.

Servants spoke gently around you now, and attendants lowered their voices on instinct.

Your own father watched you with restrained concern that only seemed to worsen your grief further.

Every person entering your chambers treated you delicately so that even breathing around someone else felt irritating.

Gen did none of that. For a while, he simply remained standing there.

Then, without asking permission, he crossed the room and lowered himself onto the floor beside your bed, leaving a respectable distance between the two of you so that his shoulder never brushed yours.

He didn't give any comforting words, nor did he provide an apology.

He did not speak. He simply shared his presence.

You found yourself strangely grateful for it.

The room had remained quiet for so long that you eventually spoke first.

"You should leave. It is improper for you to be here."

Gen let out a tired breath that almost resembled a laugh.

"Lord Shuren seems to disagree."

"He sent for...you?" You asked skeptically.

From your peripheral, you had noticed him give you a nod as he explained—

"Lord Shuren is worried. At this time of need, you should be sharing your grief."

"And...he sent you to speak on his behalf, as opposed to greeting me himself?" You retorted.

"I do not know the reason for it."

"With my brother no longer in our lives, I suppose you should be leaving quite soon." You spoke harshly, your emotions bleeding through.

"Lord Shuren has asked me to remain."

You scoffed at him.

"How odd. My father must have confused his guilt for kindness."

The words slipped from you without thought.

Gen turned toward you immediately afterward, startled by the bluntness as you finally looked at him properly for the first time since he entered.

You understood then why your maids had whispered so worriedly about him as they left.

He looked dreadful.

There was no physical injury, nor was he ill, but he was hollowed of his usual presence.

Renji's death had stripped something essential from him; it had taken away the charm he had built from observing your brother all these years.

"You have not slept." You observed.

Neither accusation nor concern touched your voice. It was as if you were only stating a fact, which you were.

Gen stared ahead toward the darkened windows instead of answering immediately.

"I keep thinking I hear him calling for me."

Grief tightened within your chest because you understood him.

There had already been moments throughout the past week where your own body reacted instinctively to footsteps beyond your doors, foolishly expecting Renji's voice to follow afterward.

"He used to wake before sunrise whenever he had lessons with the palace tutors." Gen continued quietly. "Half the time he would oversleep anyway, then blame me for not waking him sooner."

Despite yourself, you almost smiled.

"That sounds like him."

"He once convinced the kitchen staff you had stolen sweet buns before dinner." A faint trace of warmth entered his voice for the first time. "You cried for nearly an hour after Lord Shuren scolded you."

Your expression flattened immediately.

"I had only been eight." You reminded him

"I do recall you threw one at his head afterward."

"He deserved it."

Gen laughed softly, and it might have been the first time you'd seen him do so in a long time.

The sound nearly ruined you, because it reminded you of the time Renji was still here.

The quiet of your room was still suffocating, though it no longer pressed quite so painfully against your ribs.

Then quietly you spoke again.

"I think...this sort of grief is terribly selfish."

Gen frowned slightly beside you as you continued staring ahead while speaking.

"We mourn because we can no longer endure someone's absence." Your fingers tightened around the fabric pooled around you.

"But the person who died no longer suffers anything at all."

The room grew still.

"My father grieves his son. The servants grieve the heir they adored. You grieve your...friend." Your voice softened gradually as you noticed Gen stiffen beside you.

"And I grieve the only person who ever understood me."

You swallowed once.

"But Renji himself is beyond all of this now, and it is so very cruel."

Then slowly, you turned your head toward Gen.

He was staring at you, and something unreadable crossed his expression, his grief momentarily overtaken by a kind of stunned stillness you did not notice then.

Perhaps that had been the first moment Gen truly saw you, not merely as Renji's younger sister or the Advisor Shuren's daughter.

And perhaps, though you hadn't realized it yet, that had also been the beginning of everything that would one day destroy you.

Your wrists burned from the restraints as they dug mercilessly into your skin, the chains stretched high enough above your head that even attempting to stand properly sent pain tearing through your shoulders.

Every movement had become exhausting long ago, though your panic still forced your body to keep struggling despite how useless it had proven.

You had fought him.

Spirits, you had fought him desperately.

The moment consciousness returned, and you realized your outer silks had been stripped away, leaving you in nothing but the thin inner robes clinging loosely against your body that barely reach your mid-thighs.

You had thrashed violently, nearly toppling both yourself and him onto the floor.

Your nails had scratched skin. Your kicks had landed at least twice. You had screamed loud enough for your throat to turn raw within minutes.

None of it had stopped him from forcing your wrists into chains, and now, the lonely room echoed with the aftermath of your panic.

"Why?" You shouted again, your voice cracking harshly while the chains rattled violently above you from another failed attempt to free yourself.

"Why would you do this?!"

The man standing several feet away remained silent, and his silence terrified you.

"You have served my family since childhood!" The words tumbled from you desperately now, tinged with fury but also disbelief at what had happened.

"My brother trusted you!" Your breathing turned uneven while tears blurred your vision from frustration that beat your fear.

"Say something!" You screamed.

The lantern resting near the wall flickered softly, illuminating only fragments of him at a time beneath the dim light.

Your voice broke entirely.

"Gen, please..."

He finally moved, his steps so quiet, you wouldn't even notice his presence with your eyes closed.

He closed the remaining distance between the two of you, almost cautiously now that you had finally stopped screaming.

Your breathing remained ragged as you grew fearful of his approach, though you forced yourself to hold his stare regardless, refusing to let him see how badly your body had begun shaking.

Then his hand lifted toward your face, the touch unbearably gentle.

His knuckles brushed lightly against your cheek, pushing away strands of disheveled hair clinging damply against your skin, while something disturbingly tender softened within his expression.

"Renji worried about you endlessly, you know." He murmured.

"Even when he was ill, he spoke of your future more than his own. But then again...I'm sure he knew he didn't have a future to look forward to."

Revulsion twisted violently inside your chest, and you jerked your face away from him immediately.

"I spent...years listening to Renji talk about you. Speak of the woman you would become. And I have watched you become so beautiful. He would have been so proud."