Zuko frowns, joining you in the small alcove nestled in the royal library. You've been hidden away in there for most of the afternoon with a heavy book in your lap and fingers sticky from sweet treats the chef keeps sneaking you.
"What do you mean oh no?" Zuko asks and you hum lowly, eyes rolling upwards to focus on the alcove's vine covered ceiling. "Do...do you think I can't tell jokes?"
"Not exactly," you say slowly, evading Zuko's sharp gaze. "It's just that they...tend to fall flat when you tell them."
Zuko's brow furrows. "They do not."
Your brows raise. "Yes, they do." You pick up a tiny rice cake smothered in syrup from your plate of treats and bring it to your lips. "Okay, prove me wrong. Tell me the joke that Uncle told you and we'll see."
"Okay." Zuko immediately takes the challenge, set on proving you wrong because he can tell jokes. He's made more than a few people laugh in his time and that ability doesn't disappear overnight. Yes, he's not as funny as his uncle but surely, he has a little bit of his charming humour.
Right?
Zuko goes about telling the joke under your curious gaze and tries hard not to focus on your expression. He messes up a few lines and gets them mixed up but the end of the joke is in sight like a runner about to hit the finish line.
"Then he said "leaf me alone, I'm bushed!"" Zuko finishes with a wide smile, chancing a look at your face.
Your expression is unreadable, your syrup-soaked rice cake still poised at your mouth. Then you seem almost...baffled and Zuko suddenly feels the urge to hide, embarrassment steadily creeping up the back of his neck.
"...Well?" He asks after another moment of silence passed.
"My love, who else did you tell this joke to?"
"My grand chamberlain, why?"
"Did he laugh?"
"Very much."
A pitiful smile curves your lips and you lean forward to pat his cheek, as if consoling him.
"And there's my answer." You say softly, feeding him the rice cake with a peck to his cheek.
Remus complains about how he's already going gray as a teenager, but then Sirius looks at him and says "It'll match my eyes, though" and suddenly Remus doesn't have a problem with it anymore.
"...rehearse compliments for you like he’s preparing for diplomatic negotiations and somehow embarrass himself anyway."
── ⟡ FireLord!Zuko x FireLady!Reader.
── ⟡ Word count: 1.9k
Every time I want to write something short I end up with five pages instead 🥀. Anyways this will lowkey become a series because I have a lot of ideas of Zuko as a husband hehe. There may be slight ooc behaviour bcs i haven't seen the show in a while! I'm rewatching it so i might edit it later to fit better. Any correction on that or grammar is well received, english is not my first language blah blah.
want a writing commission or leave a tip? here's my kofi✧˖°.
There’s something oddly honest in the way Zuko’s expression works.
In the way one could glance at his face and know if he was deep in thought, mildly stressed or sometimes just annoyed at the Grand Chamberlain interrupting the time he had already scheduled to spend with his family.
There’s also something deeply humiliating in the way his reflection is staring at him right now.
A brow furrowed, his own gaze directed at himself with more irritation than he had directed at anyone in days, lips pressed together like he’s judging them for not cooperating with him. His features showed a scowl far too serious for the situation.
He had thought this would be easier.
This morning, he had promised himself he’d find a way to be more honest with you. To stop relying on words let out after long days when his filter was gone, or compliments so small he considered insufficient for you. For how deep his feelings for you were.
No, he wanted to actually tell you something good. Something that could manage to fluster you. To let you know how genuinely he loved you despite not saying it so openly at every possible hour, to give you a fraction of the wide portion of his thoughts you occupied by merely existing.
So now there he was, in front of the mirror of your shared chambers. Formal attire already properly framing his broad body, hair gathered into a bun with only a few strands framing his face, looking every inch of the Fire Lord that was supposed to attend a diplomatic dinner with Earth Kingdom representatives in a few minutes.
He should be rehearsing his speech.
Instead, he’s planning how to tell his wife that she looks pretty.
“You look beautiful tonight- would that imply she doesn’t look beautiful other days? Would she be offended?” He corrects himself for what now feels like the hundredth time. “Your presence is exceptionally comforting.” He blurts out, then pauses to evaluate it. “…exceptionally? Am I writing a trade agreement?”
He raises his arm, intending to run his hand through his hair. A gesture he usually does when he’s stressed or handling diplomatic matters; then sighs in defeat when he immediately remembers it’s tightly held on by the hairstyle you had done on him a while ago. Instead, he settles for fixing his bangs with a resigned sigh.
“Your smile is- no, she’ll smile and I’ll forget the rest.” He closes his eyes briefly, then opens them to stare at himself with renewed determination, expression earnest like he’s deciding the fate of his nation rather than him failing at being smooth. “You bring unity to this place, encourage everyone to be better, to learn from mistakes and move forward towards a new…” He shuts himself instantly when he notices he’s reciting his speech for the dinner instead of handling the task at hand.
Zuko sighs once again, moving from the mirror to pace slightly around, continuing to speak despite being alone, as if getting used to doing it aloud might make it easier.
“I think I fall in love with you more every day- that sounds rehearsed…it is rehearsed. You make hard days better with your…your- existence…?” He groans into his hands. “I’m her husband. I see her every day. This shouldn’t be this difficult.”
He returns in front of the mirror, his reflection almost staring back at himself with pity, which soon is replaced by consideration.
“What would someone good at this do? What would…?” Zuko considers his options. His uncle? No, he’s not about to recite poetry. Aang? He’d probably die of embarrassment at such honesty. So the remaining person was- “…what would Sokka do?”
His expression changes slightly, relaxed and smug in the way he recalled seeing Sokka’s expression turn into when he spoke to Suki. He cleared his throat once, tone more playful, as he leaned against a nearby piece of furniture.
“If being so beautiful was a crime, you’d be-”
He interrupts himself immediately, hand dropping from where it was leaning, coughing once more into his fist to erase the image of himself seconds ago, choosing to not even question himself.
Then he allows the embarrassment to sink in for about two seconds before letting out a frustrated groan, determined to say at least one proper thing before he’s called to his duties. His gaze is piercing as he stares at himself, trying to envision you as he tries to pour every thought he’s had about you, the peace your love has brought him and how grateful he was to have you.
“…you make this place feel like home.” He ends up muttering, voice raw on its honesty and how he deeply means it when he thinks of you. Then he realises how utterly vulnerable his gaze seems at the mere idea of saying it to your face, and immediately feels his ears warm up due to embarrassment, his hand raising to cover his face with sudden shyness at his own intensity.
Before he can complain to himself about his inability to talk like a normal person, a sound interrupts his most irritated (at himself) thoughts, making him immediately step back from the mirror, unconsciously straightening his posture.
Even more as you enter the room, pace calm and collected, already dressed for the event. You stand now in front of him in your formal robes, light makeup already on and enhancing your features, making your eyes rival the brightness of the jewellery decorating your wrists and neck.
His brain is quick to shut down completely.
There’s silence for a few seconds. You stare at him curiously, given his unusually startled expression. For a second, you think he’s about to say something that seems to mean a great deal to him.
Instead, he mutters:
“You’re here.”
“…clearly.” You nod, not unkindly, already used to his answers. The ones that might be considered underwhelming coming from him by anyone else who didn’t know his manner of speaking. You walk towards him, hands moving to settle his collar in place, which was slightly rumpled. “The guests arrived already. You’re ready to go to the dining hall?”
He considers telling you how breathtaking you look under the light of the room.
He decides to save that possible mortification for after the political matters are handled, because he refuses to stay the entire dinner blushing like a teenager at his (most likely) awkward execution of the words.
“I am.” He confirms, offering you his arm to walk with him towards the door, his other hand unconsciously covering yours once it settles over the fabric of his robes.
Speaking, quite clearly, was a far more delicate topic than letting his actions take over.
Nights at the palace aren’t as cold as they should be. Sometimes you wonder if it has something to do with being in a place full of firebenders, or if the warmth comes naturally when you’re with your husband.
Still, as you both walk around the palace gardens after the diplomatic dinner, he seems to be warmer than usual beneath your palm. You can feel it from where it’s pressing lightly over his arm, as he guides you around the grounds despite the fact that you already know the place after years of living there.
“You seemed distracted during dinner.” You break the silence after a moment of consideration. “Something on your mind?”
“No, I just…had my thoughts elsewhere, I guess.”
“Want to talk about it?” You offer gently, which makes him gaze at you. The memory of him a few hours ago practising in front of the mirror comes back right away, making him clear his throat and look forward once again.
“…no.” He lets out, voice stern, even if you can feel him stiffen slightly. And then, before he can think more of it, he continues. “I enjoyed the dinner.”
“Did you?” You question immediately in a voice that suggests amusement rather than confusion, considering how he always seemed he’d rather be elsewhere during political meetings of any sort.
“I like them more when you’re there with me.”
“I’m always there.”
“…yeah.”
“That’s cute.” You laugh slightly under your breath, noticing that he seems particularly attentive to your reaction. He lets out a tired sigh when he realises that, despite being amused, you’re not flustered. Even so, as you continue the conversation on another topic. “Still, what did you think of the trade reforms the minister suggested? He said by the next meeting with the Earth Kingdom ambassadors, we should focus on-”
“You look beautiful.” He utters suddenly, despite having discarded the compliment hours ago.
“What?”
“I probably should have said it later.” A sigh escapes his lips, refusing to look at you properly.
“Are you trying to compliment me?” You catch his intention, tone edging on barely concealed entertainment.
“Yes. Since this morning, really.”
“Well…do it.” You stop in your tracks, letting go of his arm to stand directly in front of him, your gaze fixed on his to let him room to speak.
Zuko clears his throat, recalling every single thing he rehearsed before the dinner, and every time he had managed to fluster you on previous occasions (all unplanned, as that seemed to be his strong suit rather than put himself through the misery of practicing lines that didn’t follow his usual kind of affection), focusing only on the way your eyes shine beneath the moonlight, honest in a way that eases partially his hesitation.
“Everything feels easier when you’re here. The dinners, the meetings, the responsibilities. It gets lighter when you’re with me.” His hand raises to cup your cheek, which he feels warming slightly under his touch. A sign that the sincerity of his voice reached you completely, making you slightly shy beneath his devoted gaze
Your eyes look away from his in embarrassment, more at the genuine love in his voice than the words themselves. Still, you lean against his touch, mumbling something in response to ease the intensity of the air between you two. “Everything but giving compliments without rehearsing, apparently…” You answer, getting closer until you hide your face in the crook of his neck, your arms now around his waist. You feel him tense slightly against you.
“…you knew I was rehearsing?”
“I stood for five minutes outside our room before walking in, earlier.” You chuckle lightly, heat still faintly on your cheeks. “Please never use Sokka as a romance reference, please.”
Despite the embarrassment he should feel, he also laughs along with you, relaxing now that he has accomplished his goal. His arms surround you gently as he lets himself enjoy the feeling of you against him. Content, loving, relaxed, even in the middle of the palace gardens at an hour when both should be already asleep.
“Alright, my love.” He ends up replying, pressing a light kiss against your temple. Then, after a few seconds, still carrying the lightness of his laugh, he adds- “…maybe Aang, then, next time?”
“Zuko.”
“Fine. Let’s go to bed.”
Bonus scene:
Hours later, the palace is quieter. The faintest noises from the hallways can be heard from inside your shared chambers. It all seems to become background noise when he has you in his arms, warm under the covers as you lie fully half on top of him. He can almost picture your relaxed face despite the fact that all the room's lights were turned off hours ago.
Almost unconsciously, his hold on you deepens to feel you closer, the words escaping before he can think about them.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
By the third hour of the meeting, scrolls were littered the long table and tea had gone cold hours ago. Ministers droned on about trade disputes and naval routes while the sunset bled orange through the palace windows and despite being the Fire Lord, Zuko had paid attention to almost none of it because his daughter was asleep on his chest.
She had started the meeting in your arms, warm and fussy after feeding, but the second Zuko held out his hands for her, she settled immediately. Now she rested against him in a tiny bundle of crimson silk, cheek squished against the dark fabric of his robes while her small fist clung weakly to his collar.
The sight alone had nearly killed you the first time you saw it months ago.
One hand supported her back while the other rested protectively over her tiny body, thumb absentmindedly stroking slow patterns whenever she stirred. The entire room stopped breathing when she made the faintest little whine in her sleep. Zuko gently bounced the baby once against his chest, his voice quiet and soft.
“It’s alright.” Once she settled again, he lifted his eyes back toward the minister.
“…Continue.”
You sat beside him quietly, watching him from the corner of your eye while pretending to listen to the meeting. Truthfully, you were exhausted. Motherhood has changed a lot. Your body still aches some days, sleep came in fragments now and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d eaten a meal without interruption.
But then moments where Zuko looked at your daughter like she hung the moon itself in the sky happened and it was all worth it. The meeting dragged on another hour before the final advisor finally bowed.
“That concludes today’s reports, Fire Lord.” Zuko nodded once dismissing them.
The room emptied out and you were met with silence finally. Zuko leaned back heavily in his chair with a long exhale.
“She survived her first council meeting,” he murmured quietly to the baby.
“I think she handled it better than some of the ministers.” You laughed softly, stretching your arms above your head as tension left your shoulders.
“Hm.” he looked down at her with ridiculous seriousness.
“She has better judgment.” You leaned toward him slowly, unable to stop smiling. The candlelight painted gold across his scarred face and his hair had come loose during the meeting, dark strands falling over tired amber eyes.
He looked exhausted but peaceful. You brushed your fingers lightly over the baby’s soft hair.
“She slept almost the entire time.” you cooed at her
“She likes being near me.” he responded
“She likes warmth.” you snorted.
At first, after she’d been born, he’d been terrified to hold her. You still remembered the way his hands shook the first time the midwives placed her in his arms.
“What if I hurt her?” he asked quietly.
You had almost cried hearing it.
Because he held her as if she was too precious to touch. And sometimes you caught him pacing the nursery in the middle of the night whispering little stories to her when he thought you were asleep. Your heart ached just thinking about it. He looks at you with a softened look in his eye.
“What?” you asked carefully.
His thumb brushed across the baby’s back once.
“We should have another one.”
You stared at him in disbelief.
“…Another what?”
“Baby.”
“You are currently holding a baby.” you blinked slowly.
“Yes.” he nodded
“And you want another one.”
“Yes.”
“Zuko.”
“I’m serious.” His lips twitched slightly at your tone.
You laughed in disbelief, “I just carried this one for nine months.”
“And you did beautifully.”
“That is not the point.”
“You’re a wonderful mother.”
Your face warmed. “That’s still not the point.”
“I didn’t know I could feel like this,” he admitted quietly.
You leaned your head against his shoulder gently, exhaustion melting into warmth, your daughter sleeping peacefully between you both. Zuko turned his head slightly, pressing a lingering kiss against your temple.
“One more,” he murmured again.
You groaned and rolled your eyes.
“Oh my spirits, you are unbelievable.”
“I think she needs a sibling.”
“She can barely hold her own head up.”
“She’ll learn,” he said, raising his brow.
“That is not how this works.” you breathe out.
Zuko’s shoulders shook slightly with quiet laughter before he looked at you again with a more serious expression
“You know,” he said softly, “seeing you hold her for the first time… I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone the way I loved you at that moment.”
Your breath caught in your throat and your eyes burned with tears.
“You cannot say things like that after asking me for another baby.”
“Why not?” he asks while giving your daughter a kiss on the crown of her head.
"Do you think she likes being with me?" Zuko asks Iroh one warm evening, both of them sheltered under the tall tree's green leaves. They cast patterns across the grass and the small table their tray of tea sits. "Do you think that...she minds all of this?"
"Why the sudden question?" Iroh asks in return, settling down his cup. "Did something happen between you two? It's normal, you know. To have the occasional argument."
Zuko shakes his head. "No, nothing happened." His face softens, the corners of his mouth lifting up slightly. "Everything's been so great, it all feels like a fantasy sometimes. I just..." He trails off for a moment, hesitant. "Before we met, she was so free and spontaneous. She traveled around without a second thought because no obligations held her down. It remained the same when our relationship started until we got married and..."
"Became the Fire Lady," Iroh finishes, understanding. "You fear that she may be resentful towards you."
The words make Zuko flinch inwardly, his hands curling into fists in his lap.
"I sometimes wonder if I wasn't the Fire Lord," he confesses quietly. "If I refused to take the throne and chose to roam the world with her. If I had been born a regular person who was able to indulge in my whims and then met her." He stares at the deep reds of his robes that lay messily over his knees and finds he despises the colour. "I just...want her to be happy and I fear I'm not making her that."
Iroh doesn't reply at first, his face showcasing deep thought as he looks up at the vibrant leaves. Then he looks back at his nephew and smiles.
"You love her so much that if she asked to be free of you, you'd let her go without a second thought."
Zuko stares at him, wide-eyed and mouth slightly agape.
"How did you—?"
"I'm your uncle, Zuko," Iroh reminds him. "We've also spent over the last decade in each other's pockets. I can read you and you can probably read me."
"Probably?"
"I'm also wiser than you," Iroh teases. "And my poker face is far better than yours."
Zuko scoffs but he's amused, Iroh can tell.
"I know her too, Zuko," Iroh continues. "I know that she would not stay if she were not comfortable or happy. Do you know why?"
Zuko shakes his head.
"Because you've nutured your relationship into something beautiful and trusting. You have not trapped her in a cage like your father did your mother. You let her speak her mind and feel her feelings. You value her opinions and take them to heart, using them in your decisions everyday. You show her that she is the most important person in your life in every little thing that you do. I don't know about you but I think that's a relationship worth staying for."
A moment of silence follows allowing Iroh's words to sink in heavily. Zuko swallows thickly, blinking his eyes suspiciously fast as he clear his throat.
"Y–you really think that—?" He starts slowly but is interrupted by your arrival. You're running into the gardens, robes hitched up so the hem doesn't trip you. You collide into Zuko's back, laughing when you almost topple both of you over.
"Zuko!" You exclaim happily, clinging to him and Iroh watches, fond, as his nephew immediately adjusts himself to hold you in his lap. His arms are firm around your waist and his expression, despite shocked, melts into pure affection.
"My Lady," he says smoothly, playful enough that it has you giggling. "What has you running around this evening? Did something happen?"
You shake your head, grinning. "Nope. I just thought about how I haven't seen you since morning and I missed you." You place a soft kiss against his cheek, rendering him speechless, before turning to Iroh.
"You owe me a rematch in Pai Sho," you declare, eyes glimmering and Iroh laughs, belly deep.
"Bring it out now and we'll see if you've learned enough to almost beat me."
"I'll go get the board." You place another kiss on Zuko's cheek, closer to his lips this time, before running out to grab the board.
"Still think she minds all of this? Still think she resents you?" Iroh asks but he already knows the answer.
The deeply in love smile Zuko gives in your direction is the biggest answer he can get.
mr big scary let me ask my wife firelord who always has to run things by you not because you’re controlling or demanding but because he wants you to know what he’s doing, wants you to be included and wants you to approve of his decisions because when you’re happy, he’s happy.
“ fire lord zuko, the earth emissary would like to have a dinner. when is suitable for you?”
“let me ask my wife and i’ll get back to you.”
“lord zuko, the festival of fire is coming up, will you be in attendance?”
“not sure. let me ask my wife.”
“sir. the avatar has requested your help. will you be going to lend aid?”
“if my wife grants me permission, yes.”
“my wife said we need more opportunities for women in government. lets look into that.”
“i cannot attend that meeting. i have lunch plans with my wife.”
even when doing the most mundane and tedious things like new gowns or new stationery for royal decrees, you’re there to give your opinion.
“does my wife like it?”
“what does the firelady think?”
“ask my wife, she has the final say. whatever she wants, goes.”
big scary i worship the ground my wife walks on fire lord
zuko bringing his tiny baby to council meetings, cradling her carefully in the crook of his arm like she’s the most precious treasure in the fire nation.
she keeps cooing and gurgling happily the whole time, little hands waving in the air. every few minutes she gets louder and zuko gently pats her round belly with two fingers, leaning down to murmur in the softest voice, “not now, my little valley dove… daddy’s trying to work.”
the baby just kicks her chubby legs harder and lets out the cutest squeal, completely unbothered.
and the entire council?
they’re absolutely melting. grown generals and advisors who usually look stern and serious are now fighting back smiles, exchanging soft glances, completely enchanted by their fire lord and his happy little daughter.
zuko keeps trying to stay composed and regal, but the tiny smile that keeps tugging at his lips gives him away completely.
"You know what I don't understand?" Harry asked as he ate his breakfast, his face scrunched into a look of deep concentration.
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all looked over to him.
"All the stories I hear about my dad. People say he and Sirius were so close, right?" Harry continued, waking his spoonful of porridge a bit as he spoke.
Everyone nodded.
"Like they were best mates. Caused tons of trouble. Always in detention."
"Like Fred and George," Ron supplied, shaking his head in agreement.
"Exactly! But then why are Lupin and Sirius so close now?" Harry questioned, gesturing above his head, obviously referencing the two men who were still asleep upstairs.
Again, everyone exchanged glances before Ron spoke abruptly. "I mean, your dad's dead. They probably got closer because of that."
"Ron!" Hermione hissed in admonishment, eyebrows narrowed.
"S'true!" he defended himself, shrugging unapologetically.
Harry wasn't too upset. "No, that's fair. But...did you lot notice they share a bed?" he presented this fact like it only added to the mystery.
"Wait, really?" Ron asked, eyes wide. He tilted his head. "No offence, mate, but I'd never share a bed with you, you always kick in your sleep. But you know what? I swear I saw them holding hands the other day, too! Reckon they're just like...really close after all the shit they've been through?"
"Yeah, maybe they've bonded or something. Dealing together."
"Don't expect me to hold your hand, though. Love you, mate, but that's a bit-"
It was then that Ron and Harry both picked up on Hermione and Ginny's giggles.
"What?" Harry demanded, turning to the two girls. "What's so funny?"
"It's just," Ginny said between laughs, "you can't think of any other reason why two grown men would be sharing a bed and holding hands?"
"Well I dunno, do I? I'm not nosy, I just--"
"Oh come on, Ron!" Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "If one of them was a girl, what would you think?"
Ron and Harry looked at each other.
"Well, I'd say they were dating, but they're both...." Ron trailed off, face splitting into a look of dawning realization.
Harry was the first to speak. "You reckon they're dating?" he asked, voice hushed.
"Married, actually."
All four of them turned to see both Sirius and Lupin in the doorway, smirks on their faces.
Listen we all know dodgerfox happy endgame is my top priority. But also real talk, if Sneed dies I’m gonna be so sad. Like I’ve been manifesting a Sneed redemption arc since the beginning.
I’m such a sucker for the rival/enemy who probably would like to think themselves the main villain but definitely isn’t and is then reformed and sort of becomes part of the group while still having frenemy vibes because they can’t shake those instincts to banter and insult one another.
