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Chapter Text

Katara 

Katara had always been bound by a sense of duty–first to her people and her tribe when she was young. Then, to Sokka as they grew up, making sure he was well taken care of. Most importantly, to the greater justice of the world, as she worked alongside her friends to defeat Ozai. And always, always, to the memory of her mother, that it would never die. 

And now, as an adult, to her relationship with Aang. 

Only two months stood between her and the marriage altar, where she would promise him forever atop the steps of the Southern Air Temple, surrounded by their friends, family, and the Air Acolytes. 

This would be no small thing, the Acolytes promised her. Katara and Aang’s wedding would symbolize the continuation of the airbender line after nearly being driven into complete extinction, and it was worthy to be celebrated. 

The first airbender wedding in over a century. 

This was why, she told herself, she had allowed the details of the planning to be taken over almost entirely by the Acolytes. The one concession she had been somewhat able to eke out for herself was wearing her mother’s wedding dress–a beaded, blue and white gossamer gown that stood out starkly against the umbers, tans, and golds of the air temple. 

Even the dress had been a bit of a battle with Tashi, the Acolyte who was spearheading the wedding preparations.

“It’s not exactly what an Air Nomad bride would wear…” 

Katara had snapped then. She was not an Air Nomad, she was from the Southern Water Tribe. And culture was important. Her culture was important.

So Katara got the dress. 

And the betrothal necklace Aang had painstakingly carved for her, too. 

He had presented the jewelry to her with such enthusiasm, such adoration, that Katara didn’t have it in her heart to remind him that betrothal necklaces were a Northern custom, something that her tribe did not subscribe to. 

It had cracked something in her, just a little bit, to take off her mother’s necklace and replace it with the one Aang had made. But he was trying so hard, so ardently, to make their marriage something special. She knew he worshiped her so fiercely that if she so much as suggested the wedding be held in the Southern Tribe, he would do it. 

Which is why she took it on the nose and let the ceremony be so unbelievably Air Nomad. 

And why, now, in the dark, cool, quiet of the night, wrapped in silk sheets as she jolted from sleep, that she chalked the nightmare up to nothing more than pre-wedding jitters. 

Aang still slept peacefully beside her, his back rising and falling with each steady breath. She followed the angular lines of the blue tattoo that stretched down his back, disappearing beneath the blankets. 

Now seventeen, he had grown into something of a man. Long, tall, and lean, defined by muscle that had been missing in his youth. They had all grown up quite a bit in the five years since the end of the war. Peace was a bloody thing to have, and they had all fought hard to help settle the world around them once Ozai’s reign had come to an end. Katara herself felt much older than her nineteen years. 

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and dabbed the sweat from her forehead before yanking on a cloak and slipping out the door, leaving Aang undisturbed. The stone hallways of the Southern Air Temple were quiet and dark, this early in the morning, and she strode quickly from the room she shared with Aang. 

Nights like tonight are when she missed being South, just plain missed being near the sea. Even in the Capital City of the Fire Nation, the ocean stood nearby, close enough to walk to once leaving the Caldera. 

Here, the most she had in terms of water fresh from the Earth was the small natural spring at the heart of the temple–the Acolytes’ source for cooking, bathing, and drinking. She walked to it now, kneeling before the little stream and cupping the freezing liquid in her hands before splashing it across her warm, damp face. 

It had been a long time since a nightmare had snuck up on her. It was the same one, always–watching Azula’s lightning zig-zag across the smoky evening sky, the air tinged with smoke and electricity. Zuko’s sharp inhale, his hurried, rushing steps to take the bolt to his chest before it could reach Katara. 

And then, Azula’s maniacal laughter in her ear, as Katara’s heart was hammering out one single, desperate word–Zuko, Zuko, Zuko. 

She couldn’t bear it if he had given his life for hers. The world needed him; it did not need her. They needed someone good, and honest, and kind to ascend the throne, to lead the fire nation out of darkness. 

Katara had been in many battles during her travels alongside the Avatar. And they often happened so quickly, it almost felt as if she were in some hazy, dream-like state. 

But not the Agni Kai with Azula. No, every movement was precise, intentional. It had to be—there was simply no margin for error with someone as powerful as the Fire Nation Princess. 

Maybe that was why the memory kept coming back to her as a nightmare. Every detail was so deeply ingrained within her mind. 

Katara had been filled with equal parts relief and dread as she had chained Azula to the ground. The girls were two sides to the same coin. And Katara couldn’t help but wonder, if she had been raised in different conditions, not taught to love and be loved—if the darkness that festered in the hidden corners of her soul would have eventually taken over. If maybe she would have turned out a little like Azula. 

She had little time to contemplate that too deeply, though, as she rushed over to Zuko. 

This was where her nightmare switched over to more of a dream. As if her mind wanted to apologize for re-hashing the trauma of that night by replaying a bittersweet memory. 

Cool water forming gloves around her hand, she placed her fingers atop Zuko’s chest, where the lightning had turned the hard muscle there into a bright red star. His heart. He had taken it in his heart. 

How could he have done that for her? Months before he’d wanted Katara and her friends dead. 

And now—now, Katara didn’t know how she could survive it if the boy beneath her didn’t inhale a breath. 

She prayed then, to every spirit she could name in both her tribe and the Fire Nation, to let Zuko survive this. 

When she felt his heart stutter back to life under the pads of her thumbs, she collapsed with relief. 

“Thank you, Katara,” his voice was raw and aching. 

She collapsed onto him, her fingers twining around his neck, finding the pulse point below his jawline to confirm that yes, he was okay—he had survived. He had taken Azula’s lightning for her, and survived it. 

He was weak, his body wrecked from the hit it had taken, but his hands found their way—ever so slowly—to her hair. He ran calloused, nimble fingers across her hair again and again, and she nearly wept with joy that they had made it. 

She had no idea what had happened to Aang, to her brother, to her friends. But she and Zuko had achieved this small victory of taking down Azula. She could only pray the others were experiencing similar successes. 

It was hard to focus, to feel anything beyond this moment–her elbows pressed into the hard stone of the courtyard, her hands tight around Zuko’s neck as he soothed her. She could feel the hot wetness of her tears spilling off her face and pooling along his bare collarbone, along the bright red scorch mark Azula had left in her wake. 

“Hey, Katara, it’s….it’s okay. We made it.” He said. His words were strained, like it was painful for him to talk. Katara breathed a small laugh into the hollow of his throat. How ironic of him to be comforting her when he’d just been nearly electrocuted.

Inhaling a ragged breath, she withdrew herself from where she was laid across his chest, and leveled him with an admonishing look. 

“What did you do that for? She could have killed you.” Katara said. 

“Better me than you,” he groaned. 

“Stop being self-sacrificial.” 

But hadn’t she just thought the exact same thing? That she couldn’t bear it if Azula had taken Zuko’s life, that the fire nation needed him badly. More than that, he had become a part of their little group, a part of Katara. He had stood beside her, unblinking, unphased, when she had bloodbended on the quest to find Yon Rha. Had not balked at her need for justice, for revenge. 

He laughed a little at that, but she could tell it hurt him. 

Zuko’s face was only inches from hers, but it didn’t feel strange or wrong. It was hard not to feel inextricably bonded to the boy who had thrown himself in front of a lightning bolt for her. 

“I’m serious.” His voice was little more than a whisper. His hands, trembling still, moved from her hair to her jaw. He held Katara’s face cradled between his fingers. “I couldn’t have survived it if Azula hurt you.” 

Then his lips pressed to hers. It was a shock, something she was not entirely prepared for–and yet…

And yet it was not something she could tear herself away from. There was a soft hunger to his kiss, something so at odds with itself. Gentle and yet unforgiving. Curious and still confident. But she and Zuko had always been that way, polar opposites. Moon and Sun. Push and Pull. Fire and Water. 

Her body was overcome with one stunned beat of hesitation, two. And then she found herself falling into him, kissing him back. Letting his hands grip at her jaw and wondering what it would feel like when he was at full strength. She wanted more; she needed more. 

It was hardly a romantic kiss. Azula was shackled a hundred yards away, sobbing, and screaming, and spewing fire into the air. 

But it was the answer to a question she had been quietly wondering since he had showed up at the Eastern Air Temple–no, since that moment they shared in the caves of Ba Sing Se–why was there a strange, raw magnetism between them? And what would happen if they chased after it? 

Katara’s heart nearly stuttered to a complete stop as their kiss pulled a quiet, gentle moan from deep within Zuko’s chest. It was a sound of pure need, like he had finally learned how to breathe properly and couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. 

Startled, she pulled away, shocked by how her body reacted to the sound, to the heady rumble that reverberated through her. 

She wanted to dislike it, but a quiet voice at the back of her mind pleaded for more. 

Zuko paused then, not moving to continue until Katara gave the word. 

“Zuko, I…” 

And then a guard came sprinting into the courtyard. 

“Fire Lord Ozai has been defeated.” 

For the rest of the night, Katara had no time to really process what had transpired between her and Zuko. 

It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that Katara dared to try and steal a moment alone with the nation’s new Fire Lord. 

Zuko was propped up in his bed, swathed in bandages and surrounded by velvety, crimson blankets. 

The texture felt foreign on Katara’s skin as she sat on the edge of the mattress—nothing like the furs of the Southern Tribe that she was accustomed to. 

He startled awake, and she placed a hand on his half-bandaged shoulder and raised one finger to her lips, signaling for him to be quiet. 

The others—Aang, Sokka, Toph, and Suki—were all asleep in a messy sprawl in the sitting room attached to Zuko’s bed chambers. After all these months on the run, traveling from place to place and sleeping out in the open, only feet apart from each other—it felt wrong to split up into separate rooms now. 

If anything, they all needed each other now more than ever. 

“How are you feeling?” Katara whispered. She could just barely make out Zuko’s golden eyes in the dim, hazy twilight. 

“Alive,” he muttered, rubbing sleep from his eyes “Barely.” 

“We should talk about what happened,” Katara said, looking down and fiddling with the hem of her dress. 

Zuko was quiet for a long moment, studying her. She barely heard him when he finally spoke. 

“You love Aang.” 

It was a statement of fact, but Katara could sense the edge of a question around his words—one final opportunity to split off from the path she had set before her. 

Katara took a deep breath. “I owe it to him to try.” 

Those words, she could tell, were not what Zuko wanted to hear. But he nodded nonetheless. 

“I need to tell him about—that we…” she couldn’t finish the sentence, could hardly wrap her mind around the fact that she had kissed Zuko. 

And even less, she could hardly wrap her mind around the fact that she had…honestly enjoyed it. 

Zuko sat up straighter then, gripping her one hand in between both of his. His touch was firmer now, more steady than it had been after taking Azula’s lightning strike. 

“Please, Katara, do me this one small mercy. Let’s keep this between you and I.” 

Mercy. 

It was a mercy for him not to tell anyone what had happened—he cared that little. 

It really had been a kiss fueled on adrenaline, desperation, and fear. No feelings to be had. No love lost. 

Her lungs tightened a bit at that. 

And her moral compass tilted a bit sideways. She knew in her heart that it would be the right thing to do, to tell Aang. 

But at the same time—what were she and Aang, really? They had kissed twice, and once had been against her wishes, after she told him she needed space and time. 

She’d shared as much, romantically, with Zuko at this point that she had with Aang. 

She made a decision at that moment, a bad one.

“Fine. I’ll take it to the grave.” 

“To the grave,” Zuko echoed. 

It had been some time since Katara recalled that night, five years ago in the Fire Nation palace. But every time the memory resurfaced in her dreams, it never lost the sharp, focused edge—never dulled down to something she could forget. Sometimes she wasn’t sure that she wanted to. 

But would she keep dreaming these dreams, reliving this memory of her and Zuko, even after she was married to Aang? 

Certainly not. 

Right? 

She sighed, dipping her hands into the natural spring water bubbling up in the air temple. She formed a small ball of water in her hand, twirling it around, back and forth. 

Aang was so light on his feet she didn’t hear him until he was practically upon her. 

“Did you have another nightmare?” He asked, appearing before her. He knew she liked to come here whenever she was upset. 

“Something like that.” 

“The one with Azula?” 

Katara nodded, dropping the ball of water back into the spring. 

True to her word, she hadn’t spoken to anyone about the kiss she and Zuko had shared. Truly, no part of her even wanted to. It felt like something sacred and private between them. Sometimes, she wondered if it had even happened at all. 

But it was impossible to completely extricate Zuko from her life—she didn’t think she would want to, even if she could. There were parties for them to attend, and political celebrations. Summits and meetings and an annual gathering of their little cabal. Katara was the goodwill ambassador for the Southern Tribe, and Zuko the Fire Lord. Their interactions were inevitable.

In those exchanges, there were times that she caught herself looking at Zuko for just a moment too long. 

And she almost always caught him looking back. 

“Why don’t you come back to bed—I’ll make you some tea to help you sleep,” Aang said with a wide smile, all too happy to help. 

“That sounds nice,” Katara agreed. 

She rose and stood beside him, graciously accepting the arm he offered her. 

She pushed the dreams of Azula and Zuko from her mind, focused herself on the present, on the feel of Aang’s arm around hers. 

The air temple was safe. Aang was here, a strong and steady presence–filled with love, adoration, kindness, goodness. They would have a beautiful wedding and a marriage filled with decency and compassion. 

There were fates, she supposed, much worse than this.      

Chapter Text

Zuko

Heavy is the head that wears the crown. 

Whoever said that neglected to mention that the crown was also pretty uncomfortable. So were the formal robes. And the hard, oversized metal chair at the head of the table, presiding over the fire council. 

Upon ascending the throne, Zuko had half a mind to gut the entire council room. Ozai’s interior design tastes had been…ominous, at best. Lots of dark, moody corners and enormous fire pits strategically placed to be intimidating, an absolute show of power. 

The council room backed directly up to the courtyard, and Zuko would much prefer to put in large bay windows overlooking the trees and turtleduck ponds. But between the enormous amount of coin going into reparations to the other nations, and a complete restructuring of the budget to be a little less dedicated to ruining everyone’s lives—well, there wasn’t exactly much wiggle room for passion projects. 

He did what small things he could, though. Brought in carts laden with tea and sweet baked goods. The tea was sourced directly from Iroh, with new brews and concoctions shipped weekly from the Earth Kingdom. And the buttered rolls and sweet cakes he purchased from local vendors in the Caldera. It seemed like enough of a compromise, to make the council room a little less…daunting. 

“Fire Lord Zuko?” Kyoko, one of his council members, asked. He could tell by the tone of her voice that she was repeating herself.

He needed to stop letting his mind wander during these meetings. It was no easy thing to get an audience with the Fire Lord–some governors or mayors waited weeks, even months, for an opportunity to speak at a council meeting. 

And for regular, every-day citizens? Forget it. Twice a year, Zuko would open the palace and hold court, give people an opportunity to come in and air their grievances, and ask for assistance. He would help them in the ways that he could. But it never felt like enough. 

Kyoko kept reminding him that anything was better than the complete and total dictatorship put into place by his father. 

But still. Ozai wasn’t exactly the standard he was trying to live up to. 

“Yes, I’m sorry. What’s next on our agenda?” Zuko asks, scratching at his head yet again. He couldn’t wait to get out of this meeting, to let his hair out of the royal topknot. 

He didn’t see why such a thing was so necessary. But he had fought hard for big things–advances in education, new hospitals and infrastructure built in long-neglected towns. Most of his council, save Kyoko, was not exactly enthusiastic about the way Zuko was letting the Fire Nation hemorrhage money into its poor communities, and even less–into other nations. 

So grinning and bearing it when it came to donning traditional Fire Nation regalia seemed like a worthy sacrifice to make, something he could endure for the sake of his people. 

“The governor of the Sei’naka clan is here to speak with you,” Raijin, the Grand Advisor said, looking none too pleased about that fact. 

Zuko sighed, nodding. “Send her in.” 

The Noble Clans–powerful families spread throughout the fire nation, overseeing fiefs and governing large pockets of land–had fallen out of power during Ozai’s reign. But then again, everyone had fallen out of power during Ozai’s reign, save Ozai himself and a few members of his elite inner circle. 

The Noble Clans had made a comeback over the past five years, but Zuko kept them on a tight leash. They were all taxed heavily. He visited the clans frequently to ensure the citizens were being treated fairly, and there was no dissent among the masses. 

So far, everyone seemed happy. And most of the clans exported some sort of necessary goods–corn and wheat, paper, medicine, or machinery. 

But the Sei’naka clan had grown…restless recently. The smallest of the clans, nestled on a tiny island, they had somehow become Zuko’s biggest detractor as of late. No matter what he did, the people–and their outspoken governor, Ember-Lee, in particular–always had something negative to say about it. 

An attendant opened the door, letting Ember-Lee into the council room. She was easily in her fifties and much older than Zuko–but then again, most of the people he worked with were. Politics was not a young person’s game. But he and his friends were working actively to change that. 

“Governor,” Zuko greeted her with a somber nod of his head. He could tell by the tight look on her face that–like many of their other conversations in the past–this would likely be a tense interaction.

Ember-Lee bowed quick and low before rising to stand before the council, eyes locked on Zuko. 

“What can I help you with today?” Zuko asked. 

“It’s the budget for this year. Sei’naka is being taxed quite heavily compared to the other noble clans. And yet, the allotted amount we are receiving from the palace for our school has decreased significantly.” 

Zuko didn’t even bother to give the budget on the table before him a glance. He had worked and re-worked the numbers a dozen times, late at night in his office. 

“Sei’naka is taxed at the same rate as the other clans,” Zuko explained, for what felt like the millionth time. 

“Yes. But we are much smaller than the others. And we do not have exports–the main focus on our island is education, training our young people to be the teachers, leaders, scientists, and scholars of this nation. Which is why the slash to our education funding feels…so egregious.” 

Ember-Lee’s voice did not waver even the slightest. Zuko had to give her props for that–in all her discussions with him regarding budgets over the past several months, she had not conceded an inch in the things she was asking for. 

Zuko wished he could fulfill all her requests. Sei’naka deserved a well-rounded education budget, just like all the other clans and towns. But it simply wasn’t possible to give everyone what they wanted all the time. And he had much bigger wounds to stitch up. 

“You have a well-established school, with state-of-the-art materials and equipment. I simply reallocated some of your funding to towns that have no formal school system set up whatsoever. I would imagine many of them would have great need for the teachers your island produces,” Zuko explained firmly. 

It had been heart-wrenching, truly, when he toured the country after his coronation, trying to get an authentic sense of what areas needed help the most. So many things went undocumented on reports and letters. He had needed to see how badly the Fire Nation had been damaged by his family, and he needed to see it first hand. 

What he found–towns lacking schools, hospitals, even basic things like clean drinking water–was hard to swallow. But he was bound and determined to make it right. 

And he had visited the Sei’naka clan many times over the past five years. They were not hurting for much. 

“I ask you, your highness, to consider how heavily the Sei’naka clan influences the minds of our nation’s young people. To think about what the country will look like should our clan not have the resources it needs,” Ember-Lee said. 

It was a thinly-veiled threat, at best. One that, five years ago, would have persuaded Zuko to fork over some extra coin. But he had grown a thick skin since he’d assumed the throne. 

“The answer is no, governor. I do encourage you to visit some of these towns that you think are so undeserving of the extra funding for education, and consider how…fortunate…your people are.” 

Zuko’s answer was short and succinct–another trick he had learned during his short tenure as Fire Lord. Do not deign to explain yourself. 

Ember-Lee tucked her short, gray hair behind one ear, clearly displeased by his reply. 

“I hope you will reconsider for next year’s budget,” she responded, her voice clipped. 

And, although it was a petty thing and likely to rub salt in the wound, Zuko gave a perfunctory, benevolent smile and said, “I will look into the matter. In the meantime, your well-educated people should be able to come up with a resourceful solution.” 

Ember-Lee had the good sense to leave after that. But Zuko knew that fight was far from over. 

“What other business do we have?” Zuko asked after the door had closed behind her. 

“The Fire Sages would like for me to remind you that your twenty-first birthday is coming up in six months,” Raijin stated, shuffling papers in between his hands. 

Ah, yes. That. 

“I am aware of when I was born, Raijin. Give the Fire Sages my greatest thanks for the reminder.” 

“Fire Lord Zuko–” Raijin began, feathers clearly ruffled at the snippy comment. 

“If there is no other business, then the council is dismissed,” Zuko said with a wave of his hand, standing before anyone could get a word in edgewise. He stepped quickly out of the door, yanking his hair down as soon as he was out of sight of the other council members. 

Footsteps sounded behind him, but he knew quickly by the light, staccato beats that it was only Kyoko, bounding up to his side.

“They’re just going to keep pestering you about the whole marriage thing if you don’t address it soon,” Kyoko said with a smirk. 

Zuko liked Kyoko. She reminded him a lot of Toph; and in fact, the two got along swimmingly every time the young earth bender came to visit the palace. They were both young and hungry, brash, bold. Unafraid to speak their minds, unerringly confident in a way that bordered on obnoxious. 

Kyoko was young, far younger than any of the other members of the fire council, likely the youngest politician in the Fire Nation by far. Younger even than Zuko himself, by two years. During his complete overhaul after ascending the throne, he had gutted the council down to its bones, cutting out everyone who was loyal to his father and replacing the members, instead, with people who aligned closer with his values. Of course, there was still a disproportionate amount of cranky old men he had to appoint and appease. 

The only holdover from his father’s reign had been Raijin, who had vocally denounced Ozai as the power was being switched over to Zuko. Raijin had been the only reason there was any semblance of peace and organization in the days of transition. He had helped weed out those that were loyal to Ozai, and had guided Zuko carefully into the role of Fire Lord, showing him the ropes of running the council. 

Zuko had been hesitant to keep anyone in power who had once worked under his father, but Raijin had proven himself to be loyal and kind…if not a little stuck in the past. He was one of the most ardent supporters of the marriage law, of finding Zuko a Fire Lady. 

But Zuko couldn’t say he blamed him much. There had been a dozen attempts to end the Fire Lord’s life this year alone, mostly all carried out by the New Ozai Society, who desperately wanted to see the country’s previous ruler take back the throne–even at the cost of Zuko’s life. 

“I know,” Zuko told Kyoko as they walked down the hallway towards his office. 

“Do you have a plan? Or even some vague idea of who you are going to wed?” she asked, an edge of teasing in her voice. 

“Yeah, Ju Men down at the market–the one who makes those lavender honey cakes. That way I can be full and happy for the rest of my days,” Zuko said with a roll of his eyes. The pair reached his office, and he swung the door open, Kyoko trailing him despite definitely not being invited in. 

A year ago, the Fire Sages and the council had…annoyingly…teamed up to present Zuko with an age-old law he hadn’t even known existed. He supposed it hadn’t been needed for the past several rulers, who all married and produced heirs rather early on in their royal tenure. 

The Fire Lord must be wed by age twenty-one to continue his reign. 

The Sages had blathered on about the importance of continuing the royal line–the people needed to be confident in who their next ruler would be. And if something happened to Zuko–and the odds were not looking great with all these assassination attempts–there had to be somebody queued up to take the helm of the Fire Nation. 

As far as blood went, his options were sparse. Azula was institutionalized. Ozai was imprisoned (and very much a dictator). Iroh lived out his days at the Jasmine Dragon, selling tea. 

Zuko supposed that if he met his untimely end, Iroh could rule in his stead. But Iroh had done enough, lived a hard enough life without being tasked with the role of Fire Lord in his old age. 

No, Zuko wouldn’t force that upon him. 

He had thought about just overruling the council on this stupid, small issue. He could exercise his ultimate power as Fire Lord and just be done with it. 

But that wasn’t how he wanted to rule. He would fight, fairly, for every inch he got. 

Kyoko sat on his desk, crossing her legs and sorting through a stack of papers he had piled high. Zuko went to the window, staring out over the courtyard. 

“You think it’s funny now. But you’re running low on time over there, Fire Lord,” she said. “I have a lot of friends who would be very interested in being your wife. Better than whatever stuffy noble lady the Sages would pick for an arranged marriage,” she said. 

Zuko watched as a pair of baby turtleducks toddled after their mother, jumped into the pond and swam off. His voice was quiet when he finally responded. 

“I’m destined for a loveless marriage, Kyoko. The sooner I accept that, the better.” 

Kyoko stilled at that comment. He didn’t turn around to look at her, but knew her face had fallen at his unexpectedly serious words. They were usually sarcastic and playful with one another outside of council business.

“Zuko, I just meant…I want you to be happy. I grew up with a lot of girls who are intelligent, kind, and powerful. I could try and pair you up with someone at least remotely tolerable, if not the love of your life.” 

Zuko didn’t have the heart to tell Kyoko, but…that ship had sailed for him quite some time ago. 

“Thank you for the offer. I will consider it.” 

A long moment of silence passed between them. Zuko continued to watch the turtleducks to the background noise of Kyoko rifling through his papers and correspondence. In another life, he might be bothered by this. But there was nothing personal, nothing embarrassing, nothing he wanted to hide. 

He corresponded with his friends frequently, sure, but it was nothing worthy of gossip. Anecdotes from Sokka about the Southern Tribe. A bottle of spiced wine sent by Toph, usually accompanied with some vulgar joke. Letters with Aang were long laments between the two of them regarding their frustrations in politics. And he never wrote back and forth with Katara, not anymore. 

“Ooh, the Avatar’s wedding is in only two months?” Kyoko spoke up from behind him. He turned to see her clutching the large invitation, in sandstone and gold colors, near her face. “I wasn’t invited–I’m only a lowly council member, after all. But promise me you’ll bring back some of that sweet rice the Air Nomads make? It’s my favorite.” 

Zuko turned and plucked the invitation from Kyoko’s hand. 

“Of course. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to attend to–as I am sure you do, as well,” he said. 

“Ugh. Fine, guess I’ll go do the job you pay me for,” she said, hopping off the desk and striding out of the room without so much as a glance backwards, leaving Zuko entirely alone. 

He glanced down at the invitation in his hand, stomach sinking into his shoes. 

When the invitation–crafted delicately in the formal Air Nomad style–arrived, Zuko knew that Katara and Aang had decided to have two ceremonies. One for his culture, one for hers. He waited for days, and then weeks, for an invitation for the Water Tribe ceremony to come in. 

But it never did. 

After a while, he decided that Katara simply didn’t want him in the Southern Tribe–and while that fact stung more than he cared to admit, he couldn’t blame her. 

It ate him up at night, wondering about it. Until finally he couldn’t take it anymore. One day, he was walking through the palace with Suki–his captain of the guard, now–and spat the question out at her with absolutely no preamble. 

“When are Aang and Katara having their Water Tribe ceremony?” he asked. “If I’m expected to attend, I need to get it on my calendar…you know, make plans and all.” Color flushed his face as soon as the words were out of his mouth. 

Suki, at least, had the good grace not to comment on his clear embarrassment. 

But she did fix him with a grim smile. 

“They’re only having one wedding ceremony in the Southern Air Temple.” 

Zuko thought back to the invitation he had received, with only the Air Nation symbol on it, bedecked in the warm colors of the nomads. No Water Tribe blue to be seen. 

“That’s surprising,” he murmured, not sure what else to say. He enjoyed talking with Suki and trusted her deeply, but was always cautious about how often he spoke about Katara around her. He always feared, just a bit, that Suki would pick up on his nervous energy regarding the water bender and mention it to Sokka. 

“I know,” Suki said, dipping her head. She didn’t elaborate any further, but those two words were enough for Zuko to know that it was…something of an issue. Something that Sokka, at least, probably wasn’t thrilled about. 

But at the end of the day, it wasn’t Sokka’s wedding–he’d already had that with Suki, months before. It wasn’t Zuko’s, either. 

It was between Katara and Aang, and if this is what they decided they wanted, so be it. 

But Katara was so proud of her culture, of her connection to the Water Tribe. How could she have no trace of it evident at her own wedding? 

And now, the wedding was only two months away. 

Zuko had thought, several times, about feigning some grave illness to get out of attending, and sending Kyoko in his place so she could dance and drink and eat all the sweet rice she wanted. If a representative of the Fire Nation was going to be in attendance, then they should at least enjoy themselves. 

But if he fell so ill that he couldn’t attend the wedding of two people who were supposed to be two of his closest friends and allies, there would definitely be cause for concern. At least among the council, and possibly in other nations as well. 

No, he had no choice but to attend. 

Even if it would drain the last bit of life out of him. 

Chapter Text

Katara 

“That was quite a water bending demonstration, Master Katara,” Pearl, the headmistress of the Huǒ Firebending Academy said across the table as she took a long sip from her goblet of spiced wine. “We are very appreciative that you took time out of your busy schedule to come educate our students.” 

Katara bowed her head, accepting the praise. “Please, the honor is all mine. This is the best part of my job–meeting new people, traveling to new places, getting to share my culture with others.” 

Several teachers at the school sat at the long table, as well as some of the older girls who would be graduating the following spring. They nodded their agreement, clearly pleased to have been invited to such a grown-up dinner, to be included in something so new and exciting. 

Truthfully, Katara was just relieved that her demonstration had gone so well. She was elated when she had received a letter from Pearl, asking her to come show water bending techniques at a Fire Nation school. Apparently, the oldest students were completing a unit on redirecting lightning. 

Of course, this was not something that could be practiced in reality–Headmistress Pearl wasn’t going to launch lightning at these young girls. But she wanted them to be well-studied and educated to the highest degree so that if the day came that they were faced down with a thunderbolt, they could stand a fighting chance.

Pearl was old friends with the Dragon of the West, and knew Iroh’s philosophy that the movements for redirecting lightning were best understood by studying water benders. And who better to teach about lightning than Katara, who had taken down Princess Azula? 

The Huǒ Firebending Academy, an all-girls school, sat about twenty miles south of the Caldera. It was the closest Katara had ever gotten to the royal city with her work as the Southern Tribe’s Goodwill Ambassador. 

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She was always welcome and invited to the palace through her friendship with the Fire Lord–although she would never dream of showing up there alone. Not anymore. Since the end of the war, Katara and Zuko had stuck to the silent agreement that they would maintain a happy, amicable friendship. But it was best if they kept each other at arm’s length. 

So Katara kept her distance from the Royal City, except for official functions. 

Her avoidance, however, was starting to cause some problems with her work. 

As Goodwill Ambassador for the Southern Tribe, she traveled all over the world representing her people. She spoke, taught, and did outreach. She brokered deals in places where they hadn’t existed in a century for the Southern Tribe. 

Before the war, the South Pole might have been only a dot on a map–a cluster of huts and yurts with a ramshackle harbor, offering little to the world as a whole. 

But Katara, Sokka, and Hakoda had flipped the script and turned the Southern Tribe into something much bigger than that. They’d brought in architects from the North, who helped construct central government buildings and better schools. They’d revamped the harbor to be further out in the ocean, making it safe enough for ships from the other nations to dock even during the coldest parts of the year, when ice floes could become treacherous for those inexperienced with the frigid waters. Trade had therefore increased tenfold in the past several years. 

Katara and her people worked hard to break onto the political scene, and had made large strides of progress across the globe. 

But not in the Caldera. 

The royal elite of the Fire Nation didn’t seem to concern themselves much with the humble ways of the Southern Tribe. Up until recently, it had been nothing more than an insult to Katara’s personal pride. But two weeks ago, when Southern ships arrived at the harbor in Caldera City to unload goods for trade, they had been met with what Katara would call resistance. 

Sokka called it utter disrespect for the South that must immediately be dealt with. 

But then, he’d never been a man of few words.

The Harbor Master decided he was done with the Southern Tribe getting to tie up their ships for free, as ordered by the Fire Lord as part of reparations to the water benders. And he said so in a manner that was…well, certainly not agreeable. And he had several other dock workers to back him up. 

Eventually, the Harbor Master was persuaded to let the Southerners dock their ship, but not without several less-than-subtle comments about the Fire Lord allowing the rest of the nations to walk all over him. 

When word had reached Sokka, he had been furious, and insisted on going straight to Zuko about it to have the Harbor Master handled. 

But Katara was able to talk him off the ledge and dismiss the incident as a one-off–after all, Zuko had enough on his plate to deal with. He didn’t need to fight battles on behalf of the Southern Tribe. Even though Katara knew he would, should she come calling. 

That was just the issue, though. The Southern Tribe couldn’t let their connections with the Avatar and the Fire Lord be the only reason they held any sway in the greater political scheme of things. They had to forge their own path. 

So Katara had convinced her brother to just let it go for now, and to give her a chance to make some connections in the Caldera. 

That would require, though, actually being invited into the Royal City by anyone other than Zuko himself. 

The Huǒ Firebending Academy was the closest she’d come in a long while. 

“Oh, my, look at the time,” Pearl said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “I think I’m quite ready to retire. Katara, would you like for me to walk you back to your room?” 

Katara had to admit she was relieved. It had been a long journey to arrive in the Fire Nation from the Southern Air Temple, where she’d been staying with Aang leading up to their nuptials. 

He hadn’t exactly been thrilled that she was going to be gone for a week. Beyond the bounds of their impending wedding, there was much work to do at the Air Temples. Like the Southern Tribe, they were expanding into a flourishing community. 

But Katara needed to get as close as she could to the Caldera, without flagging to Zuko that anything was amiss among his people, or relying on him as liaison. So coming to this school was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. 

“Yes, that would be great. Thank you,” Katara said, rising and waving goodnight to the others at the table who were finishing up their final sips of wine. 

Outside the door to the school’s main dining hall, Katara and Pearl nearly tripped over a gaggle of younger girls who had clearly been waiting for quite some time for the two women to make their exit. 

Katara thought she recognized some of the students from during her demonstration earlier today, seated far in the back. 

The little group looked up at her with awe, chittering amongst themselves in hushed tones for a moment before finally pushing the bravest girl forward.

“Is it true you beat Princess Azula in an Agni Kai?” she asked. 

Katara’s answer could go one of two ways here in the Fire Nation. She knew all too well that Zuko had more than his fair share of dissenters who would love to see Ozai seated upon the throne once more. 

But this girl’s voice held just enough edge of respect to it that she thought telling the honest truth was a safe enough choice. 

“Yes, I did,” she said simply. 

The group ooh-ed and aah-ed at that. The story was well known enough, but many in the Fire Nation could hardly believe that a prodigy like Azula had truly been bested by a water bender. 

“And you fought alongside Fire Lord Zuko?” the girl continued, giggling behind her hand. “He’s so handsome, isn’t he?” 

“She’s engaged to the Avatar,” another one of the group chimed in. “You can’t ask her that!” 

Katara felt her face go red, because they weren’t entirely wrong. Zuko certainly was handsome, even if it wasn’t her place to say so. 

Pearl clicked her tongue. “Girls, that is enough.” 

Scrambling for purchase, Katara tried to push away the feeling of heat rising up in her chest, as if she had swallowed a handful of embers. 

Luckily, she was quick on her feet. 

“You may all think so,” Katara said, leaning in close with a conspiratorial grin, “But I traveled with him for a long time during my adventures with the Avatar. And he snores. Loudly.” 

The girls burst into a fit of giggles, and Katara turned to see Pearl suppressing a small smile as she shooed her students away. 

She couldn’t help but let out a breath, relieved that she had avoided that whole altercation with grace. Katara always got a bit flustered wherever Zuko was involved. 

After sternly telling the young girls to hurry off to bed, Pearl escorted Katara to her bedchambers, where she promptly changed and collapsed onto the bed. She was so tired, she did not dream.

          But she awoke to a nightmare.

+++

 “Katara!” 

Katara bolted upright in bed, reaching desperately for the water skin on her nightstand. Suki, at least, had the good sense to remain a few paces back from the bed, hands at the ready to defend herself. 

“Suki?” Katara asked groggily, rubbing at her eyes, trying to make sense of her surroundings. “What are you doing here?” 

She wasn’t sure what time it was, but the sky outside her window was still dark. 

“It’s Zuko. He’s been poisoned, there’s no….no antidote. Can you heal him?” Suki’s words came out in a jumbled rush. 

Katara was out of bed in a flash, jumping out her sleeping clothes and into her dress, pulling her hair up out of her face.

Quickly, she scribbled out a note on a piece of parchment with a succinct explanation for Pearl. She had half a mind to wake the headmistress and explain, but if Zuko had truly been poisoned, she didn’t have a moment to spare. 

Outside of the school, a komodo rhino was tied up and waiting. The beast of burden took the weight of both girls with no issue, and they sped off into the darkness of the night, bound for the Caldera. 

“What happened?” Katara asked, after she’d given herself a moment to catch her breath. 

“He was out in the courtyard feeding the turtleducks after reviewing budget plans, and picked an apple from the tree there. We’re thinking the New Ozai Society poisoned it–likely filled all the fruits on that tree with poison, knowing that he’s out there often. Thankfully I was nearby. He collapsed after taking a bite.” 

Katara cursed internally. That boy and his damned turtleducks. 

“What kind of poison?” 

Suki didn’t respond right away, and for a moment, Katara wondered if she had heard her. 

“Black Jade,” she finally said, voice barely audible over the heavy footfalls of the komodo rhino.

Katara sucked in a breath. Of course the doctors in the palace didn't have access to an antidote for the poison–there was no antidote. 

Black Jade was a poison made by a small tribe in the remote mountains of the Earth Kingdom–almost impossible to get access to unless you had friends in very, very high places, which she supposed the members of the New Ozai society did. It killed slowly, breaking down the organs a little at a time over hours, or even days, depending on the dosage. 

It was a death meant to torture. 

“How long has it been since he had the apple?” Katara asked. 

“An hour, now. Once the doctors realized what the poison was, that there would be no cure, I came to you. I can’t believe my own dumb luck that you happened to be in the Fire Nation today. It’s the only break I’ve caught tonight,” Suki said, bowing her head. 

Katara grabbed the arm of her sister-in-law. “Suki, you know this isn’t your fault. You’re his captain of the guard, not the royal tastetester. How could you have anticipated such a thing?” 

“It’s my job to anticipate every threat, Katara. I should have been doing more to keep him safe, but at the end of the day Zuko is still my friend and if he wants a moment of peace to feed the turtleducks…” Suki trailed off, but Katara could tell she would be beating herself up over this for a long time. If Zuko didn’t survive this…

But no, Katara couldn’t think that way. 

“I’ll do everything I can to save him,” Katara promised. 

The girls rode in silence for long minutes, both entirely trapped inside their own minds, worried sick over the fate of the Fire Lord. Katara wished desperately she could just snap her fingers and be at the Royal Palace. 

But something odd was sticking at the front of Katara’s mind. 

“Isn’t Black Jade a slow-acting poison? It takes quite some time to hit the system. You said Zuko collapsed immediately.” 

Suki nodded. “The doctors believed it must have been an incredibly high dosage to have affected him so quickly.” 

Katara’s eyebrows furrowed. The New Ozai Society must have more power at their disposal than everyone had previously thought, if they were able to get such a high quantity of this rare poison. And to dose all the apples on the tree. 

They needed to move faster. 

Once they reached the Caldera, the komodo rhino had barely come to a heaving stop, and Katara and Suki already had their boots on the ground, tossing the reins to a startled attendant and sprinting into the palace.

Suki knew the building much better than Katara and led the way, hugging tight around the corners until they arrived at Zuko’s bedchambers. 

It was utter chaos. 

A small army of attendants and doctors cluttered the space, although to what end, Katara wasn’t sure. No antidote for the poison, and none of them were healers in the same capacity as her. All these people were just adding to the madness. 

Katara did a brief scan of the room, of the supplies at her disposal. 

And then the crowd parted and her eyes fell on Zuko. Her heart nearly ripped clean from her chest at the sight of him. 

Half-covered in sweat-soaked sheets, his chest was bare and his skin…it was an absolutely terrifying shade of pale white, as if all the blood was slowly leeching from his body, a little at a time. His eyes were clamped shut and head titled back, mouth slightly open. His damp hair clung to his forehead, and the pace at which he was breathing–well, it concerned Katara more than she would ever voice aloud to the people around her. 

Bowls of water and tins of salve littered his bed and nightstand, as if the doctors had simply summoned up everything in their disposal to keep Zuko’s heart beating for as long as possible. While Katara appreciated the effort, there was not much that a simple honey balm could do to beat back the effects of Black Jade. 

And if Katara didn’t get to work soon, Zuko was going to die. 

“Everybody out,” Katara said, with enough lethal, commanding calm that everyone immediately dropped what they were doing to look at her. It was a tone of voice she had mastered well over the past five years. She had dropped the demanding, bossy attitude she had held when mothering everyone during the war and turned to something a bit more steady. 

It was desperately needed now, and it worked. Everyone cleared out almost immediately, knowing that if the Fire Lord had a prayer of survival, Katara bore the hands that could bring Zuko back from the brink. 

Suki remained steady at her back, and Katara spotted Kyoko among the masses evacuating Zuko’s bedchambers. She grabbed the young councilmember by the sleeve. 

“Not you. You stay.” Kyoko was a familiar face and a hard worker–the only young woman on Zuko’s council, who had backed him over and over again on issues that were vitally important to the success of the world. She needed someone steadfast in her corner right now. 

Between Katara, Suki, and Kyoko–it could be done. But they needed to move fast. 

There were so many things on Zuko’s bed from the doctors’ attempts at helping the Fire Lord, and Katara shoved them all off with a swipe of her hand, bandages and slaves going flying. 

She rolled her eyes. What was a bandage going to do against the poison coursing through Zuko’s veins? 

Katara raised her hands, drawing water around them from one of the nearby bowls, and leaned over the massive expanse of bed to reach Zuko’s chest–but damn it all, if the giant four-poster monstrosity didn’t have her stretching up on her tip-toes to have access him. 

Heaving a sigh, she hoisted herself up onto the bed, kneeling on the mattress beside him, before placing her hands gently onto his pale, clammy skin. Her fingers fell naturally into place, this position an echo of a memory. 

Closing her eyes, it wasn’t hard to find the poison pumping through his body. It was a dark, oily thing, a blight raging beneath his skin, and for a moment, Katara genuinely worried that he might be too far gone for her to save. 

But no, there…his heart, his beating heart. It was alive and thrumming, if not erratic. She could bring him back. She had to bring him back. 

Hands roving over the hard, muscled planes of Zuko’s chest, seeking out the poison, Katara was thrown back suddenly to five years ago, knelt in this exact same position, praying to the spirits for him to live. 

If you weren’t so just and passionate and powerful, maybe evil things would stop trying to kill you. 

She wanted that for Zuko, badly. A life of peace, where he did not have to spend so much of his time struggling for basic things. Like a calm moment feeding the turtleducks. It broke something in her, just a bit, that he likely would no longer feel safe and comforted out in the courtyard, tossing pieces of fruit and bread to the little animals. 

He deserved better than that. 

Katara moved her hands, continuing to work–trying to get the poison centralized into one place, when in reality, it was everywhere, all over him. 

Katara started healing him, moving the poison away from his heart, a little at a time. Zuko sucked in a stuttered breath as she did so, eyes flitting open. He recognized her in one instant beat, and Katara spotted something akin to relief in his expression at the sight of her kneeling beside him. 

“It hurts, Katara,” he moaned out, voice gravelly with pain. 

“I know, Zuko, I know,” she soothed him, her voice a gentle hum. “It’s okay, I’m here now. I’m going to make this better.” 

His blood was thick, like mud. He was badly dehydrated. 

“He needs water,” Katara called over her shoulder. Kyoko and Suki materialized instantly, working in perfect tandem with one another. One with water and another with a ladle. 

“Sit up for me, Zuko,” Katara instructed, flinging the water off one hand back into a bowl and gripping the back of his neck, pulling him up towards her, supporting him the whole way. He choked out a miserable sound at the movement. She leaned in closer, clutching him to her, as Suki offered him a drink of water. 

He drank in deep, greedy gulps, the water dripping from his mouth and spilling down his naked chest. Katara, despite all her professionalism, all her training–well, she had to take a long breath at the sight of that before lowering him back down onto his pillows. His eyes fluttered closed again, and she pushed any strange, lingering thoughts about the Fire Lord from her mind.

Suki and Kyoko disappeared back into the background, but Katara knew that they were at her beck and call whenever she needed them next. But right now, it was only her and Zuko. 

It took hours. 

The poison had its hooks deep in the Fire Lord. 

Katara kept track of the time only by the light seeping through the windows to her right–the sky moved from pitch black, to smoky twilight, to a vivid, orange sunrise. She could sense movement and sound at the doors to the bedchambers, but Suki and Kyoko stood constant vigil, keeping any intruders at bay. They brought her more water and wiped at her sweat-slicked forehead as she worked. 

Still, she did not stop. She took no breaks. She found every little trace of the black poison permeating Zuko’s blood and moved it slowly, slowly, away from his heart. 

By the time the day had slipped into afternoon, she was starting to truly feel the exhaustion, but her work was almost done. Relief pulled at the corners of her chest as Zuko’s heart started to beat in a steadier rhythm. 

“Bring me a bowl,” she instructed the women behind her. Kyoko materialized at her side in an instant, dutiful as ever. “And get ready.” 

“Zuko,” she said, voice strained with exhaustion as she turned to address him, “Zuko, I need you to listen. You’re not going to like this very much, but it has to happen.” 

The Fire Lord’s eyes fluttered open, taking her in. He nodded in understanding, seemingly the most he could offer in terms of communication. 

And then Katara, using the last of her energy, guided her hands–gloved in healing water–across the low muscles of his abdomen, just above the waist of his pants, and pulled all the poison from his blood into his stomach, forcing it up through his throat. 

Zuko turned and retched into the bowl, sticky black and red liquid gurgling out of his mouth as he emptied all the contents of his stomach. 

After he finished heaving, he twisted back in bed, chest rising and falling rapidly. After all the long hours, Katara finally removed her hands from his damp chest, and raised them instead to his jaw line as she leaned over him, searching his blood, his organs, his body for any trace of the poison left within him. 

But it was all gone. 

She had done it. 

“He’ll be alright,” Katara called limply over her shoulder to Kyoko and Suki, relief sewn into her words. She heard the door behind her open, but exhaustion was pulling at the corners of her consciousness. 

She glanced down at Zuko, whose eyes had cracked open once more, staring up at her with a look she couldn’t seem to place. Relief, probably. Gratefulness. 

Her grip was still on his jaw as he took her hand limply in his, removing it from his face before pressing the pads of her fingertips gently against his lips. 

Despite her exhaustion, electricity thrummed through her, although it was a feeling she was not quite coherent enough to name. 

His next words to her were an echo of the ones he spoke five years ago, after she healed him when he had taken the lightning from Azula. 

“Thank you, Katara.” 

And then, body and mind both spent, she collapsed onto the bed beside him.