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Chapter 17: golden futures

Summary:

Zuko and Katara's engagement is announced to the world. They attend the Ba Sing Se Summit.

Notes:

oof i apologize for the wait on this chapter, so here is nearly 13k to make it up to you guys! my depression flared pretty badly these last few weeks, so i'm just trying to get myself back on my feet! i want to say expect updates about a week and a half to two weeks apart now!
other than that, i want those of you who wanted the mailee fic to know that i have started it! hopefully it will be up in a few weeks!
lastly, a question, should i get a twitter?? i haven't had one in years but i want more zk always. if you guys want, leave your twitter handles in comments and i'll follow you if i end up making one!
thank you guys, as always, for your patience and love and support of this fic. it's insane, we reached 1000 kudos and over 20k hits recently. i can't even wrap my head around it. THANK YOU! i will be finishing responses to previous messages tomorrow!!

Chapter Text

"Avatar Aang would go on to marry an Air Acolyte from Ba Sing Se, Lenah Jiu. Both upheld the traditions of the nearly forgotten Airbenders to live their lives as nomads and later, raise their children the same way. Lenah would go on to assist Avatar Aang the rest of his life, too. Though not a Bender, Lenah possessed a striking fighting style that resembled old Airbenders and utilized a bo staff as her weapon of choice. She was also known to have a wicked sense of humor and wit. More than that, her letters indicated that she became a confidant of both Fire Lady Katara and Master Toph. She helped draft the National Cultures Preservation Council with Fire Lady Katara, which still stands today. All records of her indicate that she was a powerful and generous woman. She had three children with Avatar Aang: Bumi, Mele, and Tenzin. Their youngest, Tenzin, would go on to help Avatar Korra complete his parents' long attempted mission to restore the world of Airbenders."
    –An excerpt from 'A History of Avatars'


News of Zuko and Katara’s engagement breaks three days after her birthday. First, in the palace and amongst Zuko’s council and advisors. Then news spreads rapidly, so on the fifth day, they decide to publicly announce it– both to the Fire Nation and the world. Zuko mourns the fact that they had little time to enjoy being engaged to themselves, but he supposes such is the way of two trailblazing politicians.

Zuko feels they barely had the time to even perform the gift exchange for their proposal– it’s tradition in the Fire Nation for the families to give each other nine gifts respectively. All gifts are to symbolize a hope that each family has for the marriage.

So they had gathered the day after Katara's birthday. Katara with her father, grandmother, Sokka, and Suki and Zuko with his Uncle, mother, and both sisters.

Each family had presented nine gifts to each other. Most with the hopes for things like happiness, everlasting love, health, plenty of children– five, his Uncle is hoping, and six to make it even, Katara’s grandmother jokes. Also hopes of vitality and strength, courage as new leaders. 

Finally, as if planned, both families' last gift to each other is an offering of peace and solidarity. 

From Katara’s family, they had made a bouquet of flowers out of the precious ore and glittering gems of their caves. They had explained that real, live flowers wilt, but they want this to be everlasting. More than that, the glittering crystal of the petals are white and opalescent, symbolizing a flower of peace in the South, one that is rare, but survives their harsh climate to prevail in their warmer months. 

Zuko’s family had made a small statue of firedoves taking flight, their gleaming gold bodies had been molded and crafted with fire. The firedove is another symbol of peace, and the gold instead of living birds were also a hope for longevity in their union and peace. 

At the end, his Uncle had said, “You two, with this union, are single-handedly ushering the world into a new era.”

Katara had looked at him then, open and so bright that she could’ve put the sun to shame, and said, “That’s what we’re hoping to do.” 

Despite the joy of their families and friends– even Aang, though reserved, had been gracious about their engagement (though Zuko is certain his letter to him had something to do with that, where he had been candid with Aang, and told him in advance that he plans on proposing to Katara), others did not take well to news of their engagement. 

Specifically, Zuko’s councilmen. Many of them had thrown a fit. Some had even presented a case to the Fire Sage’s, attempting to nullify the engagement since Zuko did not seek their approval first. But nowhere in previous laws of their nation did it state that the council needed to approve the Fire Lord’s choice of marriage, rather it had always simply been a custom to do so and Zuko had foregone it for this very reason.

Thankfully, the Fire Sage’s had instead given their union the blessing of Agni, and dismissed any attempts at nullifying it, also solidifying its validity in the eyes of the nation. 

 That hadn’t stopped Zuko and Katara sitting through far too many heated meetings, though, defending their engagement from reasons as grand as Katara’s foreigner status, to some as trivial as, where will the marriage ceremony be held? And whose traditions and customs will be used? 

Jakao, at one point, though Zuko’s advisor, and usually relatively silent in these meetings, had even spoken up. 

Specifically to defend Katara, after one councilman had sneered ‘ foreigner’ a little too harshly, Jakao had snapped, “You will not speak to the future Fire Lady in such a way again.” 

It burns his council to hear it, to hear her be referred to as such, but it fills Zuko with a pride and hope that he wouldn’t be able to put into words if he tried. 

More than that, his and Katara’s plans to overthrow the council now feel more pressing. Any free time they’ve had since their engagement has been spent in the library, poring over history and any information possible that will make for strong evidence against the council and it’s role in politics.  

Not only that, but they have to draft their official plan for a new council and the way in which it will work– including, but not limited to, how often the councils will be turned over to the public for voting, and how many will sit upon it, where they will be from, and a great deal more. 

They also want to put in safeguards, so that the council does not become wealthy noblemen again, and they want to ensure that none have ties to businesses or industries, lest their decisions then be fueled by money, and not the people’s interest. 

But they announce their engagement together, in front of as much of Caldera City that can be packed into the forum. They announce it for the world, which will surely now receive the official word of their union. They do so hand in hand, pressed shoulder to shoulder.

Caldera City is overwhelmingly supportive. Which is unsurprising, since Katara is now seen as a treasure and hero in their eyes after she saved the city completely on her own. And when word drifts down to the citizens that noblemen are not as pleased with the union, many of Caldera City’s residents wear swatches of blue to show their support. People wear their hair in braids. 

Other parts of the Fire Nation are more unsure. Some are outright hateful. The Insurgency apparently has been noisier, trying to recruit others to their cause. Mai reports that their numbers have largely stayed the same, though, thankfully. 

They are still unsure of who the mole in the palace could be. They are still careful. 

They receive a strangely cold congratulations from the Northern Water Tribe’s ambassador. King Kuei sends them flowers and precious jewels of the earth as congratulations, but their ambassador does not seem overly thrilled, either.

Suki and Mai have agreed that security should be tighter on them. At times, Zuko feels as if he can hardly get a moment alone, not even with his fiance. 

He hopes it doesn’t always have to be this way. 

More than that, the Ba Sing Se summit is approaching rapidly. It will be the first time that Zuko and Katara are debuting together, as a couple, and Katara as the future Fire Lady. While she already held great political esteem being an ambassador for the South, this will be her first time appearing politically, as a future leader. 

There is a lot of pressure riding on this, something that Zuko’s advisors– which are now becoming Katara’s– are adamant about. 

Jakao reminds them for the thousandth time while they prepare for the summit, “Other politicians, other nations, will be looking for any weaknesses,” then he fixes the circular glasses on his narrow face and adds, “They need to see a completely unified front. This includes socially, at the balls that King Kuei always hosts, and politically, while in meetings.” 

“We know,” Zuko replies, trying to refrain from huffing. 

“This includes questions of the ceremony, honeymoon, and perhaps insensitive questions about the merging of your two cultures and ideals.” Another one of their advisors speaks up, peering up from the notes she’s been scribbling almost frantically.

“We have compiled a list of suggestions for the ceremony and honeymoon locations,” a third advisor chimes in. 

“We have time for a honeymoon?” Katara asks, her tone somewhat amused. 

“Only about four days, after your coronation, Ambassador Katara. And mostly for appearance and tradition. We’ll expect you two to be politically available if need be, though.” Jakao replies and Zuko shares a look with Katara that might as well say, lucky us, as dryly as possible .

She has to bite back her smile, glancing away momentarily, which makes Zuko smile fractionally, too. 

Jakao clears his throat pointedly at them and Zuko refocuses. 

“With all due respect, we’ve already decided about the ceremony.” Zuko replies, “But we’ll take the honeymoon suggestions.” 

“Oh,” Jakao replies, “What have you two decided?” 

“We’re going to hold two ceremonies. A traditional Water Tribe one in the South and then when we return, a traditional Fire Nation one here, in Caldera City.” Katara explains, “This marriage is important to both nations and would also solidify our union in both cultures, so no one could question it’s validity.” 

For a moment, their advisors are silent, clearly thinking this through. 

“Logistically, it might be a little tough. Which ceremony would be first? Will it cause outrage to the other nation to be second? Which should worldly politicians and leaders attend? Surely, you don’t expect them to attend both–” Jakao already begins to ramble. 

But Zuko cuts him off, “We want the ceremony in the South first, since it’s more spiritual and focused on the union of souls. It’s also traditionally more intimate. We expect other leaders and politicians to attend the one in the Fire Nation, which her coronation would follow.” 

Once more, their advisors are silent. 

Zuko isn’t sure if it’s because they can’t stand the idea and are working through ways to tell them no, or for another reason entirely. 

After a long moment, Jakao finally says, “I think that would be acceptable,” and then he sighs slightly, shoulders dropping, “I suppose, regardless of what you two do, you’ll receive criticism from someone. Might as well do as you please.” 

“Jakao, I think you’re getting soft,” Zuko says, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. 

It is unfortunately easy in these moments to forget that Jakao is suspected of betraying them. 

The thought strikes Zuko between the ribs, especially when Jakao looks between them, and offers a rare smile before he says, “I suppose I am.” 

He swallows hard. 

Their meeting concludes soon after and as their advisors trickle out of the meeting room, Katara takes his hand beneath the table. His eyes flick out to her. As if she’s read his mind, she murmurs, “I really don’t think it’s him, Zuko.” 

Zuko let’s lose a slow, weary sigh. “I don’t want it to be,” he admits and he squeezes her hand. 

“I don’t either,” she replies, just as softly. 

Reluctantly, they part, and their day presses onward. But the idea of a mole weighs heavy on their mind, especially as they have to discuss their wedding plans to not seem suspicious themselves. 

It is growing difficult to hold up facades, though, and Zuko finds himself more and more worried lately. He sees his future with Katara, wants it so badly that it hurts, and is terrified of it slipping away from him. 

He holds her tighter, fiercer, like his love of her will be all that it takes to keep her safe. To keep their future safe. Part of him whispers, it worked once already, didn’t it? He’d saved her once already. He could do it again. 

He just hopes he never needs to, not with their future, so golden and promising, just a breath away. 


One of Katara’s handmaidens reports that she saw the Ambassador of the Northern Water Tribe rifling through letters that had yet to be sent by firehawks yet. She tells one of Katara’s Kyoshi Warriors first, before it is then reported to Suki, who quickly tells Mai. 

The Ambassador claims that he wanted his own letter back before it was sent, since he forgot to add something to it, but after everything that’s happened, everything they know, they cannot let this slide past.

Mai personally begins an investigation on him. 

Ty Lee adds that it would make sense, he is not fond of Katara. And she’s sure the announcement of their marriage did little to help. Still, Zuko is unsure of motivations for the Northern Water Tribe to risk partnering with an extremist group in his own nation. That would be grounds for war, which is the last thing any of them want. 

Perhaps he’s working alone, of his own agenda, Suki suggests. 

But all it does is raise more questions. And raise Zuko’s already mounting anxiety. 

In the weeks that follow, there is a tenseness to the palace, one that he remembers as a child, just before his mother left. In fact, it is something that his mother comments on one afternoon, when he’s sharing tea with her. 

Katara is in another meeting, he thinks with the Earth Kingdom Ambassador. Otherwise, he knows she would be here with them. 

“I was thinking of going away for a while, to one of the islands. The palace seems so–” she searches for a polite enough word, “Tense lately.” 

Zuko’s relationship with his mother has been rather tense lately, too. He feels as if he’s trying to put a tea cup that has shattered back together when he speaks to her. He is careful, so careful and quiet and uncertain. 

Did this piece go here? Or was it there? He’s trying to fit the jigsaw of their relationship back together, but he doesn’t know how to do it. 

And sometimes, he grows so frustrated he just wants to leave it, let all it’s shattered pieces collect dust over time. 

He gathers in a slow breath, though, “Okay. Kiyi would go with you then?” 

She nods, taking a small sip of steaming tea, “I think it might do Azula well to get away, too.” 

The clattering of his cup to the table startles his mother slightly. She startles so easily, he realizes with a pang. “With you? ” he questions, unable to keep the shock out of his voice, perhaps even the slight edge that’s crept into it. 

She shakes her head quickly, “No– no, I mean, if she wanted to, then, of course. But we’re not– we haven’t had a conversation in years.” Ursa frowns into her tea and Zuko watches as her eyes nearly well up with tears suddenly, they grow glossy and gold, shining in the afternoon light. Her lip quivers a moment and Zuko feels as if his heart has fallen through a trapdoor, plummeted into uncertainty. 

“Mom–” he starts, soft, tentative.

And then he watches, right before his eyes, as his mother takes in a breath, gathering herself together– stitching together all the errant pieces of herself, and settling her sadness. She tucks it away quickly, precisely. When she draws her eyes back up to his, the wobble in her lip is gone, her tears have been pushed away. 

As if it had never happened. 

She swallows once, and then says, “Will you remind her, please, that if she ever wishes to mend our relationship, I would be more than willing?” 

Zuko’s mouth is still hanging open somewhat, shocked. The last time they had discussed Azula had been the time when he had snapped at his mother. More than that, he doesn’t think he has ever seen his mother display such emotion before. She is always serene, always pleasant. Part of him wants to ask if the offer is on the table for their relationship, too. But his heart feels too strange, too tentative, too youthful. 

He realizes, though, that this display of control is perhaps how she survived his father. Where Azula was vicious, all searing perfection and fierce attitude, their mother was a master of disguise. Where Zuko was full of outbursts and blind determination, their mother was cautious. One slip up could’ve cost her life. 

Could’ve cost his life. 

She had to be cunning, had to be careful if she wanted to make it out alive. 

He wonders if he’s been unfair to her. Another part of him demands, but did she have to forget me? Did she have to forget Azula?  

There is too much between them, far more than the small tea table they sit opposite of can hold. 

He wonders if one day they’ll speak openly, if she’ll ever– if she’d ever apologize, for forgetting him and Azula. 

He doesn’t have to wonder if he would forgive her. 

There is so much more to say, but for now, all Zuko says, softly and full of promise, is “Of course, mom.” 


Zuko visits the Fire Sages alone one evening. There is something he needs done, now that he and Katara are engaged, now that she is about to be Fire Lady. He’s already done the research, scoured through old laws and history for what he needs, for what he had to be certain of. 

He doesn’t tell Katara, maybe because the insinuation is enough for her to grow upset with him. But he won’t sleep peacefully until it’s done. It’s just a precaution, one that he needs. It is something that has been weighing on his mind for a while, more and more now that there seems to be a growing threat surrounding the palace. 

“Fire Lord Zuko,” the head Fire Sage, Raoke, says as he bows. He sounds mildly surprised to see him. 

Zuko bows in return, greets him quietly in the echoing space that rests at the bottom of their tower. It is used most often for prayer and meditation. The fire that lines the wall casts the spacious room in bronze and ruby, the gold of decorations glinting, catching like sunbeams. 

Zuko doesn’t waste time, “I have come to appoint a new successor, should anything happen to me.” 

Fire Sage Raoke is silent for a moment, tilting his head to study Zuko. Previously, his successor was always his uncle.  

“I presume you wish to make your fiance your successor? And for it to fall into effect upon her coronation?” he asks and there is no judgment in his tone, though he does press, “Forgive me, I am surprised, my Lord, I assumed she would be here with you.” 

Zuko draws in a slow breath, “I would like it to go into effect immediately, actually, and not require our promised marriage or her future coronation.” 

Now Fire Sage Raoke pauses fully and the silence that stretches out between them is weighted, Zuko’s voice fading in the echoing chambers. He feels a slight shiver, despite the fire, despite the warmth, like there are more eyes watching them. Like something else, something otherworldly presses in. 

“Do you presume something to happen to you before the wedding, my Lord?” Raoke finally asks him. 

“Hopefully not,” Zuko replies, but there is a wry twisting of his lips. 

Another pause where Raoke studies him carefully. His next question is level, though scrutinizing, “Is Ambassador Katara aware of your wish? Does she know of this?” 

“She is aware of my concern. But no, she does not know.” Zuko answers, “She doesn’t like the insinuation.” 

She also didn’t think that the nation would be keen on her leading them without him. She also hates to hear him speak like this, to speak of his death in any way. But Zuko has faith in her, in her ability to lead. She is the promise of their new world, she is their hope, their peace embodied in the form of a girl with too much determination, too much love and ferocity. 

He was willing to give up his nation, his crown, his life for her when he was sixteen by taking a bolt of lightning for her. 

He’d give her his nation now, bow his head so that she could take his crown. 

And perhaps, bitterly, viciously , if anyone were to seize his life, seize the future that he has so desperately wanted– if they were able to take him from Katara– he would want them to live in a world where she is their leader. Where their worst nightmare, a girl from the Southern Water Tribe, sits on their throne. 

More than that, his uncle is getting old. She will be his successor in a few months time, when they are married, anyways. 

“Nor do I, my Lord.” Raoke answers and his voice is gentler, a frown working its way onto his lips. Raoke has always been fond of Zuko. In his younger years, Zuko found solace in their conversations. 

Zuko inhales slowly, “Regardless, it is my wish. A precaution I want to take.” 

“Very well,” Raoke agrees then, with a bow of his head. “Come, then, Fire Lord Zuko, and let us recite the rites.” 

“Fire Sage Raoke?” Zuko asks, before he moves, before he follows him.

“Yes?”

“I require your discretion. I don’t wish for anyone to know I’ve done this, lest it get out to the public and cause...more trouble.” 

“Of course, my Lord.” Raoke agrees, bowing deeper, “You have my silence, always.” 

The only people that Zuko ends up telling is his uncle, who, despite also disliking the insinuation, agreed, and strangely enough, Azula. 

At first, he doesn’t really know why he tells her. Only that it’s the two of them and they’re sitting cross-legged on his balcony. Katara is still in the library. Kiyi is with their mother for the evening. The sun has just set, so all is quiet and blue and balmy. 

Azula’s response is simple. It’s a roll of her eyes, “You’re so dramatic. Do you plan on dying before your wedding?” 

“Well, no–” 

“The least you could do if you are planning on it is leave me with a niece or nephew to remember you by.” she continues and Zuko’s mouth falls open. 

She turns to face him, a glint in her gold eyes that looks like it could be mirth, “What? I’d like to be an aunt and I don’t want to wait for Kiyi.” then she offers him a shrug, a graceful lifting of her shoulders, “Besides, then there’s no way the nation would reject her.” 

“Wait, you want to be an aunt?” Zuko asks, deciding that that’s the more pressing matter. 

Azula waves him off, “Yes. Now stop dwelling on tragedies that haven’t happened. You’re finally happy, isn’t that enough? Stop expecting it to be taken from you. More than that, don’t let anyone take it from you. It’s yours.”  

She says it waspishly, flippantly, but it strikes a chord inside him, a pang he hadn’t realized resonated. 

She’s right, but admitting that feels too mature for an elder brother. So instead he says, “I can’t believe you want to be an aunt.” 

Azula scrunches up her nose, “What’s so surprising about that? I’d make an excellent aunt.” 

Zuko laughs, he doesn’t know why fully, maybe it’s the indignant look on her face. Or just the sudden squirming in his chest, that painful twinge of happiness, and the following cold dash of fear. He is worried someone will take this from him, he is worried that it will all fall away, slip from his fingers like sand. 

Don’t let anyone take it from you. It’s yours. 

Azula’s lips quirk upwards, too, like she’s won something for making him laugh. 

Later, when he is watching Katara get ready for bed, Zuko mentions Azula’s desire to be an aunt to her. She tosses her head back and laughs, before saying, “Her too? Sokka and Suki are already mentioning it– as if we’re not the ones that should be harassing them for nieces and nephews!” 

Katara nearly falls into bed then, just about collapses on top of him and he smiles the moment his arms go around her. The moment she is on his chest, tucked away into bed with him. It’s still strange to think sometimes, that Sokka and Suki will be his in-laws. Two of his closest friends now family. 

It all feels too good to be true. 

He swallows hard when he remembers what he’s done behind her back. He almost opens his mouth to tell her, unable to keep a secret. Not from her. 

But Katara continues, just as she’s sinking down into him. He can feel the way her muscles begin to relax beneath his coaxing hands, “Sokka said they’ve been waiting for me to get married so our kids will be around the same age.” 

Zuko snorts, “Talk about planning ahead.” 

He feels Katara’s huff of laughter against his neck, “Yeah, well, you know them. There always needs to be a plan.” 

“No wonder he tricked me into going on that hunting trip. He was sick of waiting.” Zuko responds, his hands slipping into her hair. He tugs a little, so that she’ll lift her head and he can press his lips to hers. Sweet and slow, a little indulgent. Her fingers settle lightly onto his chest, skid over the lightning scar that marks him as hers.

She hums lightly against his lips, before murmuring, “I’m surprised you weren’t tired of waiting by then.” 

Zuko glances down at her, the gold of his eyes softening, “I didn’t think I was waiting for you. I didn’t expect anything in return.” 

Katara blinks at him, pulling away more to take in more of his face, the slight furrow of his brow, the sudden vulnerable set of his lips. He feels strangely nervous suddenly, under her gaze, with his words hanging between them. 

“You really had no idea?” she asks, marveling at him, “You had no clue how I felt?” 

When Zuko shakes his head, his nose brushes hers, “I hoped, maybe. Dreamed about– about you. But I didn’t know. I would never presume.” 

He swallows hard because he just– he had resolved himself to his fate. He would’ve happily been her friend and only her friend, if she would’ve never reciprocated his feelings. He would’ve been happy just to have her, in any capacity.

For a moment, another life flashes before his eyes, one where he watches her get married to someone else. One where he doesn’t stop silently loving her, but has to watch her love another. 

But then he’s looking into the depth of her eyes, as deep as the sea she loves, as brilliant as the sky. And she’s here, with him, in this life. This version of them is happy and in love. This version of him has the privilege of holding her. 

He doesn’t want to dwell on the version of him that doesn’t. 

What had Azula told him? Stop dwelling on tragedies that haven’t happened. There is no other shoe to drop, he reminds himself. He has her now and that’s all that matters. 

Katara places another kiss to his lips, chaste, but loving, lingering. 

Her hand that had been tracing lines on his chest comes up to stroke the curve of his jaw, the plain of his cheek. She is looking at him in the way that makes him feel strangely remarkable. 

“You’re too selfless for your own good sometimes,” she finally murmurs, the pad of her finger gentle as it runs down the slope of his nose. To the bow of his lips. Absently, he kisses the tip of her finger. Down to her open palm. 

“Maybe,” he responds, “But it worked out, didn’t it?” he asks, his voice just a murmur, “Partly because you’re so nosy.” 

“Zuko!” She laughs and the sound instantly makes him smile. Her head falls onto his shoulder, “You hadn’t exactly hidden that letter!” 

He sets his hands on her sides, along her ribs, palms large and warm and wide over the curves of her body. “Maybe I wanted you to find it,” he teases, leaning in to steal another kiss. Longer this time, warmer. She sighs and he can feel it against his lips, beneath his hands. 

“Did you?” she asks when they part again, her lips brushing his. 

No, not at all.” Zuko’s eyes are still closed from their kiss when he admits, “I almost burnt it, after I wrote it.” 

He doesn’t see her reaction, just feels the tripping of her heart against his, “Thankfully you didn’t,” she breathes and there is something sacred there. Something otherworldly. So many choices made, so much that Fate toyed with, all to end up here. 

“And now we’re getting married,” Zuko answers, like he can’t quite believe it. 

The smile that blossoms onto her lips, which is felt against his chin, is enough to gut him. It’s enough to cleanly render him speechless, foolish, and stupidly lovestruck. 

“And now we’re getting married,” she agrees, her voice so full of excitement, so sweet that he swears he could get a tooth ache from it. 

He thinks his new goal in life is to make her that happy, for the rest of her life. 

When he kisses her again it is stronger, more certain, with a lick of heat. A nip of desperation, the deep pressed love of his hands, of hers, fluid and soft. He rolls her onto her back, spread out among the plush sheets of their bed. 

Her cheeks are flushed, all pink and pretty. Her dark hair spread out beneath her in curls and waves. Blue eyes dark, half lidded and soft for him. 

She is so beautiful that she puts sunsets and mountains and horizons to shame. No art or flower or sight compares to her. He wishes he was a poet, maybe, wishes he could express the love trapped in his chest. 

And he’s finally able to put his mind to rest with her, when her leg hitches over his waist. When her arms pull him down, down into her. All thoughts of precautions and lost tragedies finally quiet. Maybe he’s greedy, desperate when it comes to her. Maybe he’s protective, with the way he grips her, so tight she gasps, so tight he tries to fuse them together. 

Maybe he’s just protective of their love, of the future that burns and shimmers for them, all for them to reach out and grasp. 

He thinks again, while he holds her, that this happiness belongs to him. The future belongs to them. His life is his own, to be shaped, to be lived. 

He thinks of his sister’s voice, sharp, and right ;

Don’t let anyone take it from you. It’s yours. 


Zuko watches as the world blurs past, becomes a wash of color, streaking across his vision as he sits beside Katara on the Ba Sing Se monorail. She’s asleep, curled up at his side, her head tipped onto his shoulder. It’s still too early for her. Not to mention, they’ve had three days of travel to finally arrive in Ba Sing Se. 

He watches as the monorail moves from the most impoverished parts of Ba Sing Se, to the wealthiest. It is unfortunately a similar sight in the Fire Nation at times. The only difference is that there are no explicit walls to keep out the poor. There are gates and fences and other clever ways the rich have learned to keep out the poor, but there are no explicit walls.

Zuko wonders how many of the impoverished in Ba Sing Se are refugees from the One Hundred Year War. He wonders how far and wide it’s reach was. He thinks he will forever wonder about it, that he will spend the rest of his life trying to atone for it. 

You can’t carry the weight of your nation’s sins on your shoulders, Katara had told him one night, it’ll drive you crazy, Zuko.

He feels as if he could, though, watching the world pass him by. 

There’s only going forward, she had told him, lovingly brushing a strand of hair away from his face, only working towards a better and brighter future. 

He knows she’s right. She’s always right.

He turns away from the window finally to look down at her beside him, her lips parted softly in sleep. Her hair is mussed, slipping from it’s braid. He doesn’t dare move to brush a strand of it from her face, he doesn’t want to disturb her. 

The mid-afternoon casts her in warm light, splashes shadows against the curve of her cheek, the slender line of her neck. 

The cart is jostled somewhat and Katara finally stirs, blinking sleepily into the light, groggily picking up her gaze to look at him. There’s a deep, confused scowl on her face, as there often is if she’s woken unexpectedly. Zuko bites back his fond smile.

“Good morning,” he drawls softly. It’s afternoon.

She rubs at her eyes, nose scrunching up slightly, before she opens them to peak out the window. “Are we almost there?” she asks, as if she’s still trying to make sense of the world. 

“Little bit longer,” Zuko responds, finally lifting a hand to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Almost there, though, finally.” 

She hums softly in response, letting her head drop back onto his shoulder. “Do you think the Earth Kingdom gave us separate rooms because we’re only engaged and not married?” 

Zuko snorts, “Yes, to keep propriety, unfortunately.” 

Katara turns her head slightly, looking up with shimmering blue eyes, as bright as the sky, “I can sneak into your room, can’t I?” 

He laughs at this, rasping and soft, and her own smile twists onto her lips. “What are we, sixteen?” 

“Feels like it,” Katara replies, “Being back in Ba Sing Se.” 

She’s right. It does always feel a little strange being back in Ba Sing Se. Uncle’s tea shop is here, but he hasn’t visited in awhile. Not since the last time he was in Ba Sing Se for political reasons. And his Uncle has been spending plenty of time at the palace since he and Katara got engaged. 

But he thinks of working there, sixteen and so uncertain of his place in the world. 

He isn’t nostalgic, he doesn’t think. He tries not to be nostalgic over being a banished prince during a war. He thinks there’s not much to romanticize there, but perhaps there were moments– flickerings of times he loved. Memories he keeps sacred. The tea shop– his uncle’s full laugh, the smell of spice and herbs, the warmth of hot water. He thinks specifically of Ember Island, too, for fond memories and it’s as if he can feel the sun-warmed sand beneath his feet, and remembers doing chores quietly beside Katara. He can hear Toph’s laugh and Sokka’s surprised yelp. He can see Aang, only twelve, looking to him like he holds the secret of the universe in the palm of his hand. But it was just a flame.

And he was only sixteen. 

Ba Sing Se also makes him think of more sour moments. He remembers falling ill, being so conflicted he thought that he was going to tear his own heart in two. He remembers being sick with it, with the weight of everything he’s ever known, and the trembling first steps towards a different future. 

He thinks of the catacombs. Of his betrayal to her. 

Zuko can’t believe the way Fate has twisted, the way she held her cards all those years ago. Did she know then? 

He thinks about the way it all is sewn together like a brilliant, gold-threaded tapestry. The way he had to be banished to find the Avatar– the way she had found the Avatar after one hundred impossible years. 

They had to have been destined. Fate was pulling their strings long before they even met. 

“Zuko,” Katara says his name in a way that makes the rough syllabus of his name sound sweet, drawing him from his thoughts, “Stop thinking so hard, dear, you’ll give yourself a headache.” 

He huffs a laugh, catching her eyes, which glimmer with mirth. I’m marrying her, he thinks, and the thought makes him giddy, so joyful that he could be sick with it. 

He dips his head to press a kiss as soft as feathers to her cheek. He settles lower, and can feel her smile when he kisses her lips, presses softly to her. She sighs, parts her lips beneath his. It’s all slow, all for savoring. 

When he pulls away, he gently nudges her nose with his, “Are you nervous?” he asks then, his eyes half-lidded, honey gold. 

She shakes her head fractionally, looking up at him through dark lashes. “Are you?” 

“A little,” he sighs, just as she kisses the corner of his mouth. 

She pulls away to look into his eyes, a smile curling at her lips, lightening her features, “C’mon, we’ve faced worse than this and made it out alive.” 

“I know,” he agrees, “This is nothing, all things considered.” Then he takes her hand in his, feels the coolness of her palm to his warmth. He fits their fingers together carefully, “Besides, it’ll be nice to go into this as a team this year.” 

She hums in agreement, looking down at their interwoven hands, then back up to the window, to watch as the world passes them by. 

She smiles slightly, to herself. He doesn’t know why, but he smiles fractionally, too, as if something inside him naturally blossoms at her happiness. 

“What?” he asks, squeezing her hand slightly.

“Nothing,” she responds, soft, almost wistful. She turns to face him, eyes lit up with all her joy, with all the world, “This will be the first of many summits we go to together.” 

Zuko feels his heart squeeze. So many firsts. So many things to look forward to. He leans in, brushes his lips to her cheek. 

She turns to catch him in a proper kiss, eager, all full of warmth and love. 

The monorail glides on, the world outside the window dashes of emerald, sky blue, a burst of yellow and ruby. 

Katara settles her head back onto his shoulder and they arrive in the innermost ring of Ba Sing Se together, hand in loving hand. 


They meet with Toph first, who has come from Republic City, where she’s spent a lot of her time lately. Katara’s father and Sokka have not arrived from the South Pole yet and Aang has yet to arrive, either, though all should be arriving by tomorrow morning. 

Business already begins tomorrow afternoon. 

But for now, they walk through the city with Toph. It’s near dusk, burnt orange falling over the city, saturating everything in it’s rusty vividness. They’re in the upper ring, since they’re staying in the palace as guests. Everything about it is tranquil, from the flowing streams that catch bronze in the dying sun and their wooden bridges that arch over it prettily, to the well-manicured greenery. It’s beautiful, like a slice of oasis. 

Zuko knows this peace comes with a cost, though. Ba Sing Se, like Caldera City, like many major, thriving cities, often lives off the backs of it’s poor to achieve such serenity for it’s wealthy. 

It is something he has been trying to work on since his coronation. It is something that has marked him as such an extremist to some, something that has gotten Katara in trouble, too. Something that they’ll continue to push against now, together. 

Together, the word buzzes around inside his head. He thinks about taking her hand now, just because he can, but he knows Toph will tease them, or give a snarky remark. In ways, she’s still immature, always something smart to say on the tip of her silver-edged tongue. 

They’re on their way to his uncle’s tea shop for a brief visit– who had spent some time in the Fire Nation with them following their engagement, but has been back in Ba Sing Se for some weeks now. Zuko hasn’t been to the Jasmine Dragon in years, though Toph tells him it’s doing well still. She visited the last time she was in Ba Sing Se. She checks in on his uncle when she’s here. 

Toph is telling them about how she may open up an Earthbending school in Republic City, too, when there is a dash of strange, shimmery light that crosses Zuko’s vision, followed quickly by a blur of yellow and orange. For a heartbeat, Zuko thinks it’s–

“Twinkle Toes?” Toph asks, startled, jolting away from where she must’ve felt the person rush past. 

But when the person slows enough for Zuko to catch a look at them, it is not Aang. But she is dressed in clothes that Airbenders would wear, her robe sloping around her form in a pale yellow, stitchings of orange. She chases after that dash of light. Which, he doesn’t recognize, struggles to make sense of. 

Suki is the first on defense, swift with her fans, the flash of gold sharp in the fading sun. 

Katara becomes defensive next, though, her gasp alerting him of potential danger, “Is that a spirit?” she asks, just as her arm comes up, the curl of water from a nearby stream whipping towards her, circling around her, around him. 

And the- the spirit– stills on a tree branch. It’s form is strange, small, but with legs like a spider, a face with sunken eyes, the flash of teeth as it makes a warbly, pitched, screeching sound. Zuko winces, covering his ears. The girl swings up into the tree branches with grace, barely rustling the branches with her swiftness, with her ease. 

But the spirit jumps and in an instant, it flickers out of sight. There’s a hushed curse. Then the girl drops from the tree with near silent feet. It doesn’t even seem like she’s hit the ground she’s so light. So careful. 

But her posture is relaxed, open, as Zuko finally takes her in. Her hair is dark, somewhat choppy, though most of it’s pulled back, save for messy bangs. There’s a lightness to her face, the crinkle of her eyes as she smiles. An upturn to her nose that gives her almost impish features. Her smile is easy as she blows her bangs from her face. 

“Yeah, that was a spirit. Buggers have been popping up all over Ba Sing Se recently for some reason. They’re harmless for the most part, so far.” she begins, her eyes sweeping over them. Though Katara lowers her defenses somewhat, Suki is still tense, poised for a fight, even if her face seems relaxed. 

At the girl’s voice, Toph finally recognizes her, which is strange, since Toph can usually tell by footsteps alone but–

Hadn’t Toph thought she was Aang? 

She must move similarly to him, in the least, to have fooled Toph.

“Oh,” Toph says, tilting her head slightly, “It’s you.”

“Long time no see, Toph.” the girl replies brightly, before dipping into a graceful, almost theatrical bow– it’d be almost disrespectful, if she didn’t seem so light, so playful. Besides, her words are sincere, “Apologies Captain Suki, Ambassador Katara, Fire Lord Zuko,” she addresses each of them formally, “I’m Lenah, an Air Acolyte in Ba Sing Se. I didn’t mean to startle you.”    

“How do you two know each other?” Suki asks, eyeing Toph and Lenah. 

Toph waves her off, “She’s helped out Twinkle Toes from time to time. She’s visited Republic City with him, too.” 

At this, Zuko turns to Katara to share a look, who clearly is on the same page as him. 

Zuko cocks a brow to her, do you think-?

Katara shrugs fractionally, as if to say, how would I know? 

Still, Katara turns to Lenah with a warm smile, “Well, it’s nice to meet you! Any friend of Aang’s is a friend of ours.” 

Lenah’s eyes flicker to Toph, a hint of a smirk that is all teasing and sharp touches her lips, “Toph, aren’t I your friend, too?” 

Toph scoffs, but her lips twist up into a crooked smile as well, “Don’t push your luck, Feathers.” 

Lenah smiles then, fully, as she refocuses on Katara, bowing somewhat in gratitude, “Thank you, Ambassador Katara. I appreciate your warmth.” her eyes, spring green and sly, slide back to Toph, “Unlike someone.” 

Toph stamps the ground and a jut of the earth cuts upwards, beneath Lenah’s feet. But she’s nimble, so quick that Zuko almost doesn’t catch the way she dances away from it, like leaves swirling on the wind. Like a feather. 

Oh, Zuko realizes, almost dumbly. 

Lenah laughs then and Suki finally let’s down her guard, Zuko even finds himself relaxing, too. Clearly she’s closer with Toph and Aang than they know. He doesn’t know why, but it comforts Zuko to know that Aang seems to be close with others, that he isn’t completely alone when traveling and working as the Avatar.

He glances at Katara, he’s sure she must feel similarly, though there’s a certain curiosity in her eyes. A question that lingers, one she doesn’t directly ask. 

“We’re headed to the Jasmine Dragon to visit Zuko’s uncle, if you’d like to join us.” Katara even goes so far as to offer Lenah. And though he knows Katara’s intentions are good-hearted, he also wonders if she’s being somewhat nosy. He eyes her. 

“Oh,” Lenah says, a little surprised, a flush working it’s way onto her tan cheeks. “That’s alright! Night’s falling and I should try to help these little spirits.” she gives another smile, “But thank you for the offer,” and then she glances to Zuko, “And give your uncle my best!” 

Zuko nods and tells her, “I will.” 

He is both unsuprised and surprised to find that his uncle does know Lenah. He supposes he should’ve known, his uncle somehow knows almost anyone from just about anywhere. Especially here in Ba Sing Se. 

He tells them that she is very clever and helpful. 

“She seems nice,” Suki adds over her cup of tea, the steam rising into the dim light of the shop. They’re tucked into a corner together, seated around a table. Katara is pressed to his side. Toph and Suki are across from them. His uncle at the end of the table. They’re missing Aang and Sokka, and Uncle has already said they’d need to return after they arrived. 

Still, it’s warm, almost sleepy with the flickering, soft lights of the tea shop. It reminds Zuko of being young, spending long days working on his feet, letting his troubles of being a disgraced prince fall away. Melt away with herbs and warm water. 

And it’s made better with the company, with the people he loves, sharing tea, sharing conversation. 

“Feathers is fine,” Toph gruffs, but Zuko thinks that for Toph, she might as well have said she likes her. 

“Well, maybe we can get to know her better, while we’re here.” Katara suggests, her hands curled around the warm mug in her hands. 

“Yeah if we can spare the time outside of these boring meetings,” Toph grouses, slumping in her seat slightly. Most of the time, Zuko is marveling at how Toph has matured, but there are more moments, like now, when looking at her brings him back to when they were young. And she was only twelve. He smiles, small and fond. 

Katara tries to assure her that it won’t be so bad, which dissolves into Toph throwing a few light hearted jabs at Katara. Their banter is familiar, it amuses him and Suki and his uncle. 

Eventually, conversation turns to their upcoming wedding. His uncle will be staying in Ba Sing Se just until they depart for the South. Though Toph grumbles about going to two ceremonies, he is certain she wouldn’t miss either of them.

They even end up teasing her about how her or Aang will be next to marry after them. 

“I’m not gettin’ married,” Toph snaps at all of them, which only seems to fuel them. 

Even Uncle is gently poking at her, “Master Toph, everyone finds love in their life at some point if they’re lucky.” 

“I have found love and it’s Earthbending and freedom, thank you very much.” she snaps, her fingers wrapped protectively around the warm mug of tea in her hands.

“Aw, c’mon, Toph, there hasn’t been anyone?” Katara asks, a playful smile lilting her lips. 

“No. Now leave me alone.” Toph replies sharply and Zuko can’t help the slight laugh that huffs out of him.

“You’re too young to be such a grouch,” Suki tells her, bold enough to try and ruffle Toph’s hair. She gets her hands swatted away for her trouble. 

Katara laughs now, too, and despite Toph’s apparent sour mood, her features are still relaxed. There’s maybe even a smile on her face, small, as if she could hide it from them. 

Still, the night is easy. Relaxed in a way that Zuko hasn’t felt in awhile. Not with planning Katara’s birthday, the proposal, preparing for this summit, dealing with wedding planning, and traveling. 

By the end of their night, Zuko follows Suki and Toph back to the palace. Katara leans heavily into his side, sated and soft-eyed. 

The lanterns around the city at night are like stars, twinkling gently, casting their shadows tall and hazy on the cobblestones behind them. 

Zuko is tired but happy, happier than he can ever recall being for having a long day of meetings ahead of him tomorrow. 

He squeezes Katara’s hand. It doesn’t seem so daunting, not so bad, with her at his side. 


Katara sneaks into his chambers once most the Earth Kingdom palace has gone quiet with the fall of night. He isn’t entirely surprised, but he does feel stupidly young, sitting up in bed when he hears the lock of his door being opened. 

He’d given her the key earlier. Nearly the moment he’d gotten it and no one was looking. 

She ducks into his room, closing and  locking the door behind her. However, when she turns, Zuko realizes that she’s got scrolls stacked haphazardly in her arms. Gone is her earlier sleepiness, it seems. He huffs, almost in amusement, if he weren’t certain that she is worrying needlessly at this point about tomorrow’s meetings. She has her policies and prepared arguments and research almost memorized at this point. Still, she clambers into bed and drops the scrolls out in front of him. 

Zuko, without having to be asked, reaches over and lights the lamp beside his bed. The room blooms with rose colored flame. Katara settles in beside him, already unwinding a scroll. 

“Katara, love,” Zuko begins softly, “I think you’re prepared enough.” 

“I just want to go over this with you once more,” she replies, undeterred, searching through the scroll, her finger careful as she skims over the words in front of them. 

He can’t say no to her, so they spend the next hour in the lamplight, with Zuko’s chin hooked over her shoulder, peering sleepily at the documents in front of him. Their voices are soft, hushed as they talk to each other. And the way she speaks, even now, with the quietness of night, with such conviction and intelligence, is enough for him to fall in love with her all over again. 

Not for the first time, Zuko marvels that it’s him who gets to hold her in these moments, when the world has gone still and soft. He marvels that it’s her who will be beside him the rest of his days. 

There will be many nights like these to come and he has never been so excited for his future, while in the same breath desperately wanting to remain forever in the present. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this life, this future, but he will never stop trying to earn it. He will never stop being thankful for it. 

“Zuko?” she asks, “Are you listening?” 

His eyes flutter softly, exhausted, sated, “Sorry,” he murmurs, “Will you repeat what you said?”

He feels her smiling lips pressed to his cheek more than he sees it. The flame in the lamp is beginning to dwindle, softly flickering, barely holding on against the pull of peaceful darkness. 

“That’s alright,” she says finally, “We can sleep.” 

They finally clear the scrolls away, messily setting them on the ground beside the bed– never mind these are important, never mind that they’re official documents of some kind.  

He curls around Katara when they lay down, their legs tied up into a knot. He burrows down beneath blankets, presses close to her, his arm wrapped around her waist. 

He doesn’t last, not with the lulling of her breathing, the comfort of holding her so close. 

Zuko falls into a warm and dreamless sleep, beside the person he loves. 


Aang and Sokka both arrive early the following morning. In fact, they’re awoken to a loud crash in the hallway, which happens to be Sokka and Aang’s doing. They’d already managed to knock down a decorative vase somehow. And they’re bickering like children so much that Zuko doesn’t think he ever catches what truly happened. 

Besides, everyone is mostly concentrated on the meetings in the afternoon. 

The first round of them end up being rather intense, a strange tension in the room. There are congratulations given to him and Katara, but an air of defense remains up around most politicians in the room. And while things are usually rather terse between all of them, Zuko, who at times has trouble reading a room, gets confirmation from Katara that yes, things are more tense than usual. 

He wonders if it’s the announcement of their marriage. He wonders if they’re that threatened by them.

Regardless, he and Katara do not waver. They are cohesive, complimentary. Where Zuko is stern, Katara becomes sympathetic, passionate. Where she grows fierce, Zuko becomes gentler, more contemplative. 

He marvels that he hardly needs to even speak to her to know what she may be thinking, how she seems to read him just as easily. Unspoken communication between them has always been strong, but it seems to shine now, when they can make decisions between each other with a look. A nod or a tilt of the head. 

They are sure-footed. Decisive. Some of their fellow politicians grow angry at them, perhaps at their strength, their inability to be shaken. They give them no openings, show them no weaknesses. 

Angers bubble when a politician from the Northern Water Tribe accuses Zuko of being similar to his father. Someone always does at these summits, it’s just a matter of time. 

Which unfortunately, despite all the years, despite everything Zuko has done and grown into, still feels like a slap to the face. He wishes it didn’t still sting. He wishes he could say it no longer bothers him, but there is still something malignant and tender inside him. 

Like he’s sixteen again and won’t ever be anything more than his father’s son. 

The idea of ever being like his father, his father who was cruel and brutal and power-hungry is always enough to cut away at him, enough to torment those fragile parts of himself. His father, who gave Zuko the scar on his face–

Before he can respond, before he can even inhale, Katara’s eyes have flashed dangerously.

“Fire Lord Zuko is nothing like his father.” 

Her words hang there, like the steep edge of a cliff, daring anyone to try and jump off and into her rocky waters below. There is something in her tone, in the curl of her lip that is unwavering, almost vicious in it’s protectiveness. 

No one dares to defy her, the man that had made the accusation is now tight-lipped, jaw tense. 

“No,” Aang agrees, firm, his voice clear, “He’s not. Nor does that have anything to do with our current meeting.” And he redirects them, he plays peacekeeper, as always. He deflects, he transitions, he guides. 

These meetings take up most of their days. Long and exhausting and testing their patience, but it’s worth it. It’s worth it when, with the help of Katara and Sokka, they can get the drafts for a national environmental protection council. Katara’s suggestion for Republic City, a group of appointed officials from each nation to sit on their own council, though initially picked apart, also ends up doing well. It is something that each nation can compromise on. 

The first day was by far the most tense, but the following days are still long and drawn out. Toph, at the end of each meeting, when the evening is giving away into night, needs to stretch her legs. She throws around boulders in open practice space within the palace. 

Some nights, they join her. Though they’re all mentally drained enough that any sparring dissolves into something petty or playful. 

There is a night when they try to see each other’s bending forms translated to another style of bending. And while they’ve all learned from each other greatly, it is intensely amusing and insightful to watch Toph try to mimic the fluidness of Airbending to move rocks. It’s also interesting to discover that when Zuko mimics certain Earthbending moves, the jarring strength of it can cause fire that is almost explosive. 

A burst of flames, a sudden pop of them. 

Airbending forms with his Firebending bring untempered flames, as if they’re being kicked up, wild and hungry, by the wind. 

And with Waterbending, when he mimics the fluid movements of Katara, the fire seems to blossom instead of burst, like it’s being stoked. 

“It’s more in your torso,” Katara tells him and he watches as the water moves with her, the swaying of her body, the turn of her torso. “With water, there’s a rhythm to tap into. You have to move with it, not against it.” 

He tries to fall into her rhythm, and for some time his fire is an infinity loop. Truly, a test of control with flames to keep it steady, consistent and rolling like water. He can’t sustain it though, not without the flames mounting. 

Still, the sensation of learning her bending, specific to the South, is important to him. 

I hope we have Waterbenders, he thinks suddenly, so they can learn from her. 

So they can learn the South’s Waterbending style, something that was almost extinct, something that is slowly returning, but only because of the perseverance of Katara. 

He tries not to marvel at her, for the thousandth time. 

When he shows her a Firebending move, one with a high kick, he watches as her water turns to sharp ice with the jarring movement. It shatters on impact with the ground. 

She laughs, “I can’t keep water fluid with some of those movements!” 

Still, he can’t help but notice the way the elements interact together. The way they need each other. He can’t help but notice the way he and Katara compliment each other. Maybe it’s the undercurrent of their relationship, all the years between them, but part of him thinks it’s always been like this. 

Since the moment he met her, whether they were fighting against each other or fighting together, there has always been an energy between them that felt unstoppable. Inevitable. Two forces clashing or coming together as one. 

At the end of their days, after hours of meetings and evenings of bending, they collapse into bed. Exhausted, mentally and physically, but feeling good. He feels as if they’re making progress, like they’re starting out on the right foot together, with all the world’s politicians watching them now.

And one night, after their fourth day of meetings, Katara turns on her side to face him in bed. He turns on his side to face her, too. There is a question in her eyes, in her questing fingers, which trace up the lines of his neck, his jaw. 

She hitches her leg over his waist when he pulls her closer. But still, she gazes at him. After a moment, she says, “I have a question.” 

“Okay,” he breathes, fingers flexing over her hip bones. 

“Are you happy?” she asks, “Are you satisfied?” 

Zuko draws in a slow breath. He nudges her cheek with his nose, before settling an absentminded kiss there. 

“I’m happy,” he breathes, “I’m so, impossibly happy.” 

She smiles fractionally, her fingers nimble and soft, brushing the hair from his face. 

“I’m not quite satisfied,” he admits, “Not yet.” 

“Not yet?” her voice is just a whisper. 

“Not yet.” he says, “We have far too much to do for me to be satisfied yet.” 

Her smile is like the curve of a crescent moon, soft and glowing. There is an understanding that passes between them, a shared spark, a determination that comes with all world-changers. 

“Do you think we’ll ever be satisfied?” she asks then, soft, not like it’s a bad thing, rather something simple. Like she’s asking if he thinks the sun will come out later. 

He thumbs lightly at her cheek, cradles her head in the large warmth of his palm. “Hopefully when we’re old and grey,” he answers, his voice just a murmur, “When all our children are adults. When we have grandchildren to spoil. When the world is better than when we found it.” 

There is a fragility in her expression now, like she can’t decide if she’s going to laugh or cry. There is something about all promises of happiness, of golden-touched futures, that are cut with bittersweetness, because that’s what they want, not what they have yet. And there is a long time between now and then. A lot can happen. More than they can ever know now. 

Just as ten years ago, they inherited a war they were fated to end. 

They were enemies. 

But their love was strong and they found a way. 

I think I’ll forever wonder about it, about fate, about yours and mine and the world’s. 

With their love, they shaped the world. 

Don’t let anyone take it from you. It’s yours. 

He wonders where they’ll be in ten more years. He looks at her and he sees the love of his life, bursting with possibility, with all that hope that she has carried and fought for and protected, so bright inside of her. As if she’d swallowed a star and he’d followed her the way wandering men do, eyes to the heavens, and was led to his redemption. Like she guided him– the world– into a new era. 

The silence between them stretches with this weight, with all this tenderness. 

Katara lifts her hand to touch his cheek, her fingertips loving, pressing into his skin like he is precious. To be touched gently, with care.  Time must stop for lovers, he thinks, every once and awhile. 

He thinks of the cave, here in Ba Sing Se, where all of time had suspended and it was just them beneath a galaxy of crystals, light in the darkness. 

He thinks of watching her dance, when he realized he was in love with her. 

I will always love you, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe. 

He thinks of her against the backdrop of a storm, fierce and brilliant and unwavering. 

He thinks of her in the South Pole, laying beside him, almost like this, with the fire light warm on their skin.  

Moments like this, where he is stuck on an inhale, where the world is theirs, and only theirs. 

When Katara speaks again, her voice is as soft as petals, as hopeful as wishing on a shooting star;

“I think I could be very satisfied then, Zuko of the Fire Nation.”


As promised, they return to visit the Jasmine Dragon with Aang and Sokka now accompanying them. It is one of their last nights in Ba Sing Se. There is a ball the following night that King Kuei is hosting, after the day’s long meetings, and the next day, they will all begin departing. 

But for now, he walks beside his friends throughout Ba Sing Se again. The evening air is colder than the Fire Nation, but still pleasant, almost honeyed with spring well on the way. 

Sokka and Toph are bickering at the front of the group, Zuko isn’t sure about what, only that it has Suki laughing as she plays moderator between them. He thinks Toph is winning whatever argument they’re having, though. 

He and Katara are lagging towards the back, though Aang is near, too. And he isn’t expecting it, but as Suki, Sokka, and Toph round a corner, Aang suddenly pauses. 

Zuko could tell something had been on his mind, that he’d been more contemplative lately, but he had assumed it had something to do with all of their meetings. The state of their political world. 

He asks if he can speak to them a moment, but he’s looking at Katara when he says it. Zuko offers to leave them to talk, to catch up with Suki and Sokka and Toph.

But Aang says, “No, Zuko, I want you to hear this, too.” 

So he stays and he watches in a somewhat tense silence, as Aang inhales slowly. Katara seems to be bracing herself. Zuko swallows, unsure, but bracing himself, too. 

Aang begins, “Firstly, I owe you both an apology– again. I shouldn’t have ignored your letters. I had been hurt, at first, and needed space, but I should’ve told you that, rather than avoided it and left you in the dark.” Aang then looks at Zuko, “And I want to thank you, for reaching out to me again. I needed that. You’re a good friend, Zuko.” 

Zuko is momentarily surprised, but he nods, a gentle dipping of his chin, “Of course,” he responds and he means it. He hadn’t done it for Aang’s sake, though, he’d done it for Katara’s. Selfishly, maybe his own, too, in an attempt to get his friend back. 

Still, Aang continues, “And Katara, I want you to know that you were right. So was Guru Pathik.” 

“Guru Pathik?” Katara laughs, somewhat nervous, surprised, “But that was nearly ten years ago–” 

“I know,” Aang sighs, “He told me, all those years ago, that I had to let go of you if I wanted to control the Avatar state. And you told me that it would be better for both of us, if I let go of you.” 

Aang shakes his head and Zuko can tell he is finding his courage again, drawing inward, “And you were both right. I finally got a hold of the Avatar state, after I let you go.” he pauses now, just a moment, before finishing, “My feelings for you were selfish, so much so that it was even blocking me from being a better Avatar. I needed time to gain this hindsight, and now that I have it, I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry – for how I acted, for how I treated you, for how blind I was.” 

“Aang, I forgive you, I already told you that.” Katara reminds him, her tone gentler, “You were young and it’s not an excuse but– you learned. You grew.” 

Aang’s shoulders drop finally, not in disappointment, but some form of relaxation. “Thank you, Katara.” he says sincerely, dipping his head into a respectful bow. 

He glances at Zuko then, too, “Finally, I just want to say, I am happy for both of you. Truly.” Aang smiles now, wide, a familiar sight, “And I’m excited for your wedding!” 

Now Katara smiles, too, and it feels– well, normal. It feels like they’re friends, like the knot between them has been loosened, almost all but smoothed out. 

“That means a lot for me to hear,” Katara says, and then, “And, you know, you’re welcome to bring someone to the wedding, if you want.” 

“O-oh!” Aang laughs nervously now, “I don’t– I mean–” 

Katara laughs, too, which pulls a smile from Zuko. 

“Quit holding us up!” Toph suddenly shouts and the three of them turn, to see her standing just around the corner again, “We’re waiting for you, you know!” 

“We’re coming!” Aang shouts back, and they finally begin to move again. 

Katara takes Zuko’s hand, squeezes once, as she settles into his side. Still, Zuko gets in one last, small dig, “Lenah seems nice.” he tests, “We met her the other day.” 

Katara elbows his side a little, but there is a smile on her face. 

Even in the waning light, Zuko can see the color rising high on Aang’s face. “Um yeah! She’s great!” 

Katara’s laugh echoes off the brick of the buildings around them, bouncing and happy, just as they enter the amber glow of Uncle’s tea shop again. Just as they join their friends in the warmth. 

They pile around one table, tucked into a corner, beneath the lantern’s honey warm glow. They talk and laugh around a steaming pot of tea well into the night, when all the world is asleep, and they still feel young and lively and tender-hearted.  


The following evening is important. It is the grand ball that King Kuei hosts, where more than just politicians but nobility and celebrities will gather for a night of decadence. Zuko thinks it’s overkill, but he knows that it will be his first time with Katara at his side in a social setting. 

Think of it as your debut, his advisors had told them, all eyes will be on you two. 

It’s so important that they had Moyan, Zuko’s designer and tailor, meet them in Ba Sing Se to help prepare them. Much like other events that she has dressed Zuko and even Katara and the rest of his friends for, it is supposed to make a statement. And Moyan has always been nothing but bold in her choices. 

She doesn’t disappoint this time, either. 

The moment he sees what she’s decided to put him in, he knows that it will make a statement. 

So now he sits in front of the mirror she has placed him in front of, dressed in traditional Southern Water Tribe formal wear, save for its color, which is crimson and maroon, with flashes of blue sewn throughout. The v-neck of his top is lined with light, short fur, dusky white, almost tawny at the edges. 

“I asked for help from Water Tribe designers,” Moyan tells him, just as she sets out a whale-toothed necklace for him to put on. There are gold beads between the teeth, flashing prettily in the light. “Most of this comes from the South, too.” 

A gold band is placed on his bicep. The boots he steps into are not as thick as the one’s he wore in the South, but the leather is dark and supple all the same. His hair, instead of the traditional top-knot, is pulled back into a style much like Sokka’s when it’s up. Though Zuko’s hair is longer, it is still clearly the wolf’s tail that the men of the tribe favor. His crown wraps around the base of the wolf's tail.

Gone are the traditional robes of the Fire Lord, replaced with the clothes of his fiance’s people. 

“I’d like Ambassador Katara to finish your hair,” Moyan tells him, scrutinizing his reflection in the mirror. “I requested she stop by your room after she was finished getting ready.” 

And when Katara walks into his room, Zuko is woefully under prepared for the sight of her. The style of her clothes are fashioned after traditional Fire Nation formal wear; the fitted waist of her gown is all silk, the sleeves long and flared at their ends. But it’s been dyed shades of blue, lovely and fluttering in a way that reminds Zuko of the shores of the Fire Nation. Her mother’s necklace is in place. Her dark hair is pulled into an elaborate top-knot, a loose curl slipping away to frame her face. There are formal hair sticks stuck into it, sapphires that hang from them clink musically as she walks. 

There is a headpiece, silver, smaller than the Fire Lady’s crown but reminiscent of it, with it’s curve that is supposed to be part flame, but now looks part crescent moon. 

Her betrothal knife is at her waist, gleaming, the blue of the stone sparkling, fit perfectly to the blue of her dress. Red is stitched throughout her clothes, the way blue is accented in his. 

They stare at each other a moment, reflections of their shared cultures, the fusion of them, the sharing of them evident between them. 

There is nothing holding him back now from breathing, “You look beautiful, love.” 

Katara smiles, moving to him, taking the hand that he offers up to her. He brings her hand to his lips, kisses soft, kisses sweet. 

“You look good, too,” she says, reaching out with her free hand to play with a tassel on his shoulder, roll the bead between her fingers, “Almost like one of our warriors.” 

“And you look like the future Fire Lady,” he murmurs, his lips brushing her knuckles as he looks up at her. Not just any Fire Lady, though, she looks like the future Fire Lady from the Southern Water Tribe. 

He becomes aware of Moyan’s eyes on them, keen, almost amused and Katara must, too, because she pulls away from him fractionally. 

“What did you want me to do to his hair?” Katara asks, moving to stand behind him.

He’s reminded of the Summer Solstice, the first that she attended, when she braided beads into his hair. When they were the sun and the moon. 

His eyes flicker to Moyan in the reflection of the mirror. Had she known back then somehow? She couldn’t have– there was no way. But there is something knowing about her, something sharp and clever. 

Moyan hands Katara hair wraps, their patterns in shades of ruby and garnet, beads of azure popping through. Katara, with nimble fingers, winds them into strands of his ponytail, tying it together with red thread. 

It reminds him of the ones she gave Suki, which she had made green, for her heritage. 

The sharing of her culture, one that had almost been destroyed by the same throne she would soon sit on, is something that is not lost on Zuko. 

Moyan forces them to stand beside each other for her to inspect, her eyes sharp, searching. But eventually she smiles and decides her work is done. She bows to them both and bids them luck, bids them a pleasant evening. 

They are announced together when they arrive at the ballroom and the whole room seems to fall to a hush to watch them enter. They stand tall, Katara’s hand tucked into the crook of his elbow. Whispers rush through the crowd and if Katara hears them, her face does not betray her. Her chin is tipped up. 

She looks every bit a leader, every bit of her brave and proud. She is nearly otherworldly now, with her radiance. Zuko is proud just to stand beside her. 

The next person is announced to enter, but eyes are still lingering on them, even as they greet their friends, as Sokka and Suki and Toph and Aang welcome them. 

And unfortunately, they cannot stay beside them the entire night. No, Zuko knows these gatherings well. They’re expected to make their way around the room, greeting and socializing with everyone they can. 

Some clamor for their attention, eager to poke and prod and peer into the couple. Some are distant and snobby, attempting to look down their noses or scrutinize them. Some are sly, searching for pressure points, weak points. 

But they come up empty handed. 

Let them look, Zuko thinks to himself, let them see us for what we are. In love. Strong. Revolutionaries. A threat to their greed. A promise of something more. 

War heroes, he thinks, legends, he adds, watching Katara sway the room to her. She has always been the love and light anywhere she goes and now is no different. She is brilliant, sharp where she needs to be, always clever, lovely and compassionate in the ugly face of the ruthless courts. 

If they are searching for faults in her, if they are searching for a weak future leader, they do not find it now. They do not find it in her. 

As the night goes on, they become somewhat looser, perhaps with their friends at their side. Perhaps because they have grown brave. Katara lets her head rest against his shoulder from time to time. He leans down to steal a kiss, tastes the berries of wine caught on her lips. They dance together, slow, easy. They laugh like there is not a care in the world, trading jokes, trading smiles to get through the evening of stuffiness and opulence and propriety. 

The world watches as Ambassador Katara rocks onto the tips of her toes, pulling lightly at his shirt to bring him down to her, and kisses his left cheek. They watch as he smiles, fond and warm, down at the woman who has changed the very course of history.

They watch as he tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, but they do not hear him murmur, filled with awe and affection and only for her;

“I love you, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe.”