Kat

"I cannot say with certainty. Her body has endured a great deal within a very short span of time. Shock alone could have rendered her unconscious; I suspect she must have had trouble with sleep the night before. Was the lady able to rest at all after getting injured?"

"I can't be certain..." For a long moment, Zuko looked toward the bed before his gaze snapped to one of the maids who had spoken up.

"My lord..." she began softly, clasping her hands before her. 

"The Lady did not seem herself after you left this afternoon. She appeared terribly fatigued despite what she told us and requested that we not disturb her for the remainder of the day, saying she wished only to rest."

The maid paused briefly, recalling the events after she had provided you with your prescribed medicine.

"I returned a while later to ensure her condition had not worsened. She remained asleep, though..." Her brows knitted together uncertainly. 

"She appeared deeply distressed. She was tossing in her sleep, her breathing had become rather uneven, and it seemed as though she was having a terrible dream. I attempted to wake her, but she never opened her eyes. After several moments she settled on her own, and seeing that her breathing had steadied once more, I believed it best not to disturb her further."

The physician listened thoughtfully before giving a slow nod of understanding.

"That is hardly surprising," he said quietly, returning his attention to Zuko. "She had endured a grievous wound. Such experiences often linger long after the body has been treated, and it is not uncommon for the mind to continue reliving them through restless sleep."

His expression softened as he folded another clean dressing into place to prepare dressing your wound.

"At a time such as this, My Lord, medicine alone will not be enough. If it is at all possible, I would advise surrounding her with those she trusts most. The presence of family, or someone dear to her, may do far more for her recovery than any remedy, particularly after the events of this evening."

The room grew quiet.

Zuko's eyes lingered upon your sleeping figure, his thoughts already drifting toward the one person whose presence would ease your fears more than anyone else's.

"...The Avatar should be returning by tomorrow," he said at last, but the words left him far more quietly than he intended.

No one noticed the faint hesitation that preceded them.

No one, save perhaps the old physician, could have guessed that what weighed upon the Fire Lord was not uncertainty over the Avatar's arrival, but dread over the conversation that inevitably awaited him. 

Aang would return to find his wife wounded, having survived two attempts upon her life beneath Zuko's protection, and since ascending the throne, Zuko found himself unsure of what he could possibly say that would make any of it easier to bear.

The physician followed his gaze, his expression softening almost imperceptibly.

"She survived tonight, Fire Lord." His voice remained gentle. "Allow her body the opportunity to remember that. Now, I shall tend to the Lady, My lord."

Zuko gave him a nod, his eyes examining you for another moment to truly make sure you were breathing, before he followed after his guards, closing the doors quietly behind him.

Outside, nearly two dozen Royal Guards stood stationed throughout the corridor, far more than the wing had ever required in it's existence. None spoke as their Fire Lord passed, though every one of them straightened on instinct as he walked past them.

"Keep these chambers guarded," Zuko instructed without slowing his pace. 

"No one enters without my permission."

"Yes, Fire Lord."

He continues toward the council chamber and the meeting had already begun by the time he arrived.

Maps of the palace had been spread across the central table alongside reports gathered from surviving guards. 

His uncle stood near the head of the room speaking quietly with the Grand Chamberlain, the Commander of the Royal Guard, and the captain responsible for palace security, their conversation falling silent the moment the doors opened.

Every man bowed.

"My lord."

Zuko acknowledged them with a slight inclination of his head before stepping toward the table.

"Begin."

"We have accounted for every infiltrator who entered the palace yesterday, Your Majesty. Though it seems Princess Azula acted alone today and was the only one involved in today's incident."

"Where is she now?"

"Confined beneath the western prison, away from Ozai as you asked."

"The restraints?"

"They have been doubled."

Zuko's expression remained unchanged. "Triple them."

The commander gave no hesitation with her response as he nodded. "...Yes, Fire Lord."

"How did she get in?"

"I think she never left, Zuko." Iroh answers his nephew, which only makes Zuko face contort with worry, because they had no way to know unless asked of Azula herself.

"There remains one matter we have yet to determine with certainty, Fire Lord. We have not discovered how Princess Azula escaped the Asylum."

Zuko's gaze lifted sharply from the layout before him. 

"The palace never received word of it." he noted, unable to keep the his concern from creeping into his voice. 

When the commander slowly shook his head, the calm composure Zuko had maintained throughout the meeting began to crack. 

"it should be impossible," he said more firmly, resting both hands against the edge of the table. 

"The asylum answers directly to the throne. Had my sister escaped, this palace should have been informed before she ever reached the capital, let alone infiltrated the royal residence."

"We share your confusion, Fire Lord," the Grand Chamberlain replied. 

"At present, there are only two explanations that appear plausible. Either Princess Azula escaped with the assistance of those aligned with the Shinu, and no report was ever dispatched from the asylum in the first place, or the report was sent as protocol demands, but someone intercepted it before it could reach the palace."

The room fell into a thoughtful silence as the implication settled over everyone present. Neither possibility offered comfort, for both required the involvement of someone beyond the asylum's walls. 

Whether through the Shinu or another unseen ally, Azula had not acted alone, and somewhere within the Fire Nation there remained hands willing to aid the former princess despite a decade of confinement.

Zuko exhaled slowly, though it did little to calm the frustration tightening in his chest. 

"According to the prisoners, Azula approached the Shinu Clan after her escape. So it could only be the latter. Trace every courier who travelled between the asylum and the capital in the past few weeks," he ordered. 

"Question every checkpoint commander, every messenger, every officer responsible for carrying royal correspondence. If a report existed, I want to know where it disappeared."

"It shall be done, Fire Lord."

His eyes remained fixed upon the map for only another moment before another thought forced itself to the forefront of his mind. 

"...What of the guards?" he asked quietly. "The men I stationed outside The Lady's chambers before leaving for the prison, and those I later ordered to reinforce the eastern wing."

The Commander of the Royal Guard stepped forward, unfolding another report from the stack before him. 

"The additional men you ordered never reached the chambers, Your Majesty. They were discovered unconscious inside an abandoned storage room along the eastern corridor."

Zuko frowned. "How?"

"They had regained consciousness only shortly before this meeting," the commander answered. 

"According to their testimony, they heard repeated banging coming from one of the unused rooms while making their way toward the Lady's chambers. Believing something amiss, they diverted to investigate. They found the room empty and, as they turned to leave, both recalled feeling a sharp strike at the base of the neck before losing consciousness."

Had it been Azula? Or was someone helping her?

"And the guards already stationed outside her chambers?" Zuko pressed.

Another officer stepped forward to answer. "They, too, have been questioned, Fire Lord. They admit they abandoned their post, though they believed they were acting under your authority."

"My authority?" Zuko repeated, the words carrying more irritation than he should have shown.

"The woman we now know to have been Princess Azula approached them disguised as one of the palace attendants assigned to the lady's care." The officer glanced briefly toward the written statement in his hands before continuing. 

"She carried the physician's medicine tray and questioned why they remained outside the chambers. When the guards informed her they had received no new orders, she appeared surprised and told them that Your Majesty had summoned every available guard to the western wing of the palace."

"They never questioned her word?" Zuko asked in disbelief. 

"The men hesitated, but when they looked into the corridor, they found it nearly deserted. The reinforcements Your Majesty had dispatched had already been diverted before reaching them, leaving the eastern passage almost entirely empty. Princess Azula assured them she had been instructed to remain with the Avatar's wife until they returned and, believing she was merely another palace attendant, they left their post."

No one spoke for several moments as all present in the room absorbed the shame of the incident. The deception had been disturbingly simple, relying solely on timing. 

"If my dear brother hadn't been so hospitable...I never would've found the perfect piece." "You invited the Avatar's wife into your palace. You placed her beneath your own roof and simply handed me that leverage." "You are attacking a woman who had nothing to do with this." "Oh, she has everything to do with this." "You are so weak, Zuzu. The only ace you have up your sleeve is Aang. If only she had died, maybe he would no longer hold your hand. But I suppose this for the better, because it seems the Avatar would tear this nation apart for her." "And so would I."

Zuko closed his eyes briefly before drawing another slow breath. "She was right. I gave her the leverage. She planned it all."

"I do not believe she planned all of it," Iroh said quietly, making Zuko turn to his Uncle to hear his thoughts.

"The attack upon the palace was intended to hurt the Avatar's wife, they wished to forfeit her life. But by the will of the spirits she remains her with us. I believe the Shinu heard of it, and today they were meant to remove her quietly while the rest of us were occupied with the prisoners."

His gaze shifted toward his nephew.

"But witnessing their failure, Azula ceased relying upon others. She acted on her own accord."

Zuko looked back toward the table, his thoughts returning to the duel only an hour earlier. Throughout the fighting she had barely used her fire until cornered, and even then her movements had lacked the effortless stamina he remembered from years ago. 

Her strikes remained as precise and dangerous as ever, but she had tired more quickly, her complexion paling with every passing exchange until he finally managed to force the opening that allowed the guards to restrain her.

Had she possessed the same endurance she once carried beneath Sozin's Comet...

The thought lingered unfinished in his mind. He found, to his own discomfort, that he did not wish to know how differently that fight might have ended.

"My sister will remain confined beneath the western prison until morning," he said at last. "I want the physicians to examine her mental stability before any interrogation begins. Once they have determined she is fit to answer questions..." He hesitated before he would cement his next words,

"...I shall...question her myself."

The Commander of the Royal Guard bowed. "As you command, Fire Lord. It shall be done"

Zuko inclined his head once.

"You are all dismissed."

One after another, the ministers gathered their reports and withdrew from the council room, the officers following close behind until only the Grand Chamberlain lingered back, giving Zuko a bow once more before quietly closing the doors behind him.

Silence settled over the room as Iroh could only watch his nephew for several moments before speaking.

"You are troubled."

Zuko let out a humorless breath, lowering his eyes to the reports still lying before him.

"I...do not believe I should be the one to question her. I would ask that you do it in my stead."

Iroh's brows lifted ever so slightly as he regarded him quietly.

"You know I would do almost anything for you, nephew." His voice remained as gentle as ever. "But this is not one of those things."

Zuko finally looked up.

"Why?"

"Because she is your responsibility."

Bothered by his statement, Zuko straightened himself up, giving Iroh a defying gaze, one that he hadn't seen on his nephew's features for years.

"She is no longer merely my niece, nor simply your sister. She has become a threat to the Fire Nation itself, and more importantly...to the Avatar's wife." His gaze softened before he continued.

"If you cannot bring yourself to face her now, then she has already accomplished part of what she came here to do."

Zuko fell silent once more; his hands rested against the edge of the table, his thoughts had long wandering back to you.

"I was afraid," he admitted quietly and Iroh did not interrupt.

"When Azula held the blade to the Lady's her neck...for the first time in years, I found myself wondering whether I would be able to stop her in time." His voice grew fainter as the memory returned with uncomfortable clarity.

He closed his eyes briefly before continuing.

"She was not fighting as she once did. Her movements were slower. Had she recovered fully..." He swallowed, unable to keep the thought from lingering. 

"I am not certain I would have subdued her before she reached succeeded in doing what she had intended."

The confession remained suspended in the quiet chamber.

After several moments, Zuko drew another slow breath.

"Even when she told me she wouldn't kill her, I simply couldn't rely on her words when she has always been so unpredictable."

Iroh's gaze narrowed thoughtfully.

"She admitted her intentions were to not take the Lady's life?"

Zuko nodded.

"Rather than taking the Avatar's support from me, she intended to take me from the Avatar. She meant to kill me, reclaim the throne, and use his wife as leverage until he had no choice but to submit to her rule."

The night had been very unkind to you.

Not long after the physician had administered another dose of injections, the warmth beneath your skin had begun to climb until your body burned with fever. 

By dawn, the palace maids had discovered you drenched in perspiration, your breathing uneven and bothered, and soon enough, word had reached Zuko by the time the sun had fully risen.

Since then, your chambers had scarcely known a moment of peace.

Now that the palace physician's had returned due to the attack, their first duty had been to treat you. They entered your room one after another, carrying satchels filled with herbs scrolls, each examining your condition before arriving at the same conclusion. 

The fever, they assured him, had been brought on by exhaustion, blood loss, and the tremendous strain your body had endured over the past two days. 

You needed rest above all else. Everyone simply had to be patient, for time would prove a far better remedy than anything more they could offer, for the outside physician who had first tended to your wound had already prescribed everything your body required to heal.

Zuko listened to every explanation without interruption, thanked each physician for their efforts, and watched every one of them leave feeling no more reassured than before.

Something refused to settle within him.

He had spent enough years around healers to recognize when they were certain of themselves. He knew for a fact his physicians spoke confidently, yet every answer felt incomplete, every reassurance that they offered him left an uncomfortable sense that something had escaped their notice. 

Perhaps it was nothing more than the events of the previous evening refusing to loosen their grip upon his thoughts, or perhaps it was the memory of watching you collapse in his arms that would not stop replaying each time he looked at your sleeping face.

Throughout the day he remained beside your bedside in his chambers, abandoning every matter brought before him unless it demanded his signature alone. Reports accumulated upon the table near the window, while ministers were dismissed with promises that the Fire Lord would attend to them tomorrow. 

Every so often he reached forward to brush the back of his fingers lightly across your forehead, only to find the fever still lingering beneath your skin despite every remedy the physicians prescribed.

By the afternoon, despite what had been advice by the palace physicians, his patience had finally worn thin.

"Send for the physician who treated her after the attack, the one from the capital infirmary." he instructed one of the attendants waiting outside the chamber.

The maid bowed hurriedly before disappearing down the corridor.

He trusted the palace physicians. He truly did. 

But his heart could not settle seeing you in such a state, knowing very well how Aang will break down at the sight of you.

More over, he blamed himself for entertaining your request the night of the first attack. If only he had denied you and left you to rest, your body would have gotten the rest it deserved in the first place.

When the physician arrived, by some miracle you had regained consciousness. The first sight that greeted you was not Aang's face, as you had hoped it would be before you lost consciousness, but the very same man who had held you close when you could no longer keep your eyes open.

The moment Zuko heard the faintest rustle of the sheets, he cut short whatever conversation he had been having with the familiar physician. His attention snapped toward you immediately, relief washing over his features the instant he found your eyes open, though the confusion lingering within them did little to ease the concern etched across his own.

You heard him speaking to you, his voice distant at first, as though it were reaching you from beneath deep water. Little by little the world began to take shape once more, the blurred figures around your bedside becoming clearer as the ringing in your ears subsided, yet the words themselves continued to slip through your mind without meaning. Your body burned beneath the blankets, every breath leaving your chest feeling heavier than the last.

Only when you felt the warmth of his hand wrapped around yours did you find enough strength to speak.

"Zuko..." The single word scraped painfully against your throat, rough as though you had swallowed sand, yet you forced yourself to continue. "Please... take these sheets off me."

Your voice was scarcely louder than a whisper, but it was enough.

Zuko glanced down at you, immediately noticing the unfocused look in your eyes before turning toward the physician, silently seeking his approval rather than acting on his own.

"It is alright," the physician assured him. "Do as she asks. Help her sit upright as well. It will make examining her considerably easier."

Only then did Zuko move, one arm carefully supporting your back while one of the palace maids hurried to your other side. Together they eased you into a sitting position, taking great care not to disturb the healing wound hidden beneath the bandages, though the moment your weight settled against the headboard, a sharp pain tore across your shoulder with such sudden force that your body folded forward before either of them could stop you.

A strained sound escaped your lips, barely coherent through the haze clouding your thoughts, as you instinctively reached toward the injured shoulder.

"My Lady?" the maid asked at once, her voice thick with worry as she steadied you before Zuko could voice his own concern.

"My shoulder..." you murmured weakly, your brows knitting together as another wave of pain coursed through your body. You instinctively drew your arm closer to yourself, your breathing faltering for a moment before you looked toward the physician. "It hurts... considerably more than it did yesterday."

Zuko's expression changed almost instantly. Whatever relief he had felt upon seeing you awake vanished just as quickly, replaced by a concern so plain that even the physician noticed it before he reached your bedside.

"It is quite alright," the older man assured calmly, gesturing for one of the maids to help you remain upright while he retrieved several instruments from his satchel. "Allow me to examine you first. I shall check your pulse, your blood pressure, and ensure the wound has not been disturbed."

His practiced hands worked methodically as he spoke, never once appearing hurried despite the Fire Lord's watchful presence lingering over his shoulder.

"And you needn't look so alarmed, Fire Lord," the physician added with the faintest smile, glancing up only briefly before returning his attention to you. "Pain is hardly unexpected after everything she has endured."

Zuko blinked almost imperceptibly. Had his worry truly become that obvious?

"I would rather not increase the number of medicines she is already taking," the physician continued as he prepared a fresh syringe upon the bedside table. 

"Instead, I shall administer a local anesthetic around the wound itself. It should dull the pain enough to allow her a proper night's rest without burdening her body with yet another remedy."

Far above the Fire Nation capital, Appa cut through the evening sky with great sweeping strokes of his tail, the last light of the setting sun painting the clouds in shades of amber. 

Aang remained seated between the air bison's horns, his hands gripping the reins tighter than he usually would, his eyes fixed on the horizon before the palace itself came into his view.

The first thing he noticed was the damage, and even on the nation's darkest day, he could never have imagined the palace in such a state. It was not nearly as catastrophic as he had feared, yet the destruction remained far too prominent for comfort.

Even from this distance, portions of the outer walls remained blackened by fire, scaffolding climbing over fractured towers while workers hurried across rooftops as they rushed to fix whatever they could before sundown. 

His stomach tightened.

Appa had completely slowed during his descent, landing heavily within the palace courtyard. 

The moment the sky bison's paws touched the ground, Aang was already sliding off his head, barely giving himself time to steady his footing before turning back.

"You got us here so fast, buddy." He rested a hand against Appa's cheek, his voice hurried despite the grateful smile that managed to find its way onto his face. 

"Thank you."

Appa answered with a low rumble, nudging him once before lowering himself to the ground, clearly exhausted from the relentless journey. 

Momo leapt from the saddle onto Aang's shoulder with an anxious chirp, earning a quick scratch beneath the chin before Aang broke into a run toward the palace entrance.

Servants and guards alike scarcely had time to announce his arrival before he disappeared into the corridors, moving through halls. 

His pace never slowed until he reached the familiar corridor leading toward the guest chambers, only for one of the palace guards to step into his path.

"My apologies, Avatar."

Aang stopped so abruptly that he nearly collided with him.

"Where is my wife?!"

The words came out before anything else.

"She was.." The guard caught himself immediately, bowing his head. 

"Your wife has been moved, Avatar. The chamber she occupied as rendered uninhabitable during the attack.""

Aang frowned with worry.

"Where is she?"

"In the Fire Lord's chambers. I shall take you there."

The walk felt impossibly long despite lasting barely a minute. 

They passed deeper into the residential wing before stopping. The guard stepped aside, pushing open the doors just enough for Aang to enter.

They struck the wall with a heavy thud.

Several palace guards stationed around the room immediately straightened before bowing, while the physician standing beside the bed paused midway through checking your pulse.

Only one man remained exactly where he was.

Zuko stood beside your bedside, one hand still resting against the edge of the mattress, turning only when he heard the doors burst open.

Aang's eyes swept frantically across the room before settling upon the bed.

You were propped weakly against the headboard with pillows supporting your back, a fresh bandage had been wrapped around the side of your forehead, hiding the wound beneath layers of clean linen. 

Your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, and yet the moment your eyes met his, something within them softened in quiet relief.

His heart lurched and the panic that had carried him across an entire nation finally caught up to him.

"...Love."

Your name escaped him in a breathless whisper before he crossed the room in hurried strides. 

The physician and the palace maids immediately stepped aside, bowing respectfully as he passed, while Zuko rose from the chair beside your bed without a word, instinctively giving your husband the space that belonged to him.

You had promised yourself you would not cry again, your eyes red and burning due to the fever coursing under your skin. 

Yet the moment Aang reached you, every ounce of strength you had spent forcing yourself to remain composed dissolved completely. 

"...Aang."

It was barely more than a whisper.

He was beside you before the final syllable had even left your lips, gathering you into his arms with a care that bordered on desperation, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other settled around your shoulders. 

And although you easily melted against him immediately, you hissed in pain due to his hand pressing into your wound. 

Even so, you made no effort to tell him of it as before you could feel it, with your forehead resting against the crook of his neck as a quiet sob escaped despite your best efforts to suppress it.

"I'm here," he murmured, his own voice unsteady. "I'm here now."

His trembling hands held you close, while tears and perspiration dampened your face together until he could scarcely tell where one ended and the other began. 

His thumb brushed gently beneath your eye, wiping away the moisture before it slipped further down your cheek, and for one brief moment he simply held you tighter.

His heart could not accept your condition now, when you had been so healthy and bright only two days ago before he was forced to leave you. 

It felt cruel that in so short a time, life had managed to strip so much of your warmth away, leaving behind only a frail reflection of the woman he had kissed goodbye.

Across the room, Zuko quietly resumed his seat.

His attention lingered upon the two of you only briefly before he lowered his eyes, allowing them the privacy they deserved despite sharing the same room. 

It felt wrong to witness such an intimate reunion, particularly after everything that had transpired over the past two days, and he was prepared to excuse himself altogether when Aang finally spoke again.

"...What happened?"

The question had been asked so quietly that, Zuko almost didn't hear him.

He slowly lifted his eyes, only to find Aang still kneeling beside the bed with his back turned toward him, his arms wrapped securely around you while his thumb continued absentmindedly brushing the strands of hair away from your damp forehead. 

To anyone else, the Avatar might have appeared remarkably composed, his voice calm and measured despite everything that had happened, yet Zuko knew him well enough to hear what lingered beneath it.

He could see the restraint anger within him, just waiting to explode, compressed beneath quiet words, waiting patiently until there was no one left in the room but the two of them.

Aang finally look over his shoulder and when their eyes met, and Zuko could understand every racing thought of his.

Aang was feeling too many things all at once.

Relief, because you were alive. 

Terror, because your skin burned beneath his hands with a fever he had never seen you carry before. 

Guilt, because he had left you here believing you would be safe. 

And anger, for Zuko.

"The physician must examine her again," he said calmly, his voice measured despite the exhaustion weighing upon it. 

"Once he has finished, I shall tell you everything."

Aang looked up and Zuko saw the demand already forming behind his eyes. 

He wanted answers now. He wanted to know who had done this, how it had happened, why his wife lay burning with fever beneath layers of bandages when her safety should have been guaranteed in Zuko's hands.

But Aang never said any of it. His jaw tightened before he slowly exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to swallow every question threatening to escape.

He could not forget where he was.

Before everyone gathered within these walls, Zuko was not merely his friend.

He was the Fire Lord.

And Aang was not simply a worried husband.

He was the Avatar.

Whatever conversation followed belonged behind closed doors.

"...Alright," he answered quietly.

Reluctantly, he loosened his hold around you, helping you settle carefully back against the pillows before moving around the bed to the chair Zuko had only just vacated. 

He took the seat without another word, remaining close enough that your fingers instinctively found the sleeve of his robe, refusing to let go even after you had closed your eyes again.

The physician approached your bedside once more, his expression gentle as he prepared another syringe.

"Miss, I shall need to examine your wound before administering the anesthetic," he said softly.

You managed the smallest nod, lacking the strength to offer anything more.

At his instruction, the palace maids quietly set about their work, drawing the privacy screens around the bed before carefully loosening the upper layers of your robe. Aang instinctively lowered his gaze to afford you the modesty you deserved, though the physician was quick to stop him.

"Avatar Aang, I would ask that you remain close. She may require your support while I examine the wound." he said gently

It was only then, when the fabric slipped carefully from your shoulder, that Aang truly saw the extent of your injuries.

Beneath the clean white dressing wrapped securely across your upper back and shoulder, fresh stains of crimson had already begun to bloom through the linen, spreading in uneven patches that no amount of careful bandaging could completely conceal.

His breath caught in his throat because nothing could have prepared him for this.

The physician offered you a reassuring smile before instructing the palace maids to help you turn onto your stomach, every movement slow and deliberate so as not to disturb the healing wound. 

Even through the haze of fever, the slightest shift drew a quiet whimper from your lips, your brows pulling together as your fingers instinctively searched for the only familiar comfort within reach.

Aang was already there.

Before you could grasp at empty air, his hand had found yours once again, carefully weaving his fingers between your own as though afraid you might slip away if he held on any less tightly. 

His other hand rose almost without thought, brushing the damp strands of hair away from your face before resting lightly against your temple, his thumb absentmindedly tracing slow circles over your warm skin in the same gentle rhythm he had often used whenever sleep refused to find you.

"I'm right here," he whispered, his voice barely louder than a breath.

Your grip tightened around his hand with surprising strength the moment the maids eased you onto your front, another pained sound escaping before you could stop it. 

Aang immediately shifted closer, allowing you to lean whatever little weight you needed against him, his free hand rubbing slow, reassuring strokes between your shoulder blades wherever the physician's examination would not disturb the injury.

"I'm sorry," he murmured again, lowering his forehead until it rested lightly against your knuckles, his eyes squeezing shut for the briefest moment. 

"Just a little longer... I promise."

Though your eyes remained half-lidded with exhaustion, your breathing gradually began to steady beneath his touch, and Aang stayed exactly where he was, unwilling to loosen his hold even for a moment while the physician carefully began removing the dressing from your shoulder.

The physician waited until you had settled before carefully unwinding the linen wrapped around your shoulder. 

Layer by layer, the fresh bandages were carefully peeled away until the injury beneath was finally revealed, and the room seemed to fall into a silence.

Aang stopped breathing.

The wound was worse than he had imagined, carving an angry path across your shoulder. Though it seemed to be in the early stages of healing, the skin surrounding it remained swollen and bruised, painted in deep shades of violet and crimson that spread far beyond the injury itself. 

Along its edges, however, the flesh bore something he had not expected to ever see. It had been burned.

Thin blackened marks traced either side of the wound in uneven lines, as though someone had deliberately pressed searing hot metal against your skin. 

Aang could not understand what he was looking at.

It no longer resembled an injury that would simply fade with time. It looked brutal and he found himself unable to imagine what you must have endured while remaining conscious through it all.

His vision blurred before he even realized why and tears spilled freely down his face, slipping silently from his jaw onto the bedsheets below, and Aang made no effort whatsoever to hide them.

The physician first cleaned the skin surrounding the wound, ensuring the injury itself remained undisturbed before reaching for the prepared syringe.

 After quietly warning you of a slight sting, he administered the anesthetic at several points around the edges of the wound, each injection delivered with steadiness so it could gradually numb the injured flesh. 

Though it would offer only temporary relief, it would be enough, he hoped, to spare you the worst of the pain and allow your exhausted body the peaceful sleep it had been denied for far too long.

New bandages were wrapped securely around your shoulder and across your chest, while the maids quietly helped you ease back onto your side once everything had been secured.

Only after your robes had been fastened once more did the room begin to empty.

The guards bowed before returning to their posts beyond the chamber doors, their armor disappearing into the corridor one after another. 

The maids followed with silent curtsies, carrying away cloths and the physician's discarded dressings, while the physician himself offered one final bow toward both the Fire Lord and the Avatar before excusing himself to wait outside for the two.

Zuko remained standing near the window before turning back toward the bed, watching Aang remain fixed exactly where he was, now kneeling on the floor, one hand wrapped carefully around yours while the other rested lightly against the mattress beside you. 

You lay curled onto your left side, your breathing uneven beneath the fever, entirely unaware of the tears that continued falling onto the blankets between your joined hands.

Slowly, Aang lifted your fingers toward his face.

His lips brushed tenderly across your knuckles once.

He closed his eyes, pressing your hand against his forehead as another quiet sob escaped him, his shoulders trembling beneath the weight of everything he had arrived too late to prevent.

Zuko looked away, knowing some grief was too private to witness.

Aang remained beside the bed for another long moment before finally forcing himself to stand. His fingers lingered around yours until the very last second, reluctant to let go, and when he did, he found Zuko already watching him from across the room. 

Their eyes met only briefly before Aang looked away, hastily brushing the tears from his face with the heel of his palm. He drew a slow breath, trying to gather what little composure he had left, then slipped the red outer robe from his shoulders, folding it over one arm until only the familiar orange and yellow robes of the Air Nomads remained.

"I'll speak with you outside," Zuko said quietly, careful not to disturb your sleep. "My study."

Aang answered with a silent nod.

Before following him, he turned toward the two guards stationed beside the chamber doors. 

"Please..." His voice caught before he steadied it again. "Don't leave her alone."

The older guard bowed deeply, his fist pressed against his chest. "You have my word, Avatar. No one shall enter these chambers without the your or the Fire Lord's direct permission."

Only then did Aang allow himself to leave.

The walk through the palace passed in complete silence. The physician accompanied them a respectful distance behind, clutching his satchel while servants stepped hurriedly aside at the sight of both the Fire Lord and the Avatar moving through the corridors together. 

Upon reaching the study, Zuko held the door open, waiting for the physician to enter before quietly closing it behind them.

Aang remained standing opposite the physician, his closed so tightly at his sides that his knuckles had begun to pale.

"...Tell me honestly," he said, dispensing with every courtesy. "How is she?"

The physician inclined his head before answering. 

"Her wound is healing, Avatar. There are no signs of infection." He spoke calmly, though his expression remained measured. 

"It has only been two days since the injury was sustained. I understand the sight of it is alarming, but the healing itself is progressing exactly as I had hoped."

Aang lowered his eyes for a moment, absorbing every word.

"So she'll recover?"

"Provided nothing further complicates the wound...yes." The physician offered him a reassuring smile.

Only then did Zuko speak.

"And the fever?"

The physician turned toward him.

"I believe it is precisely what the palace physicians concluded earlier today. Her body has endured significant trauma over a very short period." He rested his satchel upon the edge of the desk before continuing. 

"Exhaustion, blood loss, the shock of the attack, followed by last night's incident...it would not be unusual for the mind to surrender only after the immediate danger has passed."

"So it is not the wound?" Zuko pressed.

"Not directly, my lord."

The physician hesitated briefly before adding, "I will admit, I disagreed with General Iroh's decision to cauterize the injury that first night. It is an aggressive measure, and one I would not ordinarily recommend."

Aang's head lifted immediately.

The physician noticed.

"However," he continued carefully, "given the amount of blood she had already lost...I believe it ultimately spared her from something far worse. Had the bleeding continued much longer, I am not certain she would have possessed the strength to recover as she has."

Aang could only furrow his eyebrows, worry etched on his face as he stood confused and in disbelief.

"The fever appears to be the body's response to everything that followed. Physical injuries heal more predictably than fear does. The events of last evening alone would have been enough to overwhelm someone already weakened." The physician resumed after a moment,

Aang closed his eyes as the physician's words only confirmed what he had already feared.

"Will it pass?" he asked quietly.

"I believe so." The physician nodded with confidence this time.

"Another day, perhaps two at most. Keep her room cool, ensure she continues taking the medicine, and above all..." He glanced between the two men before finishing. 

"...allow her peace. She requires rest far more than she requires additional treatment."

Zuko inclined his head.

"You have my thanks."

The physician took out the report from his satchel before extending it toward Aang.

"I have detailed everything regarding her treatment and the medicines she has been given," he explained. 

"The palace physicians should have little difficulty continuing her care with this. Should her fever worsen during the night, I am confident they will know how to proceed."

His expression softened ever so slightly before he continued.

"However, if they should require my guidance for any reason, do not hesitate to send for me at once. I shall come immediately."

With one final bow to both the Fire Lord and the Avatar, he quietly excused himself.

The study door clicked shut behind him.

Finally, with the physician gone, only the two of them remained.

The silence that settled over the study no longer belonged to servants hurrying about the palace or physicians discussing medicines. 

It belonged only to two friends who had known one another for years, each carrying the weight of the same woman for entirely different reasons.

Aang remained standing beside the desk, both hands resting against its edge while his gaze stayed fixed somewhere upon the polished wood beneath him. 

His breathing had steadied since leaving your bedside, but only just. Zuko had known him long enough to recognize restraint when he saw it, and the silence lingering between them felt less like composure than a dam threatening to give way.

The question came at last.

"...What happened?" Aang finally lifted his eyes, and there was nothing accusatory within them, only confusion wrapped so tightly around grief that the two had become impossible to separate.

"How did my wife end up like that?"

Zuko drew a slow breath before answering. "It was a coordinated attack upon the palace."

Aang said nothing, allowing him to continue.

"There was no warning. Members of my own Royal Guard had been working alongside the Shinu and opened the palace from within. Before anyone understood what was happening, the eastern wing had already come under bombardment."

He paused briefly, his eyes lowering toward the floor.

"The explosion had struck her chambers." Zuko's voice remained even, though each word seemed to cost him more than the last. 

"By the time I reached her...she had already pulled herself into the corridor."

He swallowed.

"There was a wound from a shard of glass lodged through her shoulder."

Aang's breathing caught. He looked as though he wished to ask another question, yet no words came. 

His lips parted before pressing together once more, his gaze falling toward the floor as his mind struggled to reconcile the woman he had left smiling scarcely two days earlier with the one lying feverish in the next room.

"The palace physicians were absent, the western infirmary had collapsed during the fighting, and we could not stop the bleeding." Zuko continued quietly.

Aang slowly looked back up.

"...The burns."

It wasn't truly a question.

Zuko nodded once. "My uncle cauterized the wound."

Whatever colour remained in Aang's face drained away.

His eyes closed for the briefest moment as though the image had formed before he wished it to, his throat working soundlessly before he finally managed another breath. 

His fingers loosened from the edge of the desk only to curl again immediately afterward, his nails pressing hard enough into the wood to chip at the polish.

"...She was awake?"

Zuko hesitated.

"Yes."

The answer landed with frightening weight making Aang feel faint.

One hand rose instinctively to cover his mouth as he drew a slow, uneven breath through his nose, fighting the ache tightening painfully beneath his ribs. 

"...Spirits."

He remained standing with his back turned to Zuko, one trembling hand covering his eyes as tears continued to slip silently between his fingers. 

The room around him seemed to fade into something distant and indistinct, his mind refusing to remain within the Fire Lord's study as another memory, one he had tried to bury beneath happier ones, quietly found its way back to him.

It had been scarcely two weeks since the two of you had first met when he had lost you once before.

He remembered searching every street of the marketplace in panic, calling your name through crowds that had never once answered him. 

He remembered finding the abandoned house, the splintered floorboards beneath his feet, and then you. 

Even now, he could still picture the terror in your eyes before you had realized it was him standing in the doorway, the bruises around your wrists where cold iron had dug into your skin, and the desperate way you had tried to gather what remained of yourself despite having already endured far more than anyone ever should.

On the day he proposed to you, he had promised himself that he would never allow anything like that to happen again.

Not while he still drew breath or even after.

Yet here he was, standing in another room, listening to another person recount the ways in which you had suffered while he had been somewhere else entirely. 

The details differed, yet the guilt settled upon his shoulders with the same unbearable weight, pressing against his chest until it became difficult to distinguish whether the ache belonged to his heart or simply to the air refusing to fill his lungs.

He had left you believing you would be safe.

He had kissed you goodbye only two mornings earlier, never imagining that those same two days would leave you scarred so deeply that someone had been forced to burn your flesh simply to keep you alive. 

Every image Zuko painted seemed only to give shape to horrors Aang wished had remained unknown, and his mind, cruel as it often was, insisted upon completing every picture until he could almost see you crawling across the floor, frightened and alone, calling for help that had arrived only moments before it had become too late.

The realization settled over him with quiet cruelty.

He had failed you once when the two of you had scarcely known one another, and though you never blamed him for any of it, he found himself wondering if his promise had ever truly meant anything at all. 

No matter how fiercely he wished to protect you, no matter how desperately he tried to keep you beyond the reach of harm, the world seemed determined to place pain in your path whenever he was forced to leave your side, and there was nothing that frightened him more than the thought that one day he might return only to discover he had arrived a single moment too late.

His breathing became shallow without him realizing it, each attempt at drawing another breath falling short of what his body demanded, until a tightness spread painfully through his chest and his vision began to blur around the edges.

"...Aang."

By the time Zuko reached him, he no longer seemed aware of where he was standing.

His breathing had become painfully uneven, each shallow breath catching somewhere deep within his chest before another hurried inhale followed after it. 

The hand still resting against the table trembled beneath the strain of supporting his weight, while his unfocused gaze remained fixed on the flood.

Zuko recognized the signs immediately.

Without another word, he closed the remaining distance between them, resting a steady hand against Aang's shoulder in the hope of grounding him before the panic swallowed him entirely.

"...Aang." His voice softened. "You need to breathe."

Aang remained frozen where he stood, his shoulders rising and falling in short, fractured breaths that refused to steady no matter how desperately he tried. 

His entire body had begun to shake beneath Zuko's hand, and for one unsettling moment, it seemed as though his legs might simply give way beneath him.

Then Aang turned, and the movement came so suddenly that Zuko had barely enough time to react before Aang closed the distance between them, his arms wrapping tightly around him with a desperation that caught him completely off guard. 

The force of it drove him back a single step, surprise flashing briefly across his features before instinct overcame it, his own arms lifting almost immediately to steady the man shaking against him.

Aang said nothing at all as he simply held on.

It was the opposite of the restrained composure of the Avatar he had learned to keep, nor with the confidence Zuko had come to know over the years, but it was the desperation of a husband who believed he might return home only to find the woman he loved already gone.

Aang buried his face against Zuko's shoulder, his fingers clutching desperately at the back of his robes as though the simple act of holding on were the only thing keeping him upright. 

His body shook with every uneven breath he managed to draw, each one catching painfully in his chest before another followed just as fractured as the last.

"I..." The word dissolved almost as soon as it left him, his voice breaking beneath another sob. "I thought...I was going to lose her."

Zuko closed his eyes.

"I know."

Aang's grip tightened.

"I don't know what I would've done."

The confession escaped him quietly. It was simply the truth finding its way past the grief, stripped of every attempt at composure until nothing remained but the terrified husband standing beneath the weight of it.

The study remained perfectly still around them, the silence broken only by Aang's quiet attempts to steady his breathing, each inhale gradually becoming less frantic than the one before it.

Zuko said nothing, allowing him the time to gather himself, one hand resting firmly between his shoulders in silent reassurance.

Then Aang spoke again.

"...Thank you."

The words were almost lost beneath another unsteady breath.

"Thank you...for staying with her."

Everything inside Zuko seemed to still.

His hand remained where it rested against Aang's back, yet the gratitude settling between them felt almost unbearable to receive.

Against his will, his thoughts drifted back to what had transpired between him and you.

He remembered the quiet that had settled after the physician had left, the conversation that had stretched far longer than he should have allowed, and the way exhaustion had slowly weakened your minds until neither of you had seemed quite like yourselves anymore.

Then came the memory he wished had remained buried.

Your face, impossibly close to his own. A single moment that had lasted no longer than a heartbeat.

No amount of distance placed between that night and this one seemed capable of changing it.

Aang remained standing before him exactly as he always had, placing his faith in the friend he had trusted for years, thanking him with a sincerity that settled painfully against every thought Zuko had spent the last day trying not to revisit. 

There was not the slightest hint of doubt in his voice, not the smallest suspicion clouding his gratitude, and somehow that unwavering trust wounded far more deeply.

A heaviness settled within Zuko's chest. He had done everything in his power to keep you alive.

Yet somewhere amidst fear, relief, and a night neither of you would ever be able to forget, he had crossed a line he could never allow himself to approach again.

His hand remained steady against Aang's back.

His heart did not.

"I'm sorry, Aang."

chapter eighteen coming soon...

a/n: guys, i am so frustrated rn. why is this fic so long?!

don't get me wrong, i'm honestly so surprised yet so proud of myself for actually having this much to say for a story for once in my life.

but DAMN. i really want to get to writing some future scenes already, but because i have so much i want to say and show first, i just keep prolonging it.

at this point, i genuinely cannot predict the length of this story anymore.

p.s. now that the movie is out, should i switch back to the original visuals I had for this fic, or should i stick to the current fanart version?

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

masterlist

He presses soft kisses against your skin, before gently easing your legs apart, careful not to wake you. His breath warms your inner thighs as he lingers there, savouring the moment.

“Oh…? How are you this wet while you’re asleep? Are you dreaming of something naughty…?” He lets his tongue glide between your folds, just enough to taste. A muffled moan escapes him.

“Mmh… how do you always…taste so good…?” His words dissolve into quiet sounds against you, his breathing growing heavy and unsteady. “Let’s see if you can take one finger…” he murmurs, easing it inside you. A soft exhale follows, “I see…not enough for you, huh?”

He added another. Caleb leans over you, his fingers still moving inside you in an unhurried rhythm. He’s brushes stray strands of hair from your face as he watches you, almost studies your every feature.

Eventually, he withdraws his finger, bringing them to his lips and licking them clean with a quiet, satisfied hum, before letting his hand drift slowly to cup your breasts.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispers against your ear. “How many nights I’ve had to take care of myself while you slept next door or even here, right next to me…,” a soft, breathless laugh follows, but clearly filled with guilt.

“Although I might’ve stolen a taste once or twice before when you were sleeping… but you forgive me, don’t you?” he confesses. Deep down, he longed for you to catch every confession, but yet was relieved you’re fast asleep.

“Now… juuust the tip,” he says. “You can handle that. I won’t wake you up.” He positions himself, guiding the head of his leaking cock slowly against you before pressing in just slightly. A sharp, shaky breath left him the moment he felt you.

His control slipps completely then, his movements growing steadier, deeper, his breathing rougher with every thrust. “I’m sorry– “ he gasps, his voice strains.  “It’s… not just the tip. I know…”

He suddenly freezes mid-motion, feeling you shift slightly under the covers as your breathing intensifies. “Ssh… hey, sshh!! I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says quickly and panicked. He basically has your permission, but why did he still feel so guilty? Yet he didn’t stop.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a rushed, but deep and sloppy kiss, his hand coming up to block your eyes with his palm, just in case. “Be a good baby sister… go back to sleep, yeah?” he whispers, yet his movements only grow more forceful.

CHAPTER FIVE

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, implied sexual assault, fight with zuko, zuko is kind of a prick ngl, protective aang, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER SIX

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, blood, stab wound, cauterization, lots of fire, a little tension, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER SEVEN

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, slight panic attack, a very bad injury (not detailed), takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER EIGHT

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, alcohol consumption, underage drinking (?) [idk their legal age for drinking, but in this fic it's 21], takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER NINE

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, kidnapping, restraints, sexual assault, character death mentioned, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER TEN

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, bad father, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER TWELVE

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, zuko spirals a little, multiple minor character deaths, ozai appearence, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER THRITEEN

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, blood, mentions of premeditated murder, angst, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, blood, mentions of premeditated murder, head injury, angst, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

coming soon...

"If she was truly here..." he said, each word measured carefully, "where is she now?"

Renshi lowered his eyes. "She departed with those who escaped the palace. The rest of us remained behind."

The old captain drew a slow breath, expecting to continue, but Zuko cut him off before another word could leave his mouth.

"How?"

Renshi looked up.

"My lord?"

"My sister." Zuko's voice had hardened. "How did she become involved with the Shinu when your lord resented her?"

Daiken answers his question, taking over for his father. 

"It was never part of the original plan."

Renshi inclined his head, allowing him to continue.

"Like my father mentioned, our former clan leader wished to restore our family's claim through diplomacy." Daiken kept his eyes lowered, speaking carefully. 

"He knew you too had suffered beneath Fire Lord Ozai's rule after you were banished. He believed that, given enough time, the matter could be settled without bloodshed."

"A marriage alliance," Zuko said quietly, remembering what had been mentioned earlier.

"Yes." Daiken nodded.

"Tell me more about it."

"The young master's sister was to be offered in marriage. The clan believed that if you accepted her hand, both bloodlines could coexist without another civil conflict."

"And then the clan leader died."

The answer came from Renshi this time.

"Their eldest son inherited the clan...but he was not his father. He had no interest in peace," Renshi continued. 

"He believed diplomacy had only weakened our house. He wanted the throne taken.."

Zuko folded his arms.

"How did that path led him to Azula?"

Neither father nor son answered immediately.

Finally, Daiken spoke. "It was she who approached him."

"What?"

"Princess Azula sought him out a few weeks ago." Daiken swallowed. "She told him she had no desire to see the throne pass to you. She said if our clan wished to reclaim it...she would help us."

Zuko stared at him.

"...Why?"

"She said she had no interest in ruling beside a weak king." Daiken's mouth tightened. "She promised that once you were dead, she would see the throne restored to our young master. In return..." He hesitated. 

"...she asked only one thing."

"What?"

"That your death belong to her." The chamber went completely still and the three prisoners lowered their eyes. 

"She departed with those who escaped the palace. The rest of us remained behind." After a brief pause, he drew a slow breath before continuing. 

"My lord...We have told you everything we know. I ask only that you grant safe passage to my youngest son. My eldest and I will remain here and answer for our crimes, but Kaito has no future if he remains."

The boy immediately struggled against his chains.

"Father, no—"

"Enough," Daiken interrupted firmly, not even looking toward him. "Be silent."

Kaito's protest died upon his lips, though the fear lingering in his eyes remained impossible to ignore.

Zuko looked at the boy only briefly before turning away. His thoughts had already raced elsewhere, every instinct urging him toward the upper floors of the palace.

"Keep them under constant watch," he ordered the guards outside, already making for the door. "No one is to enter this chamber without my permission."

The captain struck his fist against his chest. "Yes, Fire Lord."

"Uncle. Grand Chamberlain." Zuko did not slow his pace. "Meet me in my study."

Neither man questioned him as they had heard enough to know something had gone terribly wrong.

The door had closed behind Zuko with a quiet click after his visit to you new chambers, leaving the room wrapped in a silence that felt suffocating. 

You remained seated upon the bed long after he had gone, staring blankly toward the new royal garments hanging neatly on the wooden rack across the room, though your thoughts had wandered far from silk robes and palace chambers. 

No matter how desperately you tried to steady your breathing, your mind refused to remain still, returning to the conversation you had shared only moments ago, to what you knew Zuko had wished to discuss, to the mistake you wished with every part of yourself had never happened.

The maids entered not long afterward to help you change into a lighter robe for the afternoon. You thanked them quietly, allowing them to brush out your hair and adjust the fresh bandages beneath your shoulder wrappings before one of them approached with the tray containing the physician's medicines.

"My Lady, it is time for your second dose." She said gently, placing the wooden tray on the bedside table.

You accepted the bitter syrups without complaint, swallowing each one with practiced reluctance before taking the small capsule the physician had prescribed in front of you that morning. The familiar taste lingered unpleasantly upon your tongue, making you grimace ever so slightly.

"I shall be resting for the remainder of the day," you informed them once the tray had been cleared away. "Please do not disturb me unless it is absolutely necessary."

The women bowed in understanding.

"Of course." 

Once they had gone, the room fell silent again.

You lowered yourself carefully against the pillows, mindful not to aggravate your wound, and closed your eyes in the hope that sleep would quiet the thoughts refusing to leave you. 

Instead, your mind wandered to Aang almost immediately, wondering whether he had reached Republic City safely, whether he had remembered to eat, whether Appa had grown tired after such a long journey.

Then, without invitation, another face intruded.

The golden eyes.

You groaned softly, covering your face with both hands.

"No..."

The whispered plea was directed at no one but yourself.

You refused to think about him. You refused to replay the conversation, the kiss, or even the entire night for that matter. 

You had made your decision the moment he left this room. 

It had been a mistake. One that would remain buried forever.

Eventually, exhaustion succeeded and sleep claimed you before another thought could form.

You awoke with a sharp breath at the sound of the chamber door closing.

For a brief, disoriented moment you remained still, blinking against the darkness that had settled beyond the windows. The last traces of daylight had vanished entirely, replaced by lantern light flickering warmly across the walls.

A maid stood near the entrance, offering you an apologetic bow.

"I beg your pardon for waking you, My Lady, but it is time for your evening medicine."

You glanced toward the window, surprised to find the sky already swallowed by night.

"I had not intended to sleep so long, but my body feels well rested." You murmured, slowly pushing yourself upright as you looked at the maid's tray.

"I had believed it best to eat before taking my medicine."

"The physician instructed us not to delay your dosage. You may eat afterward. Another maid has already prepared your meal and will assist you once you have taken your medicine."

You nodded in understanding, watching her prepare the medicines on the bedside table. One by one, the familiar bottles were arranged before you exactly as they had been earlier that day.

Then your attention settled upon something new.

Beside the usual capsule rested another, slightly smaller than the first and your brows knitted together.

"I do not believe I was prescribed that."

The maid looked up immediately.

"Lord Zuko instructed that it be added after consulting with the physician this afternoon."

You continued studying the unfamiliar medicine.

"He did?"

"Yes, My Lady."

Silence settled between you for a moment before you slowly shook your head.

"I shall not be taking it."

The maid blinked.

"My Lady?"

"I was feeling considerably better this morning than I had been yesterday." You reached instead for the medicines you recognized, swallowing the bitter syrups first before taking the original capsule prescribed by the physician. 

Setting the empty cup aside, you glanced once more toward the unfamiliar medicine remaining untouched upon the tray. 

"If Lord Zuko believes another dosage necessary, I would rather hear it from him directly."

The maid shifted awkwardly where she stood, her fingers tightening around the edge of the tray.

"My Lady...he only wishes for your recovery."

"I do not doubt his intentions," you replied gently, "but I would still prefer to ask him myself before adding another medicine to those I have already been prescribed."

She hesitated, clearly uncertain how to proceed.

"Then...shall I send word for His Majesty?"

You inclined your head.

"Please do."

The maid did not answer back, neither did she move when you expected her to leave.

At first, you assumed she had simply been considering your request, her silence no different from the hesitation of every servant unwilling to question a royal command. 

Yet the longer it lingered, the more unnatural it became.

"Is Lord Zu—"

The word never left your lips.

A violent force struck the side of your forehead, shattering against your temple before you even registered the object in her hand. 

The porcelain vase that had rested innocently upon your bedside table only moments ago exploded across your bedding and the floor in a shower of broken fragments, while a sharp pain burst through your skull making your vision blurred.

A cry escaped you involuntarily as you toppled sideways onto the mattress, one hand flying instinctively to your head, feeling warmth seeped rapidly between your fingers.

Before you could gather yourself, the maid was already upon you.

Her knee drove into the mattress beside your waist, pinning you in place while one hand seized your jaw with surprising strength. The other held the unfamiliar capsule between two fingers, forcing it toward your lips.

"Open your mouth."

Your eyes widened in horror.

You twisted away with every ounce of strength you possessed, your injured shoulder screaming in protest as the sudden movement tore painfully through the healing flesh beneath its bandages. 

The pain was blinding, yet your terror seemed to drowned it out completely. You shoved against her arm, shaking your head violently until the capsule slipped from her grasp, bouncing once against the blankets before disappearing somewhere onto the floor.

"No!"

The woman cursed beneath her breath and you took advantage of that single moment.

With both hands you thrust against her shoulders, managing to throw her balance just enough to scramble free. 

Every movement sent agony tearing across your back, but the matter of  survival silenced every complaint your body tried to make. 

You slipped from the bed awkwardly, nearly collapsing as your bare feet struck the floor, trying to avoid the shattered vase on the floor as you moved toward the chamber door.

Although, you couldn't reach it as an arm wrapped around your waist from behind, wrenching you backwards with startling force. Before you could scream, her hand clamped tightly over your mouth, smothering every sound, and something cold settled against the side of your neck.

Steel.

Your entire body went rigid realizing what it was, feeling the blade pressed just enough for its edge to bite against your skin.

"There now," the woman murmured near your ear, her voice stripped entirely of the softness and gentle politeness she had worn only moments ago. 

"Let's not make this difficult, hm?"

Your breathing came in frantic, muffled gasps beneath her hand, tears stinging your eyes more from fear than pain.

"You ruined everything," she hissed. 

"Do you have any idea how irritating you are? We were certain you would die last night." A humorless laugh escaped her. "Imagine my surprise when I heard he did everything to help you survive."

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Who...?

"I should've known I couldn't leave something this important to other people."

The knife shifted ever so slightly against your throat.

"If you had simply swallowed the medicine, none of this would've been necessary."

A knock echoed through the chamber.

"My Lady?"

The familiar voice beyond the door froze the blood in your veins.

Zuko.

The woman behind you smiled.

"Perfect timing," she whispered, tightening her grip around your mouth before leaning closer. 

"Let him in. You're going to tell your guard everything is fine."

Your breathing slowed down, trying to meet the woman's eyes in your confusion who didn't seem to realize it was the Fire Lord standing outside your door. 

If she had, she wouldn't have suggested letting him enter.

"Now," the woman whispered against your ear, the blade remaining firm beneath your jaw, "convince him you're alright and tell him to leave."

Your throat felt painfully dry but you forced yourself to breathe despite the sharp blade pressing against your skin.

"C-come in."

The hand over your mouth disappeared as the woman retreated in silence, taking you with her until your back met the heavy curtains beside the window. She disappeared behind the fabric, leaving only the knife visible where it rested against your throat.

The chamber door opened.

Zuko stepped inside cautiously, his eyes finding you almost immediately. Relief flickered across his features for the briefest moment before concern replaced it entirely.

"My Lady..." His voice softened. "You are bleeding."

You could not answer, feeling yourself stricken with fear, feel the cold steel on your skin despite it not being there.

"Zuko...I am fine."

His eyebrows grew knitted as he crossed half the room in only a few strides, alarm growing with each step as he took in the fresh blood running from your forehead.

"What happened?" he demanded. "Did you fall? Why are there no—"

The curtains stirred in such a subtle movement that he almost overlooked it, ruling it out as a breeze.

But seeing a faint shadow move with it made his halt in his steps.

The woman emerged from behind the crimson drapery with effortless grace, one arm sliding around your shoulders while the other brought the dagger back against your throat before you had the chance to move. 

You trembled violently beneath her hold, your breathing turning shallow as the woman smiled over your shoulder.

Golden eyes met amber.

"...Azula."

The name escaped Zuko soundlessly making his sister tilt her head, the familiar smirk spreading across her face.

"Hello, Zuzu."

You stared ahead in stunned silence.

Azula.

The name echoed through your mind.

The first time you heard it was from Aang. It had been one quiet evening after you absentmindedly traced the scar upon his lower back with gentle fingertips, asking him how he had come by such a terrible wound. 

He had never given you the full story, only telling you that the Fire Lord's daughter, Azula, had nearly killed him years before the war ended, and that it was a memory none of his friends liked revisiting because, for a brief moment, they had all believed they had lost him.

The second time was only the night before, from Zuko himself. As the two of you spoke through the long hours until dawn, he had shared pieces of his past that left your heart aching for the lonely boy he once was. 

You had noticed more than once, more than his own father, he had looked troubled speaking of Azula.

At the time, you felt strongly that Zuko blamed himself for most of the failures surrounding his life, including the downfall of his sister that landed her in the asylum.

Both him and Aang had looked disturbed speaking of this woman, and looking at her now, it became painfully obvious why.

"Let her go, Azula." You observe Zuko as he spoke, noticing his inclined posture in case his sister takes any drastic measures.

Her response was a mere chuckle, feeling the sound creep down your skin and root fear in your body.

"As much as I'd love to catch up," she sighed dramatically, "I have to admit, I'm a little disappointed." Her eyes drifted down toward you before returning to her brother. 

"I thought you'd be married to Mai by now. Guess that's over. Killing her would have been killing two birds with a single stone, after all, she betrayed me too." She sighs, her mouth curving up to be a cruel smirk

"But this one..." Azula drags her last words, her vacant hand weaving through your hair and tugging harshly making you gasp at the pain.

"...is good enough. It was a perfect opportunity to let that lonesome airbender out of your clutches."

Despite the terror coursing through your body, something hot settled beneath your ribs. You turned your head ever so slightly.

"Lonesome...airbender?" you repeated quietly, your voice unsteady despite your efforts to steady it. "That...is a curious way...to refer to my husband."

Azula smiled.

"Is that so?"

"It...is inaccurate."

A soft hum escaped her. "You don't think he's lonely?"

You frowned. "He has...never been!"

"Not anymore," she corrected pleasantly. "Though I suppose nearly dying has a way of making people appreciate company."

Her fingers absently twirled a strand of your hair before tightening without warning, drawing another sharp breath from you.

"Then again..." She tilted her head ever so slightly, studying your face with open fascination. "Perhaps he simply found someone lonelier than himself."

When you refused to answer, your silence only seemed to amuse her further.

"Oh, don't look so offended." Her eyes wandered leisurely across your face, lingering upon the tears gathering despite your determined attempts to blink them away.

"Let her go, Azula."

Zuko's voice cut through the corridor before she could continue, both hands lifting slowly in front of him as he settled into a stance prepared to move at a moment's notice.

"I will not hold back this time."

His sister's smile never faltered.

Zuko's mind raced.

As long as Azula kept you pressed against her, she could shift your body into the path of any attack he launched, and no matter how precise he believed his bending to be, there was no strike he trusted enough to risk your life upon. One wrong movement, one instinctive flinch, and you would be the one paying for his mistake.

He had to remain patient.

Whatever had happened inside that asylum during the past decade, it could not have left her untouched. She had yet to summon even the smallest flicker of flame, something that unsettled him almost as much as it reassured him. Azula had never hesitated to bend before, especially when fire had always been the first language she spoke.

Perhaps she truly hadn't recovered.

Perhaps the years of confinement had weakened her more than anyone anticipated.

Or perhaps...

She wanted him to believe exactly that.

He couldn't afford to gamble on either possibility when the only certainty before him was the blade resting against your throat, and as long as it remained there, provoking her any further would only place you in greater danger.

Yet that was precisely what you continued to do.

The night before, as the two of you sat speaking until dawn, he had begun noticing the things he had overlooked. The careful composure you wore whenever you wished to hide your emotions, the subtle tightening of your hands whenever anxiety crept into your thoughts or whether it be the measured cadence of your voice whenever you forced yourself to remain calm.

Looking at you now, he saw through it immediately.

You were terrified.

So terrified that he hadn't see you move form your place this entire time.

Your feet had not shifted from where Azula first positioned you, despite her constant shuffling behind you. It looked as though your body no longer belonged to you. 

The only signs of life were the minute tremors gathering beneath your eyes, the uneven rise and fall of your chest, and the almost imperceptible shudder that passed through you whenever Azula's voice rose into that deceptively sharp tone she reserved for tormenting others.

Even so, you refused to lower your gaze.

Every word you spoke, every response you gave was steady despite the tears threatening to spill over, and Zuko understood you weren't speaking for yourself.

You were speaking for Aang.

Whatever fear gripped your body had been eclipsed, however briefly, by the anger you carried on your husband's behalf, and it was that anger keeping your voice from breaking.

But it also threatened to get you killed, and if he was going to keep you safe, he would need you to move.

"Your hands haven't stopped shaking since I put this blade to your throat." Azula continues her taunts.

You hadn't even realized they were.

"You are frightened. Your pulse has been racing this entire conversation." Another faint smile curved her lips. "Yet you keep speaking."

"I think...you've spoken enough...for all of us, Miss Azula."

Zuko wanted to tell you to stop.

Every instinct screamed at him to keep her talking, to prevent Azula's attention from shifting toward violence, yet hearing you speak so casually to her filled him with dread.

You, however, could not stop.

All you could see was the scar beneath Zuko's eye.

All you could remember was Aang's quiet voice telling you that he had nearly died because of the woman standing behind you.

And even if she terrified you, your fear had found company in your anger.

Azula's smile lingered. You had spoken back to her twice now without flinching, and while she masked her irritation well, you noticed the subtle tightening of the hand gripping your hair.

"I suppose my brother has always had questionable taste," she mused, tilting her head ever so slightly. "First that Water Tribe peasant, now..." Her eyes wandered over you deliberately before settling upon your face. "...you."

Zuko's pulse lurched.

"My sister," he warned quietly, refusing to take his eyes off the dagger pressed against your throat, "this does not end well for you."

She rolled her eyes.

"You've always been dramatic, Zuzu."

"I am serious."

"So am I." The playfulness vanished from her voice so completely that the room seemed to grow colder.

"I've spent years listening to everyone praise you." Her grip around your hair tightened. 

"The banished prince became the noble Fire Lord. The disappointment became Father's greatest regret. Even uncle got his happy ending." She sneered again.

"It makes me sick."

"You brought this upon yourself," Zuko replied. "You had every opportunity to choose differently."

"I did choose."

"You chose revenge." His voice remained level despite the anger steadily rising beneath it. 

Azula scoffed. "And you chose weakness."

You watched Zuko's face, slowly realizing this conversation had happened a hundred different ways before you had ever entered his life. They were no longer arguing about the present. They were children again, standing beneath the shadow of a father who had taught them that affection had to be earned.

Then Zuko spoke again.

"I know about the Shinu. The prisoners talked," Zuko continued. "They told me everything."

"Did they?" she asked lightly, though you noticed her attention sharpen. "Which ones?"

Zuko did not answer.

"They told me enough."

A slow smile returned to her lips.

"Still protecting your little informants?" She chuckled. "How noble."

"They said you approached their leader and you promised him the throne."

At his words, there was a terrible pause in everything around you, physically feeling Azula's skin get colder against you, rivaling that of the cold blade. 

Then Azula laughed, throwing her head back and cackling openly. Your eyes instinctively sought Zuko's, silently pleading for his help in a way you couldn't bring yourself to voice, only for him to give the smallest shake of his head, far too familiar with his sister's games. 

Without taking his eyes off Azula, he subtly gestured for you to stop speaking, silently urging you not to indulge her any further.

"Oh, Spirits..." She wiped an imaginary tear from beneath her eye. "You actually believed that?"

Zuko's expression hardened.

"So you did lie to them."

"I lie all the time." She shrugged effortlessly. "You know that better than anyone, Zuzu."

Her smile widened.

"Did you honestly think I would hand the Fire Nation to the Shinu clan?" The disgust in her voice was unmistakable. "Please. They were useful. That was all."

"Then why involve them at all?"

"Because angry men are remarkably easy to manipulate. You know that very well, don't you?" She leaned her head lazily against yours. 

"Promise them revenge or justice. Promise them whatever they want to hear." Her shoulders lifted in an almost careless shrug. "Once they've served their purpose...they become someone else's problem."

"I never intended to let anyone else sit on my throne." Azula met his gaze without hesitation, amusement dancing behind her golden eyes.

The words echoed through the chamber.

"You forfeited that right long ago." Zuko's expression hardened, though he made no move toward her.

"I disagree." A quiet laugh escaped her. "I still managed to get exactly what I wanted."

His brows drew together.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, unable to conceal the suspicion creeping into his voice.

She tilted your chin upward with the hand holding the dagger.

"Her."

Your stomach tightened.

"If my dear brother hadn't been so hospitable..." she mused, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face with unsettling gentleness, "...I never would've found the perfect piece."

Zuko's face paled.

"You invited the Avatar's wife into your palace." Azula laughed softly. "You placed her beneath your own roof and simply handed me that leverage."

"You are attacking a woman who had nothing to do with this."

"Oh, she has everything to do with this." Her smile widened another fraction. 

"You are so weak, Zuzu. The only ace you have up your sleeve is Aang. If only she had died, maybe he would no longer hold your hand. But I suppose this for the better, because it seems the Avatar would tear this nation apart for her."

"And so would I."

 Azula's eyes snapped to his, and she looked pleased at that response.

"There he is."

The brother she remembered.

The one who reacted before thinking, who let emotion cloud judgment.

"Now..." Azula murmured, and without warning, the dagger slipped from her hand as it clattered loudly against the stone floor.

Zuko reacted instantly as the sound alone was enough to send him surging forward, believing she had finally relinquished her hold upon you, but before he managed so much as a single stride, brilliant blue flames burst to life within the palm of her hand.

He stopped.

Your eyes immediately dropped to the fire dancing only inches from your face, its brilliant blue glow illuminating the chamber as waves of unbearable heat rolled across your skin. Instinctively, you shrank away from it, though there was nowhere for you to retreat with Azula still standing behind you.

"Zuko...?!" Your voice barely rose above a frightened whisper, your panic far more apparent than you wished it to be.

"Do not move, Zuzu." Azula smiled pleasantly, her gaze never leaving her brother. "Or she will be in tremendous pain."

He stepped forward anyway.

It was hardly more than an instinctive shift of his footing, yet the blue fire immediately swelled, roaring several inches higher in Azula's palm.

You recoiled with a sharp gasp, turning your face away from the searing heat as your shoulders instinctively curled inward.

"Azula!" Zuko's voice cracked through the room, stripped of the composure he had fought so hard to maintain.

"Oh, do calm yourself." She sounded almost amused by his desperation. "I have no intention of killing her, Zuzu." The flames flickered lazily between her fingers as though they were nothing more than candlelight. 

"But I do intend to end your tedious little reign once and for all."

Her smile widened.

"And when I reclaim my throne..." Her eyes drifted briefly toward you before returning to Zuko. "...I shall use your dear little hostage to finish what I started all those years ago. I will make sure..."

"...The last airbender dies with his wife."

Unable to keep your mind intact, your body moved first.

With every bit of strength you possessed, you threw your head backwards and the crack echoed sharply through the chamber, as did the sound growing lashing of the flame Azula held.

Azula cried out, more in surprise than pain, stumbling half a step as the bridge of her nose caught the full force of your skull. Her grip loosened around your hair as her hand went flying toward her face, and that single moment was all Zuko had been waiting for.

He crossed the distance between you in an instant, one hand seizing your wrist while the other wraps firmly around your waist, wrenching you free just as Azula recovered. You stumbled against him, losing your footing entirely as he pulled you behind his shoulder, but before either of you could gain another step, blue fire burst across the room.

The flames roared toward you.

You instinctively threw your arms over your head, collapsing onto the floor as heat swept over your body. Every muscle locked in terror, your breathing becoming ragged beneath the ringing in your ears. The scent of burning fabric filled the room, and for one awful heartbeat you could no longer distinguish memory from reality.

Not again.

Please...

Aang...

You wanted him. You wanted him to come back. You didn't want to stay here anymore.

A blast of orange fire collided with the blue flames before they could reach you completely, exploding into sparks that scattered across the polished floor. Zuko drove Azula backward with a second strike, forcing her away from where you had fallen, though she recovered with infuriating ease, laughing even as she retaliated with another stream of blue fire.

"I've missed this!" she called, leaping onto the windowsill before launching herself forward.

"You need help," Zuko growled, deflecting her attack.

"I've had plenty!" she answered cheerfully.

The doors burst open.

Half a dozen Royal Guards stormed into the chamber, drawn by the explosion, only to freeze for the briefest moment upon recognizing the princess standing before them.

"Take her!" Zuko ordered.

Azula laughed again as she fought against the guards.

"Oh, this should be fun."

She struck first, blue lightning flashing between her fingertips, forcing the nearest guards to scatter before she spun gracefully through the room. Two men fell almost immediately, thrown backwards by fire, while another barely managed to restrain her arm long enough for a fourth to seize the other.

The chamber dissolved into chaos as Zuko met Azula's next attack with one of his own, crimson flames colliding against blue in a burst of heat that forced the nearest guards to retreat once more. 

She moved with the same unnerving precision he remembered. Even after a decade of confinement, her instincts had not abandoned her, and for several long moments the two of them seemed to move in perfect opposition, neither willing to surrender an inch of ground.

Yet as the fight dragged on, Zuko began to notice the subtle differences that only someone who had spent a lifetime watching her could have recognized. Her attacks remained as lethal as ever, but there was a fraction more effort behind them than there once had been. 

Her breathing had grown heavier, no longer the calm, measured rhythm she had always maintained in battle, and beneath the glow of her own flames, the color had steadily drained from her face. 

She recovered from each movement a second slower than before, so slight a hesitation that no one else in the chamber appeared to notice, but it was enough for him. 

Ten years imprisoned within stone walls had not dulled her skill, yet her body no longer obeyed with the same relentless endurance it once possessed.

Azula caught the brief flicker of recognition in his eyes and answered it with renewed aggression, driving toward him with a relentless succession of strikes that left scorched stone in their wake. 

Zuko yielded just enough to draw her forward before slipping past the final blast, forcing her to pivot more sharply than she intended. Her footing faltered for only an instant as she regained her balance, but he had spent his entire life waiting for moments exactly like that. 

Closing the distance before she could recover, he caught her wrist as another spark of blue lightning threatened to form, twisting her arm behind her back with enough force to break her stance without causing lasting harm.

"Now!" Zuko shouted.

The remaining guards rushed her together and even Azula could not fight them all.

One by one, they forced her to her knees, iron restraints snapping around her wrists while she struggled violently beneath their weight, blue fire sputtering uselessly against the specialized manacles.

She let out a laugh, wild and unsteady.

"You think chains work on me?" she asked, smiling up at Zuko with frightening certainty. "You really haven't learned anything, have you, brother?"

The room had finally fallen quiet.

Only your uneven breathing remained, broken every so often by another sob you could no longer suppress. The guards had dragged Azula away kicking and laughing and yet your body refused to believe the danger had passed. 

Your fingers clutched at the front of your robes until they ached, your shoulders trembling violently.

"My Lady..."

Zuko crossed the room almost hesitantly now that there was no enemy left to fight. The urgency that had driven every movement moments before dissolved the instant he reached you, leaving only concern as he lowered himself onto the floor beside you. 

He reached for your shoulders with remarkable care, afraid even the smallest touch might reopen the wound beneath your bandages, and when you didn't recoil he searched your face instead, his expression tightening at the fresh blood running from your forehead.

"Did she hurt you anywhere else?" he asked softly, one hand settling against your arm while the other hovered uncertainly over your back, scarcely brushing the fabric where the physician had dressed your injury that morning, noticing the blood seeping through the white fabric..

"Your wound has reopened."

You tried to answer but nothing came out.

The moment you looked at him, another sob escaped instead.

Without thinking, you lurched forward.

Zuko barely had time to catch you before your forehead struck his shoulder, your hands clutching desperately at the front of his robes as though he alone could keep the world from collapsing around you. 

He wrapped his arms around you, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rested lightly against your shoulder blades, whispering reassurances you scarcely heard through the ringing in your ears.

"You are safe, I am sorry this happened to you." he murmured.

You wanted to believe him but nothing about today had felt safe. 

Your breathing only grew more uneven until dizziness settled over you, your grip weakening despite yourself. Zuko noticed immediately, drawing back just enough to look at you, his brow knitting with fresh concern when your eyes struggled to remain open.

Your grip upon his robes slowly loosened, though you made no move to lean away. You remained pressed against him, your breathing uneven and painfully shallow, until at last you managed to lift your head. 

Your eyes found his almost immediately, and for a long moment you simply stared at him, looking so utterly lost that Zuko felt the same guilt wrap around his throat before he spoke.

"It's alright," he whispered. 

His hand remained cupped gently against the side of your face, brushing away a strand of hair that had become matted with drying blood. 

"You're alright now."

You wanted to answer.

Instead, your lips parted soundlessly, your chest rising with one unsteady breath after another before the strength seemed to drain from your body all at once. Your eyes slipped shut, your forehead falling heavily against his shoulder.

He held you tighter, catching your full weight before you could collapse to the floor. At first he thought you were simply exhausted, but when your shallow breathing persisted, his heartbeat lurched.

"My Lady." His voice came sharper this time, one hand moving to support the back of your neck while the other gently tapped your cheek. "Can you hear me?"

Nothing.

Only the sharp rhythm of your breathing answered him.

Relief and dread collided within him and he couldn't tell which emotion to surrender to first. You had not stopped breathing, yet the sight of you lying motionless in his arms sent every memory from the previous night crashing back with merciless clarity.

"Please..." The word escaped beneath his breath before he had the chance to stop it, his hand instinctively rising, as his thumb lingered against your cheek for only a moment before he gently cupped your jaw, searching desperately for some sign that you remained with him.

When your breathing steadied, however faintly, he allowed himself to breathe as well. The relief left him almost weak, and before he could think better of it, he drew you closer against his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head as though sheltering you there might somehow undo the terror his carelessness led you to experience.

He opened his mouth to call for the palace physician, only then becoming aware of the silence surrounding him.

The chamber stood in complete disarray, shattered porcelain and scorched furniture scattered across the floor, while the guards remained frozen where they stood.

Their eyes lingered not upon the destruction around them, but upon their Fire Lord kneeling on the floor, cradling another man's wife with an emotion far too personal to mistake.

Then his eyes met Uncle Iroh's and he had witnessed everything.

Not a word passed between uncle and nephew, yet Zuko found himself unable to hold his gaze for more than a heartbeat. 

He lowered his eyes again, the hand resting against your cheek slowly fell away as though he had only just become aware of it, and after drawing one slow breath, he tightened his hold beneath your shoulders to support your unconscious weight.

"Send for the physician," he ordered, his voice steady despite everything churning beneath it. 

"Now."

chapter seventeen coming soon...

a/n: fun fact, in my original plot, when this scene was still just a daydream, they were supposed to kiss! but when i actually wrote it, i went, "fuck no."

also, aang will be back next chapter!!

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

masterlist

Their laughter lingered between them for another few moments before gradually settling into a comfortable silence. Outside, evening had begun painting warm reflections across the water while the steady murmur of passing conversations drifted through the open windows. 

Aang lowered his attention to the bowl resting before him, absently stirring the noodles with his chopsticks before taking another bite.

"Hmm..." he hummed thoughtfully after swallowing. 

"I really missed you, Katara."

The words came so naturally that they caught her entirely off guard. Her smile widened, though her surprise softened it.

"I missed you too, Aang."

He looked up immediately, meeting her eyes with the same open smile he had always worn whenever he was genuinely happy, and for just a moment, it felt strangely easy to pretend nothing had changed between them.

"So," she continued, breaking the silence, "how are things with Zuko? I'm curious why you keep going there. You're practically living in the Fire Nation these days."

The smile faded little by little, and Aang looked back down into his bowl, rolling the chopsticks lightly between his fingers before answering.

"Well..." The single word carried enough weight that Katara immediately understood.

"That bad?"

He gave a small nod.

"Yeah." He searched for the right way to explain it.

"I don't even know how to help him anymore," he admitted quietly. "At first I thought I did, but lately it just feels like...I'm standing in the middle of problems that don't really belong to me."

Katara rested her elbow lightly against the table, watching him carefully while he spoke.

"I guess I understand."

Aang looked toward her.

"If you weren't friends, maybe it'd be easier to stay out of it," she continued. "But you are friends and you're worried for him, and when people you care about are struggling..." She offered a small shrug. 

"...you don't really know how not to help."

"Yeah." The answer escaped almost automatically.

Silence settled again, though this one felt different from before. Aang continued absentmindedly eating, yet his thoughts were clearly elsewhere, his movements slowing enough that Katara noticed almost immediately.

She had spent too many years beside him not to.

"What is bothering you?"

He blinked.

"What?"

She smiled knowingly.

"Something's bothering you."

He looked momentarily confused.

"I thought it was about Zuko," she continued, "but I don't think it is anymore."

Aang avoided her eyes.

"Is it about Sokka?"

He shook his head. "No. Nothing's wrong."

Katara laughed quietly. "Oh, please."

He looked back up.

"I know your tells." That earned the faintest smile from him, though it disappeared quickly.

"Well..." He sighed.

She waited. 

"It's not...not about Zuko."

Katara simply nodded, giving him the space to continue instead of rushing to fill the silence.

Aang rested both chopsticks across the rim of his bowl before speaking again.

"I knew all of you probably wouldn't accept my wife right away."

The confession surprised her, prompting her to open her mouth in protest but close it immediately. He hadn't been wrong, and she hadn't realized he had expected it all along.

Before she could respond, he continued.

"I wasn't really upset about that." He rubbed absentmindedly at the back of his neck. "I figured everyone just needed time. You, Sokka, Toph...I knew you'd come around eventually because you're my family."

Katara felt something tighten quietly inside her chest.

"So..." Aang smiled faintly, though there was very little joy behind it now. "It actually felt nice that at least Zuko seemed to be genuinely happy for me."

The words landed harder than he ever intended making her lower her eyes in shame.

"I really am sorry we made you feel that way."

Aang didn't interrupt.

"We were surprised," she admitted honestly. "And I think we let that surprise get in the way of simply being happy for you."

He answered only with a small smile, not really dismissing the apology, but not verbally accepting it either. 

In his mind, she didn't have any reason to apologize, so he only gave that smile to let her know he wasn't angry.

She wished, strangely, that he had argued instead.

"I thought..." he continued after another moment, "that Zuko was just...being Zuko."

She looked at him curiously.

"You know...a little indifferent." He laughed softly. "He's always been better than the rest of us at accepting change once he decides to stop fighting it."

Katara couldn't help smiling.

"That's one way of describing him."

"But now I'm not so sure." Something in his voice made her expression change immediately.

"What do you mean?"

Aang hesitated.

"I don't want to assume the worst of him."

She remained quiet.

"But...?"

He frowned faintly.

"I've started wondering whether the only reason he offered to accommodate my wife was because he wanted to learn more about her."

Katara looked genuinely puzzled. "What makes you think that?"

Aang rested his forearms against the edge of the table.

"He said a few things to her. and it really upset her."

Katara watched him carefully.

"I know she tried to hide it from me," he continued quietly. "She didn't want another situation like the one with Sokka."

His expression softened almost immediately.

"Like that was ever her fault."

"What did he say?" Katara asked, leaning forward slightly, her elbows resting against the the table, mimicking Aang as she searched his face for an answer.

Only then did Aang seem to realize where the conversation had wandered. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly before darting back toward his untouched bowl, panic flashing across his features for the briefest moment. 

Until now he had been speaking without thinking, simply voicing the worries that had lingered in the back of his mind ever since leaving the Fire Nation, but the moment Katara asked that question he remembered exactly what those words had been about.

If he told her the truth, he would have to tell her that Zuko had questioned his feelings for her.

He couldn't do that.

"Just..." He hesitated, searching for something vague enough to satisfy the question without betraying anyone's confidence. "...just things that made her doubt herself. Her place beside me."

Katara watched him for another moment before the answer finally settled in. She understood immediately that he had no intention of repeating the conversation word for word, and despite her curiosity she respected it enough not to pry further. 

Leaning back into her chair once more, she offered him a small, reassuring smile.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me." Her voice softened. "If you just needed someone to listen, then I'm here."

Aang returned the smile, grateful enough that the tension in his shoulders eased ever so slightly.

"Thanks."

For a while he quietly pushed the noodles around his bowl before speaking again.

"I really want to believe he was just curious," he admitted, frowning down at the broth. "I don't want to think he crossed a line. He's dealing with enough already. My marriage should be the last thing on his mind."

Katara listened without interrupting, waiting until he had finished before answering.

"If you're really that worried..." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Then maybe you should bring her home."

Aang looked up.

"I know you wanted her with you," she continued, "but if she's constantly feeling like someone is trying to pry answers out of her, then I can't imagine she's very comfortable there. Zuko is our friend, and I know he doesn't always realize how he comes across, but sometimes..." She sighed quietly. 

"...sometimes he pushes because he thinks he deserves an answer."

"Yeah." his agreement came almost immediately. "Yeah, I think I will bring her back."

He finally reached for his glass of water, taking a slow sip before setting it down again.

"I don't think bringing her there was the right decision anymore. I just..." He rubbed absentmindedly at the back of his neck. 

"I felt awful leaving her alone, and I knew I had to be away from her for a while. It seemed like a solution."

Katara nodded patiently.

"I thought she'd enjoy staying there more than sitting by herself at home," he continued. "Even if I wasn't there with her."

"What makes you say that, Aang?"

The question stopped him completely.

His mouth opened before closing again just as quickly, every answer that came to mind dying before it reached his tongue. A nervous laugh escaped him instead, and he scratched awkwardly at his cheek.

"I...don't know."

Katara tilted her head.

"Aang?"

"It's..." He stopped again. "My wife...she's very similar to Zuko."

"Oh."

"Well, more like the way they were raised, it's very different from how the Air Nomad's lifestyle."

"I think I understand..."

"She tries to hide it, but I know she struggles with how I live. So I try to give her as much freedom as she wants. But she insisted to join me wholeheartedly. She turned vegetarian, she stopped drinking, she even asked to have the air acolyte clothing made for her."

"Why doesn't she wear them?" Katara asked genuinely, being reminded of how Aang and Sokka's argument had begun in the first place.

"I told her not to." He answered shyly.

"Why?"

"Because I knew she didn't want to. Despite everything that happened, she didn't want to leave her life behind, and her clothes were the only thing that tied her back to home. That's why I thought she might feel a little more at home in the Fire Nation."

Katara nodded, "What happened?"

Aang tilts his head. "What?"

"You said, despite everything that happened. What happened?"

"Oh, um..."

"I won't judge you or her," she assured him gently. "You know that."

"I know you won't!" he answered almost immediately, sounding far more flustered than he intended. "I know that."

He exhaled heavily, looking everywhere except at her.

"I just...I don't think you're the right person to tell."

The words escaped before he could stop them. The moment they did, he wished desperately that he could pull them back.

Katara's expression fell so quietly that anyone else might have missed it, but Aang knew her too well. He saw the hurt settle behind her eyes, and guilt crashed over him before she had even spoken.

"Wait—" He hurried forward slightly, shaking his head.

"I didn't mean it like that." His voice softened immediately. "Katara, you know I value your opinion. You mean so much to me."

He sighed, rubbing both hands over his face before forcing himself to continue.

"...and my wife knows that too."

Katara drew a slow breath through parted lips, understanding arriving quickly making lowering her eyes for only a moment before looking back at him.

"Aang..." Her voice had become quieter now. "I'm sorry if I made things more difficult."

"No."

The answer came instantly.

"No, Katara. Please don't apologize." He shook his head, his voice had almost become a whisper.

"This isn't your fault." He swallowed hard. "I'd never blame you."

His fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

"It happened because I was ignorant." His eyes remained fixed on the untouched bowl in front of him. "She knows I love her...but she just can't bring herself to believe it because—"

"Because of me?" Katara finished quietly. The words hung between them.

Aang didn't answer but his silence said enough. She looked away first, blinking rapidly while drawing another careful breath.

"Katara..." His own voice faltered now.

"I don't..."

She shook her head gently before he could continue. "Please."

When she looked back at him, her eyes had already begun to shine.

"Just say it, Aang."

He stared at her helplessly.

"Say what?"

"Whatever you've been trying so hard not to." A sad smile touched her lips.

"I'm tired of everyone walking on eggshells whenever your name comes up." She let out a quiet laugh that held no amusement. "I don't want you doing it too."

Her fingers curled loosely around the cup sitting in front of her.

"So...please. Just rip the bandage off."

Aang pressed his lips together, his chest tightening until it almost hurt to breathe.

"K-Katara..." His voice cracked before he could finish the sentence.

"I don't want to hurt you." He blinked hard, feeling his own vision blur. "I don't want you thinking I'm saying any of this because I pity you...or because I feel guilty."

He lowered his head.

"But everything I want to say sounds exactly like that."

Katara wasn't faring much better. She quickly brushed away the tears gathering beneath her eyes before folding her arms tightly across herself, steadying her breathing long enough to answer.

"I won't think that." Her voice had become small, though it never lost its certainty. "Just tell me."

Aang remained silent for another long moment before finally finding the courage to meet her eyes again.

"It isn't exactly a secret that I liked you, Katara."

A faint, almost embarrassed smile crossed his face.

"In fact, it was a lot more than a simple crush."

He let out a slow breath.

"I know, Aang."

Katara's answer came almost instinctively.

"I felt the same."

The moment the words left her mouth, both of them froze. Neither acknowledged what she had actually admitted. The confession simply settled quietly between them, too honest to be taken back and too painful to examine any further.

Aang lowered his eyes first.

"I'm so sorry if I've made you feel like I misled you all these years."

His voice had grown quieter now, stripped entirely of the uncertainty that had filled it moments ago.

"I never want to see you hurt." He drew a slow breath, his fingers curling together. "And I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for knowing that I was the reason."

Katara watched him silently.

"I know saying sorry doesn't change anything," he continued, forcing himself to meet her eyes again despite the tears beginning to blur his own. "I'm not saying it because I want to stop feeling guilty. If this is something I'll carry for the rest of my life, then...I will." 

A weak smile tried to form before disappearing almost immediately. "I just need you to know that I never wanted to hurt you."

She swallowed against the tightness in her throat.

"I know you didn't." Her answer came gently. "I know you would never hurt me on purpose."

She paused to steady her breathing.

"But you can't expect me not to be hurt, Aang."

"I know."

He didn't try to defend himself, only accepted her answer.

Katara lowered her eyes toward the untouched bowl in front of her, blinking repeatedly before speaking again.

"I promise..." Her voice caught unexpectedly, forcing her to stop as she hurriedly wiped beneath her eyes with the heel of her hand. 

She let out a quiet laugh through her nose, embarrassed by the tears that refused to stay away. 

"...I promise I don't have anything against your wife."

Aang remained silent.

"But when I looked at her..." She finally lifted her head again, her expression crumbling despite every attempt to keep it together. "...I couldn't stop thinking..."

Her voice barely carried the rest. "...that was supposed to be my life."

The words struck him harder than anything said all afternoon. He stared at her without speaking, his heart sinking further with every second she struggled to continue.

"I'm sorry." She laughed again, though this time it sounded painfully hollow. "I know that sounds awful."

"It doesn't."

She shook her head.

"I was so certain." Her eyes drifted toward the street beyond the restaurant window where strangers continued walking through the evening entirely unaware that her world had quietly unraveled inside four walls. 

"I was so certain of what my future looked like that when you came back married..." She stopped, pressing trembling fingers briefly against her lips before forcing herself onward. 

"...it felt like I'd lost a part of myself."

Aang's own eyes burned.

"And I couldn't even talk about it." Another tear slipped free despite her efforts. "Everyone pitied me."

She smiled bitterly.

"It feels pathetic being pitied over something like that."

"Katara..."

"I wanted to be angry with you. I really did." She looked at him then, her voice had steadied, though only barely.

"But how could I?" She shook her head slowly. "We never even talked about it."

Aang felt his chest tighten.

"I didn't think we had to." Neither accusation nor defense lingered within those words and Katara nodded.

"I didn't either." A faint laugh escaped her.

"I thought..." She smiled sadly. "I thought we'd just...know when the time was right."

"So did I." The admission came immediately, and Katara stared down at her hands resting upon the table.

"Now..." Her voice faltered once more. "...all I can think about is why I never said anything sooner."

Aang couldn't bear the distance between them anymore. Without thinking, he reached across the table, his hand coming to rest gently over hers.

"Katara..."

The contact lasted only a heartbeat.

She withdrew almost instinctively, pulling both hands back toward herself before covering her face entirely. Her shoulders trembled beneath the effort of keeping her sobs quiet, each shaky breath sounding smaller than the last while the evening carried on beyond the restaurant windows, indifferent to the grief unfolding inside.

"I keep wondering..." she whispered through her hands. "If I'd just told you..." Another breath caught painfully in her throat. 

"...if I'd said something before you met her..." She stopped. There was no answer to finish that thought, only another quiet sob.

Aang remained where he was, his hand falling slowly back into his lap, every instinct urging him to comfort her while knowing there was nothing he could possibly say that would lessen what she was feeling.

After another long moment, Katara lowered her hands just enough for him to see her face.

She managed the smallest smile, one that broke his heart all over again.

"I really am happy for you, Aang." Her voice remained fragile, but there wasn't a trace of dishonesty within it.

"I just..."

She paused to wipe her cheeks once more.

"I need some time."

By the time they stepped back onto the streets, the last traces of sunlight had long disappeared beyond Republic City's skyline, leaving hundreds of lanterns to bathe the roads in a warm amber glow. 

The city had always seemed most alive after sunset, and for the first time in years, Aang found himself walking beside Katara without feeling the weight of unspoken words pressing between them.

Neither of them spoke much.

The afternoon had taken more out of them than either cared to admit, yet strangely enough, both felt lighter for it. Nothing had truly been resolved, but at least they no longer had to wonder what the other had been thinking all these years.

They finally knew.

Katara slowed to a stop outside her house, turning toward him with the faintest smile.

"This is me."

Aang smiled back.

"Mhm."

They simply stood there, neither certain whether a hug would be appropriate anymore. The hesitation lasted only a heartbeat before Katara laughed softly to herself.

"See?" she teased, folding her arms loosely. "Now you've made things awkward."

"I did?" Aang asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"You." She pointed accusingly toward him. "You overthink everything."

Aang rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"I think we both do."

Katara couldn't argue with that.

"I guess we do." She admitted with a small laugh.

Another comfortable silence followed before she stepped closer, reaching out to squeeze his forearm gently.

"Go home to your wife."

There was no bitterness behind those words.

Aang nodded.

"I will."

"And don't worry about Zuko too much, I am sure he's over there boring your wife with his attempts of humor." Katara laughed.

Aang reciprocated it barely, still a little bothered by Zuko's last interaction with you.

"I hope so." He said, his voice soft.

"And Aang..."

He looked back.

"I'm glad we talked."

His smile softened.

"Me too."

She lingered another moment before finally disappearing inside, closing the door quietly behind her.

Aang remained standing where he was for a few seconds longer.

The conversation replayed through his thoughts, not with the heaviness that had haunted him before, but with an odd sense of peace. 

Things would not return to how they had once been, and perhaps they never should. They had both changed too much for that. 

Yet beneath all the complicated feelings, the years apart, and the futures that had taken different paths, she was still Katara.

His oldest friend.

He hoped that would always remain true.

He turned and began making his way back through the lantern-lit streets toward home.

He had barely taken another corner before something small and unexpectedly heavy slammed into the back of his head.

"Ow!"

The impact pitched him forward just enough to stumble, both hands instinctively flying upward in confusion before tiny arms suddenly wrapped around his face.

"Momo?!"

The winged lemur clung stubbornly to him, chirping furiously only inches from his ear.

"Oh, you're mad at me!" Aang laughed despite himself, trying unsuccessfully to pry the little creature away. 

"You were looking for me? I left you enough food! Did you actually finish all of it already?"

Momo answered with another series of indignant chirps, sounding deeply offended by the accusation.

"Okay, okay!" Aang protested between laughs. "I'm sorry!"

Instead of forgiving him, Momo flattened his ears and let out an even louder screech toward the night sky.

"H-Hey..." Aang frowned. "What's going on?"

Another sharp object collided squarely against the side of his head.

"Ow!"

Something fluttered frantically above him.

Tiny claws caught briefly in his sleeve before he reached upward on instinct, carefully wrapping his hand around the small messenger bird struggling to keep its balance.

"Oh..."

His expression immediately shifted.

"So that's why you were looking for me."

Momo chirped in agreement before finally releasing his grip on Aang's face, climbing down to perch around his shoulders instead while continuing to grumble beneath his breath.

Aang laughed quietly, scratching behind one of the lemur's ears.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry you had to come find me because I wasn't home."

The bird answered with a patient chirp of its own, remaining perfectly still while Aang carefully untied the small scroll secured beneath its wing.

He frowned slightly.

"A letter from the Fire Nation?"

That was unexpected.

He had spoken to Zuko only yesterday before leaving for Republic City. Whatever business had required his presence here had already been discussed, and they both knew he intended to return within another day or two.

His confusion quickly gave way to another possibility.

Maybe it wasn't from Zuko at all. Maybe you had grown impatient after only one day apart.

The thought brought an unconscious smile to his face.

He could almost picture you insisting that one letter certainly wasn't excessive if your husband was away, regardless of how soon he planned to return.

Still smiling to himself, Aang carefully unrolled the parchment, and his smile disappeared almost immediately.

It wasn't your handwriting.

Instead, written neatly at the very bottom of the page, stood a single name.

Zuko.

A faint unease settled in his chest.

He lowered his eyes to the first line.

Then he read, and the blood drained from his face.

Aang, I regret that I must ask you to cut your visit to Republic City short. The palace came under attack shortly after your departure. Although the threat has been contained and those responsible have been apprehended, the circumstances surrounding the attack require your immediate return. Your wife was injured while under my protection. Before anything else, I want you to know that she survived. The palace physician has examined her thoroughly and assures me that her condition is stable. Her injuries are significant, but she has remained conscious, and I have every reason to believe she will recover with time and proper care. I know those words will not ease your mind, but I hope they spare you from imagining anything worse during your journey back. I will explain everything that happened once you arrive. There are matters surrounding the attack that I do not wish to entrust to a messenger bird, both for your sake and hers. I cannot adequately express my regret that this occurred within my palace, especially after I assured you she would be safe here. I accept full responsibility for that failure. Please return as soon as you are able. I am sorry, Aang. — Zuko

The parchment slipped from Aang's trembling fingers before he had even reached the final line.

"No..."

The whisper escaped him without thought.

His heart lurched violently against his ribs, every word Zuko had written crashing together until only one remained.

Your wife was injured...

He snatched the letter back up immediately, reading it again despite already knowing what had been said, his eyes desperately searching for something he might have misunderstood. 

Surely there had been another page. Surely there was some explanation hidden between the lines that would make this seem less frightening than it felt, but there wasn't.

You were hurt and his mind refused to stay still.

How badly had you been injured?

"A-Appa..."

The name barely left his lips before he was already running.

People called after him when he burst through the crowded streets, apologizing instinctively each time his shoulder brushed against another passerby, though he hardly heard himself. 

His thoughts remained hundreds of miles away, already searching desperately through every possibility, every route that might somehow shorten the impossible distance separating him from you.

It was still another full day's journey.

Spirits...

A whole day.

By the time Aang reached home, his thoughts had dissolved into a blur so overwhelming that he barely remembered unlocking the front door. He crossed the familiar rooms without stopping, his feet carrying him instinctively toward the balcony where the cool night air met him the moment he slid the doors open. 

Raising the whistle to his lips, he gave a sharp blow into the carved bison hanging around his neck, the clear call echoing across the quiet streets before disappearing into the darkness beyond the rooftops.

The silence that followed felt endless.

Unable to remain still, Aang turned back inside, his eyes immediately finding the two travel bags resting neatly beside the entrance exactly where he had left them that morning. He had packed them before leaving this morning, knowing he would be too tired to do it after he returned. 

One carried a change of his robes along with a few necessities for the journey ahead, while the other held several of your spare garments folded carefully inside.

He swallowed the feeling before lifting both bags and carrying them back onto the balcony just as a familiar shadow swept over the rooftops. Appa descended with grace despite his enormous size, hovering in front of the railing.

"There you are," Aang murmured, though the relief never reached his voice.

He secured both bags to the saddle with hurried hands before looking toward the winged lemur lingering anxiously behind him.

"Momo." The little lemur tilted his head. "Go on. Meet me downstairs."

Momo chirped once before springing effortlessly onto Appa's saddle, curling himself between the baggage while watching Aang disappear back into the house.

It took only a moment to lock the front door behind him.

Aang paused briefly with the key still resting in his hand, staring at the quiet home that had felt so warm only yesterday, before slipping it into his robes and hurrying back outside.

Appa was already waiting, the great sky bison lowered his head in greeting, letting out a deep, familiar rumble that usually drew an immediate smile from Aang.

Tonight, it only made his heart ache.

Aang crossed the remaining distance quickly, burying both hands into the thick fur along Appa's neck.

"We have to go."

Another rumble answered him, softer this time.

"Right now."

Appa nudged him gently, almost questioning the urgency.

Aang closed his eyes.

"Your mother..." His voice cracked despite every effort to steady it. "Your mother is hurt."

The words lingered between them.

Appa became completely still.

Perhaps he did not understand every word, but he understood enough. He knew your scent, your laughter, the gentle way your hands always disappeared into the fur beneath his horns whenever you greeted him after a long flight.

He knew exactly who Aang meant.

"I need you to fly faster than you ever have before," Aang whispered, resting his forehead against Appa's. "I know it's far, and I know you've barely had time to rest, but...please."

His hand stroked Appa's fur once, urgency bleeding through every syllable as he spoke.

Appa answered with a determined snort before lowering himself without another moment's hesitation.

Aang didn't waste another second.

He climbed onto his head in one practiced motion while Momo darted onto his shoulder, unusually quiet now, sensing the fear that had settled over his friend.

The messenger bird took flight once more.

Aang barely noticed.

"Yip, yip." The command came strained.

Appa surged into the night sky.

Republic City disappeared beneath them almost immediately, its countless lanterns shrinking into scattered stars while the cold wind rushed against Aang's face. His fingers tightened around the reins until they ached, every instinct urging Appa faster despite knowing the great bison was already giving him everything he had.

"Please..."

The plea vanished into the rushing wind.

"Just hold on until I get there."

Night had long settled over the Fire Nation by the time Zuko found himself seated upon the throne once more, though the title of Fire Lord felt strangely distant beneath the weight occupying his thoughts.  

His body remained where duty demanded it be, but his mind had stubbornly refused to leave your chambers.

He had expected relief after speaking with you, instead, he had walked away carrying even more uncertainty than before.

You had thanked him for his hospitality, accepted his apology.

And you had asked only whether Aang had been informed, and he was certain the Avatar must have received his letter by this hour.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

Then, with all the kindness he had once admired in you, you had quietly dismissed him from the room.

The memory lingered unpleasantly.

Your politeness had unsettled him more than your previous anger had. Every careful word and measured smile, every attempt to steer the conversation elsewhere had made one thing painfully clear.

You truly wished to leave the previous night behind. To forget it had ever happened.

"My Lord?"

Zuko did not respond.

"Fire Lord Zuko."

The second voice finally reached him.

He lifted his head immediately, finding every minister seated around the table waiting in silence.

"My apologies," he said quietly, straightening where he sat. "I was elsewhere."

The council exchanged brief glances before one of the senior ministers leaned forward, spreading another map across the table until it covered nearly the entire polished surface. Several locations had already been marked in red ink, connected by thin strokes that crisscrossed the Fire Nation's coastline and reached farther inland than Zuko would have liked.

"As I was saying, Your Majesty," the minister resumed, his tone measured despite the gravity weighing beneath it, "we believe the assault upon the palace may not have been an isolated incident."

Another councilor nodded in agreement.

"The men apprehended after the attack possessed no insignias, no written orders, and no identifying marks upon their bodies. Ordinarily we would assume they were hired internally within our forces." His fingers rested upon one of the marked locations before sliding toward another. 

"However, the manner in which they coordinated their movements, their willingness to die without surrender, and the discipline they displayed suggest something...considerably older."

Silence settled over the chamber.

The older minister inhaled slowly before speaking the name none of them had wished to utter aloud.

"The Shinu bloodline."

The words lingered heavily between those present, no one immediately contradicted him.

"it seems our previous speculations might just be true, my Lord."

For generations, the Shinu clan had remained a blemish upon the history of the royal family. Though they had long ago surrendered their claim to the throne and publicly sworn loyalty to Fire Lord Zoryu's descendants, loyalty born from necessity rarely erased ambition. 

Every generation had produced whispers of resentment, of descendants who believed the crown should never have belonged to Zuko's bloodline in the first place.

Most of those whispers had died before becoming anything more.

Zuko rested both hands upon the edge of the council table, his thoughts finally pulling themselves away from your chambers and settling fully upon the discussion before him.

"We have no proof," he said at last, his voice calm despite the unease beginning to settle within him. "History is not evidence."

"No, but history often tells us where to begin looking." the minister agreed solemnly. 

The chamber fell quiet once more.

Zuko did not want to be prejudiced, especially after spending most of his life being on the receiving end of it.

He didn't want any accusations to be thrown towards the clan, even if their history together hadn't been the friendliest. But if he as a ruler was a stark contrast to his father, then he didn't want to rule out the possibility for someone else changing either.

But that alone can't be enough reason for him ignore the truth.  

Zuko lowered his eyes toward the map spread before him, studying the scattered markings without truly seeing them. 

He had spent years believing the greatest threat to his reign would always bear his father's name.

Now found himself wondering whether he had been looking in the wrong direction all along.

But there was a sense of dread within him, that perhaps his suspicions weren't entirely wrong. 

chapter fifteen

a/n: guys...i have some bad news. :(

i can no longer guarantee an update every five days.

i've officially caught up to myself and run out of pre-written chapters, which means everything from this point onward is just rough drafts that i still have to write.

so...we're back to random updates

hopefully i'll still have enough time each day to keep the updates fairly consistent, but i don't want to promise something i can't guarantee anymore.

some chapters might still come out within five days, some might take a little longer, and if the writing gods decide to be kind to me, maybe you'll even get back-to-back updates.

we'll just have to see how it goes.

also, addressing the chapter...

i don't know how i feel about aang calling you appa's mother :{

it sounded SO sweet in my head, but when i actually wrote it, i just sat there staring at it like...hmm.

i still kept it because i think it's adorable, but i genuinely can't decide if it's really cute or really corny.

you all can be the judges of that one.

masterlist