The horizon is all we have

Your mind had long shut down from reality. 

Your mind brought you back home, back to mom and dad. Your mothers warm, welcoming arms that cuddle your coiled body. Your father in the kitchen, drenched in sweat while he happily makes your favorite fried eggs with scallion. The aromas of freshly picked herbs, the sounds of content chatter, the clinking of tea cups. It was all coming back in your time of need. 

But then you’re pulled back into reality, surrounded by caring hands moments after getting tainted. Your back seared, the scent of cooking flesh nauseating you completely. The women stand guard around you, attempting to shield you from any further harm as you are carefully seated and balanced on a nearby stool. 

Visceral cries and wails escaped your lips while the other woman tried easing your pain. Two cold, hard objects met your back, and you suddenly felt bittersweet relief. It was not much, but it was just enough to quiet your bawls. They offer supportive hands, but you couldn’t stand touch at the moment. 

It was strange; you wanted to be left alone but not by yourself. As the ice temporarily numbed the burning on your back, you couldn’t help but feel so vulnerable. You were so exposed, not just in clothing, but in your feelings. Tears couldn’t stay in your eyes, and you wept as if you were in your room, isolated. 

It was selfish to think that Lord Zuko would come to get you, to save you from the hell you were living. But Lord Indra had cemented your reality: you were nothing. A mere servant girl, someone worth the same value as a cabbage. The same way you were hired was the same way you could be exiled. 

You are not special. 

Before you have been many women, holding the same kettle you hold, pouring tea into the cups that have met a plethora of hands before your own. Your quarters were long slept on by other lives, body resting in the covers you’ve now assumed. And you are definitely not the first woman who has touched Lord Zuko’s hand like you did last night. 

Your feelings were growing more numb by the second. Your once hastened heart steadied, and you finally closed your eyes. You were tired, but you knew you were not to get rest. Not now, and probably not for the next while. There was something shattered inside you, something that you knew could never be repaired to the way it was. 

The women try to coo soothing words, offering sweet nothings and reassuring you that it did not look too bad. But the fact that it existed was a problem that you don’t think you’ll get over. And, what broke your heart more was that you were set up for this fate by Madam Minji, the very Chamberlain tasked to run and maintain the Firelord’s palace. 

You were offered water left and right, those efforts only being in vain. Parched is far from what you were. And you felt bad, rejecting the kindness of these women who have not met you before. You prayed their kindness will be well received by the spirits, but you yourself could not accept it. 

Desperate footsteps sounded from the end of the narrow hall. You were whisked away to the back of the bar, so evidently you were surrounded by shelves of food, barrels full of beer, and a closet with cleaning tools. This was, for the most part, the safest you’ve been the whole day. But it further reiterated the lack of worth you had. 

When Lord Indra decided to mar your back, you’d thought that those surrounding you would take action in your stead. Instead, you were met with surprised eyes that then proceeded in smirks and laughter. Lord Indra had long explained what happened the night before, painting you as an inconvenient, worthless servant. 

“Not so fire proof now, eh?” His words continue to mock you. 

Sitting in your own nothingness, you couldn’t stop your tears from flowing. Your eyes were probably red, puffing up with every moment passing. The women realized that their soothing tactics were useless, and allowed you to find solace in silence. They continued to press the ice against your back, at least putting some relief in the situation. 

Then, the boasting and chit chats from outside went suspiciously quiet. One voice, muffled and distant, claimed the space of sound, followed by the sounds of stomping and thuds. You couldn’t put too much stock in it, considering your mind was being tortured by the unwelcomed mark on your back. 

But, new footsteps made themselves known, and halted in the room you were in. Perhaps another waitress, you thought to yourself. You glance back, met with the amber eyes you had been longing for. Unfortunately, you couldn’t even muster a smile, albeit the relief of seeing a familiar face. As your nails claw into your arms, you lift your head a bit, and in a hush tone, you speak out, “Zuko…” 

His amber eyes, suddenly so dark and hollow, held a sort of distraught you’d never seen before. The waitresses moved away, like a rock being thrown at a flock of geese. The soothing ice was suddenly removed from your back, and you could see Lord Zuko break before you. 

You look away, too ashamed, too embarrassed. You were already shy enough in your new linens, but it pained you to have him see you so weak. He murmurs something that you could not catch, and you watch as the women slowly begin to exit the room around you. You felt the ice against your back shift a bit, but the motions were delicate and did not further agitate you. 

The scent of mint suddenly entered your sense of smell, and you knew Lord Zuko had closed the space between you. Your eyes were met with his shoes and his knees, seeing as he crouched down a bit to meet your level. Looking up, you were inches away from the Firelord. 

Browned honey eyes stare back into your own, burning through your tough facade. His sharp nose was centimeters from yours, with his hair completely disheveled. Strands were stuck against his face, which was shiny and ornate with a light sheen of sweat. It looked like he ran over here. You realized pretty quickly the reason for why he was so close to you. 

His right arm was extended and bending around you, cautious not to touch you at all. His large, veiny hand held the pieces of clothed ice that brought alleviation to your wound. He was careful not to apply too much pressure, but continued to mimic the hold that the two waitresses had previously. 

“You… came for me,” you whispered, still in disbelief at his presence before you. It felt like you were dreaming, just for that moment. You felt like crying even more, though you were pretty sure your body was all cried-out. 

Lord Zuko does not crack a smile, but his voice is the softest it's ever been, “of course I came for you. Why wouldn’t I have?”

You felt your insecurities fester, and for a moment, you wanted to push Lord Zuko away. His kindness, his sweet words, his gentle touch. You did not deserve such gifts. You did not deserve such efforts, especially with someone as excellent as him. 

“‘m s-so s-sorry to t-t-trouble you,” you begin to stammer, tears somehow finding its way out of you once again. Nails dig deeper into your arms, the smell of blood fuzzying your brain. “I just… I don’t…” 

It killed him to hear you so aimless. But he couldn’t yet give you the comfort you deserve. Not until Lord Indra got what he deserved first. 

“y/n, you have nothing to apologize for,” Lord Zuko says quietly. A pang of guilt shot at his heart when hearing your apology in such a broken voice. “In fact, I should be the one apologizing to you.”

You look down again, shaking your head, “n-no, this is not your f-fault, Zuko. He’s just…he…” 

He quickly brought his free hand to your face, hovering his finger over your lips. “I know,” he says quietly, taking in your sorrows as his own. “I swear it to you, I will make this right.” 

You finally break, and relieve your arms from the hold of your hands. You bring your hands to Lord Zuko’s chest, clinging onto his nicely tethered robes. “Don’t, please. I am n-not worth another conflict.” 

He looks at your desperate eyes, which could have made him fold the way they did the night before. But he was no longer in his rational mind. It was useless to him during times like this. He ignores your plea, and looks at your body. 

“Can you walk?” He asks, a twinge of hope in his words.

Your eyes scan the floor, “I can b-but… straightening my back hurts a bit, and without the ice, it might suck even more.” 

A bit was an understatement. But you cannot be blamed for wanting to hold onto as much dignity as you could. He takes in your words and pauses for a moment. “Alright,” he says simply. With his free hand, he gently guides your arms to his shoulders. “Hold onto me.” 

“H-hey, this isn’t necessar–” 

“I was not asking you,” Lord Zuko pressed on. “Hold onto me.” 

You quiet down and do as you’re told. Your hands latch onto him, your shaky hands meeting with his warm, smooth skin. Albeit it wasn’t too smooth, considering his body was ornate with scars in all sorts of sizes. But it was comforting somehow, despite how embarrassing this was for you. 

With one fell swoop, his free arm scoops you out of the stool, allowing you to sit safely on his forearm. His other arm continued to support your back, with the ice melting quickly between your severed back and his large hand. Streams of cold water ran down your back, drenching the very dip of your back where the dress continued. 

Feeling shy once again, you dig your face in the crook of his neck. 

Little did you know what this was doing to him. It was enough that your skin touched his this way, feeling your heart race against his chest. But it was another that his finger tips felt the soft and tenderness of your undamaged back while keeping the relieving ice against your burn. Your face digging into his neck sent shutters down his spine, briefly taking him out of his rage to indulge in you. 

You still smelled so sweet, like the chamomile you’d given him during his sleepless episodes. Your hair tickled his collarbones and shoulders, but they were just as soft as you. Then, to make matters worse, you had instinctively wrapped your legs around him, securing your hold on him. 

It didn’t quite crack him, but you were getting damn near close without trying. 

“W-wait,” you suddenly spoke, your hot breath forcing goosebumps to rise from his neck. “You cannot come out holding me like this. You are Firelord Zuko. You are not to be carrying a s-servant like this.” 

“And?” He was unimpressed by your point. “I am the Firelord– I dare someone to tell me what I can or can’t do.”

You remain quiet after this, your face remaining in his neck. You knew better than to get this comfortable with him, but at this point, it could not be helped. You were safe in his arms, in his care. You knew nothing more would happen to you as he was here, present, and attempting to help ease your pains. 

He takes a seat in the stool you were sitting in, making you a bit more timid as you were now adjusted to sit on his lap. You move back a bit, facing him directly now. “O-oh, Lord Zuko, this isn’t formal–” 

“y/n, you dropped the formalities when you addressed me earlier,” he reminds you, a small smile printed on his lips. “Are formalities really important right now?” 

You accept his point. You move back a bit more, still clinging to his neck, while eyeing his hair. You giggled through your trembling lips and shaky body, “y-your hair looks awful…” 

“Yeah?” He smirked at your refreshing change in attitude. You really were tougher than you gave yourself credit for. “It was supposed to be done by someone else.” 

You sheepishly look away, “w-well, I hope they were gentle at least…” 

You knew him too well, “...she did her best.” Immediately, you both erupt in quiet laughter. Lord Zuko felt your tension ease up a bit, the shakiness dulling just a bit. It was small progress, but he’ll take whatever he can get. “There’s a bun, so it is enough.” 

“That’s extremely bare minimum,” you note in between giggles, “but I appreciate you still giving her credit.” 

He smiles warmly before his entire expression falls stern. His amber eyes once again dim, with a sweet voice turned grim. He lets out a very deep sigh, “we’re going to leave this shithole now. Are you okay with seeing him again? Or would you rather I remove him from sight first?” 

You were pensive for a moment, but then gave him a curt smile, “I am with you. Lord Indra is nothing to me so long as you are present.” But you quickly grab at the collar of his garment, keeping his gaze on you. “But… I’d like to try to stand and walk on my own.” 

He does not deny you, “are you sure?” His words were coated with worry. “You do not need to force yourself.” 

You shook your head, “I need to keep some dignity, if I can.” 

He understands your words a little too well, and silently agrees. He carefully puts the clothed ice down, which was now just a sopping wet cloth. He slowly lets go of his hold on you, following your pace to become independent of his help. Lord Zuko feels your relentless struggle, the way your hands pushed down some weight in his forearms. Even then, he had no intention to let you down. 

Carefully, your feet find themselves on the ground. The skirt of your silk dress flows down, wrinkles ornate all over as evidence of your day. You were still bent over a bit, your nerves hiking up as you slowly straightened yourself. Lord Zuko laments hearing your hisses as the burn on your back takes uncomfortably to your movements. 

“Do you need me to do anything?” He quietly offers, his arms barely needing to flex to hold your weight. 

You shake your head, “‘m fine, it just stings so much…” 

Lord Zuko hums at your words, feeling his heart burn from your wincing. His calloused hands take hold of your own forearms, securing your place as you adjust to being back on your feet. You straightened up, but it still wasn’t quite normal. You could feel the burn writhe from the bend of your spine. You stood still, allowing yourself the time to get used to the feeling. 

A few shaky sighs escape your lips as you adjust yourself to the new feeling in your body. Standing up as straight as your body was willing, you begin to wipe your dress. Lord Zuko quickly looks away as your fingers pull at the thin straps that hung from your body. You quietly giggle to yourself at his respectfulness towards you as you adjust your dress as best you can. 

“You can look now,” you give him the OK. Following your words was a long sigh, as you looked down at your revealing dress. “...I feel exposed,” you admit in a blunt tone, looking down at your body. 

Lord Zuko looks at you with sympathetic eyes, wishing nothing more than to disappear you from this place and get you to safety. But, you were safe, now that you were in his sight and reach. But his sympathy quickly turned to guilt, as those amber orbs analyzed the divots and curves of your body. The dip of your exposed back, the tender skin of your arms, and even your delicate hands were doing something to him. 

“Spirits, forgive me,” he whispered under his tongue. Then, you watched as his hands made their way to his back, pulling at the strings of his waist band. The dark brown garment proceeds to fall to the ground, the binding strings sprawled about on the floor. Then goes the deep red tunic, its gold trimmings randomly shining from the light of the torches that surrounded you. Then, you watch as he begins to pull off the sleeves of his taupe inner robe. 

This was the first time you had truly seen his physique. It was a sin to keep such a body hidden away as much as he hides it. The first thing your eyes latched onto was his prominent, well-defined chest that dented along the well developed muscles. Broad shoulders and strong arms that could harm anyone in a chokehold. You knew his collarbones and almost all of his upper body assets were prominent, but even his abs held contest to them. 

And he wasn’t at all bulky– he was chiseled to perfection. 

But then reality hits you like a cabbage cart and you realize the Firelord was stripping before you. “H-hey–! What are you doing?” You immediately interrogate, shamelessly covering your eyes as if you had not looked at him like a piece of meat just a moment ago. 

“For you,” he says quietly, offering his robe to you. “I’m… also not eager to allow you to be seen like this.” He looks away from you, but even from the sliver of side profile you get to see, his upper face exposes a hue of red. “So I insist you wear this.” 

“I… appreciate the gesture, truly, but these are handwoven specifically for the Firelord,” you say shyly. You didn’t truly care about those rules, but it would be extremely embarrassing for you to wear his clothes in public. “Not sure if you noticed, but I am very much not the Firelord.” 

Lord Zuko looks back at you, immediately covering his face with his free hand to keep you from seeing his smile. He’s supposed to be serious, and somehow, you were still able to soften him. “I’m a little too aware that you are not the Firelord. But please, I insist you wear this for the time being.” 

You accepted his offer, though you still felt that dent of reticence. You take the robe (which, adding to its value, was quite heavy) and carefully slip your arms in. You tie it as tight as it allows, considering you do not share the same measurements as him. It touched your back, but the material is so soft, it offers little irritation. Giving it a few adjustments, you immediately smirk at how large it was on you. 

“It’s just about touching the floor,” you comment, worried about damaging such expensive and exclusive material. This robe alone would be enough to sell and retire the rest of your days, should it be yours to obtain. 

“Looks like it was made just for you,” he hums quietly, not permitting his mind to go any further. Before you could make anything of his words, he offered you a hand, “are you ready to go?”

It felt like a dream after a very long nightmare. You carefully place your hand in his, trusting your life in his care. His rough, calloused hands take hold of you, a grip so gentle as if he was holding an egg. Giving him a final confirming nod, he begins to lead you away

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 

In hindsight, Lord Zuko wished he had given you a little more warning. 

When he escorted you back out to the bar, the rage he had temporarily abandoned when finding you had immediately returned. You two were met with now a flood of guards, who held every bar occupant captive until Lord Zuko instructed otherwise. It was funny just how much power the Firelord has without having to say a thing, as he had come with some guards and now had a whole army inside this small tavern. 

“Firelord Zuko!” The guards acknowledge his presence, standing by and awaiting for instruction. 

Lord Zuko ignores them just for a moment, meandering around the bar in such a way to body block you from Lord Indra’s sight. He was glad you did not seem to notice his scheme either, as you were more focused on keeping hold of his hand and following him wherever he was leading you. And for Lord Zuko’s personal needs, he didn’t want to let Lord Indra have another look at you. If it was up to him, he’d gauge his eyes out personally. 

But even Lord Zuko couldn’t stoop to such cruelty, despite how others easily enact their own sinister acts. 

“I need 10 of you to escort and be appointed to Lady Sai,” Lord Zuko begins simply. “She is to be safely escorted to her room, and not to be disturbed by anyone. Not even Chamberlain herself. Do you understand?” 

The guards hesitate, fixated on you with Lord Zuko’s robes on. You understood that it was very interesting. Even you have not fully fathomed wearing his garments, which still bore his warmth from his recent wear. 

Lord Zuko notices this, and his patience further thins, “did I stutter? Do as I say!” His tone ramps up, and you flinch from its sudden change. He had been speaking so gently with you just moments ago. He turned to you, attempting to adjust his tone but it was still stern, “go back to the palace. We will talk when I return.” 

You stared at him quizzically, “w-what do you mean? Won’t we be returning together?” 

Lord Zuko looks at you, his expression cold but not because of you, “I have to do something, and it may take me a bit of time. But I will go straight to you after.” 

You shook your head, “n-no, I’d rather be with you, here.” 

He quickly reverts back, looking into your eyes good and well. If it were up to him, truly, he’d go back to the palace and just be in your presence, even if he were back to his dreadful work and you were there keeping him company. “y/n, it is not that I do not want you here…” 

“Then…?” You whispered softly, trying to look beyond those honey eyes. 

He feels your hand squeeze his own, and quickly accepts that you will not falter. He gets slightly closer to you, enough that only you could hear his following words, “stay. But I want to apologize to you in advance for what you are about to see.” 

Before you could say another word, he looked back at his guards, his tone once again rejoicing with rampage, “find a carriage– anything that will allow Lady Sai to sit and rest her body. I don’t care how you do it, just do it.” A few guards rush out upon instruction, quickly learning from their mistakes earlier. He then points at a few more guards, “guard her with your life, and protect her while she rests. Bring her outside and don’t let any of these idiots near her.” 

The guards quickly nod, and navigate between the many stunned fire benders and tables to surround you. Lord Zuko gives you an apologetic look before letting go of your hand. Although you can still see Lord Zuko, your view gets quickly altered by the guards who have been tasked to sentry you. 

The guards offer their hands, as they had noticed your trouble with walking when coming into view. As you allow them to support you, you look back at Lord Zuko, only to be met with his back. His wide, chiseled back was ornate with ripples of muscles, with a defined dip of his spine. His beautiful long hair skewed your sight of his upper back, but you could easily imagine the rest. 

He was looking towards the corner in which Lord Indra was sitting, with the rest of the visiting lords moved far away from him. You couldn’t get a good look at him, as Lord Zuko was (purposely) blocking your vision. But with the sudden sound of heavy breathing, you knew Lord Indra was anxious. 

“Let’s go outside,” Lord Zuko instructs, his hands now in his pockets. Not a movement was seen, nor a sound was heard. His patience was whittling down, towards the path of nonexistence. “Guards, drag him out,” Lord Zuko commanded as he began to walk towards the door. 

“H-hey, wait!” Lord Indra finally sounded, a cry only a coward could make. “Let go of me! Where the fuck are you taking me?” Guards grab his arms, contesting his wriggling and struggle in their hold. 

You follow with a reasonable amount of distance behind Lord Indra, who still insisted that he be unhanded. As you finally leave the tavern, your eyes struggle from the sudden brightness of the sun. A few guards quickly grab nearby clothes and stretch it over your head to shield you from its relentless rays. 

You were immediately met with accommodation, as the tasked guards to find you a carriage returned. They rushed to you with a wooden wheelbarrow, which was luckily supported by 4 wheels. Inside, it was stuffed with whatever blankets and quilts they could find to cushion it for you. 

All the guards assist you in getting into it, as you were too weak to otherwise hop in yourself. One guard put it upon himself to continue holding the cloth above you, as the sun was practically blistering. “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you say warmly, bringing a hand to his forearm. “The sun will not do any harm.” 

The guard refused, shaking his head profusely, “you have been trusted to us by Firelord Zuko. We will guarantee your safety and care.” The fear he had against his leader was palpable. You decide not to push on, understanding his situation well. 

It seems that, for a long time, Lord Zuko had been a calm, understanding leader. As he was working with the Avatar to restore peace, he himself found his own inner equanimity. You had always heard the stories of his temperament as a teenager, though you obviously have never known him and experienced that yourself. But considering how calm the Fire Nation has been since his rise to power, and how well he treats his people, you deduced those stories to be rumors. 

You were settled towards the sides of the city, receiving many curious eyes from the locals before they gave their attention to Lord Zuko. They all bowed in his presence, stopping their activities or dropping whatever they had in their arms to greet him. He walked towards the center square of this area of town, which immediately triggered the crowd to clear the space. 

The attention was then directed to Lord Indra, who was now silently protesting while being dragged toward the center square. But you could not care to watch him when Lord Zuko was in sight. 

He lifts his arms in the air, stretching every muscle of his upper body with ease. He cracks his neck, moving it all about to loosen his muscles. It was when you traced down his abs that you realized something: a scar, its residence dead center of his core. How had you not noticed before? Perhaps with everything happening, your mind was not operating at its best. 

“Let him go,” Lord Zuko finally says, as the guards had dragged him just a few feet in front of him. Lord Indra gets thrown to the ground, the guards dusting their hands as they walk away from the scene. Furiously, Lord Indra rises, aggressively pulling at his beard to dust off the specks of dust and debris of the floor. “It seems you regret not listening to me last night.” 

Lord Indra rolls his eyes, “don’t be so cocky. Having guards do your bidding doesn’t make you better than anyone.” 

“Holding a defenseless woman hostage and striking her on the back is not a fantastic feat either,” Lord Zuko spews, cracking his fingers one by one. He doesn’t dare look up at him, as he gets to his thumbs. “But, feel free to spout more moronic shit to me.” 

“So what now?” Lord Indra taunts, looking around at the many pairs of eyes narrowed onto them and the tension. “You gonna burn me like I burned your little servant girl there?” 

“You’re a bold man for speaking to your Firelord like this,” Lord Zuko says calmly, bringing his hands up to his bun. He accidentally unravels it when gently removing his golden crown, allowing for his hair to flow loosely. He begins to walk over to you, disregarding Lord Indra completely. When he makes it to you, he bends down slightly, offering the crown to you, “mind holding onto this as well for me?” His voice suddenly sweet, like a pastry. You carefully take the crown, blushing immensely as you were now adorned in 50% of his usual attire. 

While he was nearby, he also began to remove his boots, his bare feet now exposed to the hot ground below him. Not that he minded, of course, as he walked back to his place in the square. Lord Indra scoffs at him, “your father would be disgusted by you. Defecting your lineage with a girl who holds no value.” 

Lord Zuko chafes his feet against the ground, getting used to its solidness. “It seems you don’t like me very much, Indra,” he pokes at his ego, dropping formalities completely. “Did I do something to you?” 

Lord Indra looks at him, stunned as if he had said something unearthly. Dark eyes lower, his posture now straightened. He looks at the Firelord with an unpleasant stare, “I have lived for a long time, boy. Long enough to know that you will never have the same power your father once had.” 

“And what kind of power did my father have that I don’t?” Lord Zuko pressed on, now more curious than angry. That said, he still held onto this fury, this insatiable feeling. 

“Enough to bring his daughter to true strength,” Lord Indra hisses. He then smirks menacingly, eyeing the scar on Lord Zuko’s left eye. “Enough to teach his weaker child respect.” 

Lord Zuko lifts his eyebrow, impressed with his audacity, “and where are they now?” Lord Indra keeps silent, gritting his teeth. “Right, they’re not here. And even if they were, you wouldn’t have gotten this far before being silenced forever.” Lord Zuko finally finishes stretching, with one hand lifted, he allows a controlled burst of fire to float on his palm. “Some mercy rubbed off on me from last night, but I now understand that mercy is not what you want.” 

Lord Indra stares at the fire, quickly being reminded of the burns he had received from him the night before. It was not enough to scar or truly hurt, but the light trauma still remained. “All this for that peasant? Breaking the law for a girl with no worth?” 

“I am the Firelord, therefore I am the law,” Lord Zuko spat, the flame in his hand now dancing slightly uncontrollably. “It was enough that you decided not to heed my commands and leave by Morningstar's arrival, but to then go and brand her?” 

Lord Indra laughs, “you cannot be a ruler if you cannot keep your people in check. You will lose that crown sooner with how spineless you are.”

“I never considered it that way,” a dark tone coats Lord Zuko’s words. The fire in his hand writhes frenziedly, like even the flame itself could not handle his power. “Thank you for the advice, Indra. Let me start applying it today, right now.” 

You knew Lord Indra knew his fate well. He knew he’d be imprisoned forever, key lost in the surrounding oceans. But, with this, his boldness has entered levels unknown. He was riling Lord Zuko up, attempting to mess with his head before he’s locked away forever. 

But, when you give Lord Zuko a good look, there’s that controlled chaos that you recognized from the night prior. It was different, though. It was almost like, for a split second, he was… excited. 

“You should feel special,” Lord Zuko taunts, the fire in his hand now struggling to remain still as slivers of lightning sneak its way out. “I’m changing the law just for you.” 

Lord Indra looks at Lord Zuko long and hard, attempting to find any sort of hesitance. But his demeanor was set in stone, his expression determined. Seeing this, Lord Indra lets out a shaky sigh before stripping away the top layers of his clothing. He, too, removes enough to show his torso, ornate with hair and very few scars from burns and fights in the past. 

“Finally growing some balls,” Lord Indra exclaims, allowing fire to appear in his palms. He cracks his own neck before anticipation envelopes in his eyes. “Can’t wait to settle this and show everyone what kind of Firelord you really are.” 

Lord Zuko simply sighs, the sort of sigh you emit when you pity someone. Looking around, he notices someone particular in the crowd. Surrounded by guards as well, his dear uncle made his way down and found him, upon Lady Kira’s instructed words. He notices his uncle's worried expression, as if he was fearful of something. 

But Lord Zuko was shockingly composed, despite the feelings that were aching to be let out. “Everyone,” he announces, looking around at the concerned looks that surrounded him. “Today, I have decided to temporarily revoke my ban on the first thing I had outlawed as the Firelord, and allow him the honor to lose at my hand in my final Agni Kai.” 

“There he is,” Lord Indra boasts, his demented excitement only worsening. “A true Firelord finally coming out from dormancy. Perhaps the girl was not so useless after all since we all get to witness his real power.” 

Lord Zuko smiles, humored by Lord Indra’s sudden performative banter. That was enough to make Lord Indra’s confidence dent. That smile alone was enough for unease to set in. “Now we get to find out how fire resistant you are.” 

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Zuko knew better than to think he’d get a wink of rest that night. 

With the Avatar and his friends coming to visit, he was disturbed by the shuffling of feet at dawn. The staff moved at a faster tune, preparing the palace for their arrival as if it was the most important thing to do. And really, it was. Ladies in Waiting rushed into bedrooms, sweeping the floor, changing the sheets, and ensuring perfection was met. Guard leaders were instructing them on their future positioning, and instructing them to heighten their awareness. 

As for Zuko, he was struggling just to get out of bed. His body felt hot and heavy, like molten rocks were pressing down against his torso. But he gets up, albeit a few bone cracks here and there. He dragged his feet in his routine, getting showered and barely ready before waiting for your arrival. He was eager to see you, despite wanting to try and keep his distance from you. 

You were not the issue; it was him. In hindsight, he should have known that getting close to you was not a great decision. He would have killed Lord Indra if you asked him to, and that kind of power over him was extremely dangerous. So, throughout the night, he’s convinced himself that the best thing for the both of you was to dissolve the relationship you had developed. You are his attendant, and he was your leader. 

But as the minutes passed, your absence remained. You were never late, and he always admired that punctual drive of yours. But here he was, sat at the edge of his bed, eagerness being stabbed by your delay. Not that he’d admit he was anticipating seeing you. 

Then, a gentle knock was heard against his door. He quickly sits up, fixing his garments to close the sliver of chest and abs he was showing. “Come in,” he struggles out, his voice still hoarse from getting up. 

His glowing eyes quickly dim when it was not you entering his quarters, but another Lady in Waiting. She bows, “goodmorning, Firelord Zuko.” There it was, that monotone serving voice that he loathes. He understood it was part of their job, but that lip service has long annoyed him. 

“Goodmorning,” he hums, giving a curt nod. She quickly closes the door behind her, and looks over at his massive vanity, taking hold of a brush. “Oh, are you to…?” 

The Lady in Waiting nods shyly, her eyes not daring to meet his, “I will be taking Lady Sai’s place for today. So whenever you are ready, I will assist you in doing your hair.” She was nervous, as the brush shook in her hold. She was short, her attire perfectly ironed, and bun done so tightly, a strand does not dare to stick out. 

She was anxious. Zuko does not protest, and finds his way to the chair. He wasn’t happy, and it wasn’t just because of your absence. You knew best how to do his, well, everything. Zuko was a bit tender headed, and you brushed his hair so well, he doesn’t even notice when you finish sometimes. 

He sat there, arms crossed, teeth gritting as the attendant divided his hair into sections. She didn’t realize the way she would slide the hairpin a little too aggressively, dragging it against his scalp in the process. He winces, but doesn’t dare mood, as he didn’t want her to know he wasn’t comfortable. 

He was the damn Firelord– why would tenderheadedness be a fault of his? 

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After a torturous bun and a long morning, the two strolled over to the throne room in the afternoon, where a stack of scrolls eagerly waited for Zuko’s arrival. He slapped his hand against his face, his amber eyes burning at his tasks through the spaces of his fingers. Fuck me, he thought to himself. The Lady in Waiting behind him cowered, fearful of his mood. 

And she was not wrong to react in such a way. Zuko was in a terrible mood. Not enough to be cruel to her, but enough that he would sigh and groan every other minute. He opened scrolls so quickly, some of them ripped off of the wooden dowels. Even when signing with his quill, he would occasionally write a bit too aggressively, marking lines off the paper accidentally. 

And it wasn’t that he missed you or anything. 

But, when the kind Lady in Waiting prepared his tea, she trembled, similarly to you when you had first attended him. And when she prepared a cup of tea for him, the first sip he took was dreadful. It tasted of just hot water, no herbs, not even anything sweet. And she would stand so far, he’d have to raise his voice just a bit just to speak with her. 

It wasn’t her fault; you spoiled him too much. Your hands were already masters at your craft before you were hired to serve him. Your warmth put fire bending to shame, especially with how careful you were when tending to him. Everything about you; your scent, your touch, your smile. He was so used to you that being without you wasn’t satisfactory to him. 

“Lady,” he calls to her, getting a small jump from her. “Come here.” 

She rushes down the room, and halts at the bottom of the stairs that led to his throne. She bows, “yes, my Lord?” Her words were stammered out, her skin completely pale. He felt bad for making her anxious, but that’s just part of the job. 

“What is your name?” Zuko hums. He had no plans of breaking formalities with her, but he wanted to respect her and know who was attending him. 

She nods, “K-Kira, m’Lord.” Her name barely wanted to leave her tongue from the way it came out so hush. 

Zuko offers her a small smile, attempting to soothe her nerves, “it’s nice to meet you, Lady Kira. Thank you for serving me today.” 

“Th-the honor is all mine, always my Lord!” She squeaked out, offering him yet another bow. He puts down his quill into the jar of ink beside him, and allows the scroll on the desk to loosely close. 

He was direct in his words, “do you know why Lady Sai is not here attending to me?” He quickly follows his inquiry with, “do not take offense to this. I am used to her servicing me, as she is my direct and personal attendant. I need to know where she is, and why she is not here.” 

Kira looks down, her anxiety peaking. This made Zuko curious, as it seemed like asking if that was something she was dreading. It felt almost as if your whereabouts were to remain unknown to him. “She… has been assigned to work elsewhere by Lady Minji.” 

“Chamberlain Minji assigned my direct attendant to work on something else?” Zuko repeats her words, just clarifying that he heard her correctly. She feebly nods. “Can I ask what she is doing?” 

Kira’s eyes were dim, and he knew that there was something wrong. But, it did allure him to see one of the staff members attempt to keep something from him. It was rare, and his interest and need to know where you were only skyrocketed. She finds solace at her shoes, hoping he’d stop caring and let it go. 

But it was you they were talking about– he won’t let it go until he knows. 

“Lady Kira, is this something I’m not to know?” Zuko asks, lowering his voice so low that even a mouse could be heard if there was one. 

Kira’s eyes return to meet him, seeing his eyes completely engulfed in worry now. He had to know where you were, and what you were doing, and why you were not here, with him. “...I’m not to say, upon Lady Minji’s instructions,” Kira says quietly.

His eyes glimmer now with something a bit darker. There was an unease crawling on his skin, needing but also fearing the answer. “You do not need to concern yourself with consequence; I will not tell her who told me,” Zuko promises. 

Kira sees the honesty and desperation in those amber eyes. She also realizes it’s much more dangerous to deny the Firelord than it was to disobey the Chamberlain. “Lady Minji reassigned Lady Sai to attend to the visiting lords.” 

Zuko was taken aback from her words. The lords were completely taken care of by the other Ladies in Waiting, but only when they were within the Palace. From his knowledge, he was confident that the lords were spending the day in the Capital, obtaining resources to prepare for their trip back to their own villages. “But they are not in Palace grounds, correct?” 

Kira nods, “they are… um…” She shuffles in place, anxious to reveal their location. But they were already too deep in the conversation, and Zuko had no intention to let up. “They are at the pub down at the Capital.” 

“What?” Zuko scoffed. “Why?” 

“Sh-she was told she must make it up to Lord Indra; the reason, I am not sure of,” Kira replies. 

There was an anger building up in the Firelord, like a supervolcano ready to activate after a long dormancy. It was already enough that you were not present, but hearing that you were completely out of Palace grounds and in the same room as the same person who did you damage just the night before. 

He tried to contain himself, letting out an annoyed sigh. A discussion with Chamberlain was a given, though it was not something he was eager to do. He had trusted the palace management to her, and that trust was quickly being tested. He reopens the scroll on his desk, attempting to refocus on his work once more. 

She’s fine, he thought to himself, finding comfort in his naivety. Staff of the palace must be escorted into Capital City, regardless of the reason. Zuko put this in place to ensure their safety while not keeping them hostage in the palace. He never wanted the workers to feel as if their life is only within the walls of his home. 

He taps the tip of the quill to his tongue, “what time was she escorted to the bar?” 

Kira quickly clears her throat, “it was quite early, but no guards accompanied her. She went by herself.” The quill in his hand snapped, chips of wood broken to pieces and threatening to splinter him. 

Suddenly, he felt all air get removed from the room. There was something hitched at his throat, and there was a sort of anger he hadn’t felt in a very long time. The most it had ever come in recent time was yesterday, when you are assaulted. And even then, that was just a scratch of its true wrath. 

He puts away his work quickly, not another word leaving his lips. He had to control himself, at least for the time being. He knew he needed to confront Chamberlain, but that will be for after. His first task was to go to you. He stands straight, his robes flowing behind him, supplemented by the air from his sudden stride. 

Zuko walks up to Kira and leans down, his face inches before hers. She could feel herself go hot, her nerves forcing goosebumps all over her skin. “I need you to do me a favor, if you’re willing,” he says calmly. 

Kira nods, “anything for you, Firelord Zuko.” 

“I want you to leave this room quietly, and should anyone ask where you are going, say that I’ve instructed you to upkeep my room,” Zuko begins his instructions, having Kira jot it down mentally. “And I do want you to remain in my quarters, but before that, find my uncle and tell him I’m going into town.” 

Inform Master Iroh? She thinks curiously. Her eyes looked into his, and those amber eyes were now a dark honey. But, they held anything but sweetness in their coat, cloaked by something she could not begin to describe. 

She nods once more, “understood, Firelord Zuko. A-and Lady Minji?” 

“My word is above everyone else's here,” Zuko reaffirms, “should she dare go against my word, I’m not sure if she can take the entirety of the consequences that are imminent.” 

A glimmer of admiration twinkles in her eyes, despite her anxiety from seeing the Firelord begin to build on his intimidating aura. She nods, “I will do as I am told, Firelord Zuko. And… thank you very much…” her words trail off, as her eyes look down woefully. 

“Hm?” He tilts his head, confused by her gratitude. 

“None of us did anything,” she whispered, “Sai stood there and obeyed, did not dare question her instructions.” 

Zuko changes his demeanor, just for a moment, and gives her a gentle smile. “But I know you would have done something if you could’ve. I’ve made a grave mistake in allowing Minji to frighten you all as much as she does.” He straightens up again, feeling his veins begin to protrude from his neck. 

Appreciative of his words, Kira quickly bows, “I will do as I am told, Firelord Zuko. Please be safe, and bring her back to us.” 

Zuko felt his cheeks tint, a quiet hue of pink. It wasn’t so much that she caused it, but really her warm words. There was a sisterhood between the Ladies in Waiting, and he couldn’t help but admire the want to make sure each other were safe and sound. Even knowing that your placement is higher than the rest, you were able to create such bonds that transcends ranks. 

“Do not worry,” Zuko lulls, “Sai will come home.” 

Kira latches to his words, prayers swarming her mind for your safety and his calmness. As he begins to hurry towards the exit, Kira calls out to him, with another thing he should know. “Firelord Zuko!” She calls out, having him halt completely. He barely glances back at her, his eyes in view between the strands of his long, dark hair. “Lady Sai is in… very lascivious attire, upon Madam Minji’s instructions. You may not recognize her.” 

Any shred of warmth has long left Zuko, and an unfamiliar person takes over. A buzzing torments his head, almost like the rationale in his mind clocked out for the day. Zuko knew better than to revert back to this, but then again, he was not himself at this moment. He lets out a deep, deep sigh, “...thank you for letting me know.”

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The guards at the front of the palace were extremely surprised when they see Zuko open the front doors of the palace. 

He stood there, pure disgust on his face as the front guards bowed at their posts. He goes up to one of them, waiting for them to straighten up before meeting eyes with their leader. The guard’s gulp could be heard from oceans away, his being felt small in the presence of his leader. “F-Firelord Zuko,” the guard acknowledges him, his voice slightly strained from anxiety. 

“This morning, did you see Lady Sai leave the palace?” Zuko was not going to drag this. He needs information, and he needs it as soon as he requests it. 

The guard goes pale, “y-yes, Lady Sai left the palace grounds just a few hours ago. She was sent to town by Chamberlain Minji.” 

“Right, so my question is: why the fuck did you lot let her leave without escort?” The other guards jumped at his higher, aggressive tone. Zuko was not one to use explicit words, especially considering how much he has grown since he was younger. The once aggressive teenager had become this solemn man, hollow but still kind despite his circumstances that led him to this point. 

The guard’s eyes looked over to his fellow men, who could offer nothing of assistance or solace. Zuko’s intimidating shot all of them, and they were too petrified to even move. For just a brief moment, they felt the presence of Firelord Ozai. “M-my Lord, sh-she did not tell us to escort her into tow–” 

“I’ve let you all get too comfortable,” Zuko interrupts him, a growl in his voice that stunned the guard further. “You do not stray from protocol just because she did not request aid. You escort every lady that leaves this palace, and you bring her back here.”

“I-I… I apologize, My Firelord,” the guard stammers out, bowing so low that perhaps his head will meet the concrete and knock him out from this nightmare. “W-we did not realized that–” 

Before he could even finish, Zuko simply turned around and began rushing down the stairs of the palace. He was so annoyed, he couldn’t be bothered to listen to a half-ass excuse. There was a mental note in his head to do additional training for them, as this was unacceptable and below his standard. 

He was pissed. When he made it down into the city, everyone quickly dropped their daily tasks and immediately bowed. Adults and children alike, though some young ones who didn’t know did not follow suit. Not that Zuko cared, his mind was completely elsewhere. His posse of guards could barely keep up, as Zuko’s stride was at a pace they were not used to. 

He knew this bar well. The Fire Nation Bar was infamous, mainly because its clientele was male-only. He didn’t give a damn about other men’s vices. They could drink or smoke their lives away should they feel inclined to. So long as they did not cause harm to others in the process. 

But Zuko understood what alcohol does to someone. Their right mind goes to the gutter, replaced with the parts of their mind that they keep shut for a reason. 

To think you were in there boiled his blood. 

Without hesitance, he rips open the curtain that served as the door. The dimly illuminated tavern had now been struck by a sudden light of the day. Smoke quickly hurried from the bar, with many eyes suddenly going over to the entrance. Laughter slowly dissolved when realizing what guest arrived in their lounging space. 

“F-Firelord Zuko!” Many of them exclaimed, putting down their drinks to quickly bow. He was disgusted by the many men who attempted to bow, only they were either slumped in their chairs or had completely fallen to the ground in the process. 

But he did not care for them at this moment. Eyes scan the room, looking past the bartenders in order to spot the visiting lords. Even the foul stench of sweat and beer could not wane his search for you. Ambar eyes quickly locate Lord Indra, and something in Zuko finally snapped. 

He pushed past drunk men, shoving tables and stools out of his way, unable to care about causing damage. The visiting lords quickly realized the situation, their eyes wide and full of fear. Robes are quickly being closed, ties shakily being tightened and looped. A few cups fall to the ground, with a few waitresses contemplating to pick them up for the sake of their job, or leaving them to avoid being noticed by the Firelord himself. 

They choose the latter and remain still. 

One lord quickly tries his best to escalate the situation. He rises from his seat, clearly not as drunk as his fellow leaders, and offers Zuko a bow. "Good afternoon, Firelord Zuko,” he hums, the facade of confidence evident in his face and voice. “What a surprise to find you here.” 

“Move,” Zuko said simply. He did not have time for chit chat. In fact, why did he even give him a response? “I’ll move you myself if you prefer.”

The threat proved sufficient, and the lord sat back down, offering sympathetic eyes to Lord Indra. And speaking of, the other lords silently moved out of Zuko’s away, as Lord Indra could be found at the farthest end of the bar. A drink in his hand, his beard still unkempt, and a smirk as cocky as ever. 

And Zuko did not like it one bit.  

Lord Indra, still with a smile, looks up at Zuko, “Firelord Zuko!” He cheers as if he was excited to see him. “What pleasure do we owe for this visit?” 

“Where is she?” Zuko cuts to the chase. 

Lord Indra looks at him, astonished at Zuko’s anger. “My Lord, you surely cannot be serious.” He looks around the room, the other lords baffled at his confidence in speaking to the Firelord. “Over a mere servant? How do you expect to be followed with a spine so soft?”  

Zuko was tired. He looks over at one of the waitresses, “where is the Lady that was with these creatures?” 

The waitress, welled up in trepidation, looked into his eyes fearfully. She gestured to the backroom, which was only meant to be accessed by the workers of the bar. “She’s in there,” the waitress spoke quietly. 

Zuko looked back at his guards, “do not let anyone leave. I’ll be back.” 

He walks past Lord Indra, who freezes from his stride. He tried playing it cool, finishing his beer while looking over at his fellow lords with a lopsided smile. But when he realized how far the lords had moved from him, with spooked expressions, there was a sudden, unsettling feeling crawling up from his toes. 

He knew he was fucked, but he never expected for the Firelord to come out and retrieve you himself. He intended to simply put you in your place before he left, considering the ‘dishonor’ you brought to him. Could he be blamed? He tried to ease his mind. A servant embarrassing him, a lord, has no place anywhere.  

But even his thoughts could no longer coddle him. 

Zuko pushes the curtain away, being met with shelves loaded with ingredients, and dishes (both dirty and cleaned) all about the narrow hall. He looks left and right, before noticing many waitresses surrounding something. Or someone. 

Unease drags itself up his legs, his body feeling the same heaviness as he did this morning. But this time, it was as if something wanted to stop him from looking. From seeing you, but in a way he was dreading. The waitresses looked back and noticed him, quickly bowing before slowly moving out of his way. 

And to his horror, he found you, but it was clear he was too late. 

There you were, sat in a stool, facing away from him. You quietly hissed and whimpered, your arms holding each other so tightly that cuts ensued from the way you dented your fingers into your flesh. Your hair was completely liberated, but those beautiful locks seemed lifeless. 

Kira’s information regarding your change in attire rang true. Zuko’s eyes noticed the white silk dress, which only truly covered your rear and legs. But even that was a stretch, as the garment was completely backless. And that was where the true horror of Zuko’s nightmares was located. 

Clothed pieces of ice were being dabbed on your back, with the two waitresses keeping them pressed against your body while looking back at Zuko. They were frozen, waiting for any sort of words or command from him. But considering the stoicism present in his expression, they offer him a curt bow before removing the ice from your back. 

And there it was: a crooked lash, a blistering red and white burn, from the top left of your scapula, ending towards the lower right of your back. 

You glance back at Zuko, and he finally gets to see your face, despite how much it immediately broke him. Cheeks were flushed, and shiny with hot tears. You wanted to offer him a smile, but even your body could not lie. All you could muster was a quiet, “Zuko…” 

And that… that was enough for him. 

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Hours had passed since he’d disappeared into meetings. Dinner had come and gone without him, leaving the palace unbearably quiet. And alone in the privacy of your bedchambers, wrapped in silk and memory, your hand couldn't help but slip beneath your robe.

Your fingers found the slick heat between your thighs. Slowly, greedily, you began to touch yourself, chasing the ghost of his mouth, his hands, the weight of him. The memory alone made your breath falter.

You were so lost in it that you barely heard the heavy doors creak open.

Your head snapped up.

Zuko stood in the doorway, hair slightly disheveled as though he’d spent the evening dragging frustrated hands through it. His robes hung loose at the collar, and his amber eyes (usually controlled and unreadable in court) darkened the moment they landed on you. Your legs pressed together on reflex.

“Zuko, I—”

He crossed the room without a word.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he climbed onto the bed and moved toward you until he knelt at your side. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face with gentleness before trailing lower, covering the hand you had instinctively hidden between your thighs.

His mouth curved faintly.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he murmured. “Let me see what you do when you think about me.”

Heat flooded your face. Even so, you let him pull your hand away. Your fingers glistened with your own arousal, and his gaze lingered on them for only a moment before he brought them to his lips.

The sight of his tongue sliding across your skin made your stomach tighten.

His eyes fluttered shut briefly, a quiet shudder passing through him, and when he looked back at you, his expression had gone molten.

“Keep touching yourself,” he said under his breath. “I want you looking at me.”

You sank back against the pillows, your robe falling open completely as you obeyed. Silk pooled uselessly around your waist, leaving you bare, thighs parted just enough for him to see the evidence of your arousal between them.

He did not touch you. Instead, he reached down and freed his cock from his trousers, wrapping his fist around the shaft with a low exhale. It was thick and flushed, the head dark and wet. He began to stroke himself slowly, his gaze fixed on your body.

You watched the muscles of his stomach tighten, his lips part and his eyes glaze with lust which was more than enough for your fingers to resume their work, circling your clit with torturous slowness, matching his pace. A curl of steam escaped his lips. The sight of it sent a shiver through you.

"Zu—"

“Keep going,” he said, the words leaving his mouth in a breath warm enough to send another thin ribbon of heat through the air between you.

Your robes had long since ceased to be clothing. They were forgotten fabric, silk tangled around your elbows, bunched beneath your shoulders, clinging to the damp curve of your ribs like a second skin soaked through with sweat. The firelight around you caught the glisten on your collarbone, on your stomach, on the insides of your thighs. The heat from his mouth and his breathing turned the air thick and wet.

Your hair was everywhere, against the pillows, strands plastered to your temples, a few stuck to the corner of your lips. You hadn’t bothered to push them away. You couldn’t. Your hands were fisted in the sheets, knuckles white, your body growing steadily more restless beneath the weight of his attention.

“Faster,” he groaned softly, and his hand moved quicker on his cock. “Don’t even dare to slow down.”

You increased your rhythm, wet sounds filling the space between your ragged breaths. His strokes grew more urgent, and so did yours, each of you chasing the same release. Your waist was pressed flat to the mattress, your hips tilted up just slightly, enough to offer yourself fully. Your thighs were open wide, the muscles shaking, knees bent and falling apart. Your feet were planted on the bed, heels digging into the rumpled linen, toes curled as you arched into each stroke of your fingers.

"That's it," he rasped, his voice strained. "Don't look away. I want to see you, you look so ruined and beautiful, touching yourself in front of me."

Your thighs trembled harder, falling open as pleasure dragged through you in waves. Every movement of your fingers sent another pulse of heat through your body, tightening low in your belly until it almost hurt.

His hips began to thrust into his own fist, his composure cracking, his forehead beaded with sweat.

"Zuko… I'm so close," you whimpered, your fingers working desperately.

"Then come for me," he commanded, his strokes becoming erratic, matching the wild rhythm of your own. "Now."

Your body obeyed, convulsing as the orgasm broke over you, your cry dissolving into his name like a prayer. Your hips jerked against your hand as waves of pleasure rolled through you. Through blurred vision, you saw Zuko break with you.

A strained groan left him as his head tipped back, his hand pumping desperately before he spilled across your stomach in hot streaks. He shuddered through the release, heat ghosting from his mouth with every uneven breath.

His eyes never leaving yours, he lowered himself to his knees at the edge of the bed, hooked his arms under your thighs, and pulled you toward his mouth. The first stroke of his tongue through your soaked folds made your back curve against the mattress beneath you.

“Oh, lord…” you moaned softly.

“Yes, love?” he said smugly, the heat of his breath surrounding your aching thighs in slow waves. “If you started without me, it’s only fair that I finish it.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair as his tongue returned deeper and devastating. He began to feast on you, his grunts and the wet sounds of his devotion filling the room. He devoured you like a man starved, lapping at your folds, sucking your clit between his lips, pushing his tongue inside you until your thighs were shaking around his shoulders all over again.

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“Mommy, look! How did I do?”

Izumi’s adorable yet booming voice snapped you awake, eyes wide and alert as you looked around to find your daughter. It was a nice, slow evening, one of the rare ones where the three of you could finally unwind and relax as family.

“Hm? Can you show me again, baby?” you hummed, eyes finally finding your babe as she sat cross legged behind her father’s broad back.

Careful not to wake your dozing husband — who was somehow still asleep despite Izumi’s loud voice — you stood from your seat under a large oak tree and walked up to the girl, her little body basically bouncing with excitement to show you whatever she had done while you slept.

“Yeah! Look, I braided daddy’s hair! He looks like a princess now!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide and bright as she looked up at you, awaiting your reaction.

What you saw was… definitely something. You weren’t sure if you could even call it a braid, it was more like spontaneous tangling. With a huff of laughter, you took the ‘braid’ in your hand, examining it carefully and praying to any listening Spirit that a brush would be enough to save his hair.

“It’s… nice. Certainly something!” you chuckled, trying your best not to burst out laughing. You knew that if you actually laughed at her hard work, she would either cry or throw a tantrum, like the spoiled little princess she is. With a quiet sigh, you ran your free hand through Izumi’s own silky smooth, black hair. To think Zuko’s looked like that, too, not too long ago…

“Look, sweetheart, I think you should—“

“Decorate it with flowers! Mommy, you’re so smart!” she said, her little feet already carrying her towards the garden’s flower bushes with surprising speed. You could only watch her disappear and shake your head in disbelief.

Who would’ve thought a four year old would be so keen on ruining her father’s beautiful hair.

With a soft huff of laughter, your gaze turned to your husband — still very much asleep. As quietly as you could, you sat down on the grass next to him, your legs folded slightly to one side. With a little force, because Zuko certainly wasn’t the lightest, you pulled him closer and placed his head on your lap. The sudden movement caused him to stir, his brow furrowing as his golden eyes finally opened. For a long second he was disoriented, his body tense and ready to get up. But as your soft hand pressed against his chest, keeping him in place, he finally looked up at your face and immediately relaxed.

“Mm, my love… how long was I out? Why didn’t you wake me…?” he asked, his voice still heavy with sleep as his thumb and forefinger rubbed at his eyes. You only smiled, cupping his cheek and caressing it gently with your thumb.

“Well… I was asleep myself, for one. And, well… it seems like our daughter had a great time playing with your hair.”

“I see… wait, what?” he muttered, pulling himself into a sitting position next to you, knees touching. His hand flew to touch his hair as soon as his back straightened, hoping to find it in good shape.

His hopes were, however, unfortunately shattered as soon as he tried to run said hand through his tangled hair. With a groan he dropped his head to rest on your shoulder, already knowing that the process of untangling would be long and painful.

“Look, mommy! I found pretty flowers for daddy!” said the precious baby girl that had ruined his silky smooth hair just minutes before. Despite himself, he smiled as soon as he heard her voice and tiny footsteps on the freshly cut grass.

Soon, he felt tiny hand playing with his hair, tucking the flowers in the intricate hairstyle that was supposed to be a braid. He turned his head just enough to see her bright smile, only to get scolded for moving while she worked. With a light shake of his head, he surrendered, letting the girl do whatever she pleased. He was defenseless when it came to his little princess, especially when she smiled so brightly and looked so happy.

He’d do absolutely anything to keep that smile on her face forever.

There was something interesting in seeing Lord Zuko like this. 

It was like seeing an entirely different person. His hair that poured straight down and sat wherever it could was now illuminated by his bashful flame, dancing away by its updraft. His jaw was tightened– as if disgust tainted his tastebuds and he was forced to deal with the taste. You watched his chest heave in such a quickened pace, you’d think he’d be a few breaths from a panic attack. 

But, he was calm. At least, so it seemed.

And Lord Indra was still not convinced. But, his body did indicate some veil of worry, his body wary of itself. He’s daring, but still cautious, aware of the sudden change in the air. “Firelord Zuko, I can assure you that Master Iroh has exaggerated the situation at hand. Ask the girl yourself!” He puts the spotlight on you. 

And it was a power move indeed, because you stood there, feeble and ungrounded. He knew that you would freeze, lacking the confidence to supplement Master Iroh’s observations. You were the victim, and somehow Lord Indra made you feel like the problem. You eye him distastefully, seeing the very villain unfold before you. 

And not a damn word left your lips, because at that very moment, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. All air escaped you, and what was left was a defenseless body. Your hands clench onto the skirt of your dress, bundling its fabric in your hand as if it will take you away from this place, from this moment. As if you could just disappear. 

“Go on, girl,” Lord Indra's words made you feel like a mutt. A toothy smirk mocked you. He eyes your legs, smirking at how withdrawn you’ve become. “Tell the Firelord that nothing has happened. Or…” his eyes look you up and down, “feel free to prove otherwise.” 

You never truly understood the meaning of being between a rock and a hard place. Your parents used to say it many times, but you figured it was some sort of lingo, or saying originating from the Earth Kingdom. Your parents were not well versed with the world, so you just figured this was just mimicking sayings passed along through rumor mills and the likes. 

And Master Iroh could not do a thing to assist. For you to prove it would mean for you to strip yourself. You had already felt exposed enough, but before the Firelord was a different feeling of vulnerability. Your mind spiraled as you clutched your garments a little harder. But, you gave it just a bit more thought. 

You were already here, in a situation you can no longer avoid. 

“Please forgive me, Firelord Zuko,” you mutter quietly, your hands latching onto the ties that held your robe. It wasn’t like you were completely nude underneath. White undergarments and a corset resided around your body. But, even so, they define your body just enough to make you feel as if you were exposed should you ever be reduced to this. 

But then, Lord Zuko put his free hand up to you, halting your actions. 

“I did not ask for her to prove anything to me,” Lord Zuko firmly states, his fire still emitting its wisps of flame and strings of lightning. “I asked for an Agni Kai, so please feel free to prepare yourself.” 

Lord Indra finally felt the nerves, unable to quite deflect Lord Zuko’s change in behavior. It was his insistence, and the way his eyes were no longer welcoming, but rather cold and attached to a sort of anger he could not understand. But, he continues to traverse into foreign territory, scratching at the surface of something he shouldn’t have. 

“For a measly peasant girl,” Lord Indra takes a stab at you, humoring himself in the process, “c’mon now, Firelord Zuko; you have to get a grip. The Firelord should never waste his time on a woman so beneath us.” 

Lord Zuko is still for just a moment, until he stands from his throne. He slowly descends the stairs, his steps just barely making a sound as they gently pit pat the solid ground. Fire still in hand, it struggles to keep itself reserved. Small embers pop! from it, almost as if even the fire could not tolerate its own power. He stands just inches before Lord Indra, who begins to crack just a bit when he takes a step back himself. 

He doesn’t allow him to take any more steps. Within a second, Lord Zuko has his fire orbiting around Lord Indra’s neck, being precise and not allowing any flame to touch his skin. Though, it is ultimately up to Lord Indra to keep still, or else. “You’re very brave to speak to me the way you have,” Lord Zuko states simply, “considering who you are speaking to.” 

“Firelord Zuko,” Lord Indra somewhat pleads in his voice. But Lord Zuko does not give him the chance. 

“You have chosen to come to my palace, assault my attendant, disrespect my uncle, and now, you deny me Agni Kai?” There’s grit in his voice, his hands forming the action of choking, despite the fire already holding Lord Indra hostage. “Where is your honor?” 

The fire begins to close in around Lord Indra’s neck, the heat just centimeters from burning his flesh directly. It was already searing, and you could smell his agony from here. “F-Firelord Zuko– you can’t!” Lord Indra exclaims, his hands gripping at his own garments. “You outlawed Agni Kai yourself!” 

Then, it happened: Lord Zuko smiled. 

But the smile was not of joy, or any sort of content for that matter. There was a sinister satisfaction in his smile, drawn by Lord Indra’s hail mary. “So you remember that I am the Firelord,” he hums lowly, that toothy grin as snarky and nervewrecking as his initial change. “Just this one time, just for you, I will lift the ban.” 

There it finally was. Lord Indra cowers at his words, his hands shooting up in the air in resignation. Was it the fire that was only moments from clearing his neck? Or maybe the static sound of lightning that would zap his body to bits? Or maybe it was Firelord Zuko’s sudden change– a cold so brisk that even the Fire Nation itself would not be able to keep warm. But, Lord Indra still hadn’t said a thing. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy,” Lord Zuko’s words slip off his tongue, as if this was something he was known for. “Unlike Lady Sai, you are not so fire resistant.” Lord Indra remained still, dribbles of sweat rolling down his temples. He embodied fear while still refusing to yield. It was as if he doubted Lord Zuko’s aggressiveness, as if he was bluffing. 

Then, you saw the fire get closer, and begin to burn Lord Indra’s beard, and the tips of his hair. Any more of this, and he’d be bald first before his physical body got burnt. And, you weren’t sure why you did it, but your legs moved before your brain thought. You quickly rush to Lord Zuko’s side, bowing so low that you were sure your head would touch the floor. 

“Please don’t do this, Firelord Zuko,” you begged quietly, your eyes closed as if the treatment would be given to you instead. You could feel yourself wanting to cry, assuming all blame for Lord Zuko’s sudden brazen nature. “Please, leave him be.” 

Something clicked in Lord Zuko’s mind. Your act pulled him out of the relaxed chaos in his mind. Seeing your kindness out on display, for the coward he was holding hostage, brought him back to reality. Back to the person he worked so hard to become. But, he was not quite finished with Lord Indra. 

“She is here, asking for mercy for you,” Lord Zuko points out, shaming him further. He was full of disgust from Lord Indra and his audacity. But, at the same time, it bothered him to know that, within his palace, within his reach, he could not protect you from what was forced on you. “And you stand here, without an apology or a pinch of remorse for your actions.” 

Lord Indra felt reduced to atoms, like he was nothing before the very Firelord that could maim him. Or, if he were so brutal, kill him. “Pl-please, Firelord Zuko,” Lord Indra forces out, a painful growl following his words. The flames were already leaving light burns around his neck due to the intensity of the heat. “L-let me go, and I will get on my knees before her.” 

Lord Zuko rolls his eyes, baffled at how long it took to break him. He looks over at you, with his hand waving underneath your face. “Please rise,” he coos, his voice much more soft than it was a moment ago. “Are you still willing to accept an apology from Lord Indra?” 

Standing up straight, Lord Zuko saw your personal expression of disgust towards the man. He could tell immediately that you could not care less for whatever half-assed apology he was offering. He was more concerned for his own neck (literally) than contrition over what he did to you. But, nevertheless, you wanted this to be done and over with. You simply nod. 

“You are luckier than I thought,” Lord Zuko scoffs, his eyes narrowing down at the defeated man before him. He lets his fire instill a bit more fear, a bit more hurt, before putting it out completely.

Lord Indra meets the ground immediately, holding his chest desperately for air, and relishing in his momentary freedom. His situation, however, was long from over. While he gasped desperately, Lord Zuko had already been plotting. 

“Hey,” Lord Zuko snaps, gesturing to you right after. His raven locks were down once again, complimenting the stern aura that Lord Zuko has maintained since the start of the confrontation. “Best take your opportunity while I’m feeling lenient.” 

He quickly crawled over to you, still struggling to supply his lungs with air. His hands are flat on the cold ground, his knees digging into it as well from the weight of his own stress. His face meets the floor as well, and he begins to stammer, “I apologize greatly, My Lady, f-for disrespecting you during your work.” 

You were somewhat amused, despite your own stress over this matter. You had never had anyone, let alone a nobleman, apologize to you. It reminds you that ranking and class do not have a correlation. “Thank you for your apology,” you say briefly, “but, I do not accept it.” 

Both Master Iroh and Lord Zuko were stunted at your words. For Master Iroh, he knew you had some spunk in you; he just did not predict it to be seen in such a serious situation. As for Lord Zuko, his heart has skipped a beat or two, and his mind felt more at ease. 

Lord Indra felt like vanishing right then and there. He was already embarrassed enough, having been caught by Master Iroh for being perverse and demented. But now the Firelord chewed him out, and you were the final obstacle, setting him ablaze completely. All the ingredients together to create a humiliating meal. 

Lord Zuko was quick to get rid of him, but not without additional consequences. You listened intently to the list, with Master Iroh sitting there, pride engulfing him. Here was Lord Zuko’s demands: 

He is to leave Capital City before morning. Should he and his men still be here, imprisonment will follow. A temporary ban of Capital City will also be enacted.

A new representative of the Takeda Clan must be appointed prior to the next meeting. This is nonnegotiable. 

For the future, any abuse or disrespect of staff will receive a more serious punishment, regardless of who you are.

As a few guards escorted Lord Indra out, Lord Zuko also fetched a few guards for you. “Escort her to her quarters safely. And you must stand sentinel outside her door until she starts her work tomorrow, understood?” 

You quickly wave your hand as the two guards follow their given instructions. They stood behind you while you tried to reason with Lord Zuko, “My Strongest Firelord, this is unnecessary, truly!” You pull your sleeves up, and pat your body, “no real harm came my way, and the person who committed the act is no longer in the palace.” 

He looks at you, those amber eyes authoritative, yet somber. They were apologetic, like a truant puppy. Like he was the one who caused the trouble. “Have a wonderful night, Sai. Guards, if you will.” 

And just like that, you were dismissed. You glanced back a few times as you were being escorted out, but Lord Zuko had turned to Master Iroh, exchanging words with voices you were too far to hear. But, considering Master Iroh’s woeful smile, you could tell that this situation was not easy for anyone involved. 

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After washing up and changing into your fresh night attire, you take a seat at your vanity, staring at yourself blankly in the massive mirror in front of you. You felt guilty as you stared at your reflection, seeing the weak girl before you. Had you just been more firm and insistent, perhaps Master Iroh would have shoved this under the rug, and it could have been long forgotten. 

But, at the same time, Lord Zuko’s face reminded you of his goal to better the Fire Nation, in his eyes and in the eyes of the other nations. And, to do that, repairs must start from within. Even you understand that having individuals like Lord Indra is very damaging to the Fire Nations reputation, considering his brute nature derives from the previous leadership. 

You reminded yourself. You get back on your feet, lifting your nightgown slowly. Angling yourself to see your rear in the mirror, you scan our body for any trace of the assault. You knew you’d see nothing, as there was no mark or burn to speak of, but the proof resided in your robes. 

The attire from the inside had burns, and smelled of burning clothing. The beautifully sewn garment was now tainted by the memory and physical damage of a man with no respect, no class, no honor. The robes were now scarred, threads loose, stitches undone. You were not emotionally attached to the robes by any means, but you felt hurt for the hands who made such a lovely piece of clothing. 

You go towards the robes, which you left sprawled on the ground in the bathroom. Taking it in your hands and bunching it up in your arms, you head to the door to dispose of it. But, your timing was miraculous, and in sync with another as you opened the door and met with the tall entity that was Lord Zuko. His fist was in the air, inches from the doorway. 

He was in his own night attire, seemingly after a bath. His hair was wet once again, and done up in one solid bun, with all his hair bunched in it. With his hair out of the way, you could clearly see how sharp of a man he was. Perfect jaw, defined nose, and lips that you’d never expect could let out such aggressive and foul words. His amber eyes narrowed down at you once he put his hand down. 

“y/n,” Lord Zuko speaks first, his voice so soft that you yourself might slip away. “A-are you going somewhere?” 

You were suddenly shy, and didn’t even have the space to bow, given his proximity. It wasn’t like you had never assisted him in the night, both in night attire. But, after today, you were a bit embarrassed to face him. You were too ashamed to meet anyone really, knowing this will travel in the rumor mill of the palace. “I, um… my robes, I was going to discard them.” 

Lord Zuko looks down at them, trying to see where the damage was done. But upon realizing he couldn’t locate it, he looks down with a sad smile, “is it okay that I come in? I’d like to discuss with you the matter today.” 

Is that necessary? You thought to yourself. He handled it, and handled it as a leader. But, nonetheless, who were you to deny the Firelord entry to your quarters? Especially when he asked so sweetly. 

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A silence sat between you both as you watched Lord Zuko sit at your vanity, your damaged robes now in his care. You were sitting on your bed (upon Lord Zuko’s request that you be as comfortable as possible in your own space), knees pressed against your chest. A blanket shielded your legs as you stared at the way he felt your linens. 

It made your cheeks a bit hot. The way his fingers delicately brushed along the ever changing textures in the fabrics. He was practically petting it like a cat on his lap. But, you could tell there was nothing gentle about it. He was clearly upset, taking the hardship of slacking as a leader a little too seriously. 

“I was too nice,” Lord Zuko hums, reviewing his ‘shortcomings.’ He lifts several layers of the differing fabrics, seeing the blackened breaks and burnt rips. “I should've burnt all his hair off.”

You giggle at his frustrated face, “please, there was no need to go that far. You’ve scared him enough, Lord Zuko. I do not think he will ever do it again, to anyone else.” You try to crack your most earnest smile, hoping the remnants of pain don’t slip through the cracks of your mask. 

“The last thing I want, or need for that matter, is for you to be unsafe,” Lord Zuko hums, his eyes still glued to your damaged garments. “My purpose is to safeguard the Fire Nation, and more directly, this palace.” 

“This is something unprecedented, and out of anyone's control,” you say simply, hoping to make him feel a little better. You give him a warm smile, “you really spooked him, so I’m quite satisfied with how you handled it, Lord Zuko.” 

“Yeah?” He says through a chuckle, his face finally lighting up a bit. He looks over at you, mischievous in those amber eyes, “I thought I didn't scare him enough.” 

“If you kept that up, I’m pretty confident he would have defecated himself,” you say quietly, trying to contain a snicker. 

Lord Zuko shudders at your words, “Spirits, not in my throne room. I’d have to stop working there for a while.” His eyes once again fall, and you see him put his hand through the burnt hole that was now forever marked on the clothing. “...are you sure you didn’t get hurt?” 

You nod, offering your pinky to him, “swears.” He reaches over to you, clasping your pinky with his own. His skin was warm, rough, with a callous or two residing in the inside part of his finger. Subconsciously, he pulled his seat with his legs, moving closer so he was no longer reaching out to you. With the motion, more of his fingers began to touch your own, gently clawing to hook your free fingers with his own. You giggle, receiving a reciprocal chuckle from the Firelord. 

“‘m glad,” he murmurs, enthralled in you and this moment you both shared. “I’d hate for you to have a scar like mine. You don’t deserve it.” 

“Th-thank you,” you barely whisper, your eyes focused on the way his hand melds with yours. “But your scar is not ugly by any means, so please don’t think that…” 

This contact suddenly became intense. Lord Zuko began forcing his fingers between the spaces of your fingers, his tips gliding past the web spaces. You find yourself reaching to touch his thumb with your own, flicking at it from time to time until he realizes. He brings down his thumb, pressing it firmly against your own. You both were in a world far away from the palace, and the people of the Fire Nation. 

Eventually, your fingers found themselves interweaving between his own. He seemed just as in tune, his eyes focused on the way your soft digits comforted his own rough, neglected ones. “Your hands… they’re so hard,” you say quietly, immediately getting embarrassed by your own wording. 

He lets you off, chuckling, “as you know, I’m not the best at taking care of myself.” He lets you go, hovering his hand before you with his palm facing upward. You take your index finger and run circles around the many calluses ornate on his hand. “Fire bending doesn’t help either.” 

“I can only imagine,” you hum, somewhat appreciating the callosity. It was a testament to all of the suffering he went through in order to become the Firelord. “As you can feel, I am nowhere near a refined fire bender.” 

“But you can bend fire, which is a good start,” Lord Zuko compliments. He then stops you from your touch and lays your hand flat. You watch him curiously as he brings two fingers to your palm, and gives it a gentle pat. Immediately, a small ember bursts from your hand. You were astonished to say the least. “Cool trick, huh?” 

“Crazy that you can just do that, Lord Zuko,” you say wistfully, holding onto the ember you both created. 

Your eyes had him voluntarily enter your prison. He couldn’t help but adore the way you stared at the small flame, your eyes coated in so much affection and admiration. It felt, for a moment, that he was not a Firelord. He was just a boy, spending time with the most amazing girl. And if he could, he’d freeze time and live in this exact scene, with you, forever. 

And, at the same time, it frightened him. In the years since he assumed power, the most he had in terms of a romantic relation was with Mai. Lovely, but melancholic Mai. But, the two were in constant clashes, with her orbiting his world. It wasn’t that he did not want to consider her world; his simply came first. To lead a nation, to restore the damage done by the previous Firelord, and maintain world peace was not a simple matter. Mai’s life was important too, and he could not continue forcing her when simply put, she shouldn’t be. 

It was for the best, despite how it felt. Zuko’s world became dull, monotone and lifeless. His closest friends too had obligations in their appropriate nations, and could only visit so much before having to rush back. No one talks about the gray area of obligations, which is the intense stripping of privacy and liberation as someone who is representing and carving the way for such freedoms. 

Zuko knew that, for his people to be happy, he must sacrifice. For his uncle, who only has but so many years left, he must learn all he can from him. For his mother, who met with fate too early for him to bloom. For his sister, albeit her insanity, who he could not save from the clutches of his fathers demonic desires to rule the world. 

Being the Firelord somehow took away his flame. He became hollow, a shell of a man, focusing on his people and finding solace in that reason for becoming so desolate. He spoke sternly, smiled at nobody, and did right by his uncle and his people at the cost of his own sanity. Wake up, work, eat, sleep, repeat. 

And then, you come in. 

A humble worker, a young woman whose hands were always carrying a kettle. A woman who easily swayed his uncle with ‘hot leaf juice,’ which happened to have swayed him, too. An attendant who listens when he wants to be listened to, who does what she is told happily, not forcibly. If he were down, you were always ready to pull him back up, however it must happen. 

It was how quickly you became close that truly scared him. It was one thing to be overly pleased with your work ethic. It was another to think about you when eating your favorite food. It was difficult not to imagine your reaction when he spots an uncommon flower in the palace. Your dazzling eyes were forever branded in his mind, whenever you were so happy or excited that they spoke first before a word came from your lips. 

And now here you were, letting him indulge in you, in the small gray area that he could not understand. He knows well he could not proceed in any sort of relationship with you past this. This extremely friendly attendant and lord relationship. It was then that he caught himself, and quickly moved away from you. 

His quick detachment made you lose focus, and you watched the amber dissolve in thin air, only living a string of smoke in memory. “O-oh, um–” 

“I shall leave you so you can rest,” he says sharply, forcing his eyes from you. He did not want to see your reaction to his sudden change. “Again, my apologies for today. And I will go ahead and discard this for you,” he says, gesturing to the burnt garments in his arm. 

You were met by his back, and this overwhelming feeling of woe hit you. Nothing happened, so… why? “Y-yes, of course…! Thank you very much, Lord Zuko,” you spew out quickly, sheepishly bowing from your bed with no eyes to notice. “Have a wonderful night, and a long rest.” 

He says not another word before exiting your quarters. 

When he closes the door behind him, he notices a third guard across the corridor, seemingly waiting for him. Lord Zuko checks on the guards by your door before starting his stride over to the anxious guard in the distance. He already had enough on his plate, and with the emotions turmoil in his mind, he didn’t think he could take anything else. 

“What is it?” Lord Zuko starts. The guard, as expected, bows before conjuring a scroll from behind him. 

“My Firelord, a scroll has just some in urgently for you,” the guard informs him, anxiety splattered in each word. “It is a letter from the Avatar. He and your other Dignitaries are on their way over to Capital City.” 

Lord Zuko lets out a long, tired sigh. 

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The nerves were catching onto Lord Zuko, and a bit too quickly. 

There he sat, not feeling so high and mighty, in his throne while being presented with the scene before him. A large table was set in the room, a foreign object in his usual place of study and work. But, considering his opposition to the War Chamber, this was Lord Zuko meeting halfway. And, ornate around the room were several Ladies in Waiting, who were setting the table, dusting the pillars, and preparing the chafing tables. 

Lord Zuko looks to the side, studying the chafing table carefully. Several, large plates were also being brought and set on each burner of the chafing table. It always impressed him how the workers of the palace operated so efficiently, and in tune with one another. As he watched the set up unfold before him, his amber eyes continued to glance back at the entrance. He would never admit it, but someone else already caught onto his anticipation. 

Master Iroh, who had a seat fixed beside Lord Zuko, had a smile of mischief on his face. He promised his grandson that he’d never let him do these meetings alone, considering Master Iroh has taken up the responsibility of guiding him. But, despite Lord Zuko developing his cold and authoritarian face, Master Iroh can always look past it. Lord Zuko was waiting to see you, and it was a little too obvious. 

And, almost like Lord Zuko wished it into reality, you slipped into the room. But, his eyes widened at the very sight of you. Your hair, which was usually fixed in a high bun, was loose and dancing with the air produced by your stride. Your hands were occupied with the handle of a gueridon. On it were all the tools you needed to offer tea to all the lords and nobility you’d be serving today. 

Lord Zuko’s anxiety waned, and was replaced with something unbeknownst to him: attraction. You were always beautiful in his eyes, but seeing your hair out did something to his mental function. He watched as you set the gueridon beside the chafing table where the food will maintain its warmth and be served at. A few of your fellow ladies speak to you, with words Lord Zuko could not make out. 

But, his eyes remained fixed on you, and he had been taken aback by your next actions. You go down the line of the burners, illuminating them with flames drawn by your own hand. Then, you had him at the edge of his seat: you put your hand in one of the flames before promptly retracting it. Fire benders are not foreign to getting burnt, and that should have definitely hurt you. It was almost as if you were testing to see if the flame you produced was truly hot. But, there you were, taking in ‘thank you’ by the handful as you quickly prepared your tea station. 

Lord Zuko didn’t realize it or notice it himself, but his breathing became heavy. Not by nerves, but by this alluringness that he could not resist. You were working swiftly, with a much larger kettle taking the most space of your work station. Another fire bursts out from your hand, its flames dancing with streaks of blue. As the flames worked their warmth into the kettle, you quickly couch down, your hair flying upward in the process. You retrieve a sizable box from one of its compartments and quickly make your way to the long meeting table. 

As the other ladies had set the plates, utensils, and cups, you opened the box and started from the closest side of the entrance. Lord Zuko curiously watches as you place some sort of bulbous item into each tea cup. But, he was patient and knew that you would eventually have to come up to the throne to prepare his and his uncle's cup. And, as anticipated, you look over at him and start making your way over. 

You felt shy, but this feeling was not sudden. No, as soon as you went into the kitchen earlier, with devious looks from the other girls' faces, you knew your fate. During meetings like this, all the ladies took the opportunity to spruce up their looks. You had no intention in partaking, as those efforts are for ladies who seek marriage from a potentially single nobleman. You were not applicable to such dreams, thus you kept it as such. But, those girls were always ever so daring and still wanted you to join their makeover session. 

Perhaps not a nobleman, but maybe a certain ruler? One girls’ teasing words danced in your mind, but you dismissed it. It doesn’t matter if you could even captivate someone with so much power like Firelord Zuko. In the end, you have nothing to offer. You were a tea maker, daughter of tea sommeliers, from a small village. Why in the world would someone of such high stature choose someone like you? 

But there Lord Zuko was, ever so excited at your arrival, without you knowing it. You first went up to Master Iroh, bowing respectfully. “Good evening, Master Iroh. Please allow me to prepare your tea for you.” Master Iroh nods, giving you permission as you quickly reach back into your box to reveal a flower. 

Before Lord Zuko could get a word in, Master Iroh quickly leans in, staring directly at the flower in your hand. “May I ask what this is?” Master Iroh’s voice was low, but gentle and curious enough that made you smile widely. 

“This is a globe amaranth,” you hum quietly. You gently place it into his cup, making sure it remains upright. “It’s a delicious tea, but its beauty is in the process of making it. You will see what I mean when I pour the hot water later.” 

“I look forward to trying it,” Master Iroh’s genuine tone had always made your time at the palace more easy. He reminds you that not only were you invited here on a needs basis, but you were also wanted here. 

You then approach Lord Zuko, who leans back into his chair, partially from the sudden overwhelming feeling of being in your presence. You giggle before taking a bow before him, “good evening, Lord– Firelord Zuko.” You mentally hit your forehead from the mistake, earning a wide smile from the Firelord before you. 

“Good evening, y/n,” he hums warmly, sitting up straighter in the hopes that you’d push on into his personal space. Of course, with everyone around, he knew you wouldn’t. But, a man could dream, right? “I finally get to see tonight's surprise tea.” 

“I think you’re going to like it very much,” you excitedly mention. You look into your box, searching for the one flower you saved just for Lord Zuko. It was the most intact, and promised a beautiful bloom once poured with hot, steaming water. You gently place it in his tea cup, ensuring it was straightened and aligned to perfection. “It’s nothing you’ve ever seen before.” 

“I look forward to it,” he engages with your enthusiasm. Lord Zuko felt like putty hearing your excitement for something as simple as tea. It was always comforting to see you so content in your craft, and those dazzling eyes whenever you spoke so confidently and excitedly about the teas you were preparing. “Speaking of,” he begins, his tongue hesitant but honest, “I’ve never seen you like this… as in, your hair.” 

You immediately let out a tired sigh, “I apologize for my sudden change in appearance, Firelord Zuko. My fellow ladies have decided that my looks were a significant part of my job tonight.” You notice Lord Zuko eyes a strand that went stray and hung right in the middle of your face. His temptation to tuck it himself was high, but you had already quickly done it yourself. Not that he could even do it himself initially, but again, one could dream. 

“It looks nice,” Lord Zuko utters, careful not to directly compliment your beauty with more intense words. You were one of the few ladies who put in effort into your looks, as you were there to serve your job. Not that you did not want to, but would rather save the extra hour in the morning to sleep in. “You look different.” 

To save yourself from the tension slowly arising, you quickly point at Lord Zuko’s bangs, “and you look like you’ve been touching your hair.” You didn’t mean to scold him, but you put quite a lot of effort in doing his hair, despite how sopping wet he left it for you. “I’m gonna have to keep a comb handy around you, Firelord Zuko.” 

He takes his chance, “I know I messed it up, but do you mind fixing it again?” 

“You needn’t ever ask, my Lord.” You put down your box and carefully adjust those dark locks again, which to your surprise, was completely dried. You make yourself quick, as the meeting quickly approaches. Additionally, you would hate for Chamberlain to be up at the throne, touching on the Firelords hair. 

Of course, Lord Zuko was relishing in your touch. May the meeting be damned if it meant living in your care for a minute longer. But, he had a duty to fulfill, not just for himself but for the Fire Nation as a whole. “Thank you very much, y/n. I appreciate you greatly.” 

You pull your hand back, satisfied with your work and offer another bow, “of course, my Lord.” 

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The meeting finally started, and it was nothing short of weighty. 

Noblemen from all Fire Nation clans came, taking their respective seats and contributing to the seriousness of the room. You made sure to keep your mind focused, ensuring everything goes well on your end. It felt like a play, with everything performing their role and waiting their turn. You were on first, which really didn’t help with your nerves. 

When Chamberlain Minji gives you a look, you nod and quickly take hold of the large kettle. Unfortunately, its weight was something you did not consider when utilizing it. It was such a beautiful, light blue porcelain, and it would be a shame not to use it, especially for a meeting with many respectable noblemen as guests at the palace. But, it refused your hands, the weight too unbearable for your arms to handle.

Fortunately, Lord Zuko was swift and subtle, only using a finger to point at the closest guard to you, then gesturing to the kettle. The guard made haste, taking the kettle gently in his hold and awaiting your instruction. But, Lord Zuko would be lying if he wasn’t just a twinge bothered by the guards hands brushing against your own when taking a hold of the kettle as instructed.  

Nonetheless, everything seemed to be going well. The tea was being distributed actively, with you taking head and teaching the guard the art of gentle pouring. He, and the lords were astonished, looking into their cups as they watched the tea bloom open, and ascend from the  bottom. You couldn’t help but giggle just a bit, relishing in the foreseen excitement. 

Lord Zuko and Master Iroh even shared in this excitement, the two in awe at the tea's bloom. You were quite proud of yourself for Lord Zuko’s reaction as you had given him the perfect flower for his tea. It bloomed, its green petals stemming outward slowly to reveal this almost ruby-like bud in its center. He had to keep himself from grinning too widely, considering the audience he was sitting in front of. But, he gifted you a wink from his scarred eye, confirming that he was very content with the surprise you had teased about earlier that day. 

The meeting continued well. As you stood to the side, you kept your head down and listened intently to his words. You weren’t exactly paying attention to the content of his words, but rather the confidence and commanding nature of his tone. You listen to the way his tone shifts, whenever the topic becomes a little more serious than the one prior. Concurring sounds ensue with every topic he touches on. 

Then, you’re back in the show. 

“Sai,” you hear your name from that usual, cold voice. The Chamberlain gestures for you and all the Ladies in Waiting to go to the table where the remaining food sat. “Start reheating these. Some of the men may want additional portions.” 

You nod, distributing your flame gently with your hands. You did your job calmly, the pressures of hosting now long gone. Everything had been going so smoothly, especially with everyone's collaboration. Lord Zuko seemed satisfied, so there was no need to be so concerned. And then, it finally happened. 

“A-ah!” You hear Rin grimace loudly, having your neck crack to find her. She was at one end of the table, attempting to pick up a tray of piping hot potatoes with her bare hands. Fire benders are not immune to fire and intense heat. When you rush to her and grab her wrists, her fingers and palms were already this shiny, pink hue. She had burned herself. 

“What happened to the mits?” You whisper quietly, recalling the mittens she had earlier that evening. 

“I-I just thought it wasn’t too hot, s-so I just…” Rin stammered, doing her best not to shed a tear and make a bigger scene. You quickly operated, insisted on other ladies to take her away and to a doctor while you took care of the rest. Your hands take hold of the tray, and you start making your rounds around the table, making sure to ease your grip a bit so the metal does not push the boundaries of your resistance. 

With a ladle, you carefully added the requested portions on many of the noblemen' s plates. Your enthusiasm was short lived, replaced with anything but honest feelings when approaching Lord Indra. “Lord Indra,” you begin quietly, a smile forced by the spirits. “Would you like more potatoes?” 

“I would love some, beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes first scanning your face before lowering to your hands. You add the potatoes as requested, ensuring it did not touch anything else on his plate. It wasn’t to his preference, but for your OCD tendencies. “I see heat doesn’t seem to phase you much.” 

You look at him, surprised at his sudden comment, “yes, my body seems to take heat very well.” What a wrong choice of words. Though, you could not be blamed for the sort of man that Lord Indra was. 

“Is that right?” He quietly lets his words trail off. As you adjusted the tray in your hand (though the satisfaction of the mess on Lord Indra would have been endless), Lord Indra shifted in his seat. You suddenly felt something pull at your robe, before feeling a grab on your rear. You jumped, but you made sure to be silent, considerate not to interrupt the meeting, and Lord Zuko’s words. 

But, the feeling of disgust swept your body completely, as you were terrorized by the foreign touch. You were still unable to react because you truly couldn’t. And, almost on purpose, Lord Indra abused the knowledge he just collected and you felt something close to a sear against the same place of your rear. He quickly retracts his hand, but there was a sting that broke your focus for the moment. 

The meeting was interrupted anyway, and Lord Zuko met your eyes. Concern cloaked those wonderful amber eyes, and something else broke in you. For his sake, you mustn't cry. For his sake, you mustn't do a single thing. A smile was carved along your lips, and you continued to the next noble, forced sweetness coated in every word of your offering for seconds. 

To the untrained eyes, it would appear that nothing happened. But, it’s very difficult to trick the eyes of someone like Master Iroh. 

He had seen it all, understanding the unfortunate situation you were forced to experience. But, he held his tongue. He had no intention to ruin  his grandson’s meeting, in which he was leading quite marvelously. There was an immense pride to see how much he has grown. However, Master Iroh is not one to tolerate abuse of power, considering the sort of monster his brother was during his reign. 

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The meeting came to an end. 

Clean-up was quickly enacted, as you and the ladies quickly assisted in bringing the dirty plates and used utensils to the kitchen. The table in the throne room was wiped down while the floors were swept, then mopped. Your tea kettle and kit were being put away, and garbage was being collected for easy tossing. 

You were numb. You divided yourself from your body, knowing your mind would keep you still otherwise. It was an out of body experience almost, watching yourself dutifully work while your mind was forced out, knowing it would let your physical form down. Nobody deserved to experience what you did. But simultaneously, you were glad it was you, and not your fellow ladies. 

It’s not to say that you were less vulnerable or “stronger” than your peers. It was exactly that, with your position working so closely to the Firelord, you could not afford to break down. He needs you, and you will be damned to ever let him down. 

But, it hurts. 

To be abused in such a way. It hurts. For your body to be tampered and tainted, by a touch unasked for. Unwarranted. It hurts. Despite your uncertainty of marriage, you could not enter such a tie in purity. It all just hurts. 

Then, a hand patted your shoulder. You immediately shuttered, briskly turning to meet eyes with Madam Minji, “you may go attend to Lord Zuko now. We can finish the rest of the clean up.” You nod, giving her a bow before sauntering between the noblemen that remained. They stood in clique-like groups, catching up with one another while discussing topics of the meeting. 

You quickly find Lord Indra, and do your best to avoid him in your stride. Even your ears blocked out sound, disregarding whatever potential voices were calling to you as you made your way up to the throne. Going up to Lord Zuko, you felt somewhat liberated from meeting his gaze. His smile was contagious, and you were suddenly smiling back. 

“Lady Sai,” Lord Zuko hummed, containing his excitement over the meeting going well, and getting to interact with you once more. 

You bow, “Firelord Zuko.” You both stand there for a moment, finding solace in one another's presence. But you forgot you had a job to do and quickly cleaned up his dishes, as well as Master Iroh’s. This allowed the opportunity for Master Iroh to speak to you. 

“Sai, the tea was phenomenal,” Master Iroh praised you. 

You bow quickly, plates and utensils in hand, your face shying away from sight. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it. I knew it would be a pleasant surprise for you both.” Master Iroh takes note of your flush face, smiling at such sincerity. 

“Zuko, go on and mingle,” Master Iroh ushers, his chin gesturing at the noblemen. There was a buzz in their conversations, the chit chats becoming louder with laughter sprinkled in every now and then. “It’s a good opportunity to get to know the other lords, and see how their clans are faring.” 

His eyes screamed reluctance. Lord Zuko, despite his title, was still quite shy and unsure of himself. And, truth be told, he was looking forward to being normal again and discussing the meeting and unimportant matters with you. But, his uncle was right, and his wisdom is the reason why he has gotten this far. 

Clearing his throat, he nods, “pardon me, then.” With lingering eyes latched to yours, Lord Zuko quickly meanders away, and finds his first group to talk with. Another Lady in Waiting rushes up to the throne to collect the dirty dishes from you, having you mouth a ‘thank you’ to her as she gives you a happy smile. You both watch as she zooms away, joining the other ladies in their new path towards the kitchen. 

Then, the opportunity became open for Master Iroh. 

“y/n, I need to speak to you about something,” the old man began quietly. His smile diminished, and you were met with a very serious aura, which was new in comparison to all the interactions you’ve had with this man. “And I’d like you to be able to confide in me. Your words are safest with me.” 

You look at him curiously and nod, “what is it, Master Iroh?” 

“When you were distributing another round of food to the noblemen,” Master Iroh begins, making your stomach already sink. He noticed, you thought anxiously. “I saw you react to something.”

You immediately shook your head, “it was just my muscles, Master Iroh. I think it might have pulled a little as I was serving.” You already regretted the quick lie you concocted.

“Right, right,” Master Iroh hums, believing not a single word. “Lying would be easier with anyone else, but I am not someone who can be lied to so easily. Especially when I smell the burning of clothing from you.” 

You were caught. You bow sheepishly, “I apologize, Master Iroh. I… did not intend to lie to you.” You bring your hands together, anxiously rubbing your thumb against one of your palms. Dirt and skin follicles begin to accumulate at the motion, your palm going hot in the process. “I do not want to cause trouble.” 

Master Iroh pats your shoulder, giving you a relieving smile. “You trouble no one ever, y/n. But you must understand that Lord Indra’s actions are unacceptable.” 

You quickly freeze, your body swarming with goosebumps. It wasn’t that you weren’t capable of confrontation; you just have no power here. You are an attendant, not a lord’s lady, nor honorably titled. What rights or safety did you possess to start trouble with a lord from a long, highly respected clan? “Please, I am not harmed in any way. I do not want to bring trouble to you or Firelord Zuko.” 

Master Iroh takes a seat, offering for you to sit on the floor beside him. You reluctantly follow suit, crossing your legs on the ground with your back straightened, and your mind alert. “You must understand, it is not just about finding you justice,” Master Iroh explains quietly. “Firelord Zuko intends to change the ways of the Fire Nation completely. That includes such violent and crude acts.” 

“But he is a Lord,” you emphasize, “to ruin this evening by addressing this matter would be in bad taste, and I would forever feel regretful.” 

Master Iroh quickly offers his hand, “do not worry. We will resolve this matter subtly.” 

You place your hand in his, but in pure reticence and anxiety. You did not want to bring about trouble, but trouble came to you first. Master Iroh felt your nerves drive your body, your hand shaky and cold in his hand. He puts his other hand on it, stilling it in the process. You suppose you must do as he says. 

There’s no other choice it seems. 

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There was nothing worse in the world than seeing Lord Zuko’s face at that moment. 

Master Iroh asked for Lord Indra to hang back, his smile still wide, his eyes filled with anticipation. It was as if he was being held back for something important; perhaps delusioning himself into receiving good news. It disgusted you. 

You stood by the door, wishing all the men goodnight as the poured out of the room. All the Ladies in Waiting bowed at their exit, and began leaving themselves. They wished you a good night, and you all wiggled at each other's fingers, silently appreciating one another for todays job well done. 

Chamberlain Minji was last to leave. Master Iroh had informed her that you were to hang back for a ‘final important task.’ You watched her bow before making her way to you. Her eyes seemed skeptical, as if you were plotting something. “Make sure you do as Firelord Zuko requests. Do not go to bed until he is satisfied.” 

What a sentence, “of course, Madam Minji. Have a goodnight,” you hummed. She wishes you a goodnight, her cold tone unrelenting. Before she left, she stood by the doorway and looked back at you all. She cut her eyes at you before truly leaving. 

Strike two. Just adding more fuel to a fire you wanted to extinguish. 

Now having privacy, you stay close by the door, keeping your distance from Lord Indra, who was well far and at the bottom of the steps. Lord Zuko took a seat on his throne, completely confused by the situation. All he knew was that his uncle requested he hang back. And his uncle has never led him astray; not back then, not now, and he trusted never in the future. He curiously stares down at Lord Indra as well, wondering if anything happened. 

Master Iroh meets your eyes, and gestures you over. So much for keeping distance, you thought to yourself. You slowly make your way forward, with Lord Indra now staring you down. His eyes felt just as burning as what he did. And you wished nothing more than to run out of there and take a neverending bath to attempt to remove the feeling. 

“Lord Indra, I don’t think I have to mention what you did this evening,” Master Iroh starts hot, his face discontent. For a fire bender who has shown immense power and control over the many years never looked so strong than in this moment, despite how the years have aged him. “And I do not believe I need to push this matter further than it has to be. Please, apologize to Lady Sai.” 

Lord Zuko’s eyes widened, those amber orbs studying you in a different nature. He scanned you, seeing that though you appeared unharmed, your face was not quite normal. There was a sort of lack of shine, a dullness in your expression. Your earlier happiness seemed to have been stinted by the sort of nerves not as simple as performance anxiety. 

“Apologize? For what exactly?” Lord Indra said simply, feigning innocence. 

Master Iroh did not look pleased. “Lord Indra, you know that I am a patient and willing man,” Master Iroh’s voice was hush, but approaching a tone a bit more sinister than what you were used to with him. “And I’d like to give you another chance to do as I requested. Should you tread incorrectly again, I am not sure what your future will hold.” 

Lord Zuko narrows down on Lord Indra, those amber eyes going dark. “Lord Indra,” Lord Zuko addressed him, his tone low, but steady. All his happiness from the successful meeting was quickly drained from his tongue, and replaced with the very tone you did not want to hear. “What did you do?” 

His tongue was replaced by a snake, a venomous hiss taking over his words. The rumors had always gone around, but after meeting and getting to know Lord Zuko personally, you never believed them. When he was a prince, he was an angry child, constantly yelling and never satisfied until he recovered his honor. He was angry because he was weak, or so people said. Others said his scar was a testament to such dishonor, supplementing enough reason to be the mad child he was. 

Lord Indra, initially, kept his cool. He put his arms out, in such a way where he believed it was friendly. “Firelord Zuko, I believe age is catching up a bit with your uncle. I accidentally touched Lady Sai here as she served food; no harm no foul. Master Iroh might have had too much tea.” He proceeds with a laugh, but Lord Zuko was nowhere near humored. 

“Uncle,” Lord Zuko begins, his eyes still very much fixed on Lord Indra. It was as if he was waiting for him to move, to give him a reason. He did not need to ask, for Master Iroh already knew what he wanted. He moves closer to his nephew, halting for a moment before giving Lord Indra one last chance. He lends him a gaze, waiting for him to make a decision. 

But, Lord Indra stands firm, meeting Master Iroh’s eyes with silence. 

Master Iroh goes to Lord Zuko’s ear, forcing him to move his hair, the hair you had carefully done for him. As he explains the situation in his ear, the color in Lord Zuko’s face vanishes. The warmth, the joy, the accomplished aura had been replaced with something a bit… dimming. 

It was hard to pin point, as you have no reference. You had never seen Lord Zuko in anything outside of his gentle nature or stern turn when he attended to his obligations as a leader. But, when Master Iroh pulls away from him, you see it clearly. Those beautiful amber eyes were desolate, his lips firmly pressed together. 

It looks like something– a seal, something that held him– had broken. 

“...Kai,” Lord Zuko began hush, his words practically untraceable. Not even you could catch it. 

Lord Indra was bold to ask, “could you repeat yourself, Firelord Zuko?” 

“Was I not clear enough for you?” A voice, almost unhumanly, calmly left Lord Zuko’s lips. You watched as he sat still on his throne. One of his hands, just hovering in front of his torso, had a low flame sitting there. As the silence ensued, the flame only grew bigger. Surrounding it were small slivers of light that your eyes could not make out. But from the sound of the whirring and crackling in his flame, you soon realized that it was miniature bursts of lightning. 

Quite a sight for someone known to only redirect lightning, not control it. 

“I said,” Lord Zuko begins, his voice fuller, his tone challenging. “Agni Kai.” 

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“I know, but now there are decorations!”

Katara chuckled at his side, then seamlessly redirected her attention to you both with an affectionate look.

“I’m so happy for you two.”

You smiled knowingly. “Happy or proud of your matchmaking skills?”

“Definitely both,” she admitted. “Do you know how exhausting it was watching the two of you dance around this for years?”

“In my defense,” Zuko muttered, “I was dealing with several international crises.”

“And somehow flirting was the one thing capable of defeating the Fire Lord,” Toph remarked as she wandered over holding onto Sokka’s arm, a cup balancing in her free hand.

Only then did you notice the aggressively oversized wrapped box tucked beneath his other arm.

“To commemorate the occasion,” Sokka announced proudly.

You stared at it with caution. “Why does it look dangerous?”

“It’s not dangerous.”

The box rattled ominously.

“…Sokka.”

“It only explodes a little.”

Katara looked horrified. “Sokka!”

“What? Fire Nation people love explosions!”

“We do not gift explosive materials at engagement celebrations,” Zuko deadpanned.

Toph leaned over and gave Sokka’s giant, rattling box an appreciative pat with her elbow, nearly spilling her drink. She snorted.

“Relax, Sparky. If it explodes, at least you’ll remember the engagement party.”

“I would like to remember it without structural damage to the palace,” Zuko replied.

“See?” Toph grinned, pointing vaguely in his direction. “He’s already talking like a married man.”

And through all of it; the laughter, the congratulations, the warmth of your friends gathered; you found yourself occasionally stopping just to look around in disbelief.

For so long, happiness had felt fragile around Zuko. Hard-earned and… temporary. Arriving carefully and quietly before disappearing again beneath duty, war, or expectation from others and himself. Tonight, the permanent tension between his shoulders had eased enough to notice, every smile that crossed his face arrived easily instead of restrained the way they once had been.

And every single time you caught him looking at you from across the hall, it felt almost unreal that this was your life now.

Zuko had once mastered the art of pretending. Back then, whenever you caught him staring, he would immediately look elsewhere: toward a servant passing nearby, a council member speaking, a random point across the room. Keeping his feelings hidden if he moved quickly enough.

Now his eyes couldn’t and wouldn’t fake not looking at you. Since the moment the two of you had finally confessed what had hung unsaid between you for years, his eyes had become hopelessly honest. Once his attention found you in a crowded room, it stayed there without shame. He had grown tired of denying himself even something as simple as looking.

And you caught him constantly tonight.

You had just finished enduring a conversation about future royal ceremonies when you noticed it again.

You tilted your head. “Do I have something on my face?” you asked once he finally approached again. “I’d rather my fiancé tell me if that’s the case.”

The word ‘fiancé’ visibly affected him, color rising toward the tips of his ears.

“No,” he answered quickly. “Not at all. You look beautiful.”

The kind of honesty Zuko delivered so naturally couldn’t get tired of stealing the breath from your lungs before you could prepare for it.

Your smile curled at the corners.

“You’ve been looking at me like that all night.”

His attention dipped toward the ring on your hand before returning to your face.

“I like what I see.”

“I suspected as much when you asked me to marry you,” you murmured, stepping close enough for the embroidered fabric of your sleeves to brush together.

You let your hand rest comfortably against the nape of his neck, your thumb lightly tracing the hairline there. His hands found their place on your waist without a second thought.

“You look unfair tonight too,” you admitted.

“Unfair?” He asked, lifting his brow.

“Dangerously so.”

You casually smoothed down the edge of his collar as you spoke.

“It’s making diplomacy very difficult.”

“That explains why the ministers have looked progressively more concerned every time I speak to you.”

You laughed as another cluster of nobles drifted past nearby.

“Well,” you said, glancing briefly toward the crowded hall around you, “what kind of plan shall we make now that I can no longer rescue you from royal responsibilities? We’ll have to endure them together from now on.”

His mouth twitched.

“Should we establish a signal?” you continued thoughtfully. “A sound, perhaps? Something subtle enough to indicate one of us is moments away from political collapse.”

“Tempting,” Zuko admitted as he leaned closer.

“But now that I don’t have to endure this alone anymore,” he whispered beside your ear, “I believe we’re more than entitled to just… leave.”

You blinked. “What?”

His expression remained serious.

“I’m far from being the ideal future Fire Lady,” you said, trying not to laugh, “but even I know that would be considered rude.”

“It is my utter pleasure,” Zuko replied, his grip tightening just a fraction on your waist as he guided you backward, “to introduce you to the art of escaping royal events.”

Movement near the entrance caught your attention. Several Kyoshi Warriors approached through the crowd with ease, green armor gleaming at all times. At their front walked Suki, smiling knowingly the moment she reached you both.

“There you are,” she said, her arms opening into a quick, welcoming embrace. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you, Suki!” You squeezed her hand briefly before letting go.

Suki then turned toward Zuko, who already looked suspiciously unsurprised by her arrival.

“Let us escort you.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Why do I suddenly feel like everyone knows something I don’t?”

“That would ruin the surprise!” Suki replied.

“You planned something?” you asked, turning toward Zuko.

“You’ll see…”

The Kyoshi Warriors guided you through quieter palace corridors away from the crowded halls, the sounds of the celebration slowly fading behind you with every turn.

Eventually Suki stopped beside a curved doorway tucked into one of the quieter palace wings.

Your brows lifted slightly. “Where are we—”

“Enjoy the rest of your evening,” Suki interrupted with unmistakable satisfaction before the Kyoshi Warriors turned and disappeared back down the corridor.

You looked toward Zuko immediately. “That is never a reassuring sentence.”

He only gestured for you to keep walking.

The moment you stepped inside, you stopped.

Pillows and folded blankets had been arranged across the polished floor beside a low dining table already filled with untouched food, tea still warm enough for steam to curl lazily into the air. Several dishes were instantly familiar, small things you had once mentioned liking during travels, desserts from a harbor market in the colonies, fruit glazed in honey exactly the way you preferred it.

“…You did this?”

“It didn’t seem right,” he admitted, “for the whole night to belong to the court.”

You stepped further inside, taking in the sight of the table.

“Oh my spirits,” you laughed softly, reaching toward one of the plates. “Are these—”

“You liked them in the Earth Kingdom.”

You looked up.

“The tea shop near the lower ring,” he continued, watching you. “You spent half an hour insisting they were better than the ones in the capital.”

“Because they were!” You defended, picking up one of the treats.

“You nearly started an argument with the owner defending them…” He walked up behind you, his hand coming to rest gently on the small of your back.

“He insulted my taste.”

Zuko huffed a quiet breath against your hair. “… He said they were too sweet.”

“And they were perfect.” You took a bite to prove your point.

A helpless smile tugged at his mouth.

“I know,” he said,his thumb tracing a small circle through the fabric of your clothes. “You looked very pleased with yourself eating them.”

Your heart nearly stopped at the realization that he remembered something so small simply because it had once made you happy.

Needing to do something before the feeling overwhelmed you entirely, you moved further into the pavilion and lowered yourself onto the cushions beside the table, carefully gathering part of your robes beneath you.

The blankets shifted as you settled, and you patted the cushion next to yours. Zuko watched you before following without hesitation.

You set down the small crumb of your food, your hands hovering over the table as you noticed a completely different dish hidden near the back.

“Oh, that is unfair!”

Zuko looked over at the platter you were pointing to.

“…What?”

“You included these too?”

Arranged near the edge of the table sat a small plate of fire flakes coated lightly in dark chocolate. One of the few desserts Zuko actually liked.

“You always steal them from my plate,” he pointed out, casually leaning his weight onto one hand as he sat beside you.

“Because you pretend not to like sweets and then guard these with your life.”

“That is completely inaccurate.”

“You threatened Sokka with bodily harm last month,” You countered, propping your chin in your hand.

“He touched them with his hands,” he said, rolling his shoulders back defensively.

You stared at him, your eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“That is generally how eating works.”

Without thinking much about it, you reached toward the plate again and broke apart one of the honey-glazed pastries before holding it toward him expectantly.

Zuko looked at it, his gaze dropping to your fingers before rising back to your face.

“You’re feeding me?”

“You remembered my favorite dessert from a tea shop halfway across the Earth Kingdom. Yes, I’m feeding you.”

He leaned in to take the bite, his breath warm against your hand for the brief second it took to claim the pastry. He didn't blink, watching your expression change at the closeness.

“You’re enjoying this entirely too much,” you told him, keeping your hand resting near his jaw instead of pulling away.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“You absolutely do…”

His attention drifted briefly toward your mouth then back upward again, slower, long enough to make you completely forget what you were going to say next.

After finishing the last bite, he reached toward another plate near the center of the table instead.

“Try this.”

You narrowed your eyes when you noticed the dark chocolate-covered fire flakes resting in his palm.

“I tasted one for the first time five years ago and temporarily lost the ability to think.”

“That explains several conversations we’ve had since then.” Zuko said, a faint glint of mischief in his eyes.

You let out a disbelieving laugh. You accepted the sweet suspiciously, taking a careful bite.

The chocolate melted easily, sweet enough to lull you into a false sense of security. Heat bloomed across your tongue so suddenly your hand flew toward the tea beside you. Zuko was already shifting to slide the teapot closer to you, watching your reaction with nothing but a knowing smirk.

“Zuko, that is cruel!” you gasped, fan-waving your hand in front of your mouth.

One corner of his mouth lifted. “You’ll survive.”

“I don’t know,” you muttered after another hurried sip of tea, pressing the back of your cool hand against your cheek. “I think I just made contact with my ancestors.”

He tried to muffle a sudden, sharp laugh behind his hand, failing as a wide, boyish smile took over his face.

“My uncle used to hide those from me when I was younger,” he said, the leftover warmth of his laugh smoothing out his voice as he watched you recover. “Apparently I once ate enough of them to breathe fire on accident.”

You turned toward him slowly.

“…On accident?”

“I was ten.”

“That does not answer any part of my concern.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin.

“Spirits,” you muttered, unable to stop smiling. You nudged his forearm with your elbow. “You were an actual menace.”

“Still am, according to some council members,” he said, leaning into the contact.

“Mm.” Your knee slid against his beneath the blankets pooled across the cushions. “I can see it.”

Zuko shifted beside you, his hand brushing your shoulder before his arm settled along the cushions behind your back. The space between you disappeared almost without notice, leaving your shoulder pressed solidly against his chest.

Your attention wandered across the table again before returning to him.

“You know,” you confessed in a near-whisper, “for someone who spent years pretending to be emotionally unavailable, you’ve become dangerously sentimental.”

“Don’t spread that around,” he replied, his breath stirring the stray hairs near your ear.

“Too late,” You reached up absentmindedly to smooth a crease near the collar of his robes, fingers lingering there instead of pulling away. “I’m telling everyone.”

“Traitor.”

“Future wife, actually.”

Zuko’s chest stopped moving as he held his breath. The pavilion suddenly felt very small.

He glanced down at your hand still curled against the front of his robes, his fingers closing gently around your wrist, thumb moving across the ring he had placed there only days before. He turned your hand in his, pressing a kiss against the ring resting on your finger as though he still couldn’t quite believe it belonged there.

Your eyes drifted shut when he leaned forward just enough for his forehead to rest briefly against yours.

“You keep saying that,” he murmured.

“Future wife?”

“Yes.”

The warmth of his voice brushed against your mouth now instead of your ear.

“Does it make you nervous?”, you inquired.

“No…”

One of his hands slid from your wrist to your waist before pulling you across the cushions and onto his lap with an ease that caught in your throat.

“It makes it very difficult to think about anything else.”

Your fingers curled more firmly into the fabric as your foreheads brushed together, every exhale shared in the quiet space.

“Zu—”

He kissed you before you could finish saying his name.

The kiss deepened before either of you could think to pull back. Your fingers twisted into the collar of his tunic, dragging him closer until there was no space left between your chests, until you could feel the rapid thud of his heart hammering through the silk.

The sound that escaped him vibrated against your lips, one hand sliding up your spine to cradle the back of your head while the other pressed flat against your lower back, molding you against him. The cushions shifted beneath your weight as he adjusted, angling his mouth over yours to lick along the seam of your lips. You opened for him without hesitation, and the heat of his tongue against yours sent a shiver straight down to your core.

“You have no idea how difficult it was pretending to listen to council members tonight,” he admitted.

You smiled against his mouth. “Let me guess. Because of me?”

“Entirely because of you.”

You answered by pulling his bottom lip between your teeth, just enough to make him gasp, and then you kissed him again before he could say anything else. The playfulness from earlier bled into something hungrier and urgent. His hands roamed with slowness at first, tracing the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist, the bare skin of your thigh where your dress had ridden up.

He pulled back just far enough to look at you, eyes dark and half-lidded, firelight catching the edges of his scar. “Tell me what you want.”

You laughed breathlessly when his thumb brushed higher against your thigh.

“You ask that like you don’t already know...”

The world tilted as he laid you down, his body following, caging you in with arms braced on either side of your head. The weight of him pressed you into the softness beneath.

He kissed you again as his hand wandered down your side, slipping under the hem of your dress. Your fingers slipped briefly trying to untangle a layer of his formal robes.

“Who designed these?” you muttered against his mouth in frustration.

Zuko kissed the corner of your lips. “I’ll have them arrested tomorrow.”

He kissed you again before you could answer, slower, his hand shifting the heavy layers of silk completely out of the way as he pinned you down. His knuckles traced the edge of your underwear.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he murmured against your jaw, pressing a kiss to the hollow behind your ear. “Spirits…”

His hand tightened briefly against your thigh.

“I still can’t believe you’re mine.”

His words made you arch into him instinctively, fingers slipping into his hair.

“You’ve had me for years,” you whispered, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck. “You’re simply allowed to say it now…”

Zuko swore beneath his breath before dipping his head to suck a mark into the curve where your shoulder met your throat. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your legs in a single motion. The cool air hit your wetness and you shivered, but then his hand was sliding between your thighs, fingers parting your folds with reverent care. He didn’t rush. He explored, tracing your shape, learning the way your hips jerked when he found the sensitive nub at your center.

“Zuko,” you breathed, voice breaking.

“I know,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours.

He shifted, freeing himself from his trousers with a hurried grace born of too many nights imagining this. The tip of his cock brushed against your entrance, slick with your desire, and he paused.

“Look at me,” he said.

You did. His gold eyes burned with something fierce and tender all at once.

“I want to see you...”

He pushed in.

The stretch was slow, inch by inch until he was seated fully inside you, and the feeling of being so completely filled made your eyes flutter closed. He stayed still, letting you adjust, letting the sensation settle over both of you like a shared breath.

“Spirits—” His forehead dropped briefly against yours as though he needed a second to recover. “You feel incredible.”

You opened your eyes and wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him deeper. “Zuko… please…”

“What?” He asked, clearly willing to give you absolutely anything in the world.

“Move.”

And so he did.

The first few thrusts were gentle, a rocking rhythm that built a steady coil of heat in your belly. His mouth never left yours, messy kisses that mingled with the sounds of skin against skin. You clung to his shoulders, nails digging crescents into his flesh as the pace quickened.

But he was watching you. Every shift of expression, every bitten-off moan. He saw the way your lips parted, the way your back arched, the way your eyes rolled back when he angled his hips just so.

“There?” he asked, thrusting again.

“Don’t stop.”

The sound that left him at your response was somewhere between a groan and your name. You pulled him down into another kiss, half desperate and half smiling when his rhythm turned sharper, harder, his hips slapping against yours with wet, obscene sounds that filled the quiet room.

“Do you remember,” you breathed against his mouth, “when you couldn’t even look at me for longer than five seconds?”

Zuko kissed you harder, one hand tightening at your waist.

“… I was… trying to survive.”

The memory hit you so suddenly you had to hide your grin against his mouth.

“You were terrible at it.”

“I know.”

The fire crackled nearby, but you were beyond noticing anything except the weight of him, the heat, the way he whispered your name like a prayer.

“I want to feel you coming undone around me,” he said, hand sliding between your bodies to press against your clit.

The combination of his thrusts and his fingers sent you hurtling over the edge. You cried out, clenching around him as the orgasm rippled through you, and he groaned at the sensation, burying his face in your neck as he kept moving, riding you through it.

When the aftershocks subsided, he slowed, but didn’t stop.

“No,” he murmured against your skin when you tried to catch your breath. “Not finished with you yet.”

He pulled out, leaving you feeling suddenly empty, before placing his hands on your waist to guide you around. He tugged you back until you were kneeling between his thighs, your back flush against his front. His arms wrapped around your waist, and his cock slid between your thighs from behind, nestling against your wet folds before he guided himself back inside.

This position when kneeling together, bodies stacked, every inch of contact maximized, let him reach deeper than before. His chest was a furnace against your spine. He buried his face in the curve of your neck, one hand splayed across your stomach while the other played with your clit.

“You feel me?” he whispered against your neck. The slow roll of his hips fractured your response into a broken sigh. “You feel so good like this.”

You could only moan, your hands gripping the blankets in front of you as he rocked into you, hitting that spot inside that made stars burst behind your eyelids with each push and made you tighten around him.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Just like that—”

He increased the pressure against your clit, matching the pace of his hips to the circles of his fingers while his mouth moved against your ear between broken breaths.

“You feel so perfect.”

Another slow thrust pulled a helpless sound from your throat.

“I’m never getting tired of this,” he admitted. His forehead pressed against your shoulder. “I could spend the rest of my life like this.”

You tightened around him involuntarily.

“… That can be arranged.”

The second orgasm crashed over you like a wave, harder than the first, and you sobbed his name as you tightened around him. That was all he needed. Your name fell from his mouth unevenly as he came, spilling hot inside you with a shudder that shook his entire body.

His arms stayed locked around you, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, his breath ragged against your damp skin.Slowly, he softened inside you, but he didn’t pull out. Instead, he eased you both down onto your sides, curling around your back like a second skin.

The blankets were tangled beneath you, the fire had burned low, and the world outside the room had vanished.

He kissed the back of your neck, your shoulder, the shell of your ear, his arm resting heavily over your waist. The heat of his body seeped into yours, and you felt the last traces of tension drain away, replaced by a deep, bone-tired contentment.

Neither of you seemed particularly interested in moving.

Somewhere outside the pavilion walls, distant music from the banquet still drifted through the palace.

You let out a tired sound against the cushions. “Do you think they noticed we disappeared?”

His lips brushed lazily against your shoulder. “Eventually.”

You huffed quietly, sinking further back against his chest while your fingers played absently with the edge of the blanket tangled around your waist.

“The ministers are going to go crazy tomorrow…”

“They survive worse things.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to glance at him over your shoulder. “Such as?”

“My uncle’s tea lectures.”

You turned back, hiding your smile against the forearm draped over your chest.

“We abandoned our own engagement banquet.”

Zuko tightened his hold, pulling you securely against his chest.

“We escaped our engagement banquet,” he corrected. “Very successfully. Hope you learned something.”

“Ah. My apologies.”

“Accepted.”

His fingers found your hand, tracing over the ring resting on your finger again.

“What?” he murmured sleepily after a moment, noticing your silence.

“Nothing…”

His nose brushed against your shoulder. “Liar.”

“I was just thinking…” Your fingers intertwined with his. “I think we spent years making this far more difficult than it needed to be.”

He hummed. “Probably.”

“All that suffering,” you sighed dramatically. “For what?”

“To build character, clearly,” you could hear the smile in his voice, his comment pulling another tired laugh from you.

Sometime before dawn, sleep finally dragged both of you under completely. When you woke again, pale morning light had begun spilling softly through the pavilion windows.

The quiet weight of his arm was still anchored over your waist, anchoring you to the cushions. Zuko pulled you a fraction closer in his sleep, breathing softly against your neck like he had no intention of ever letting go again.

𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚

It had been days. Long enough for the palace to feel distant again, like something imagined rather than lived, somewhere you had stood, somewhere you had—

You stopped that thought before it could even dare to take shape.

“It is out of character for Zuko to cut off communication,” Katara insisted. “He must have a reason.”

“He better,” Toph muttered. “Otherwise he’s getting his ass kicked the next time I feel him take a step near me.”

That almost made you smile.

“If he ever does,” you said quietly.

Toph tilted her head.

“You’ve been avoiding the palace,” she said. “You could’ve gone back. You could’ve seen him already.”

“That’s not true. I’m not avoiding anything.”

“You haven’t gone back.”

You exhaled, soft and brief. “I didn’t think I needed to. And I still don’t…”

A group passed just ahead of you, their voices carrying in that effortless way through the crowded street.

“…it’s already decided, from what I heard.”

“Of course it is. They wouldn’t drag it out.”

“She must be someone important.”

“She has to be. The Fire Nation wouldn’t settle for less.”

Your steps slowed.

“I heard she’s from the Earth Kingdom.”

“They say she’s beautiful… from a noble line—”

You stopped, Toph stopped with you.

Katara turned, already watching you, then glanced back at the voices before returning her attention to your face. “You know they don’t actually know anything,” she said gently.

“They seem to know enough,” you replied.

Toph let out a quiet huff. “No, they don’t. They’re just filling in the blanks with whatever sounds right to them.”

“It makes sense,” you said again, your tone calm, perhaps too much. “He needs someone who benefits the nation. That’s the entire point.”

“And you don’t?” Katara asked.

You didn’t answer.

Because the answer wasn’t something you wanted to examine, at least not here, not now, not with strangers speaking as if your life were something distant and theoretical.

You straightened your posture.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said at last. “Whatever he decides, it’ll be the right choice for the Fire Nation.”

Toph snorted.

“Keep telling yourself that, pebbles.”

Toph’s nickname still lingered in the air when the wind shifted above you.

A broad and familiar shadow crossed the street, and a second later Aang landed swiftly between you and the others, his eyes moving quickly from face to face as if counting, making sure no one was missing.

“Good, you’re close,” he said, a little out of breath. “There’s been a break along the ridge road, just past the outer fields, the one that runs above the old quarry.”

You stilled.

“If it’s along the quarry edge, the base won’t hold for long,” you said, already turning toward the eastern slope without thinking.

Toph tilted her chin up slightly, listening through the soles of her feet.

“It’s shifting,” she confirmed. “Not fast, but it’s definitely not stable.”

Katara’s hand found your arm briefly.

“How bad?”

“Bad enough that if someone panics and tries to cross, the whole thing will give in,” you replied, already moving with Katara and Toph as Aang followed. “Worse if they try to force carts over it.”

“Sokka’s there,” Aang added quickly. “He went ahead when the reports came in.”

“At least he’s there,” you said. “We need to hurry.”

Without letting go of either Toph or Katara, you gathered the fabric of your skirt slightly as the stone road gave way to packed earth, the city thinning into low houses and wind-bent trees, the air turning drier, sharper.

“And…” Aang hesitated,“…Zuko’s on his way.”

Toph scoffed.

“Perfect.”

Perfect, indeed.

♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

The ridge revealed itself like a wound carved into the road.

The path curved along the quarry’s edge, and where it should have held firm, there was a jagged and uneven split, the outer half sagging just enough to tilt a loaded cart toward the drop below. The ground hadn’t broken cleanly; it had given in layers, ash and stone shifting against each other debating between holding or collapsing.

Dust hung low in the air, fine and persistent, clinging to skin, settling into fabric. A group of villagers hovered nearby, caught between urgency and fear, their voices overlapping in restless waves.

Sokka’s voice cut through it all.

“No one crosses until we figure this out! I don’t care if your cabbages are going bad, you’re not dying for them!”

“You said that ten minutes ago!” someone shouted.

“And it’s still true!”

He turned as you approached, relief flashing across his face.

“There you are! Quick summary," Sokka said, gesturing sharply with the hand that held a rope, "the road’s trying to fall into the quarry, the cart’s trying to follow it, and everyone’s trying to help, which is, shockingly, not helping.”

You followed the direction of his gesture.

The cart sat at the very edge of the fracture, its rear wheels still on relatively stable ground while the front had dipped into the uneven split, one side lower than the other. The weight of it dragged forward at a slow, dangerous angle, sacks and crates stacked high enough to shift if given the slightest encouragement. Every small movement such as someone stepping too close or even a stone giving way, made it creak.

Toph and you stepped beside him, your attention already moving across the fracture along with the angle, the depth, the way the earth had split along a weak seam rather than broken outright.

“If anyone pushes that cart like this,” you said, your voice grounded enough to cut through the noise around you, “it won’t just fall.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Sokka muttered. “And someone still suggested we just… pull harder.”

Toph unwrapped her arm from yours and crouched near the split, pressing her fingers into the dirt, her brows knitting as she read the ground.

“It’s hollow underneath,” she said. “If I push from below, it collapses.”

“Maybe don’t push,” you said, lowering beside her. “Pack it."

Toph nodded once, already adjusting her stance. "I could compress the ash instead of forcing it upward", she said, a hand on her chin. "And let it settle into itself.”

Katara stepped closer to the fracture, crouching opposite Toph. She drew a thin stream of water from her waterskin, letting it spill over the loose surface where ash and dust threatened to slide.

“I can bind the top layer,” she said, her voice focused now. “Just enough to keep it from shifting while she compacts it.”

“Not too much,” you added quickly. “If it gets too wet, it’ll slip.”

Katara nodded, adjusting the flow immediately, spreading the water in a thin, controlled layer that darkened the ash without saturating it.

Above them, Aang hovered lower now, guiding steady currents of air to lift the dust away from the fracture, clearing visibility and easing the pressure of falling debris.

“I’ll keep the edge clear,” he said. “Nothing’s coming down on you.”

“Good,” Toph replied, already working.

Sokka nudged your shoulder.

“So, our part?”

You looked at the cart again as it tilted due to uneven weight, the strain pulling one wheel deeper into the soft ground.

“We lighten it,” you said. “Half the load off. Then we can reinforce the edge and guide it across.”

“Guide it,” Sokka repeated. “I like that. Sounds like we survive.”

A faint smile pulled at your lips.

“Secure the axle,” you added. “We guide it from both sides so it doesn’t tip.”

“On it.”

You turned to a villager you recognized, your tone steady enough to anchor the rest.

“We’re moving the supplies first,” you said. “No one crosses until we say so. It will hold, we just need a moment.”

They nodded, and that certainty spread quickly, calming the edges of the crowd.

Soon, movement replaced hesitation. Crates were passed down, hands working in rhythm, weight shifting from cart to ground. Katara kept one eye on the villagers even as she worked with the earth, stepping in when someone got too close, her voice soft but firm, typical Katara.

“Just a little further back... yes, there. You’re safe.”

You were halfway through unloading when warmth brushed the back of your neck and boots struck the ground behind you.

You didn’t turn, not even by mistake.

“What’s the situation?” Zuko asked.

Sokka gestured loosely. “Road’s breaking, cart’s heavy, we’re amazing.”

“We’re stabilizing before moving anything,” you corrected.

“I can see that.”

You turned.

He looked as though he had stepped straight out of the palace into the dust. His formal attire remained intact, though softened at the edges by ash and wind, dark strands of hair slipping loose where they were meant to stay in place. The gold woven into his robes caught what little light broke through the haze, dimmed but unmistakable.

And suddenly, being angry at him felt like its own kind of punishment. Because it meant distance, one you, if you had a choice, didn't want to endure.

His gaze found you then, and held just a fraction longer than necessary.

“Then you’re up to speed, Fire Lord.”

A flicker crossed his eyes.

“Good to know I didn’t miss anything.”

Toph let out a short laugh.

“Oh, you definitely missed something.”

“Toph,” Katara warned, though she didn’t stop shaping the surface, water threading through her movements.

“What do you need?” Zuko asked, already stepping forward.

“Controlled heat along the fracture,” you said. “Low and steady. Seal it after Toph compacts.”

He nodded.

“At your call.”

Toph pressed deeper, the earth tightening under her control, ash compressing into something solid. Katara followed her rhythm, smoothing the surface with precise movements of water, binding the top layer just enough to hold.

“Now,” you said.

Zuko’s fire traced the fracture, sealing the line without breaking it, the heat drying and hardening what the others shaped. Aang adjusted the air again, lifting the last of the dust away.

You and Sokka moved back into position beside the cart.

“Go slow,” you murmured.

“I am going slow.”

“Slower.”

Zuko exhaled something close to a quiet laugh.

“It’s leaning left,” you said.

“Compensating,” Sokka replied.

The rope snapped tight in your hands, the weight shifting too quickly. Before you could adjust or protest, Zuko’s hand covered yours.

“Don’t fight it,” he said, close enough now that his voice dropped just for you. “Let it settle first.”

“I know. I don't need help," you said.

His thumb shifted slightly, correcting your grip. Your breath caught.

Behind you, Toph laughed outright.

“Do I get help too, or is this exclusive?” Sokka added.

“Focus,” you said, though your voice’s edge was not found.

Zuko’s hand remained over yours a moment longer, steadying the pull of the rope as the ground beneath the cart shifted again, settling. Under Toph’s control, the loose ash compacted inward, tightening around the hollow pockets below, while a thin layer of moisture from Katara bound the surface just enough to keep it from slipping apart. The fracture no longer yawned open; it held, uneven but reinforced, the weight redistributing instead of dragging forward.

Zuko withdrew his hand.

“Alright,” you said, adjusting your grip, grounding yourself again. “Now we move.”

You and Sokka guided the cart, adjusting with each inch, while Zuko steadied the front, his movements precise and responsive as ever.

“Easy,” you said.

The cart shifted again. The wheel dragged over the uneven seam, resisted, then yielded, inch by careful inch, until the weight finally rolled past the fracture and onto solid ground. Only then did the strain release, the cart settling fully, the danger passing not in a break but in surrender to stability.

Relief spread through the ridge in a single, shared exhale.

Voices rose in a different and lighter tone, gratitude threading through them as people stepped forward again, no longer afraid of the ground beneath them. The man who had spoken to you earlier approached first, dust still clinging to his sleeves, his hands rough from work and now empty of it.

“It was helpful you knew this place. You kept us from making it worse,” he said, glancing briefly toward the cart before returning his gaze to you. “We were ready to push it over ourselves.”

You shook your head gently. “You waited. That made the difference!”

He smiled faintly, then looked past you. “All of you did.”

Others followed, quieter but no less certain. A woman clasped Katara’s hands briefly, thanking her for keeping everyone steady when panic had started to spread. Someone else nodded toward Toph with a mix of awe and familiarity, clearly having felt the ground shift under her control. A young boy hovered near Aang before blurting out a rushed thank you, eyes wide at the way the dust had simply… stopped falling around him. Even Sokka received a few claps on the shoulder, one villager gesturing toward the now-stable cart.

“Good thinking with the rope,” they said.

Sokka straightened slightly. “I do bring strategy to the table.”

“You tied knots,” Toph muttered under her breath.

“Strategic knots.”

You let out a small breath of a laugh, the sound more subdued than the moment called for, but it slipped out anyway.

At the edge of the clearing, just beyond the villagers and the scattered crates from the cart, a pair of Fire Nation guards stood apart from the worksite, their posture composed, untouched by the dust and urgency that had taken over the ridge. They had arrived with him, they were palace detail, not local patrol, you noticed- and unlike the others, they hadn’t intervened.

One of them now held a lacquered box, smaller than the supply crates, its surface polished to a quiet sheen despite the haze around it. It didn’t belong to the cart. It had been carried here.

For a moment, the guard hesitated, glancing toward Zuko as if awaiting instruction now that the immediate crisis had passed.

Zuko noticed, and stepped away from the group, crossing the short distance with that same controlled steadiness he owned.

The guard straightened immediately, offering the box forward.

“My lord—”

Zuko took it before he could finish, his grip firm but unceremonious, as though the exchange required no announcement.

He didn’t look at you, but the path he chose to walk placed him close enough that the space between you narrowed again, the weight of the moment returning in subtler ways.

Behind you, someone cleared their throat. Loudly.

“Alright,” Toph said, arms crossing as she angled her chin in your direction, “are we done fixing things, or do we need another disaster so you two can keep staring at each other?”

“I vote we’re done,” Sokka added immediately, lifting a hand like he was calling it in a council meeting. “Strong vote. Unanimous, actually.”

Toph tilted her head slightly, as if listening for something only she could catch, then smirked.

“Yeah,” she went on, louder now, “we’re definitely done here. Ground’s stable, cart’s safe, tension’s… not our problem.”

“Not even a little,” Sokka agreed. He clapped his hands once, dusting them off. “Which means we should probably go check… literally anywhere else.”

“Anywhere,” Toph echoed.

Katara let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “We’ll be just over there,” she added, gesturing vaguely in the opposite direction. Far enough to be out of earshot, but close enough to pretend they weren’t leaving on purpose.

Aang nodded quickly. “Yes. Monitoring. Very important.”

“Extremely!” Katara said, reaching for Aang's hand.

Toph had already started walking with Sokka.

“Try not to break anything else,” she threw over her shoulder, entirely too pleased with herself.

“And if you do,” Sokka added, backing away now, “we’re not fixing it.”

Katara gave you one last look in a gentler, but no less knowing way, before turning to follow them.

“So,” you said at last, turning to face Zuko, your tone steadier than you felt, “I think congratulations are in order, Fire Lord. I heard you made your choice.”

“You… did?” he asked, uncertainity slipping into his voice.

You nodded, though your gaze dropped almost immediately, your foot nudging at the edge of the grass where it met the packed earth like the ground required your full attention once again. Anything to avoid looking at him, anything to avoid the way your vision threatened to blur.

“She’s a noblewoman from the Earth Kingdom, right?” you continued. “Someone… appropriate. Someone the Fire Nation can benefit from.”

Silence answered you.

You looked up and he was staring at you, completely, utterly speechless. It made something in your chest twist.

“Of course,” you went on, the edge slipping into your voice now, “that’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

Your arms crossed before you could stop yourself, the motion sharper than you intended. Your fingers dug into your sleeves, knuckles tightening.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” you pressed. “Am I wrong?”

For a moment, it almost seemed like he might answer, finally say something that would settle the tight, aching uncertainty sitting in your heart. His mouth parted, then closed again, his jaw tightening.

Instead, he laughed.

You went still, your grip loosening just slightly before tightening again, breath catching halfway in your chest.

“Why are you laughing?” you asked, the hurt breaking through now, unfiltered. “This is serious. If it’s not that, then what is it? Not like you can correct me, you’ve been avoiding me!”

The laughter disappeared as quickly as it had come when you turned away from him, the movement abrupt, but you didn’t make it far.

His hand found your arm without force, but pulling you just enough to face him again.

“I know,” he said. “And I—”

“And before an excuse leaves those—” you cut in, your voice sharper than you meant it to be, “—those exquisite lips of yours, maybe think about what you’re going to say first.”

“I am sorry,” he said.

You blinked. The words landed heavier than anything else he could have said.

“What…” The word barely formed. You swallowed, your gaze searching his face, tracing it like you might find the meaning there before you could trust your own ears. “What did you say?”

Despite everything, that familiar hint of amusement returned to his mouth.

“What did you say?” he countered. “Exquisite lips?”

You stared at him.

“Don’t,” you said quickly, heat rising to your face despite yourself. “That’s not— that doesn’t matter. Why are you sorry?” you pressed. “What do you mean?”

He held the box firmly for a moment longer, as though whatever it carried required more than just his hands to keep steady, then let it fall to his side with a quiet breath.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to come,” he said, his voice lower now, stripped of anything that resembled formality. “And I understand why you didn’t return. The council has been occupying my time, as you know…”

“Did they cancel their command?” you asked, stepping closer before you could stop yourself, the distance between you suddenly unbearable. There was something fragile in the way the question left you that reached for hope despite everything. “You didn’t have to choose?”

He didn’t speak, nor he needed to. The answer settled in the quiet shift of his expression, in the way his gaze held yours without softening.

Your hand rose to your chest, pressing there, wishing you could steady the feeling before it broke entirely.

“So… then you chose someone.”

“I did,” he said.

There was no hesitation in it, no uncertainty, and that made it worse.

“But it’s not a matter of whether I chose,” he continued, something quieter threading through his speech. “It’s whether she chooses me too.”

You nodded slowly, though the movement felt distant, disconnected from the rest of you. Of course she would. Anyone would. He was the Fire Lord, so respected and powerful, and he was Zuko. Your Zuko.

You looked down at the grass beneath your feet, your thoughts tangling into something far less composed than you wanted them to be. Pride and longing pulled in opposite directions, each one demanding to be heard, to be chosen, to be acted upon before the moment slipped through your hands entirely.

You could say it.

You could end it there and put words to everything you had carried, everything you had refused to name, even if it meant losing him in the same breath.

Or you could stay silent. Walk away with dignity intact, even if it cost you more than you were willing to admit.

The decision hovered, ever so fragile, until something moved in your peripheral vision.

The box.

He lifted it between you, holding it out with a steadiness that contrasted the tension that had settled around you both.

You raised an eyebrow, more out of instinct than understanding, and took it from his hands, the weight of it grounding in a way nothing else had.

“What’s in there is yours,” he said, his gaze never leaving you. “Because you deserve it.”

A breath passed.

“And you can choose not to accept it.”

Curiosity moved through you before reason could stop it, your fingers lifting the lid of the box with a care that felt disproportionate to something so simple. The hinge gave without resistance, and what waited inside made your breath falter in a way you couldn’t quite control.

Your dress.

The one you had worn that night, the one that had carried you into that room, into him. The one you had left behind without a second thought, discarded against the stone floor of his bath in a moment that had felt too consuming to hold onto anything else.

Your fingertips brushed over the fabric, slow, almost reverent, the layered silk shifting beneath your touch like a quiet flame. The deep red caught the light even here, subdued by the dust of the ridge but no less alive, while the gold threading along the bodice traced familiar patterns beneath your fingers, subtle and precise, unmistakably Fire Nation in its design. It felt the same, but above all, it felt like that night.

“I should have returned it sooner,” Zuko said, his voice quieter now, closer than before, though you hadn’t noticed him step nearer. “But I didn’t know how to give it back without…” He exhaled softly. “Without it meaning more than it already does.”

You didn’t lift your gaze.

“I kept it,” he continued, and there was something unguarded in the admission that carried weight beyond the words themselves. “At first, because it was yours. And then… because it reminded me of everything I didn’t say when I had the chance.”

Your fingers stilled against the fabric.

“You’ve always been my friend,” he said, and the word landed gently, but it didn’t soften the impact. “My closest one. The person who stayed when I didn’t deserve it. The one who saw through every version of me I tried to hide behind.”

Something in your throat drew tight.

“I’ve made mistakes,” he went on, quieter now, his voice threading through the space between you. “More than I can count. And somehow, through all of them… you never stopped seeing me clearly. Even when I didn’t know how to see myself.”

Your grip on the edge of the box tightened.

“I thought that was enough,” he admitted. “That having you there, having you beside me in that way, was something I could hold onto without asking for more. But it isn’t. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

You lifted your gaze, your vision blurred at the edges, tears gathering in a way that felt unfamiliar and nothing like what you had braced yourself for.

He was closer than you expected.

Close enough that you could see a quiet undoing. The restraint he held so carefully began to fray at the edges, the steadiness of his mouth faltering, his breath unmeasured, his gaze no longer shielded. Whatever he had kept contained slipped free in the way his eyes lingered on yours without retreat, in the fragile openness that replaced his certainty, in the tenderness that seemed to rise despite him, bare and unprotected, with nowhere else left to go but toward you.

“I don’t want you like a best friend,” he said. “I never really did.”

He reached forward, setting the box between you on top of the grass before his hand moved to the fabric. He lifted the dress with care, the silk sliding through his fingers like it recognized the warmth of him, when a glint broke free from its folds.

It slipped loose with a hush, a soft, fleeting sound against the ground, so quiet it might have gone unnoticed, had it not caught the light.

Gold, warmed by the same tones that traced the dress. A ring with a stone set at its center that held its own quiet fire.

You drew your lower lip between your teeth without thinking, your eyes widening.

Zuko bent to retrieve it, and when he rose, he did not falter.

Not this time.

He stepped closer, the space between you giving way in slow, inevitable increments. The ring rested between his fingers, but it wasn’t what held your attention. It was the way his hand steadied when it neared you, how the slightest tremor gave way to resolve. The way his gaze didn’t leave yours, not even for a second, like looking away was no longer something he could bear.

He stopped only when there was nowhere left to step without touching you.

“I spoke to the council,” Zuko said. “I agreed to their terms: to choose among the guests in the gathering, to entertain their expectations, to follow through with what they believed was best for the Fire Nation.” His gaze softened, recalling it all now from a distance that no longer held the same weight. “I thought I could endure it. That if I listened long enough, if I gave them what they wanted to hear, I could still make the decision my own in the end.”

You let out a breath that trembled despite yourself, your fingers still resting against the silk in the box. “That doesn’t sound like something you would agree to,” you murmured.

“It isn’t,” he admitted. "And I didn’t. Not entirely.” His eyes flickered with something that resembled quiet amusement, though it never strayed far from you. “My uncle had… opinions.”

That drew something from you before you could stop it: a soft, disbelieving breath that almost became a laugh. “Of course he did.”

“He insisted,” Zuko continued, and now the warmth settled more openly into his tone, “that if I was going to be forced into choosing, then I should at least have every option available to me.” He paused just long enough for the meaning to settle. “Even the ones the council didn’t think to include.”

“So, when he made you invite me...,” you said, the realization unfolding in pieces.

"It was without their knowledge. Which meant that when I agreed to their conditions…," his gaze held yours. “I already knew how I intended to challenge them.”

A small, incredulous breath left you. “You planned it.”

“I hoped,” he corrected gently.

You shook your head faintly, though the motion carried no real disagreement, only the overwhelming weight of shock settling into place. “That sounds exactly like something he suggest you to do.”

“It does,” Zuko said, and this time the hint of a smile reached his lips fully. “He was very pleased with himself.”

“I’m sure he was,” you replied, unable to stop the faint curve of your own mouth.

“I used their rules,” he said, far more intentional, “to make a choice they couldn’t argue with. And when they did, even if they were already trapped, I gave them arguments they couldn’t refuse. About loyalty. About trust. About someone who understands the balance we’re trying to build better than any noble name ever could. About you," he continued, stepping just a fraction closer. "I told them that if they were asking me to choose a future for this nation, then they would have to accept that I already knew who belonged in it.”

The ring remained in his hand.

You hadn’t stopped looking at it, not really. Even when your eyes lifted to meet his again, even when his voice held you there, you stayed aware of it.

“I spent days trying to say it the right way,” Zuko continued, his voice stripped of everything except truth. “Trying to deal with the guilt that came from tying you to something you might not even want, but also coming to terms with what I’d done and, let you decide instead.”

His thumb shifted slightly against the band.

“You chose me,” you said softly, the words barely more than breath, as if saying them too loudly might undo them.

“I did,” Zuko answered, no doubt left for you to question. “And I would do it again.”

Your chest tightened, something fragile and overwhelming unfolding all at once, your fingers curling slightly against the fabric of the dress still resting in the box between you.

“But I meant it: I don’t want this to be something decided for you,” he said, his voice softer now, but no less firm. “Not by the council. Not by me. So... what do you think?"

For a moment, you didn’t answer.

Not because you didn’t know what to say, but because the answer had been there for longer than you had allowed yourself to admit, waiting beneath every glance, every almost, every moment you had forced yourself to step back instead of forward.

Your hands found his before you could overthink it, fingers wrapping around his, warm against your palms, making everything else fall away. You felt the slight tension in him ease at the contact.

“I think that…” you began, your eyes never leaving his, “I don’t want you like a best friend either.”

His hand rose to your jaw, fingers finding their place beneath your ear, along the line of your throat, settling there with a steadiness that made your pulse turn restless against his touch. His thumb brushed once, slow, like he needed to feel you there before allowing himself anything more.

And then he closed the distance. The kiss wasn’t rushed. It lingered the second it began, his mouth finding yours with a care that made something in your chest give way all at once. There was no edge to it, no restraint left to hold it back. Your fingers tightened against him before you realized it, curling into the fabric at his sleeve. The other hand found his shoulder as you leaned into him, closing what little space still remained.

He didn’t hesitate at the contact. His hand shifted like he needed to keep you there, like letting you go had stopped being an option the moment you hadn’t stepped back.

The wind moved somewhere beyond you. Voices carried faintly in the distance. The world continued, unchanged, untouched. But none of it reached you. Not when he held you close enough that you could feel the rhythm of him, steady against you. Not when the warmth of his touch felt so deeply familiar it settled into you without resistance, yet new enough that every second of it stayed sharp, impossible to ignore, something your body was still learning even as it recognized it completely.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against yours, his breath still uneven, though his hands remained steady where they held you.

You gave him your hand.

His fingers guided the ring into place, the gold catching the light as it settled where it belonged.

“Well, that took long enough.”

Toph’s voice carried across the ridge like she had been waiting for exactly this moment.

You both turned to find the rest of the group not nearly as far away as they had pretended to be, clustered together in a way that made it very clear they had seen everything.

“I told you,” Sokka said, already striding toward you with far too much enthusiasm, “we could’ve skipped the emotional crisis and gone straight to this…”

He stopped right in front of you and then immediately pulled you into a hug.

“Oh my—wait—no—” he froze mid-embrace, pulling back just enough to look at you with exaggerated horror. “Is this… is this allowed? Should I not be doing this? Is this, like, a royal offense now?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, the sound light and uncontrollable.

“I think you’re fine.”

“Are we sure?” he asked, lowering his voice like this was suddenly a very serious concern. “Because if I just violated some kind of royal boundary, I’d like to know now before guards appear out of nowhere.”

Aang stepped forward, grinning, entirely unbothered by any of it. “I’m still hugging her.”

And he did hug you, completely sincere.

Sokka pointed immediately. “See? Now if he gets arrested, I’m blaming Toph."

"What did I do?" she asked, hugging you after Aang.

"You didn't tell me not to hug her." he said, proceeding to pat Zuko's back in a congratulatory way. “Or to bow. Because I’m not bowing. I refuse. I draw the line at bowing.”

“You’ve never bowed in your life,” Katara said, stepping forward, though her smile softened the remark as she reached for your hands, squeezing them gently. Her gaze flickered to the ring, then back to your face. “I’m really happy for you,” she added. “For both of you.”

“I’m glad you all approve,” Zuko said, the faintest hint of humor threading through his voice as he glanced at them.

Toph huffed. “We don’t approve,” she said. “We tolerate. There’s a difference.”

“She means she’s happy,” Aang translated helpfully.

“I am not.”

“You sound happy,” Katara said.

“I sound correct.”

Sokka pointed between the two of you. “For the record, I’ve been emotionally invested in this for a long time, so I feel like I deserve partial credit.”

Zuko's thumbs brushed ightly against the fabric at your sides before he finally glanced up.

“At most,” he said, “you can take credit for… not making things worse.”

Toph snorted. “That’s generous.”

You laughed. “Very generous.”

Sokka looked between all of them, betrayed. “Wow. Okay. Noted. I’m surrounded by people who don’t appreciate emotional support. Alright,” Sokka said, clapping once, recovering his composure with visible effort. “So, celebration plan. I’m thinking food, obviously. Maybe something dramatic. Fireworks? Is that too on the nose?”

“It’s the Fire Nation,” Aang said. “It’s never too on the nose.”

“Perfect,” he nodded. “Then we’re doing it.”

Zuko exhaled softly beside you.

When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you, not saying anything, and not really needing to.

For once, neither of you looked away.

♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

The heavy oak door clicked shut behind you, sealing out the world, the council, your friends, and the endless weight of the Fire Nation. For a single, suspended moment, you and Zuko stood facing each other at the threshold of his chamber, the same room that now felt entirely different.

Candlelight flickered across the walls, gold dancing over silk and shadow, over the familiar space that had once held distance and now held none at all. The bed stood at the center untouched, but neither of you moved toward it yet.

Zuko’s hands found your waist, pulling you close. His fingers curled into the fabric of your robe, and he was smiling- not the tight, controlled smile he normally wore, but almost giddy. His eyes roamed your face like he was memorizing every detail.

“We’re alone,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “Finally.”

You didn’t answer with words. You rose on your toes and kissed him: deep, open-mouthed, hungry. He groaned into your mouth, his arms wrapping around you, crushing you against his chest. The kiss was messy, eager, all tongue and teeth and the shared taste of the celebratory tea you’d drunk earlier with his Uncle Iroh. His hands slid down your back, cupping your ass, squeezing as he pulled your hips flush against his.

You could feel him already hardening through the layers of silk. The evidence of his desire pressed against your belly, and you rocked into him deliberately, drawing a sharp hiss from his lips.

“Patience,” he murmured, though his voice was strained.

“No,” you breathed, nipping at his lower lip. “You forget I’ve waited too long.”

Your fingers found the tie of his formal robe, tugging it loose. The heavy red fabric fell open, revealing the pale expanse of his chest, the lean muscle, the scattered scars. You pushed the robe off his shoulders, letting it pool at his feet. He stood before you, bare except for his loose trousers, the firelight painting his skin in amber and shadow.

You let your gaze travel down his body: the hard planes of his abdomen, the dark trail of hair disappearing below his waist, the prominent bulge straining against the silk of his trousers. Your mouth watered.

“Your turn,” he said, his fingers already working at the knot of your sash. He was less patient than he pretended; the fabric slid away quickly, and he pushed your robe aside, baring you to the warm air. His breath caught. “I’ve always known it, and I’ve seen you, but… spirits, you’re beautiful.”

His hands found your breasts, cupping them, thumbs brushing over your nipples. They stiffened under his touch, and you arched into him, a soft moan escaping your lips. He leaned down, capturing one nipple in his mouth, sucking gently, then harder, his tongue circling the sensitive peak. You gasped, your fingers threading into his hair, holding him there.

He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his free hand sliding down your stomach, between your legs. His fingers found you wet, slick, ready. He groaned against your skin.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with want. “Is that because we’re engaged, or because you’ve been thinking about this all day?”

“Both,” you admitted, your hips grinding against his hand. “I couldn’t stop imagining your mouth on me, like at breakfast, even when I was mad at you.”

He growled, low and possessive, and suddenly he was lifting you, your legs wrapping around his waist. He carried you to the bed, laying you down on the silk sheets, the cool fabric a shock against your heated skin. He stood over you, his eyes dark with desire, his cock straining against his trousers.

“I want to taste you,” he said, his voice rough.

“Actually, I have an engagement night request,” you said, stopping him. “I want to taste you, Zuko.”

His eyes shone. With no further discussion, He tugged at his trousers, pushing them down his hips. His cock sprang free- long, thick, flushed a deep red at the tip, already leaking a bead of pre-cum. You reached for him, wrapping your hand around his shaft, feeling the heat and the velvety softness of his skin stretched over the hardness beneath. You stroked him slowly, watching his eyes flutter shut, his breath hitch.

Then you leaned forward, taking the head into your mouth.

Zuko groaned, a deep, guttural sound that seemed to come from somewhere primal, something you’d never heard before. You swirled your tongue around the tip, tasting the salt of his arousal, then took him deeper, your lips sliding down his length. His hand found the back of your head without pushing, just resting there, his fingers trembling.

“That feels– yes,” he breathed. “just like that.”

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking as you pulled back, then plunged down again, establishing a rhythm. His taste was intoxicating, and the sounds he made- the broken moans, the whispered curses- only made you more eager. You took him as deep as you could, feeling him hit the back of your throat, your nose brushing against the coarse hair at his base.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his golden eyes fixed on you. “Taking me like that…”

You looked up at him, your lips stretched around his cock, and the sight of his face all flushed, eyes half-lidded, and lips parted in pleasure made you moan around him. The vibration sent a shudder through his body. His hips bucked involuntarily, driving him deeper.

He pulled back before he came, his chest heaving. “Not yet,” he panted.

He guided you back onto the bed, your head sinking into a pillow. He rose over you, his cock nudging at your entrance. He paused, hovering, his eyes meeting yours. “I couldn’t get tired of this view…”

“Me neither.”

He pushed in. The stretch was exquisite, a slow, burning fullness that made you gasp and arch. He filled you completely, inch by inch, until his hips were flush against yours, and you could feel him deep inside, pressing against that sensitive spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. He stayed there for a moment, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed to yours.

“You feel incredible,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “So tight. So perfect.”

Then he began to move in long, slow strokes that dragged against your walls, each thrust a deliberate, loving caress. He set a rhythm, steady and deep, his hips rolling against yours. The angle was perfect with your legs wrapped around his waist, his weight a comforting pressure on top of you.

“Look at me,” he said, and you did. His eyes were burning, not with fire, but with emotion. “I want to see your face. I want to remember this forever.”

You reached up, cupping his scarred cheek, and he turned to press a kiss to your palm. His pace quickened, his thrusts growing harder, more desperate. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts.

He angled his hips, hitting that perfect spot inside you, and you shattered. Your orgasm crashed through you, a wave of heat and pleasure that clenched around his cock, pulling him deeper. He cried out your name as he followed, his release hot and pulsing, filling you completely. He kept thrusting through the aftershocks, slowing only when you both lay trembling and spent.

He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms with a quiet urgency, like even now he wasn’t willing to risk any distance between you. His face found its place in the curve of your neck, his breath warm, uneven at first, then slowly settling as it brushed against your skin. You could feel the rhythm of his heart through the space between you, so fast and insistent, it hadn’t yet caught up with the stillness that had begun to settle around you.

“I…” His voice faltered, softer than you’d ever heard it, the word catching somewhere deeper than his throat. “I love you.”

You smiled, the warmth of it softening through you before you even realized it, your fingers drifting over his chest in slow, absent patterns, tracing the rise and fall of his breath, the steadying of his heartbeat beneath your touch.

“I love you too, Zuko.”

For a while, neither of you spoke.

The candles burned lower, their light steady now instead of restless, the room no longer charged with urgency. His fingers traced absent patterns along your arm, slow and thoughtful, like he was memorizing the shape of you in this moment, in this place that now belonged to both of you.

“Fire Lady,” he murmured after a while, the title quieter than it had ever sounded, as if he was still letting it become something real.

You huffed a small laugh against his shoulder. “That sounds… incredibly official.”

“It is,” he said. “But there’s no one I would rather call that.”

Your hand found his again, lacing your fingers together between you, his thumb brushing over the ring now resting where it belonged.

“…Sokka hugged you before I did.”

You blinked.

“What?”

Zuko shifted enough for you to catch the expression on his face, very clearly not as unaffected as he was trying to seem.

“He called you Fire Lady first,” he added. “And then he hugged you.”

You stared at him.

“You’re jealous of Sokka?”

“I’m not—” he started, then stopped, exhaling through his nose. “I just think the order of events was… incorrect.”

You laughed, the sound warm and bright, echoing in the room. “You proposed to me, Zuko.”

“Yes,” he said immediately.

“And you kissed me.”

“Yes.”

“And then Sokka hugged me.”

He frowned slightly, as though reconsidering the timeline. “That doesn’t make it better.”

“It absolutely does!”

You shifted closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Besides,” you murmured against him, “I think you’ve made your position very clear.”

That earned the smallest hint of a smile from him, the tension finally giving way.

“Good,” he said.

You settled back against him, your head resting just beneath his chin, his arms wrapping around you again without hesitation nor doubt.

Outside, the palace still existed, the council, the expectations, the future waiting to be faced.

But in there, none of it felt overwhelming anymore. Because this time, it wasn’t something he had to face alone.

And neither were you.

Extra.

♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Note: What. A. Journey. This has been. Thank you so much for the overwhelming support on these series, I really appreciate every comment and interaction. I didn’t want to make this longer but damn I love the dynamic created so much!! Bet I will write about engaged reader and you can feel free to picture the lore of these two lol.

I’m planing an extra that can be read as a standalone as a thank you for the support! So I hope you liked this and I hope you like that when it comes out. Xx

And it lingered. Not just in memory, but in the quiet heat beneath your skin, in the faint sensitivity left behind where his hands had held you, where his lips had traced you, like something warm and permanent had been pressed into you, invisible but unmistakable.

You opened your eyes fully, only to find Zuko already looking at you.

Your breath caught, a soft gasp escaping you, and in response, he immediately shut his eyes, feigning sleep with a stillness that might have been convincing- if it had been anyone else.

A quiet laugh slipped from you.

“I saw you were awake, dummy,” you murmured, smiling.

He didn’t move. But he was terrible at pretending.

One eye cracked open, barely visible beneath a loose strand of hair that fell across his face, brushing over his scar, only to close again just as quickly.

You laughed properly this time, reaching up to brush that strand away from his face as you shifted closer. The moment you did, his arms found you, pulling you in without hesitation, and his eyes only opened again once your lips were already his.

The kiss was immediate and deep, familiar in a way it hadn’t been before.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he said quietly when he pulled back, his hand cradling your face.

“You didn’t,” you replied in a soft voice. “And I appreciate it… but I think it’s time we face whatever this day has waiting for us.” You nudged his nose lightly with yours. “I assume the Fire Lord has an entire schedule prepared.”

He let out a slow breath, eyes closing briefly in quiet frustration. “You assume correctly. I don’t even know what it is yet, but I already know I won’t enjoy it.”

You mirrored him, closing your eyes for a moment, wishing, perhaps, the same thing: that the world beyond that room could wait a little longer.

“Although…” he continued, his tone shifting, softer now. His hand trailed from your face down along your side, leaving warmth in its wake until it settled at your waist. “I suppose I could take the day off. If we stay here, and no one knows I’ve been awake, I think it would be entirely reasonable for me to recover after last night.”

“A whole day?” you asked, laughing lightly, though your hand had come to rest against his chest, the memory of him beneath your touch flashing far too vividly for your own good. You exhaled, steadying yourself. “I don’t think Fire Lords get to do that.”

“I’m not like other Fire Lords,” he replied, turning you gently so your back rested against him, your body fitting against his with ease. One arm slipped beneath your head while the other found its way back to you, slowly. “Besides, I’d be using my time productively. Speaking with someone of great importance to all nations…” he added, almost teasing, “like when you come here to discuss ‘strategy’, and somehow we end up talking about whatever Toph did to Sokka on that island.”

You couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest at seeing this side of Zuko, a side that felt like it was only yours. Like your friendship had always been, but now more certain, more confident, and far from just friendly. You were completely taken by it. Without thinking, you pressed your ass back against his already awakened cock, earning a sharp hiss from him as his hand tightened around your breast.

You turned your head just enough to catch him in your peripheral vision, one hand slipping into his hair, fully leaning into the position. “I think half a day without you should be enough.”

“Half a day it is…” he agreed, leaning forward to find your mouth and kiss you.

His hand continued to move over your chest, making your body shift into his, slow and teasing. The feeling of his muscles against you was impossible to ignore. You felt his hand slide away from your chest and down behind you, guiding your body as you parted your legs slightly, the head of his cock brushing against your wet entrance under his direction. A soft moan escaped you.

“May I?” he asked, taking your free hand (the one not tangled in his hair) with the one that had been beneath your head.

“Yes, please,” you replied.

He smiled as he began to push inside you. Your grip on his hand tightened as he did.

Your breath catching as you adjusted to him, the moment stretching as he stretched you so deliciously…

Until you heard a knock.

Sharp and immediate.

You both froze, your breathing uneven and suddenly held.

“—Yes? Who is it?” Zuko called, his voice raised just enough, steady in a way that betrayed nothing.

“My lord,” an attendant’s voice came from beyond the door, formal and urgent, “the envoys from the Earth Kingdom have arrived. They are awaiting you in the audience hall.”

You let out a quiet breath as Zuko exhaled behind you, the frustration clear this time.

“Tell them to wait,” he said, retreating from your entrance. “I will be there shortly.”

“Yes, Fire Lord.”

Silence returned just as quickly as it had been broken.

His lips pressed briefly against your shoulder, his arms tightening around you for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you replied, smiling faintly. “Flameo hotman has duties, doesn’t he?”

He rolled his eyes, though the hint of a smile remained as he finally let you go, rising from the bed to reach for his robes.

“You don’t have to leave yet,” he said, already pulling fabric into place. “Stay. Take your time. Have breakfast in the Great Hall. I’ll join you when I can.”

You hesitated. “Zuko, I don’t think that’s a good idea. The council—”

“Please,” he interrupted, more quietly now, tying his robe closed. “If last night hadn’t happened, you would’ve stayed anyway.”

You considered that, watching him as he dressed, already returning to the Fire Lord the world expected.

“I suppose I would have,” you admitted, shifting beneath the covers. “I am very fond of the jasmine-spiced honey cakes you serve here.”

“Exactly,” he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice as he gathered the rest of his things. “So do that. Act normal. I will too. And then… we’ll figure this out.”

Normal.

You almost laughed.

“Otherwise,” he added, glancing back at you, “I’ll have those blue drinks banned. Clearly, they are a danger to diplomatic events.”

You gasped. “Zuko, that’s low.”

He laughed softly, stepping back toward the bed just long enough to press a brief kiss to your forehead.

“I think you know what to do,” he said, walking towards the door. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

Breakfast in the Great Hall felt almost unreal after the night before.

The long tables had already been arranged with care, attendants moving between them with quiet precision, refilling cups and adjusting plates without ever drawing attention to themselves. Morning light filtered through the tall windows, softening the usual grandeur of the hall into something calmer.

You adjusted the sleeves of your attire as you sat.

It wasn’t yours. You had found it folded neatly in a storage room across from Zuko’s chambers- one of the older garments worn by palace attendants. The fabric was simple, dyed in muted shades of red and gold, the kind meant to blend into the palace rather than stand out. It hung a little loose on your frame, the sleeves longer than needed, the waist not quite fitted, but it was better than wearing last night’s dress again.

Far less noticeable, though not entirely modest.

The neckline dipped lower than you expected, exposing more of your chest than most attendants would likely be comfortable with.

You had taken your place early, perhaps too early. Partly to avoid questions, to gather yourself, and partly because you weren’t about to miss the jasmine-spiced honey cakes.

“I see you have excellent priorities.”

Iroh settled beside you as if he had always been there.

“They’re worth waking up early for,” you replied, reaching for one of the honey cakes. “You should try one! You deserve some compensation for your company yesterday.”

“Oh, I have tried them,” he said, pouring himself tea with unhurried ease. “But I must say… they seem particularly rewarding this morning.”

You paused mid-motion, narrowing your eyes at him.

“They’re always good,” you said, reaching for your tea.

“Of course,” he hummed. “Very restoring, aren’t they?”

You nearly choked on your drink.

He smiled into his cup.

“I trust you slept well,” he added, not looking at you, which made it worse.

“I did,” you answered, far too quickly.

“Good,” he said calmly. “Rest is essential after… long evenings.”

Before you could respond, a shift moved through the room.

Attendants straightened, conversations softened, you didn’t need to look up to know why.

Still, you did.

Zuko had entered the hall, already dressed in full Fire Lord attire. Deep crimson robes layered over black, gold accents catching the morning light. His hair was half tied back into his usual topknot now, the Fire Lord’s crown resting in place.

His gaze found you immediately.

You looked down at your plate.

“I believe your morning has just improved even further,” Iroh said, sipping his tea.

“Not subtle, Iroh,” you muttered.

Zuko approached, his steps measured. There was a pause when he reached the table before he took his usual seat across from you, which, normally didn’t matter as much as it did now.

“Uncle,” he greeted.

“Nephew,” Iroh replied warmly. “You are just in time. We were discussing the importance of a well-balanced morning.”

Zuko reached for food, avoiding your gaze for a moment. “Were you?”

“Yes,” Iroh continued. “Good food, good company… and proper rest.”

Zuko cleared his throat. “I had a meeting, I apologize for my delay.”

“So I heard,” Iroh said. “The Earth Kingdom envoys seemed quite eager this morning.”

“They were,” Zuko replied, pouring water into his cup. “We discussed trade routes.”

“How productive,” Iroh nodded. “And you still made time for breakfast. Very wise.”

Zuko exhaled quietly, already catching on.

“I always make time for breakfast, Uncle.”

“Of course you do,” Iroh said. “I must say… you seem particularly attentive today.”

That made Zuko look up directly at you.

You lifted your tea, pretending not to notice.

“I have responsibilities,” he said, a bit more firmly.

“Yes,” Iroh replied, setting his cup down. “And you are fulfilling them admirably.”

You swallowed your tea, feeling the warmth linger far longer than it should have.

Then, as if deciding something, Iroh stood.

“Well,” he said, smoothing his robes. “I believe I will take a walk before the day becomes too busy.”

His gaze moved from you to Zuko. A small, knowing smile settled on his face.

“Do try not to let your duties keep you from what truly matters,” he added lightly.

Zuko frowned. “Uncle—”

But Iroh had already turned away.

He paused briefly at Zuko’s side, speaking low enough that only he would hear:

“Some choices are easier than they appear… especially when there are fewer people in the room.”

And then he was gone.

The attendants remained, moving quietly, pretending not to notice anything at all.

You focused on your plate. Zuko did the same.

Neither of you quite sure where to begin.

You took another bite, letting the sweetness ground you.

“What are you wearing?” Zuko asked at last, his tone carrying a hint of restrained amusement.

You frowned. “It’s a traditional palace attendant’s robe,” you replied, keeping your voice neutral. “Very proper, by the way.”

He smiled into his cup.

“Maybe,” he said, glancing up at you. “But not very practical. You’ve got—”

He stopped as heat crept into his face.

“What?” you asked, following his gaze.

You looked down.

Crumbs—no, small sticky pieces of the jasmine-spiced cakes had fallen from your plate, clinging to your skin where the neckline of your robe dipped. A bit of glaze had followed, leaving a faint trail that made the whole situation worse.

You tried brushing them off, but they stuck.

“That’s—” you muttered, attempting again, only managing to smear it slightly. “Great.”

Zuko shifted in his seat, clearly trying to help from a distance. “You need to—no, not like that, just—”

“You’re not helpful,” you said under your breath, still struggling with it.

You glanced at the attendants, they’re were pretending very hard not to see.

His gaze lifted, steady and unyielding as it swept across the room, landing on the nearest attendant. “That will be all for now. Clear the hall.”

One of them hesitated, glancing briefly at the others, uncertain.

Zuko stood.

“I won’t repeat myself,” he added, his voice calm, but carrying the kind of authority that didn’t need to rise to be obeyed. “You are dismissed. All of you.”

The response was immediate this time.

“Yes, Fire Lord.”

Footsteps followed in quick succession. One by one, they bowed and made their way out, the doors of the Great Hall closing behind them with a low, final sound that seemed louder than it should have been.

Zuko didn’t look at you right away. He exhaled once, steadying himself, before stepping around the table.

“You’re making a mess,” he said, quieter now, though the edge of authority hadn’t fully left him.

You huffed softly, glancing down again. “I noticed.”

He stopped in front of you, close enough now that the space between you felt… irrelevant.

“Here,” he murmured.

You rose from your seat as he reached for a nearby cloth, his hand brushing yours for a brief moment as he took it. The cloth moved along your collarbone, then lower, pausing for a fraction of a second as he realized exactly where his hand had gone.

“Is it that bad?” you asked, lifting your chin to give him space.

He paused for a moment. “It’s very bad. Very distracting,” he admitted. “It’s all gone now… but your neck is covered in glaze.”

You let out a frustrated sound. “I need a shower.”

“Or…” he said, setting the cloth aside on the table, clearing a space with a quiet intention that made your breath catch before you even understood why.

You did a second later. He took hold of you and lifted you with ease, placing you on top of the table. A small squeal escaped you as your hands instinctively found his shoulders, steadying yourself while he stepped in between your legs.

“What are you doing?” you asked, a laugh slipping through your words, though your heartbeat had already begun to pick up.

His hands moved to the opening of your clothes, fingers slipping into the fabric as he adjusted it just enough. “I’m merely helping you,” he replied. “I’m a great host.”

His lips followed.

Warm, unhurried, brushing first, then lingering as he tasted the remnants left on your skin, the sweetness of the glaze drawing him further, his mouth tracing a slow path from the center of your chest upward.

Your breath caught, your hands moving to his face, holding him there as his lips continued their path, pressing, dragging, until they reached your neck.

“Zuko…” you breathed.

“I find it awfully rude that we were interrupted this morning,” he said, his voice low as he pulled back just enough to rid himself of some of his layers. “I believe we deserve to continue where we left off.” His gaze returned to you. “It’s very reasonable for me to have breakfast with you privately.”

“I believe so too,” you replied, your hands moving to help him, catching his lips briefly in the process, a soft nip that lingered just enough. “You had your meeting, and I’m sure it was exhausting… so naturally, I would stay here with you to discuss it.”

His hand came up to the back of your neck, holding you close, his thumb resting just below your ear.

“Naturally.” And he kissed you like his life depended on it.

Without wasting time, he pushed your attire aside. Your hands came up to his face, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss before drifting down his body, finding his cock already hard. You stroked him, slow at first, and he pulled back just slightly, his lips returning to your neck while one of his hands found its way to your clit, drawing a sharp reaction from you, your head falling back and giving him more access to your skin.

“You taste so good,” he murmured.

“It’s the cakes,” you replied, a hint of humor still in your voice.

He immediately stopped and pulled away.

His cock slipped from your hand, leaving you suspended in the sudden absence, your breath uneven as you tried to understand what he was about to do.

“That’s true,” he said, his tone shifting. “How would I know, if I haven’t tasted you?”

Your breath caught as he lowered himself, kneeling in front of you, your legs parting wider at the guiding pressure of his hands.

“Zuko—” you started, not entirely sure if you meant to stop him.

“I meant it when I said I always make time for breakfast,” he replied, before leaning in.

Your body reacted instantly, your hips lifting toward him as his mouth found you, his tongue moving with a certainty that made it impossible to stay still. The sensation built quickly, deeper, more consuming with every movement, your breath breaking as you tried to contain it.

One of his arms came across your abdomen, holding you in place as he continued, while his other hand moved beneath you, adjusting your position, angling you exactly where he wanted you.

You brought a hand to your mouth, stifling the sounds threatening to escape as he didn’t stop, didn’t slow, his focus entirely on you.

Not when your breath broke, not when your body trembled beneath his hold, not even when your hand failed to quiet the sounds slipping past your lips.

For a moment, nothing else existed.

Not the hall. Not the doors. Not the people who might come looking.

Not even the fact that his next meeting was with the council. Or that, once they were done, you might not be something he was allowed to choose at all.

Part 3.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Your visits to the palace had become frequent enough that the guards barely questioned your presence anymore, and among your friends, you were the only one who never seemed eager to leave. You had seen him in moments the council never would: tired, frustrated, quietly resistant to everything they were trying to force onto him.

Which was exactly why the invitation in your hands felt so… wrong.

Katara had been beside you when it arrived, and her reaction had been immediate. A delighted gasp, followed by barely contained excitement over what she insisted on calling your long-standing crush on Zuko.

A perfectly reasonable- and, you would argue, entirely manageable- crush. Because more than anything, he was your friend.

“Maybe it’s a mistake,” you said quickly, already trying to dismiss it. “My family isn’t noble. We live on the outskirts of the capital. I shouldn’t even be on this list.”

“Or,” Katara countered, eyes lighting up, “he did it on purpose. Maybe he realized he likes you, and this is his way of making it official!”

You huffed softly. “If that were true, he could have just asked me to come. Not… include me with everyone else.”

There was a flicker of something in your voice closer to disappointment than you cared to admit, and Katara didn’t miss it.

She crossed the room in an instant, already digging through your wardrobe before pulling out a garment you hadn’t touched since Ba Sing Se. “Either way, you’re wearing this,” she declared, holding it up with a grin. “You looked beautiful when you tried it on. He’s going to lose his mind! Honestly, I wish I could be there to see it.”

You hesitated, your arms crossing as your gaze settled on the dress you had been saving for an occasion that had never come.

“I’m not wearing that,” you said after a moment. “In fact, I’m not going at all.”

Katara raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just a good friend,” you added.

She studied you for a second, then softened slightly. “He knows I’ll be traveling with Toph to visit Aang,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe he just… wants someone he trusts there.”

You raised your eyebrows.

She stepped closer, gently pressing the dress into your hands. “A good friend wouldn’t let him face that alone, would she?”

You exhaled slowly.

She was persuasive. Annoying, but persuasive.

And, unfortunately, right. Not just about the quality of friend you were.

About the dress, too.

The fabric was a deep, smoldering red, layered with sheer silk that shifted like flame when it moved. Gold threading traced delicate patterns along the bodice (subtle, but unmistakably Fire Nation in design) while the neckline dipped just enough to feel daring without crossing into impropriety. The sleeves were light, almost weightless, leaving your arms free, and the skirt fell in soft, flowing panels that caught the light with every step.

You didn’t belong to the court, but you certainly didn’t fade into it either.

Heads turned as you stepped further into the room, the hum of conversation continuing around you, and standing there, surrounded by a sea of people, you realized… maybe Zuko wasn’t the only one who was going to faint.

He stood across the room, mid-conversation with an attendant, a glass held loosely in his hand.

And spirits, he had never looked like that before.

Zuko was dressed in full Fire Lord regalia, layers of deep crimson and black falling sharply along his frame, embroidered with gold that caught the light like flickering fire. The high collar framed his face, emphasizing the sharp line of his jaw, while the structure of the robes did nothing to hide the strength beneath them- broad shoulders, a straight posture that spoke of both discipline and quiet power. His hair was pulled back neatly, though a few strands had come loose, softening him in a way that made him look less like a ruler and more like him.

Like the boy you knew before he’d redeemed himself, and now the man you couldn’t stop thinking about.

His gaze found you in an instant.

Without thinking, you lifted your hand in a small wave, instinctive and almost private (except it wasn’t). You noticed the women gathered nearby begin to murmur among themselves, one of them smiling as if that look had been meant for her.

If only she knew.

You tried to weave your way through the crowd, intent on reaching him, when the hem of your dress was suddenly tugged back by someone stepping on it.

“Excuse me, I need to speak with the Fire- oh.” The woman turned, recognition lighting her face. “It’s you. Aren’t you… a friend of his?”

“I…” Your eyes flickered past her, catching sight of Zuko already being drawn into yet another conversation, this time with a different woman. “…am. Yes.”

“I thought this event was reserved for nobility,” she continued, her gaze traveling over you with thinly veiled judgment. “Shouldn’t you be off fighting alongside the Avatar or something, instead of trying to fit into places like this?”

Before you could answer, a hand- one you would recognize anywhere- rested lightly on your shoulder.

“Lady Renmei,” Zuko said smoothly, stepping into place beside you. “I wasn’t aware your invitation had been approved.”

She immediately bowed. “It was, Fire Lord, and it is an honor to—”

“In fact,” he cut in gently, though his tone left no room for argument, “I believe it has just been revoked.”

He smiled politely in response to her shocked expression.

“This gathering is not intended for those who lack basic courtesy. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

You had to press your lips together to keep from laughing as an attendant swiftly escorted her away.

The moment she disappeared from view, you turned back to him, your amusement impossible to conceal. You lifted your hand, and he met it with a quick, faintly smug tap. Small enough to go unnoticed by anyone else.

“So this is why the Fire Lord can’t find a Fire Lady,” you murmured. “You charm them straight out the door.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. “If that were true, I might actually be grateful for all of this. I could dismiss them quicker.”

He shifted beside you, his gaze moving briefly over the crowd. “This whole process is exhausting.”

“Have you, though?” you asked, glancing up at him. “Found someone?”

He rolled his eyes- completely undisguised, and very much not befitting a Fire Lord. “Not even close. I never intended to. But they insisted, and I was obligated to at least try, remember?”

“They’re going to be disappointed,” you said lightly. “Good luck with that.”

“Perhaps not,” he replied, quieter now.

You didn’t quite understand what he meant. He had stepped closer without you noticing, the warmth of him unmistakable now, radiating through the space between you.

“I’m glad you came,” he added. “I thought you might leave with Katara and Toph.”

So Katara had been right.

Again.

You took the untouched glass he offered, still warm from his hand. The brief contact sent a quiet spark through you, one you tried very hard to ignore.

“I just thought you might need some support,” you said. “And I am a good friend, aren’t I?”

Zuko stilled.

For a moment, he didn’t respond, as if weighing your words more carefully than they deserved. “I—“

“Fire Lord Zuko,” a nobleman interrupted, stepping forward. “Allow me to present my daughter….”

“Of course,” Zuko replied, the politeness returning instantly, though you could hear the effort behind it.

Before he turned away, he glanced back at you briefly. You dipped into a small, proper bow.

“Duty calls, Fire Lord.”

He nodded before turning away, though you could have sworn there had been something else in his eyes, almost like disappointment.

You drifted toward a quieter side of the hall, where a long table had been arranged with Fire Nation desserts- glazed fruits, delicate pastries, and warm, spiced sweets you had grown far too fond of over the years. Beside them, trays of drinks shimmered under the light.

You paused there, looking over them, unsure.

“You do not seem very happy.”

Uncle Iroh’s voice was unmistakable, even in a room this full as it carried warmth all its own.

You turned instantly, a smile breaking through as you stepped forward to embrace him. He laughed softly, returning it.

“What troubles you, my dear?” he asked, studying you with that same knowing gentleness. “Are you not enjoying the gathering?”

You let out a quiet huff, your shoulders dropping just slightly. “I would… if I could spend it the way I want. With who I want,” you admitted.

His smile deepened, thoughtful rather than amused.

You had known him long enough to trust that look,, ever since those quiet afternoons in his tea shop in Ba Sing Se, where advice had come as easily as the tea itself.

“Don’t you have a tea for this?” you added.

“Oh, my dear,” he said, folding his hands behind his back, “tea can calm the heart, but it cannot decide for it. When your path feels uncertain, it is often because you are standing at the edge of a choice you already know you must make.”

You stilled slightly at that. After a moment, he picked up a glass from the table, filled with a soft, blue liquid and offering it to you.

“But in your case,” he added with a small, knowing smile, “tea may not be enough.”

You took the glass, and the evening seemed to blur pleasantly after that.

Time slipped through your fingers. You danced with Uncle Iroh, spoke with him longer than you meant to, and drank just a little more than you probably should have. The music softened, the laughter grew warmer, and for once, your thoughts stopped circling back to him.

At least… not as often.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Iroh, I shall return with more!” you promised, already stepping away. He laughed, clearly delighted by your company.

You were scanning the room for another tray of that same blue drink when your footing faltered, and before you could fall, a pair of strong hands caught you.

“Whoops!” you laughed, looking up. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your Fire Lordness—spirits! How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while.” Your hands slid to his arms without hesitation. “You look amazing, did you know that?”

Heat rushed to his face almost instantly.

Zuko steadied you carefully, his grip firm but controlled, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what you might do next. He glanced toward a nearby attendant. “Clear the area, tell everyone to leave,” he said quietly. “I’ll handle this.”

“Yes, Fire Lord,” the attendant replied, already moving. “Good luck with your friend.”

“Handle what?” you asked, slipping your arm through his as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Who’s your friend? Have you already chosen someone?”

“You are my friend,” he said, a little more quickly than intended, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked you over. “And what, exactly, did my uncle give you?”

You followed his gaze across the room, spotting Iroh near the drinks, happily waving in your direction.

“A great piece of advice, of course,” you said, as if that explained everything. “You should try it- you look like you need it. Oh! There it is!”

You reached for another tray, grabbing it entirely from a passing attendant before Zuko could stop you.

“You’ve had more of those?” he asked, incredulous now, guiding you gently, but firmly, away from the crowd.

“Yes,” you said brightly. “It’s better than tea.”

“That’s… not reassuring.”

He led you through the edge of the hall, away from the music and the watching eyes, into a quieter corridor lined with warm lantern light. Guards straightened at his approach, but he dismissed them with a brief gesture before opening a set of doors and guiding you inside.

You stepped in—

and stilled.

You weren’t in the gathering anymore. You were in Zuko’s chambers.

The space was quieter, warmer than the rest of the palace, lit by low, steady firelight that flickered softly along the walls. Rich fabrics in deep reds and golds framed the room, but there was something more personal beneath it- less ceremonial and more lived-in. A low table rested near the center, scattered with scrolls and maps, some half-unrolled as if he had left them mid-thought. His armor stood carefully arranged near one wall, not displayed, but ready. And just beyond it, his bed… simple in structure, but softened by layered blankets and dark silk.

You turned slowly, taking it all in, your gaze lingering just a moment too long on the details that felt so familiar, so Zuko.

The quiet click of the door pulled you back. You turned, still holding the tray, and found him watching you. There was something uncertain in his expression, almost disbelieving but warmer than anything he had allowed himself to show in the hall.

“So this is where you rest…” you said, stepping further into the room, your fingers brushing lightly along the edge of a table as you passed. “Very appropriate.”

A small smile found its way onto his lips, and he ran a hand through his hair in an uncharacteristically shy gesture that didn’t quite belong to the Fire Lord.

“I wasn’t sure where else to take you so I could—” he paused, searching for the right words, “—make sure you were alright. Forgive me if this is… improper.”

“Does your chamber have a bath?” you asked suddenly, interrupting him as you turned back, your tone light but earnest. “I really need one. May I?”

He blinked, caught off guard, then nodded, still a little speechless as he gestured toward a door tucked into the corner of the room.

You smiled, placing the tray into his hands before lifting one of the glasses and finishing it in a single motion. “Don’t get rid of these,” you added, already moving. “I love them. You should try one- here!”

You pressed another glass into his hand, ignoring the way he eyed it with suspicion.

“Oh, come on, don’t be boring, flameo hotman,” you teased, stepping backward toward the door. “I expect that glass to be empty when I come out.”

The bathing chamber was warm the moment you entered, the air thick with rising steam and the faint scent of heated stone. Fire Nation design carried through here as well- dark red tiles, polished to a soft sheen, lined the floor and walls, while narrow vents along the edges released controlled heat, keeping the space comfortably hot.

At the center sat a large sunken bath, carved from smooth stone, wide enough to fit several people at once. Thin streams of heated water flowed continuously into it from sculpted spouts, the surface rippling gently under the glow of low lanternlight.

The warmth settled into your skin almost instantly. You exhaled, already beginning to undo your dress, fingers working quickly at the fastenings hidden along the side. The fabric clung stubbornly, resisting your efforts far more than it had any right to.

You tried again.

And again.

A quiet huff escaped you.

‘Please don’t do it. Please don’t do it’, a voice in your mind insisted.

You hesitated for only a second.

“Zuko!” you called, the sound echoing softly against the stone. “Could you—” you paused, then committed, “—come help me, please?”

You weren’t entirely sure he had heard you, so you considered calling again. You weren’t drunk, you knew that, but you were certainly something. Enough to say things you normally wouldn’t, and to let thoughts slip past the careful filter you always kept in place around him.

“What can I help you with?”

His voice came from the doorway.

You turned slightly.

Firebenders… if only the heat affected him the way it affected you. You would have given anything to see those layers gone from him, just once.

“My dress,” you said, turning your body so he could see the fastening along your side. “I need you to undo it. The blue drink isn’t exactly helping.”

A faint pout tugged at your lips.

Color rose to his cheeks almost instantly.

“I—yes—of course,” Zuko stammered, clearing his throat as he stepped fully inside and closed the door behind him.

He approached carefully like each step required more thought than it should have. His hands hovered for a brief moment before finally settling at the fastening of your dress.

Warmth creeped through your body. Not from the room, from him.

His fingers worked slowly, deliberately, undoing each tie with care, though the occasional brush of his knuckles against your skin sent a quiet shiver down your spine. He was focused- too focused on the task, as if looking anywhere else would be a mistake.

Once the dress loosened enough to slip from your shoulders, he stepped back immediately, turning away from you altogether.

“What are you—?” you began, then stopped, understanding settling in. “Oh. Thank you for your help. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

The words lingered in the air longer than you intended. He didn’t move.

“I think I should,” he said after a moment, still facing away. “You’re not exactly steady, and I’d rather not have you slipping into my bath unattended.”

You smiled to yourself, the fabric already on the floor, and stepped into the water.

The heat wrapped around you instantly, sinking into your skin, easing tension you hadn’t realized you carried- but it wasn’t the same. Not like his touch.

Not like the warmth of his hands, careful and grounding, lingering far longer in your mind than it had on your skin.

You exhaled softly, settling into it.

“You can turn around now.”

He did, slowly, as if giving himself time to prepare, and when his gaze finally found you in the water, it faltered for just a fraction of a second. His eyes widened, not enough to be obvious, but enough for you to notice.

You held back a smile.

“I might already know your answer,” you said lightly, tilting your head just enough, “but could you bring me the tray with the drinks?”

He crossed his arms, something amused flickering across his face. “It’s gone.”

“What?” you asked, sharper than you meant to be. “Why?”

“I…” He hesitated, then exhaled. “I drank the rest.”

You blinked.

“You… did?” A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Well. That’s unexpected.”

“I apologize,” he added quickly, though there was a faint hint of ease in his voice now, his hands moving behind his back. “But now that you’ve discovered them, I’ll make sure they’re prepared whenever you visit.”

“They are very good,” he admitted, almost as an afterthought.

“I know,” you said, your laughter softening. “But they help you relax. I’m sure you noticed. Maybe you should—”

You stopped yourself, your hand quickly covering your mouth.

He let out a quiet laugh.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, sinking just a little deeper into the water, as if it might hide you. You inhaled slowly, steadying yourself before peeking at him again. “We’re friends, right?”

He nodded, a small, knowing smile resting on his lips.

“Would it be strange,” you continued, your voice softer now, “if you joined me? It might help. The water is… very nice. And you deserve to rest.”

“We’re friends,” he said after a beat. “We’ve been in the sea together before. I suppose this isn’t much different.”

Before you could fully process his answer, his hands lifted to the fastenings of his robes- only for him to pause.

“I turned around…” he reminded you.

You did so immediately, your back to him, suddenly far more aware than you had been moments ago. You kept your gaze fixed ahead, willing yourself not to turn, not to think too much about the quiet movements behind you such as the soft shift of fabric, the faint sound of layers being set aside.

You didn’t move. Not until you heard the water behind you, a soft ripple followed by a light tap against your shoulder.

When you finally turned, your breath caught.

His silhouette had changed. The weight of his formal attire was gone, leaving only the quiet strength of him beneath the water, the surface breaking just at his chest. His hair, no longer bound, fell freely around his face and shoulders, dark strands softened by the steam.

This time, you felt your cheeks warm.

“Well…” you said, letting out a small laugh, “I suppose the bath works better than the drinks.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “I’m still not convinced those drinks should be allowed in the palace.”

“They should,” you countered, shifting slightly in the water, the movement sending gentle ripples toward him. “They make people honest.”

“That explains a lot,” Zuko replied, glancing at you with quiet amusement.

You smiled, relaxing a little more. “And they’re calming! You needed it. You looked like you were being sentenced, not hosting a gathering.”

“That’s not far from the truth,” he admitted, settling back against the warm stone ledge of the bath. “I think I spoke to at least ten people about alliances I don’t want and futures I’m not planning.”

“And the ladies?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Any of them win you over?”

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Not even close.”

“Wow,” you said lightly. “They’re going to be devastated.”

“I think they’ll recover,” he replied dryly. Then, after a beat, his tone softened just slightly. “You weren’t supposed to be part of that, you know.”

You stilled a little. “Then why am I?”

He hesitated.

“My uncle insisted,” he said. “He said I should invite people I actually trust.” His gaze flickered back to you. “People I would rather see there.”

The words hit your chest in an exquisite way.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he added.

You looked down at the water briefly, your fingers trailing through it. “I almost didn’t.”

That caught his attention.

“Why?”

You shrugged slightly, though it wasn’t as effortless as you wanted it to be. “Because I didn’t want to be… part of a list.”

“You’re not,” he said, a little too quickly.

You looked up at him again, studying him more carefully now. “Then what am I, Zuko? Just a friend?”

He didn’t answer right away.

The water between you stilled.

“Someone I wanted here,” he said finally. “A very important guest.”

You huffed softly, trying to pull the moment back into something lighter. “Well, next time you could just say that. Save me the competition.”

“There wouldn’t be any,” he replied, almost absentmindedly.

You blinked.

“…Zuko.”

He seemed to realize what he’d said a second too late, his gaze shifting, a hint of color rising to his face again.

“I didn’t mean—” he started.

“You did,” you interrupted.

You shifted in the water.

“For someone who didn’t want this whole thing,” you murmured, “you’re not doing a very good job of hiding your preferences.”

His eyes met yours again.

“I wasn’t trying to,” he said.

The words struck you more directly than you expected, like a lightning, leaving no room to laugh them off.

“Zuko, I—”

“Don’t do that again,” he said suddenly.

You stilled, confusion flickering across your face as you found yourself drifting closer without quite realizing it.

“Do… what?” you asked, a note of uncertainty slipping into your voice. For a brief second, doubt crept in… had you misread everything? Had you gone too far?

“Say my name like that,” he interrupted your thoughts, his voice lower now. He stepped closer as well, closing what little distance remained between you. “And before you ask, I mean when you say it like that. Breathless…”

He stopped himself, jaw tightening slightly, as if he had already said more than he meant to.

“It makes me want to—”

He cut himself off.

Your gaze didn’t leave his.

“It makes you want to what?” you asked, softly. “What, Zuko?”

The space between you disappeared in a single movement, his restraint finally giving way as he kissed you firmly. It wasn’t hesitant, but it wasn’t careless either; there was intention in it, in the way he held you and the way he didn’t pull away.

Your hands found his hair almost immediately, still damp, fingers threading through it. The contact seemed to undo something in him, his composure slipping as his hands moved to your sides, finally allowing himself to touch you, to feel the closeness he had been so careful to avoid.

You were already close, but it wasn’t enough.

His grip tightened as he drew you closer, guiding you with him as he lowered himself against the edge of the bath, bringing you with him until you were settled over him, the water shifting around you both.

“Zuko…” you breathed, breaking the kiss.

“Exactly like that,” he murmured, his forehead resting briefly against yours. “You’re not very good at following requests, are you?”

A soft laugh escaped you, light but unsteady, as you leaned in, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek, just at the edge of his scar. He stilled for a moment, caught off guard by the gentleness of it before your hand came up to his face in a quiet reminder that it was only you. He relaxed.

“I am,” you said quietly. “Even more now, I promise. The blue drink made me more… agreeable.”

“Then,” he replied, his voice lower now, steady but no longer distant, “may I request something of you?”

You simply nodded.

“Would you let me touch you?” he asked.

Given the way you were seated over him, the question felt almost rhetorical.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please.”

A small smile curved on his lips as his hand moved between you. “You sound delightful,” he murmured. “That’s a word I’ve never heard from your mouth before…”

You didn’t get the chance to respond.

A sharp gasp escaped you as his fingers found your clit, circling with intention, drawing an immediate reaction from you. Your body sank further onto him, your hands rising instinctively to cradle his face as he leaned back against the edge of the bath.

“Isn’t this trick effective?” he asked, his voice edged with curiosity as his movements grew more precise. His other hand steadied your waist, keeping you from shifting too far. “I don’t hear you talking anymore…”

A breathy laugh slipped from you as you leaned into the crook of his neck. “You are… you—” you tried, your words breaking as his rhythm adjusted, firmer now, exactly where you needed him.

Until he stopped.

You barely had time to react before his lips brushed your shoulder, grounding you again, and then he rose from the water, lifting you with him effortlessly.

“You move your waist too much,” he said, almost thoughtful, as he carried you out of the bath without pause. “I think we should move somewhere more… stable.”

“I’m being carried, so I trust you,” you replied with a small laugh. “Though I’m starting to think this was your plan all along.”

The lightness in your tone didn’t last long.

He set you down gently on the bed, and for the first time, you really looked at him.

Water still traced down his skin, every line of his body defined beneath the dim light- the strength in his shoulders, the firmness of his chest, the way his abdomen tightened with every small movement. There was something almost unfair about it.

“I could really get used to this,” he said, moving over you.

He had barely settled into place when you shifted, pushing him onto his back instead. Now he lay against the mattress, and you were above him, your body still damp, the last drops of water slipping between you.

“Me too,” you answered.

Your hands moved over him starting at his chest, sliding lower, until they reached him. Already hard. You stroked him once, then again, slow enough to feel the effect it had on him as his breath caught.

“You were right,” you murmured. “This trick is… very effective.”

His hands found your waist, gripping just firmly enough.

It was all the invitation you needed.

You leaned down, pressing your lips to his again as your hand continued its slow rhythm, your body shifting closer until you aligned yourself over him. You paused just for a second, before easing down, taking him in gradually.

Both of you let out a low moan at the same time.

You adjusted, your hands moving briefly to push your hair back before settling into a rhythm- slow at first, but with an urgency beneath it that refused to be ignored. The lingering warmth from the drink was nothing compared to the feeling of him inside you, the steady pulse of him making your body respond around him.

The pace didn’t stay slow for long.

The soft sounds of movement filled the room as your rhythm quickened, the contact between you becoming more insistent, less controlled.

“You feel… so good,” he said, his voice strained now, his hands tightening as he shifted, lifting you slightly just to change the angle, his movements growing harder and faster.

“Don’t stop, Zuko… please,” you breathed. “I’m close.”

“How could I even dare?” he answered, his voice strained with his own effort.

The heat of him only seemed to intensify, his skin burning warmer beneath your hands, his grip tightening as he moved with you; matching your pace, guiding it, until it was impossible to tell who was leading anymore.

“You’re so… beautiful,” he murmured against your ear, his voice breaking slightly as his rhythm continued, the sounds of your bodies meeting filling the space between his words. “You always have been…”

His voice, his words, the feeling of him still buried inside you- it all came together at once, sending you over the edge. Your body trembled, your legs tightening as your release hit you.

He held you through it, steadying you, grounding you, before easing you down onto the bed beside him- never leaving you, never breaking the connection between you.

His movements grew uneven, less controlled, until he followed you, his breath catching as he finally stilled.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Only your chests did in attempt to catch your breath.

His hand remained at your side, absentmindedly tracing slow patterns against your skin, as if grounding himself in the fact that you were still there.

You shifted slightly, just enough to look at him.

He was already looking at you.

You leaned in first.

His hand came up to your face almost instinctively, holding you there with gentleness.

When you pulled back, it wasn’t far.

“We’re… very bad at being just friends,” you murmured, touched with the faintest hint of a laugh.

A breath of a smile crossed his lips.

“I think we’ve been bad at that for a while.”

You huffed lightly, letting your forehead rest against his for a moment. “Katara is never going to let me hear the end of this.”

That earned you a quiet laugh from him.

“She already didn’t,” Zuko admitted.

You pulled back just enough to look at him. “What does that mean?”

“She may have said something,” he replied, almost too casually. “About you not just being there for… support.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, though a smile betrayed you. “I knew she was involved somehow. She was very insisting about that dress.”

“I’m glad she was,” he said. “You looked flawless.”

Your fingers drifted lazily over his chest, tracing patterns without much thought. “I don’t regret listening to her. Nor do I do the dress, the drinks, the very questionable decisions—”

“The drinks were definitely a factor,” he added.

You laughed softly. “They were excellent, by the way.”

“I noticed. And I’m glad you don’t regret it.”

You shifted closer again, your head finding a more comfortable place against him, your voice lowering as the weight of the night finally began to settle in.

His arm moved around you without hesitation.

Your eyes began to grow heavier, your body finally giving in to the exhaustion you had been ignoring all evening.

“Don’t let them pick someone else,” you murmured, already half-asleep, your words softened by sleep.

A quiet breath of a laugh left him.

“I’d like to see them try,” he said quietly, his thumb tracing slow, absentminded patterns against your skin as the night finally stilled around you.

Part 2.

𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

“Please don't. I don't think we can survive whatever she considers 'organized' seating…”

Sighing happily, you stepped up to the high mattress and slipped beneath the heavy blankets. You expected the familiar warmth of your husband, but as your feet slid further under the sheets, they brushed against a tiny, solid lump curled right in the center of the bed.

You jumped back.

“Spirits!”

From the deep shadows of the pillows, a little head with unruly dark tufts popped up. Izumi blinked sleepily at you, a triumphant grin breaking across her face.

“Surprise!”

She held up one of her small hands toward the other side of the bed. Without missing a beat, Zuko leaned over and gave her a high-five.

“Zuko!” you breathed, placing a hand over your racing heart as you settled back down. “What is she doing here again? We talked about this…”

“She had that nightmare about the sea pruners two nights ago,” Zuko said. He reached over, his large hand smoothing down Izumi’s messy hair. “I found her wandering the hall and just picked her up. I didn’t think—”

“But it’s the fourth night in a row,” you interrupted, looking between your husband and your daughter. You moved closer, trying to maintain a firm, motherly tone despite how small and sweet she looked. “Izumi, sweetie, you have a large and beautiful bed of your own. Big girls sleep in their own chambers. We established the bedtime rules for a reason.”

Izumi scrambled across the blankets on all fours, wedging her small frame right into your side. She wrapped her arms tightly around your neck, burying her face into your shoulder.

“But my room is too dark at night, Mama… And it’s lonely. Even the shadows look like monsters!”

You looked up at Zuko, silently pleading for backup, but his expression looked rather sympathetic.

“You know…” Zuko started, a sheepish smile touching his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck. “She actually reminds me of someone else who couldn’t handle sleeping alone.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And who would that be?”

“Druk,” Zuko admitted with a smile.

Izumi’s head popped up, her amber eyes wide with sudden curiosity as she sat back on her heels.

“Wait… Druk? But he’s a giant dragon!”

“Not when he was a hatchling,” Zuko said, moving even closer so the three of you were clustered together. “When the Sun Warriors first entrusted his egg to me, he was very tiny. And the very first week we moved into the palace, he refused to sleep in his enclosure. Every single night, I’d wake up because he had snuck into my room, scaled the bedposts, and curled up right on my chest.”

You stared at your husband, invested in the story as much as Izumi was, a smile tugging at your lips.

“You never told me that!”

“Because it was a disaster,” Zuko laughed. “He was breathing tiny sparks in his sleep. He nearly set my blankets on fire three times. I tried everything to enforce the rules…”

“Like?” Izumi tilted her head.

“Like putting him back, closing the doors… but he’d just wail at the threshold until my ears rang.”

“So how did you fix it?” She asked, completely captivated, her hands resting on Zuko's knee.

“Well, I realized he wasn’t trying to be difficult, he was just used to the warmth of the dragon nests,” Zuko explained, his eyes dropping fondly to his daughter. “So, I built him a smaller, cozier nest right beside my bed with heated fire stones wrapped in blankets. I told him he was a noble dragon, and noble dragons needed their own domain to guard. It took a few nights… but once he realized his nest was safe and that I wasn’t going anywhere, he learned to love his own space.”

Izumi looked at you, then back at Zuko, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip.

“Is my room my domain?” she asked in a hesitant whisper.

“The grandest one in the residential wing,” you said, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

Izumi let out a shaky breath. Her small shoulders slumped as she let go of the blanket, untangling herself from the sheets with slow movements. She dragged her feet across the mattress, her head hung low and her lower lip pushed out into a pout.

“Okay…” she said, as she stared at the blankets. “I’ll guard my own domain like Druk. I go back to my bed now.”

She swung her legs over the edge of the high mattress, her small silhouette looking so incredibly fragile in the dim light as she prepared to slide down.

You stared at those small feet, suspended above the floorboards, and a dizzying wave of realization hit you so fast it left you stunned.

‘She was going to jump. She wasn't asking to be carried anymore.’

The thought struck you along with the panic that meant seeing her slipping through your fingers into a big girl's world far too quickly.

Your fingers twitched against the sheets. The strict bedtime rules suddenly felt entirely meaningless… utterly hollow, honestly. And you could make an exception.

“Wait,” you said.

Izumi paused, looking back over her shoulder with hopeful eyes.

From beside you, Zuko turned his head toward you with a curious glance. “What happened?” he asked.

You leaned closer to your husband, your voice dropping to a tender murmur meant only for him.

“I don’t want her to grow up just yet, Zu…”

Turning your gaze back to your daughter, your expression melted into one of your warm smiles.

“How about one last night? You can guard our domain with us, and start fresh tomorrow. You’ve shown you’re a brave princess.”

Izumi’s face lit up.

With a joyful little gasp, she scrambled right back into the center of the bed, throwing herself happily into the space between you both.

Zuko let out a laugh, moving in to close the gap. He slid one arm beneath your neck to pull you close against his side, while his other arm wrapped securely over Izumi's back. You leaned in too, burying your face against Izumi's hair, sandwiching your daughter in a family hug.

“Too tight! I need air!” Izumi giggled, her hands pushing playfully against your shoulders as she squirmed against the tight embrace.

Laughing, you both loosened your grip enough to let her breathe. Izumi didn’t waste time and turned onto her side, rolling over to nestle herself against your chest.

“Mama? Can I—,” she yawned, “have a cuddle while Papa tells the story?” she requested lazily, as the safety of the bed took over.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

You moved to tuck yourself against Zuko’s side, resting your hand over his steady heartbeat while keeping your daughter securely in your arms still between you two.

Zuko pressed a kiss to your temple, his breath brushing your skin before he looked down at your daughter. In a soothing cadence he had mastered, he began. “Long ago, before the Caldera walls were built, there was a sleepy little turtle-duck who lived in the royal gardens, and he had a very important secret…”

note: i looooved this request!! 🥹💕lowkey gave it my own twist but i hope you like it, anon! i felt like writing something cozy to post while i work on some of the heavier emotional requests. xx

It is the present day, and in fact, your 2 year anniversary coming to Capital City and working under Lord Zuko. 

You were sure all the luck you’ve stowed away from your good karma has completely been used up on your developed relationship with Lord Zuko. Of course, you understand and respect your servant/lord relationship with him, but some boundaries have become… blurred. And it is not so much on your end for pushing these lines, but rather Lord Zuko completely decimating them himself. 

It felt like a fever dream, the way Lord Zuko would sneak looks at you during meetings, in which you struggled to be stiff and neutral-faced when he was busy sending smiles your way. He would purposely move around when you brushed his hair, humming every few minutes he felt a knot again even though his hair was completely untangled. And some nights, you’d hear a light tapping against your door just before dawn, and he’d invite you to come to his balcony to greet the sun. When serving his tea, he’d constantly tease you and ask for another cup, knowing the kettle was completely empty and you’d have to fetch more water. 

He drew you in slowly, like an oblivious fish accepting fate in the form of a fish hook. It was hard not to develop feelings, especially for someone as human as Lord Zuko was. He never dared rush you when you folded his freshly washed linens. He said not a word if you took a few extra minutes in fixing his hair, ensuring there was not a strand in sight despite a demanding meeting that preceded him. And he always asked you kindly if he could extra servings of food, never demanding or telling you. 

And it wasn’t like you wanted this. You didn’t intend to get this close to him, and feel the feelings you do. You wanted a life beyond being a tea maker at your parents home. You loved your village, but couldn’t flourish in the safety of its walls. You sought out knowledge, adventure, and diversity. You wanted to experience new herbs and plants, and heal those who need healing. It wasn’t so much that you wanted to be an apothecary– it felt more like destiny. 

And Lord Zuko wanted to make that happen for you. 

Although all of his meetings with the other nobility and military heads rejected his request for an in-palace doctor, he did request for herbs and plants from all over the world be shipped to Capital City. He couldn’t admit the true reason for this, but successfully cloaked it under the explanation that the locals deserved to experience more of the world if they did not have the means to go for it themselves. In the shipments, he almost grabbed a little of everything and snuck them to you in the form of a carefully wrapped towel. 

And it was all worth it, knowing how warmly you tended to him whenever he felt ill. Even the herbalists and apothecaries who were always at the ready questioned Lord Zuko’s impeccable health. 

But today, you were not going to be working too much with Lord Zuko. Chamberlain Minji, in her cold tone, offered for you to take a half day, so you can celebrate your 2 year anniversary in the city. This was a normal occurrence, as it allowed for every attendant to be recognized and appreciated for their service to the Firelord and his nobility. So this morning, when you woke, another Lady in Waiting informed you that your morning and afternoon responsibilities were taken over by another, allowing you more time to rest and enjoy your day. 

“But please let me know if I am needed,” you hum, sitting at the edge of your bed while preparing to strip your night attire. The Lady in Waiting, Rin, quickly waived your worries. She was a bit younger than you, so her energy felt boundless. She snakes her arms around one of yours, her cheek pressing firmly against your shoulder. 

“You need not worry, Sai,” she sings, “you’ve been working too hard– everybody needs a rest day!” 

With how Lord Zuko and you worked together, it didn’t feel like work. Serving him was as easy as breathing now that he long qualmed the nerves and intimidations of the job. In a way, it almost felt like you were being paid just to be an overly-helpful companion to him. It felt like the Gods directly answered your prayers, and removed the weight of true hardship. 

Rin helped you get ready, as occasionally your work gown gives you trouble. It was a beautiful fiery red gown, made with recycled cotton and decorated with gold embroidery. She even gave you a break by doing your hair, feeling tenderly cared for as she gently manipulates your hair into a bun. And with that, the two of you walked down to the kitchen to get your breakfast. And, of course, the chefs were kind enough to prepare you quite a luxurious breakfast in comparison to what you usually had. 

“Oh! But you really did not have to do this!” You exclaimed, looking down at the beautiful plate before you. You sat by the large counter behind the stoves where all the action happened, with the chefs sending you warm smiles while fiddling with the pots and pans. 

“It’s your 2 year anniversary with us,” one of the chefs hum, “this is the least we could do for the work you’ve put in around the palace.” 

The other chef quickly meanders over to you, hands planted down, his face inching closer to yours. He wants to tell me something. You meet him half way, your body leaned in. “We were told to prepare this by Firelord Zuko. He came to us this morning…” The chef confesses it all in a whisper, giving you a teasing smile. 

Though you’ve worked very hard not to be so openly expressive, you felt your ears go hot quickly. Lord Zuko was not only kind and considerate, but attentive. Rumor has it that these anniversaries were a priority to him. He wanted to ensure all of his staff knew how appreciative he was of their service, and for keeping the palace afloat. It was thanks to you all that he was able to do his job as a leader after all. 

But this was different. Most of the staff took notice of how Lord Zuko was with you, and did their very best not to tamper with that fire. It wasn’t really a secret, as you both did not have any relationship beyond what it was now, but there was definitely something that has never been seen before. Lord Zuko was different with you, and that was apparent. 

Rin taps at your arm with her elbow, eliciting giggles from you before the both of you dig into your breakfasts. It was delicious, truly. Freshly made mozzarella, with fresh sourdough, warm and fresh out of the oven. Prosciutto cut and cured, and berries collected just hours ago. Freshly squeezed lemonade also made its way near your plate, with another chef patting you on the shoulder. These were the moments that you indulged in– taking in the appreciation though you felt you did not work as hard as everyone else around. 

“I’m glad to see you awake, Sai.” You jumped at Chamberlain's words. You got to your feet immediately and bowed. Rin followed suit, struggling out of her seat with her own bun loosening from her aggressive bow. 

“Goodmorning, Madam Minji,” you both say in unison. 

Satisfied, the Chamberlain sauntered into the kitchen. “Please, continue your meals.” She checks in with the chefs, questioning them on the breakfast for Lord Zuko and Master Iroh. They informed her of the status, and began plating. She then turns over to the two of you, who shyly ate your breakfasts. She held her hands inside the large sleeves of her grandiose robe, the finest linens dipped in the most expensive dyes and weaved with pure silk. “Sai.” 

You freeze when she addresses you first. You put down your chopsticks and immediately straighten up, “Madam Minji.” 

“Happy 2 years of service with us,” the older woman hums. She does not crack a smile, but there is some warmth in her usual demeaning tone. “We appreciate everything you have done for us, and for our Firelord.” 

For some reason, her praise still made you nervous. You gulped a little too loudly, “th-thank you so much, Madam Minji. I would not be here had it not been for your guidance and everyone else’s support in my training.” 

She nods in agreement. “I’ve assigned you to work in the evening when Firelord Zuko holds his meeting and his nightly requirements. Feel free to enjoy your day however you wish, should it be around the palace or elsewhere.” 

You nod, “thank you very much, Madam Minji. Am I permitted to spend some time in the garden? There are a few plants I’d like to tend to.” 

Madam Minji looks at you curiously, “this is your time off, and you wish to continue working…?” 

You shook your head, “this is something I enjoy doing, Madam Minji.”

She looks at you weirdly and shrugs, “do as your wish. Please make your time in the garden prompt, as we are having important guests over. I do not want them to ask you for service when you are not on active duty yet.” 

You reassured her, “I will make myself scarce.” 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 

After breakfast, you found yourself in the garden, appreciating the warmth of the day, and the bright kisses bestowed upon your skin by the sun. 

Your dress was very generous, as it considers the heat of Capital City and the tedious work you do. It was a sleeveless dress, with ties at the back of your neck and the bottom of your back, just above revealing your rear. But the most vital part of your outfit were the cuffs you were to always wear when operating around the palace and outside of it. They were pure gold cuffs, with symbols indicating your role in the palace and to Lord Zuko. Yours was a symbol of high importance, indicating your role as Lord Zuko’s direct Lady in Waiting. 

As you tend to the plants and herbs, your muscles unconsciously flex into the cuff, causing it to widen a bit to make space for your developing strength. You pull at the weeds troubling the chamomile that you planted, upon Lord Zuko’s request from some time ago. He has not had sleep troubles since the day you cured him of his insomnia. But he believes keeping it handy would be the best, as he was quite traumatized from the lack of sleep. 

The sun was becoming a bit too unkind, as you felt drops of sweat forming on your forehead. You had to make this quick, not only to adhere to Madam Minji’s request, but also needing to keep fresh for your evening shift. As you were working, you heard a few footsteps approach from the open corridors. You turn to meet several pairs of eyes staring at you. But, your eyes quickly find solace when among the ogling eyes was Master Iroh. 

Quickly, you bow and greet the nobility and Master Iroh. “Welcome to Capital City, and Firelord Zuko’s Palace.” You then turn and give a lower bow to Master Iroh, “goodmorning, Master Iroh.” 

With arms folded in his robe, he offers you a kind smile and a curt bow, “goodmorning to you, Sai. I’m surprised it has been 2 years since we first met.” He reaches out for your hand, in which you immediately give to him. He gives it a gentle squeeze, “thank you for taking my offer. You have no idea how much good you have brought to Firelord Zuko and to this nation.” 

“Th-the honor is all mine, Master Iroh!” You exclaim immediately. You frantically bow once more, earning a few chuckles from the other nobles as well as Master Iroh himself. “I count my blessings every night to be here and serve my nation.” 

Master Iroh warms at your words, and proceeds to let go of your hand to gesture to the garden, “what brings you out here? When I went to see my grandson this morning, he was being waited on by another.” 

Your eyes widen a bit. You didn’t exactly realize that you being put off duty meant that Lord Zuko was being attended to by another Lady in Waiting. You would never admit to it, but it did feel like a small prick on your heart. But obviously if you were not attending to his needs, another would have to be there to temporarily take your place. Not that it made it sting any less. 

Before you could respond, one of the noblemen stepped forward, a hand already being offered to you. “Iroh, who is this gem?” You reluctantly give him your hand, in which he presses his chapped, slobbery lips against the top of your hand. A ‘kiss,’ if you would consider it one. 

“Ah, right,” Master Iroh begins, moving a bit to allow all the men to get a good look at you. “This is Lady Sai, Lord Zuko’s direct attendant. I was just praising her, as today is her 2 year anniversary working here at the palace, so she’s been given a break from her duties.” 

“Is that right?” The nobleman who still  held your hand murmured, his eyes feasting upon the sight of you. Before he lets your hand go, the tip of his middle finger grazes up against your palm before falling off by your wrist. “It is wonderful to meet such a hardworking, and beautiful Lady in Waiting. Miss Sai, I am Lord Indra Takeda, part of the Takeda Clan in the northern part of the nation.” He was not a looker by any means, with such unimpressive features, an untamed mane, and muscles that wouldn’t be able to best any random guard at the palace, should you choose one from the bunch. 

The rest of the noblemen continue to introduce themselves, which forces you to remain in a bowing state. But you knew they had remained ogling you, Lord Indra in particular. You knew very little about the nobility of the Fire Nation, since you are not of the noble class nor knew any noble personally. Your family comes from the realm of commoners, names who will not make their way in any historical literature or stories. A nobody, someone who was not meant for those of such higher recognition and worth.  

Especially someone like Lord Zuko. 

“I hear you will be joining us this evening though, Sai,” Master Iroh’s words pop you out of your poisonous thoughts. You quickly return back to yourself and nod intently. “I look forward to it.” He glances at the other noblemen and smiles, “this woman makes quite a cup of tea. I’m excited for you all to try it later today.” 

Lord Indra is the first to express excitement, “from her, I imagine everything is good.” His words dripped in this disgusting hunger, as if you were strictly a piece of meat and nothing more. You bow once again, with a smile that even you felt was unconvincing. But it was enough to elicit nothing more than reciprocated, curt bows. 

You watch as they resume their stride, with Master Iroh explaining the structure of the palace. Still, many of the noblemen looked back at you while attempting to pay attention to Master Iroh’s words. You thought they would be gone, but you still heard their voices present. Looking back, you notice they are just a few steps away, staring at Madam Minji and a few guards enter the garden area as well. It appears one of the guards held something in a loose, burlap bag. 

This was your call to leave soon, as Madam Minji did not want you to interact too much with any of the guests. Clearly you messed up just a bit, but you did not provide any service, so you were technically in good graces. But as you make your way to leave, you noticed the burlap bag being removed, revealing a beautiful flower. 

It was tall, and slowly expanding like a Christmas tree. The top of the flower was this lush green, reminding you of the freshness of the greens on mountain tops untouched by man. When you descend the flower, it offers these beautiful, pink, bell-shaped flowers. But, when you squint your eyes, you notice a particular detail inside its petals: light beige and brown spots, almost similar to the pattern of a snow leopard. You quickly realized what it was, and your mouth quickly went dry. 

You make your way to Madam Minji, feeling yourself already regretting each step as Master Iroh and the noblemen watch. A few of the guards were spectating the land, searching for a good spot to plant this flower. As they did, you went up to Madam Minji, first with a bow of respect. 

Madam Minji was clearly unhappy to see you, but accepted your bow, “Sai, how is the garden?” 

You nod anxiously, “it is good, everything is growing as it should.” Madam Minji accepts your response, and an awkward quietness ensues. But, you bite your tongue and push onto fearful territory. “I came to you to actually ask about this plant.” 

She gestures to the flower beside her, being held by a guard, “this here? One of our esteemed guests brought it as a gift for Firelord Zuko. We will plant it here in the garden for him to be graced by its beauty.” 

You gulped heavily, your nerves skyrocketing. “R-right, and they are ever so lovely,” you begin, struggling to hold onto the little confidence you had at this moment. “B-but, I do believe we should plant this far away from where we grow our produce, Madam Minji.” 

Madam Minji already disliked your response, your heart sinking to your stomach from her glare, “is that so?” She hummed unamused. “And may I ask why?” 

“If I’m not mistaken… this is a foxglove flower,” you say quietly. You halt, knowing you may offend the very noble that brought the plants here, but that’s neither confirmed nor relevant. All you could think about was Lord Zuko’s safety. “This flower is incredibly beautiful, yes, but it’s mostly known for how toxic it is.” 

“That cannot be possible,” Madam Minji attempts to dismiss, putting up a frightful smile before Master Iroh and the guests, “the noble who brought this gift explained this flower was tenderly grown by his wife.” 

“A-and it is extremely beautiful,” you concurred, your hands shaking as they held each other. “But… I fear that the roots of this plant will interact with our herbs and produce… and their toxic properties will go where they should not.” 

You could tell that Madam Minji was beyond upset with you. It felt embarrassing for her to be in this predicament, questioned and bested by a Lady in Waiting much below her status. For a few moments, she looks at you with this stare– it fills you with an uncertainty you haven’t felt in a while. But, she clears her throat, and nods, “Firelord Zuko’s health and safety is of the highest importance. We will bring an herbalist and an apothecary to come and confirm your suspicions of this plant. And for the time being, we will plant this in a pot and stow it away elsewhere.” 

Madam Minji offers a bow to the noblemen and Master Iroh before she and the guards return inside the palace. You knew you were going to be in trouble later, but you couldn’t risk what could happen. Gods forbid that Lord Zuko becomes sick, without knowing the source and correct way to remedy him. You knew you were doing the right thing, but a twinge of guilt hung around your chest. 

Strike one, you thought to yourself. 

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The rest of your break quickly passed, and you returned to your quarters just before the evening to change. Lord Zuko’s meeting was an hour away, and you had to be ready. You change into a proper attendant hanfu attire, with intense red silks wrapping around you and swallowing your body whole. Your curves, dents, grooves, and valleys were completely covered, with the most skin exposed being your hands, neck, and face. 

You rush yourself before making your way towards Lord Zuko’s bedroom. He should be ready by now, but you wanted to get to him before the meeting started. Partially to assist with any last touches and ensure he was completely presentable. But mainly because you wanted to see him. 

Approaching his door, you noticed an increased amount of guards patrolling the entire corridor. It made sense, considering many nobles, both familiar and unfamiliar, were visiting the palace for a necessary meeting on the direction of the Fire Nation and its slow progression in regaining trust from the rest of the nations in the world. 

Gently, you tap against the door, hoping not to startle him. A few moments pass, and he opens his door. 

You were taken aback at the sight before you. The Firelord himself stood tall, his shadow swallowing you up as he looked down at you. He was dressed in his proper attire, one in which you see very little as he spends his time in a robe while within the palace. Dirty red linens covered his arms and legs, with his fiery red vest hanging gently from his shoulders, going down to his knees. All edges of his clothing were ornate with either this shiny gold silk or this black elastic that was tighter against the skin. Though this attire was indeed flowy, it did not lack in highlighting the right places when the garments would stick closer to his body. His eyes illuminated at the sight of you, with a sneaky grin playing at his lips.

What took you out of the trance was a cold little dew drop hitting your forehead. 

Your hand reaches up and wipes away the wetness, trying your best not to laugh, “good evening, Lord Zuko.” 

He also suppresses a chuckle, standing up straight before moving aside, “good evening, Sai. Please, come in.” 

Quickly entering his room, he closes the door behind you and reveals a huge smile on his face. You smile back, finally letting out a small and quiet giggle. “You could’ve at least tried to dry it a little more,” you hum, your smile unrelenting from the sight of him. “It’s going to make it difficult to do your hair well.” 

Lord Zuko nods, grabbing his towel and offering it to you, “I trust you will be able to manage.” 

You set up a chair, having Lord Zuko take a seat so you can give it a good drying. As you did, you two were finally able to have a conversation. “How was your day today?” You begin quietly, both hands utilizing the towel to gently rub against the sides of his head, attempting to dry as much of his jet black hair as you could.”Any important updates for me?” 

“It was… long,” he admitted quietly. You glance over to see him twiddling his thumbs, almost as if he was anxious. “I knew today was going to be heavy, considering everything scheduled, but it still felt long, and it’s still not over.” 

You nod stoically, “I’m sorry, Lord Zuko. Is there anything I can do to make your day feel lighter?” 

He nods, careful not to move too much so you can do his hair well. “You’re here now. That is enough.” Whether he knows it or not, Lord Zuko was a charmer. His words, so simple and quick, made your heart melt. Without you realizing, you had slowed your massaging against his hair. 

“It sounds like my absence was against you today,” you lightly joke, hastening your pace once more. This hair was not going to do itself. 

His thumbs twiddle a bit quicker now, with his knee bouncing up and down. “I did not think it would, considering I asked for your break to be done and honored.” He clears his throat, “I wanted to make sure your 2 year anniversary here was special, despite how much I rely on you now.” 

You had to stop your thoughts from going places it shouldn’t. But his words were playing a very dangerous game with your feelings, whether he realized it or not. “Thank you very much, Lord Zuko. The breakfast was very delicious, and I had a nice time in the garden. I’m glad to be of use to you.” You grab a nearby hairpin and begin to divide his hair, tying the upper half up with the pin. With the towel, you focus on drying the bottom half first to quicken the process. 

“I would have given you the entire day, but,” Lord Zuko’s voice trails off, with what sounded to be an embarrassed chuckle following it. “I need you for events like this. Forgive me for my selfishness.” 

You remained silent, getting to his top half of hair and ensuring a good enough dry to start styling it. You take a few moments to gather yourself as the threat of becoming putty was imminent.  “I will always be readily available to serve you, Lord Zuko. Until the day you decide you no longer need me.” His hair smelled of mint, and was extremely soft to the touch as it slid between your fingers. 

“That day will be when I die,” Lord Zuko jokes. 

“Then I will add a long and prosperous life for you in my prayers,” you coo, a giggle proceeding your half joke. “Then I’ll be able to serve you until I’m old and decrepit.” 

“Is that right?” Lord Zuko laughs at your words, his raspy voice so warm and lively. “That can’t be right, considering many of you ladies anticipate meeting a noble to retire you from the work of this palace.” Somehow, Lord Zuko dampens his mood from his own words, clearing his throat once again. “I’m… sure you are counting the days yourself.”

You quickly kick Lord Zuko’s words to the street, “sure, if I came from nobility. I come from poverty, from a surname unknown. Marriage and a comfortable life is not a right for me.” You did not mean to stir the conversation to such a harsh topic, but it was the reality. Women like you are only so lucky if, at bare minimum, your beauty can compete on the plate. “But who knows?” You break the silence, making your voice more light hearted. “Perhaps someone will take pity on me.” 

“Should any man be so lucky to court you,” Lord Zuko begins, his voice dry and somewhat stern, “he will need to present an irrefutable argument to take you from me and this palace. But understand this, y/n: I will never permit you to accept anything less than what you deserve. Marrying you will be an honor, not a pity.” 

You blush, but focus on doing his hair. You force your head to be filled with his meeting, and nothing more. Lord Zuko is not careful with his words, and you are someone who lets their thoughts run loose and careless. “You think too highly of me, Lord Zuko,” you struggle out, your words each dipped in a pool of timidity. 

“I heard one of my gifts had to be sent back,” Lord Zuko hums. A fortunate change of conversation for you. “Madam Minji informed me that the standby herbalist and apothecary confirmed that the gift was dangerous, and was relocated far from the palace grounds.” 

You play the oblivious game, “is that right? Good that it was caught before it was accepted into the soils of the palace.” You brushed the back of his hair enough, moving more upward to prepare his bun. You were careful not to pull too hard, as you learned that Lord Zuko was a bit sensitive in the scalp. He used to quietly hiss, holding in his pain rather than letting you know and making you worry that you’ve harmed him. 

“Whoever caught it is quite an asset to this palace,” Lord Zuko coos, his tone confident in who he was giving the praise to. “It’s not every day you have such an astute and observant attendant, especially when they are off-duty.” 

There was really nothing that could get past him, huh? You smile widely, finishing his bun before walking over to his bedside table to retrieve his crown. He watches your movements, his hands fidgeting a little more than before. He’d never admit to it, no, but you made him anxious. Having you alone with him in his bedroom, it was an unfair concoction that triggered indecent thoughts. That all said, Lord Zuko would never force himself, despite his position and power. 

“Stay still for me,” you say quietly, walking before him with the crown carefully held in your hands. He looks up at you in a daze, his hands now firmly on his lap as he allows for you to enter his space. Your scent entered his air, and the floral smells of jasmine and lavender intoxicated him. Thank spirits you were so covered up, because the proximity of your chest from his face would have posed a serious problem. 

You gently push the crown down onto his bun, carefully pinning it through the open space between his locks to ensure it stuck and stayed. “So, do I look like the Firelord again?” Lord Zuko joked. 

“Crown or not, you will always look and be the Firelord,” you hummed, slowly pulling your hands away. “Alright, now stay still for me. I need to fix your hair in the front…” You squat just slightly, your face now directly facing his. Since you were locked in on doing his hair, you couldn’t quite share the mutual feelings of anxiety that Lord Zuko had been feeling.

Once your face was just inches from his, he could feel his heart threaten to escape his chest. He stared at you good and well, seeing how soft and supple your cheeks looked. Your lips, too, were a shade of pink that tempted him a little too much. Your eyes, those beautiful eyes, inebriated him before he’s even had a sip of wine. He felt guilty to stare at you in such a way, but he’d be damned not to appreciate such a lovely woman that stood before him. 

He watched your hands work, with strands of hair being moved and adjusted according to how it would best make him look. Lord Zuko felt bursts of electricity when your fingertips accidentally touched his face. He was grateful for how seriously you took your job, considering he was actively melting before you. Once you finalized where his bangs sat, you straightened up once more and took a few steps back. He already longed for your closeness, but could only look up at you, eyes seeking your approval. 

“Hmm,” you hummed, your eyes scanning his hair. As you did, Lord Zuko had been busy in his thoughts, pining for your touch once more. Please find a problem, he begged in his mind, please touch up my hair again. Then, his prayers were answered as your hand found its way to his chin, gently pushing it up to get a better view of how his hair settled. “Excuse me for touching you like this, Lord Zuko,” you shyly mutter, “I just want to make sure you look your absolute best for this meeting today, considering its importance.” 

He was frozen, but quickly coughed and came back to his senses, “I am in your care. I trust you to make me look presentable.” You smile, accepting his consent as you continue to gently move his head around. His hair, albeit still wet, was behaving exactly as anticipated, each strand remaining within the waterfall that was his long, black hair. “It is still wet, but I think it will dry well. You are ready now.” 

You let go of his chin, a feeling that Lord Zuko already learned to miss. So much so that he catches your hand in both of his own, goosebumps bouncing from your skin from his sudden warmth. His large hands completely engulfed yours, losing complete sight of it in his hold. He looked up at you, those amber eyes the most gentle and welcoming you’ve ever seen them. “Thank you, y/n, for everything you do for me.” 

You force down a gulp, hoping your cheeks weren’t as flushed as they felt. Tucking in one of your hairs behind your ear with your free hand, you could only nod. “I… I live to serve you, Lord Zuko. Whatever you need will be yours, should it be within my abilities.” 

Lord Zuko was surely to burst if he remained in this room with you. He needed to get out, before his thoughts caught up to his physical body. He quickly stands up, letting go of your hand in the process. You were now looking up at him, your heart skipping a beat or 10. “Alright, I think I’m ready now.” 

You nod, “I must leave you now. I have to help my fellow ladies bring in the food and a few other things. I have to prepare the tea as well.” 

Lord Zuko nods, “anything special for the tea tonight?” 

You look up, smirking at him, “it’s a surprise. But should you command it, I can ruin the surprise, Lord Zuko.” 

He immediately raises a hand to your face, hiding the smile that you got out of him. “Nonsense,” he quickly dismisses, “keep your secrets. I imagine the less I know, the better it’ll taste.” He begins to make his way to his door, his large hand hanging on the handle. “I will see you at the meeting.” 

With that, you were all alone in Lord Zuko’s room. You let out the biggest sigh, sorting yourself from the potential delusional tension you may have made up in your head. Your body moves swiftly, cleaning up his quarters before leaving them. As you did, you couldn’t help but feel giddy. You felt a little too good with your relationship with Lord Zuko, especially considering the strong feelings that have long brewed for him. 

Little did you know that your good mood was going to leave quickly, and be replaced with trouble you’d never thought you’d be in. 

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In your first year of serving the Firelord, you realized quickly you came in with the wrong expectations. 

The opportunity to move out of your parents’ home and work under the Fire Nations leader felt like it required you to completely refine yourself. Sleepless nights were spent practicing the best etiquette, and practicing how to address Firelord Zuko and the nobility in front of a mirror. You had your mother teach you how to do a proper bun, enduring no hair was loose or hanging. Your father was being driven to insanity with the way you paced around the house, relentlessly creaking from the wooden floors as you served your parents dinner using a tray or platter. You couldn’t afford to be anything short of perfect, as serving the Firelord himself was not a common gift. 

Master Iroh was confident in your abilities, and vouched for you immensely the very night you two first met. You never thought that serving tea would make you the perfect candidate to serve such a significant individual, but even the Firelord looked pleased when you served him his own cup of tea. Since then, the Firelord had sent multiple Fire Nation guards to assist you in your packing and moving, and you were just a ship trip away from your new life as the Firelords direct attendant. 

When you were welcomed to the palace, you stumbled upon your first obstacle: navigating it. The open corridors were one thing, as they felt like they multiplied while going in and out of the seemingless endless structure. You understood that this is the home of the Firelord, but was it necessary to be this massive? Within your first year, you had lost quite a few pounds just by moving around the palace alone. That does not account for the rest of the Capital, which was an animal in its own right. 

That all said, the palace was beautiful. In the outside leisurely areas, trees were ornate all over, bearing the heartiest fruits and berries you never imagined could have grown in such a hot island. Flowers made themselves known between the strips of grass and weeds, dancing when the wind gave them the chance. Inside the palace was draped in the finest red linens, with dark oak furniture complimenting its garnet cushions and bamboo-made stools. The bedrooms and bathrooms were luxurious, even for the staff. Each had their own bath, with a few lucky rooms having a balcony to look out at the vast ocean that surrounded Capital City (you being one of the lucky residents to have such a room). Though you spent little time in the kitchen, you knew the chefs had lucked out, considering how large it was, and all the utensils (pans, pots, you name it) were made with the purest and most expensive metals in the world. 

Next, you were quite intimidated by your fellow attendants, who honed their craft for years– long before your arrival. They trained you on things you had already been training yourself on, but they also were anything but intimidating. They were warm and welcoming, with one of them offering their personal scroll, which contained a map of the palace. She didn’t know what to do when you fell to your knees and bowed down to the ground before her. Everyone had been nothing less than sweet and kind, showing you how the Firelord enjoyed his tea, how to prepare his bath and following him during meetings and vital activities like visiting the locals in the city and notating what could be better according to the locals. It was difficult, but you were grateful to your teachers and for the attendants who worked in your place before you were ready to assist the Firelord yourself. 

But, this also meant that you have not interacted with the Firelord since the day you had met and been recruited. Anxiety has a way of building up, like a dormant volcano ready to blow. It rose in levels, threatening to explode at any given time. Unlike many people, it was not his scar that triggered your nerves. Rather, it was his eyes that made you feel so small. They were always calm, despite the stoicism that resided in them. They study you, learning you before you even introduce yourself. You feared any change in eyes, and whatever judgement that would come suit and make you crumble.

Then the day came: you were ready to start attending to Firelord Zuko. 

In the present time, you could recall this time and laugh it off. But in your first year, and on your first day, you learned something extremely crucial: Firelord Zuko is not the person you thought he was. You adjusted your expectations based on his fathers reign, and the years of trauma and violence brought about by him, both to the other nations and to his own. But, you unfairly assumed who Firelord Zuko is based on the monster Firelord Ozai was. 

On your first day, the tea set in your tray rattled from the shakiness of your hands. Without you knowing, Firelord Zuko had an amused smile on his face before dismissing it and awaiting your entrance. Embarrassment was at its peak, with the tinks and clinks sounds only making it worse. But, you enter the throne room, which your feet quieter than the tray in your hands. You stop just a few steps away from the entrance and bow, awaiting for him to accept you in. 

“You can come, don’t worry,” Firelord Zuko’s raspy voice sounds, a mixture of seriousness and warmth in his tone. He doesn’t look up at you, as his eyes are invested in the scrolls on his desk. The throne room was immensely different than the picture books of your childhood. It was still massive, yes, with curtains and the Fire Nations symbols ornate all about the walls. Tall pillars still held the high ceilings, and the large dragon mural behind the throne remained, intimidating and whole. But, Firelord Zuko was not at his throne. 

He had a table set up at the bottom of the stairs, with sitting pillows filed into rows right before the throne. Rumor has it that he was not a fan of the negotiation room of the palace, seeing that it has not been used since Firelord Ozai. Supposedly he considered changing the throne room as well, but found it unnecessary for that work to be done. 

As you walked up to him, you couldn’t help but distract yourself by his presence. He was not doing anything, simply attending to his duties as a leader, but there was something else there. His long, jet black hair poured down his shoulders and back, with a few strands at the front of his face as he leaned over to read the scrolls. Even his bun was undone, as you noticed his crown at the seat of the throne behind him. His body was swallowed up by his usual opulent attire. Silk and linen robes with gold lined at the edges of his sleeves, with burning red cloth taking over a majority of its make. You were used to him in his usual armored attire, but it made sense for him to be more comfortable while he was in his own home without any plans to leave the palace. 

You finally make it before him, the sound of his quill scratching down at the scroll he was working on. Capital City was quite modernized, and you learned this quickly with the advancements they have made to serving trays. The tray with the tea set was made of a very strong porcelain, which allowed its engineers to install a small burner inside of it. You made use of it quickly, illuminating the burner by the fire at the tip of your finger before seating the kettle on it. You begin to prepare his tea, gently pulling at the herbs, and studying them for any signs of weakness or early decay. 

Preparing two cups, you walk up to Firelord Zuko’s desk, and return to your knees once more. You put down his saucer, sit his one cup on it, and arrange a few sweetener options and slices of lemon to adjust to his preferences. You return back to the tray, and lift up the second cup. You hear him behind you lift up his own cup, in which you quickly turn and quietly speak, “wait a moment, Firelord Zuko.” 

He looks up at you then, curiosity striking his pupils. You go up to him, returning to your knees before his desk, and bring your cup to your lips. You shyly give it a few blows, as the piping hot steam would be unforgiving to your tongue if you took a sip now. After a few blows and whiffs, you take a sip. You still grimace, as it was steaming hot tea after all. You hold the cup down, just hovering above your lap before you bow again, “you may drink it now.” 

His eyes look up at you, studying you. You could feel your cheeks go warm, but you were very ready to use the hot tea as an excuse. His eyes scanned you, seeming to be in search of something unbeknownst to you. “Did the others teach you this?” Firelord Zuko asks. He was not angry, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

You hesitate before answering, “y-yes, that is correct…” 

His eyes burn into yours, and you feel yourself inches closer to a heatstroke. “Feel free to forget that lesson,” he says simply, sitting upright in order to take a sip from his own cup. “I trust everyone who serves the Fire Nation, and that includes you.” 

Reticence overwhelms you, and you are not sure who to listen to. The attendants who have tenureship in serving Firelord Zuko, or the very man you were assigned to attend to directly. “...are you sure, Firelord Zuko?” You feel the heat of your tea getting a bit too hot in your hand. 

He downs the tea whole, disregarding its heat completely. He shamelessly wipes his mouth, his hand dragging against his lips. He nods, “I’m sure. I promise you won’t get in trouble. My father ran this nation with fear, I will run this nation with trust.” You felt a smile crawl at your lips, but did your best to keep them straight. After all, you were working. 

“Of course,” you hum with another bow, “thank you very much.” As you straighten up again, you eye his now empty cup. “Was the tea to your liking?” 

He nods promptly, “it was, thank you.” 

“Would you like another cup, Firelord Zuko? The kettle is still hot.” 

He then looks up again, giving you an expression that makes you feel… uncertain. You couldn’t even meet his eyes, considering how intense they were. “I will have another cup… but I have another request.” 

You nod eagerly, “please, let me know what else you need.” 

“Please stop calling me ‘Firelord Zuko,’” he begins, putting his quill down into the small cauldron of ink. You could hear a twinge of annoyance, but he quickly puts a stop to your insecurity, “it is not your fault, so do not take any offense to this. You can just call me Zuko,” he hums. 

You put your hand up immediately, “absolutely not.” 

He was astonished by your quick and monotone reaction. He lets out a light hearted scoff, his lips itching to curve upward, “oh?”

“Madam Minji would have me packing and on my way back to my village,” you explained, your response coated in light fear and worry. “I can work on the lesson you would like me to reverse, but I do not believe this request is negotiable.” 

Madam Minji was the Chamberlain of the Palace. She managed the entire staff, including every Lady in Waiting. Though she did not have much hand directly in your training, all of the lessons taught were refined and cemented by her. She was not rude by any means, but strict and ‘by the book’ was embedded in her DNA. There was her way, or no way. 

His eyes widened, but not in disappointment or negative shock. It was actually very energizing to engage like this, especially with all the stress that was mounted on his shoulders at the moment. There are quiet days, and then there are days like this where Firelord Zuko has so much work, he can’t even have a few minutes to take a break. His people were relying on him, and his biggest fear was to not deliver to the very people who support him and allow him his power. 

He finally caved, and let out a soft laugh. He tries to cover his mouth with one of his large hands, but they still escape through the crevices between his fingers. At this moment, Firelord Zuko had a warmth in his pale complexion. He looked and sounded like a completely different person. You were taken aback by his reaction and quickly rushed to the kettle to prepare another cup of tea. He notices this and calls out to you, “don’t dirty another cup– come, take mine.” 

You oblige, retrieving his cup to prepare another cup of tea for him. “Um,” you start, your hands nervously picking at one of the herbs. “Is there maybe a different way for me to address you? Perhaps I can work on that, or… an alternative…” Words quickly escape you as you go quiet. Your nerves were getting to you, delirium threatening your eyes. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to do that for him– you don’t think you can. Not only was your job at stake, but also your mind.

He was amused, and wanted to lean in it a bit more. He was enjoying this, not so much for messing with you, but for also allowing him the break away from his obligations. “Remind me your name again?”

You didn’t want to be offended, and truthfully shouldn’t be. He works with other nations constantly, meeting new faces almost daily. And considering today was your first day actually working with him, your name was insignificant. “My given name is y/n, but my parents and the people at the village know me as Sai.” 

“Sai?” His voice repeats your name so easily, like butter melting under heat. “Why were you given another name?” 

You add the peeled herbs into the cup, and begin to pour the scalding hot water inside. With your bending, you turn off the fire of the burner completely, and set the kettle down once more. “It comes from the full word, Fasai. My father says its a name from old tongue, but it translates to ‘bright sky.’” 

“Bright sky…” Firelord Zuko repeats after you, his breathy voice making the name sound like clouds. 

“When I was younger and learning how to control my bending, my parents noticed that my fires would not quite turn off,” you hummed, looking down at the palms of your hands. “Whenever my parents would turn off any of the fires I caused, the smoke would continue, hours after it had been shut off.” 

He was allured by you, latching onto your words like a leech. His silence broke you out of whatever trance you were in, and you quickly fixed yourself. You stood back up and offered the refilled cup of tea to Firelord Zuko, who gently took it from you. “I apologize for rambling off there,” you quickly spew out in your bow, “let me leave you so you can resume your work peacefully.” 

As you rush to retrieve the tray to bring back to the kitchen, Firelord Zuko calls out to you, “Sai.” Butterflies take over and tickle your stomach, your nickname sounding like a dream in Firelord Zuko’s voice. “Why don’t we try just Lord Zuko?” 

“Lord Zuko?” You repeat after him, your voice just barely a whisper. 

He nods before giving you a curt, toothy smile, “there is only one Firelord, right? There’s nobody else you would be able to address that to, so no need to say it.” 

You return the smile and nod, “I suppose that is true… Lord Zuko.” You stammer, but you at least give it a go. “I will work on this as well, but please do not tell Madam Minji.” 

He lifts his cup of tea, eyes glued back to his work, “your secret is safe with me, Sai. Though, I will say,” he begins, stopping you in your stead once more, “we may need to discuss reassignment options.” Oh? 

You shut your eyes in horror, and open them again to face your fate, “re…assignment?” You just started and now, it was to end just as quickly. 

“If your fire was so potent at such a young age,” Lord Zuko begins, a charming smile forming at his lips, “I can only imagine how strong your bending is now. We could use a firework like you to help out in other areas of the nation.” He noticed the anxiety in your eyes and quickly waved at you, “‘m joking, promise. Thank you for the tea, Sai. Please feel free to have a meal and come back to me after.” 

And that was the highlight of your first day with Lord Zuko. 

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Many months have passed since your first day, and the working relationship between you and Lord Zuko progressed quite well. This memory here, you hold quite closely. 

Formalities dropped like flies between you two, as you did not need to bow so much before him, nor be invited/welcomed in while he worked. Lord Zuko was so used to your presence, and would tell you otherwise if your service was not needed (a very rare occurrence). Tea would be done right beside him, as opposed to many feet away from him, as he enjoyed taking a break to watch you make him his cup. You would join him on strolls around the palace, with him silently reading scrolls while you collected some of the fruit from the trees. He found solace in seeing you content when tagging along. Of course, this was still a servant/lord relationship, and you would never address him as Zuko, despite his multiple requests. 

This transformation in your relationship was very apparent, and many other attendants would poke at you, gushing at something that is not there. You constantly had to dismiss those comments, popping dreams and crushing thoughts of things never to be. But even you couldn’t deny Lord Zuko’s playfulness when it came to you. Even so, you’d never give your fellow Ladies-in-Waiting the satisfaction. 

But, tragedy struck: Lord Zuko became ill.

And not the ill he could tolerate, like a cold or fever. For 2 weeks, Lord Zuko has been having issues with his sleep. You didn’t catch on initially, as he always downplayed his exhaustion to just “being very busy.” And he acted lively, still making jokes from time to time while offering that smile that could melt hearts and souls alike. But, finally, the day came that you noticed his insomniac state. 

When entering the throne room with a plate of cut fruit, you couldn’t help but notice the bit of gray finding home under his eyes. In the time that you walked up to his desk, Lord Zuko had signed twice. But, when you walked up to him, he did not move his head or make a sound. The tip of his quill tapped down at one part of the parchment, as if he was stuck on a sentence. But he twitched before looking up at you, a bit of fright in his eyes. 

“Ah, Sai,” Lord Zuko greets you quietly, his chapped lips forcing a curt smile, “I didn’t notice you come in.” 

You try your best to be casual, not harping on his reaction, “if this was months ago with a tea set, you would’ve heard me from a mile away.”

His smile remained, and he put down his quill to reap the chance of a break. He quickly clears the scrolls on his desk, and allows you the space to put down the platter of fruit. You had each fruit stabbed with a bamboo stick, to his preference. You took a seat on one of the seat cushions, one that Lord Zuko intentionally placed beside his desk for you to sit. He was not a fan of you just standing idle and waiting for his next command, so this was the reached compromise. 

Then, it finally dawned on you. He said not one word to you, nor took any action on the plate of fruit you put before him. His jet black hair, which was quite shiny from the oils collecting in it, hid his face. But, when you leaned closer, you noticed his eyes were wide and fixated onto the fruit platter. There was nothing really in his expression, he appeared… distant. 

You gently tap at the corner of his desk, hoping not to startle him, “Lord Zuko?” 

He jumps a bit again, but immediately turns over to give you a reassuring smile. “Sorry about that,” he says quietly, his usual raspy voice replaced with a harsh hoarseness. “I’ve been out of it lately.” 

You frown, “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I could do?” 

He tried to waive your concern when he took a piece of fruit and stuffed it in his mouth, but getting a good look at him, his eyes were dim. It was like a bit of life had been sucked out and decimated. And with how shaky and reactive he’s been, it was clear there was something very wrong. “The fruit is quite fresh,” he hums, taking on a piece of pear. “Was this from the batch you picked today?” 

You let him have this dial, “it is. I made sure the chefs used the fruit from today since they were plump and seemed quite juicy. Are they good?” 

Lord Zuko nods, his sharp jaw moving up and down from his chewing, “there’s a bit of bitterness to it, but I like my fruit a bit bitter.” 

You decide to bite the bullet and ask, “Lord Zuko, are you feeling alright?” 

He halts, chewing and swallowing down whatever piece of fruit he had in his mouth. He twiddles the bamboo stick between his fingers, his face suddenly pensive. There was a hesitance, as air hitched in his throat. Words wanted to come out, but there was something stopping him. But when he glances over at you, the amount of worry on your face was palpable. It confirmed his decision to confide in you. 

“Admittedly, I haven’t been sleeping,” Lord Zuko hums, a frustrated sigh following his words. “I think all the work load and responsibilities have finally gotten to me.” 

You pout a bit, “have you been waking up in your sleep?” 

“I haven’t slept at all,” Lord Zuko clarifies, “I lay in my bed and stare into space until the sun comes back up. It’s been killing me, but nothing has been working.” 

Night has already begun in Capital City, and all the servants have turned in for the night. Being that you were Lord Zuko’s direct assistant, you were only done with your service for the day when he dismissed you. You look at him, and see the exasperation in his face. He just wanted to rest, and couldn’t. You knew the body was complex, but it was unfortunate how complicated it could get. 

“You might be overworked, Lord Zuko,” you suggest quietly. “It is not easy to lead a nation, but you cannot work so hard that you make yourself sick. Turn in early for tonight, and I will prepare a remedy for you.” 

“A remedy?” He questions, looking over at you curiously. You nod, hoping he wouldn’t keep staring at you with such hopeful eyes. It would break your heart to disappoint him and those wonderful eyes. “Alright, I’ll let you have a go.” 

You nod, “I will clean up here and return to your quarters shortly." 

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After returning the fruit platter in the kitchen, you quickly prepare a tea set and rush over to Lord Zuko’s corridor. You did make a stop at your room, retrieving some items in your personal stash that may assist your lord. Gently, you knock against his door, getting an invitation in right away. This would not be the first time that you have been in Lord Zuko’s bedroom, considering you cleaned his sheets, clothes, and prepared his baths almost daily. But, you still felt just a twinge of shyness from being in a gentleman's bedroom. 

He was sitting at the edge of his massive bed, his head hung low. You noticed he switched to his bedroom slippers, and had his candles on rather than the lights. This might be that the gaslights were too bright, and he might be getting a bit of a headache if he doesn’t already have one. You close the door behind you, and meander your way to his bed. You place the tray on his bedside table, and grab a stool nearby. Placing it right before him, you look up and immediately freeze. 

His usual robe, which was always tied tightly and covered his body completely, was now loosened, revealing his collarbones and his upper torso. Just the tease of his abs made you anxious, but it was the way that you could see his toned chest heave with every breath, his warm ivory skin slightly shiny from light sweat. It was summer for the Fire Nation, so the heat was just one level above bothersome. 

Forcing your mind out of the gutter, you quickly set the burner aflame, and get the kettle started. “I wish I caught onto your condition earlier, Lord Zuko,” you say lamentably. You grab your personal stash of herbs and begin to shred them with your fingers. Zuko, with a hand covering his face, stares at you through the holes between his fingers. You playfully glare at him when meeting his eyes, “or you could have said something.” 

“I’m sorry I don’t take care of myself well,” Lord Zuko hums, “too much happening, and I can’t put myself as a priority right now.” You can tell he was frustrated, as he let out more frustrated sighs. 

“The Fire Nation cannot be without a leader,” you remind him gently, your fingers gradually pouring the minced herbs into your tea cup. “If we don’t have you, we have nothing, Lord Zuko. Remember that whenever you fall ill like this.” 

Warmed by your words, he joins his fingers together to cover his face entirely. He didn’t want you to see how touched he was by your kind and genuinely refreshing advice. “Remind me to get you something to grind those herbs easier,” his words come out muffled from behind his hand. 

You tilt your head, “oh no, please. There’s a reason why I do not own a mortar and pestle of my own.” Lord Zuko removes his hand from his face, listening to you intently with not just his ears, but his eyes. “My mother says the hands ‘wake up’ the herbs– or so she says.” 

“Is that right…” his words were breathy, while he remained focused on your hands and the grinding of the flower. 

This triggers a smile, and you pour the crushed flower into his cup. He looks down at your hand, noticing the yellow pigmentation that now coated your finger tips just a bit. “Don’t worry, it will come off. But it smells nice, so I don’t mind it much.” 

Lord Zuko’s curiosity once again comes forward, leaning a bit closer to you while eyes still set on your hand. “May I?” 

“I-if you’d like,” you stutter a bit, feeling some sort of tension. You lift your hand up, but keep yourself still, as you don’t want to be too forward and enter a boundary that you shouldn’t. You watch his sharp nose get close to your hand, taking a heavy whiff in. 

“It smells… nice,” he says quietly, taking light whiffs. You somehow felt shy, and embarrassed yourself at such a thought. You anxiously pull your hand away, earning a low chuckle from Lord Zuko. “I don’t bite, you know.” 

“That was not the concern,” you barely let out as you reached for another, more tiny version of what you had in your hand. “What I crushed earlier was chamomile. Apparently its smell and taste can be nostalgic.” 

“It definitely reminded me of going to tea shops with my uncle when I was much younger,” Lord Zuko says, a small smile at the corner of his lips. He sits up straight, putting his hands on his knees while giving his back a bit of a stretch. As he cracks his neck a bit, you grind the next herb in hand, which is valerian root. As you finished grinding that, Lord Zuko gave you the look of interest. 

“Come then,” you allow in a hush tone. Without him knowing, you warmed your fingers a bit with your bending. It made the scent much stronger, and you noticed Lord Zuko did not get as close. 

“It’s strange,” Lord Zuko begins to comment, his eyes narrowing down on the tip of your index finger, “it smells as if you’ve boiled the tea already.” 

You grin, “not yet, but pretty close. Sit up against your pillows, I’m gonna prepare your tea.” 

Lord Zuko did as instructed, getting a bit more comfortable in his bed as he patiently waited for his tea. While you put the burner out and poured the water, he finally pointed at your pouch and questioned, “where did you get these herbs?” 

“These are the herbs my parents grow back home,” you informed him. “They send some over whenever they have the time. It’s usually what I drink whenever I’m having sleep problems as well.” 

“Do they grow only in your home village?” Lord Zuko presses on. 

You shook your head while pouring the fig syrup you brought as well into his cup, “oh no, these plants are quite adaptive. They will grow anywhere so long as they have dirt, water, and a sun to grow under.” You offer him the cup, giving it little blows to manage the steam before Lord Zuko takes it himself to blow on. “Try to drink this completely if you can, Lord Zuko. I’m gonna clean up the room a bit.” 

The quiet that ensued was very much welcome. Lord Zuko peacefully drank his tea, enjoying its flavors as it introduced themselves to his tongue. He wanted to compliment you once more, but he noticed how focused you were on freshening up his room. It wasn’t so much of a mess, nor was it dirty (since you were on top of maintaining it). But you organized the dirty clothes to wash tomorrow, opened a few windows to allow some air in, and changed any candles that were burning a bit too quickly. They were minor changes, but Lord Zuko definitely felt more comfortable. Between that, the tea, and how well you were taking care of him, he felt hopeful for a good night's sleep. 

You hear him take the last sip of the tea, in which you turn to see his face pointed upwards, with the tea cup tilted above his mouth. His Adam's apple was prominent, falling downward before protruding from his neck once more at his final gulp. “Was it to your liking?” You ask, an uneasy expression written on your face. 

Lord Zuko tilts his head down once more, and gently places the cup on the tray. He dabs his lips, which glistened with the last of the tea, with his robe sleeve. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath in through his nose. “When I was younger, I used to call tea ‘hot leaf juice.’ I used to hate tea, and only had it because my uncle insisted. But now that I’m drinking your tea now, I’m glad I changed my mind.” 

You feel your cheeks warm up, “did your uncle help convince you, Lord Zuko?” 

“That, and working at a teashop myself when I was a teenager,” Lord Zuko confided, chuckling a bit at the memory. “It’s been quite some years, but that job is still a memory I hold close.” 

“I bet you served wonderful tea,” you hum sweetly. 

“If it didn’t end up on the floor first,” Lord Zuko derailed your praise, causing you to giggle in the process. “If I had even just a bit of my uncle's patience, I probably would have been great at the craft.” 

“So between a tea sommelier and Firelord…?” You jokingly compare. 

Lord Zuko chuckles, “either option, I think my uncle would be proud regardless.” 

With a soft smile, you go fix the tea set, preparing it to be washed and put away for tomorrow's day. But, as you go to lift the tray, a strong, warm hand wraps around your forearm. You look over to see Lord Zuko, lying down on his stomach, with his blanket cloaking his body. His eyes, as sharp as a vixen, gives you a look. If eyes could intimidate and pout at the same time, Lord Zuko’s eyes would be the concept picture. Before he could utter a word, a yawn escaped his lips, earning a shared look of astonishment from the both of you. 

“Are you feeling tired, Lord Zuko?” You ask quietly, taking the yawn as a very good sign. 

He nods slowly, his eyes still locked onto yours, “I am, but I’m not completely there yet.” 

“Is there anything you’d like for me to do? Would you like another cup of tea?” You offer. He shakes his head once more, with another yawn coming out of his mouth. And this time, a light coat of tears appeared in his eyes from the very act. The very look of his dark eyes and slowly forming bags reminded you that you had to do whatever you can to ensure he can get some sleep tonight. 

“You’ve done enough, Sai,” Lord Zuko hums, “I’m very grateful for you, and your willingness.” 

You smile curtly, “I get the honor to serve you directly, Lord Zuko. I’m so very lucky to be here, and do whatever I can to make your life easier. So even if you sleep just an hour, I will feel accomplished.” 

Lord Zuko chuckles again, his eyes finally squinting as the default in his awakeness. “You’re a funny one, I hope you know that.” 

“Now I know,” you play along. Another comfortable quietness comes around, which Zuko slowly drifts off in a slumber. Ironically enough, despite wanting rest, his persistent blinking seemed to indicate that he was fighting off the sleep he wanted. But it was all part of the process, you suppose. 

“...Hey, y/n?” Lord Zuko calls your name in the most hush tone. If you were anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have heard it. But he used your name, something you were not used to hearing here at the palace. Your nickname has become the standard in addressing you, and you didn’t mind. In fact, most of the other attendants do not know your given name, as you’ve done a wonderful job of addressing yourself as your childhood nickname. 

“Yes, Lord Zuko?” You respond quickly, watching his eyes twitch from underneath his now closed eyelids. 

“‘M glad my uncle met you,” he whispers. His eyes slowly stop twitching, and go completely still. His breathing shifts from his mouth to his nose. He starts a quiet, and calm snore. But still, he had more words on his chest, “thank you… for being… here…” 

And with that, the Firelord finally got his long awaited slumber.

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