Fandom : Avatar the Last Airbender (ATLA)
Pairing : Zuko x Fem. OC
Tag : Romance, 10 years after war, Emotional Anchor, Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fire Nation Politics, Team Avatar conflicts
Prefer to read on AO3?
AO3 : Worthwhile by Allhaillordzuko
Summary :
[The war ended years ago, but the Fire Nation is still learning how to live without it. As Fire Lord, Zuko carries the burden of rebuilding a fractured nation while trying not to become the man his father once was. Between political unrest, noble resistance, and the ghosts lingering within the royal palace, peace feels far more fragile than victory ever did. A story about healing after war, finding family, learning forgiveness, and choosing love even when it hurts.]
*I tagged all who followed my blog. Message to remove or add tag
A/N : The story is the same on both Tumblr and AO3 — the only difference is the chapter division. I made the AO3 chapters longer, so some chapters that are split on Tumblr are combined into a single chapter on AO3.
Fandom : Avatar the Last Airbender (ATLA)
Pairing : Zuko x Fem. OC
Tags : Romance, 10 years after war, Emotional Anchor, Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fire Nation Politics, Team Avatar conflicts
Worthwhile Masterlist
AO3 : Worthwhile by Allhaillordzuko
Status : WIP/ On goingㅣRating : General/Mature
**Summary: Several peaceful weeks after the recent turmoil, life within the Royal Palace gradually returns to its familiar rhythm. Yet beneath the quiet routine, small changes begin to emerge—changes that neither of them fully understands. As concern slowly replaces certainty, an unexpected revelation quietly reshapes not only their future, but the future of the Fire Nation itself.
Disclaimer : This is the longest chapter I post on Tumblr because I just don't know how to split it...
Several peaceful weeks had passed since the conspiracy threatening the Four Nations had finally come to an end. Life within the Royal Palace had settled once more into its familiar rhythm, where mornings began with council reports awaiting the Fire Lord's attention, afternoons disappeared beneath endless discussions of trade agreements and provincial affairs, and evenings were often claimed by diplomatic correspondence before either ruler could even think of retiring for the night. It was, by every measure, the ordinary life they had spent years fighting to protect. Neither of them complained.
After everything they had endured over the past month—the endless investigations, hurried departures, anxious reunions, and injuries that had twice brought Zuko home bleeding—the quiet monotony of palace life felt almost luxurious. They slipped back into their responsibilities with practiced ease, dividing the kingdom's burdens between them just as they always had. The palace staff quickly resumed their routines, ministers returned to debating matters that no longer involved imminent catastrophe, and messenger hawks once again carried far more treaties than emergency reports.
For the first time in what felt like forever, peace no longer seemed temporary. Yet peace had a curious way of revealing the things constant urgency had managed to conceal. Several palace attendants had quietly suggested that she rest more over the past week, while even the greenhouse staff had begun exchanging increasingly worried glances whenever they caught her rubbing at her temples between tasks. Iris dismissed every concern with the same gentle reassurance she always offered everyone else.
"I'm just tired."
Eventually, people stopped arguing with her. They simply watched more closely instead. It began with something so insignificant that Zuko almost dismissed it. One morning during breakfast, Iris barely touched the meal prepared for them before quietly setting her chopsticks aside. She apologized with a small smile, insisting she simply wasn't very hungry, then excused herself to prepare for the morning council session before he had the chance to question her further.
He thought little of it. The following afternoon, however, he found her asleep in the royal library. The sight alone was startling enough to stop him in the doorway. Iris rarely slept during the day. Even after nights spent reviewing reports well past midnight, she had always insisted she could manage with little rest. Yet there she was, her head resting against one folded arm atop an open ledger while afternoon sunlight streamed quietly through the windows beside her. Several brushes lay scattered across the desk beside an open inkstone, the ink upon their bristles long since dried, suggesting she had intended only to pause for a moment before exhaustion had claimed her entirely.
He approached carefully, reluctant to wake her. Only when he drew close did he truly see her. The color had drained from her face. The healthy warmth that usually lingered in her complexion had faded into an unusual paleness that seemed even more pronounced beneath the afternoon light. There were faint shadows beneath her eyes that he could not remember seeing before, and even in sleep, she looked... tired. Not the ordinary fatigue that accompanied long days governing a nation. Something deeper. Something that unsettled him in a way he could not quite explain.
He rested a gentle hand against her shoulder. "Iris."
She stirred almost immediately, blinking several times before looking up at him with obvious confusion. Realizing where she was, she sat upright a little too quickly. "...Did I fall asleep?"
"You did."
"I only meant to close my eyes for a minute."
"You've been asleep long enough for the ink to dry."
She glanced at the untouched reports scattered across the desk before letting out a sheepish sigh. "I suppose I have."
Zuko studied her quietly. Even awake, she still looked pale. Far paler than she should have. An uncomfortable feeling settled in the back of Zuko's mind. He had seen that look before—not on Iris, but on people who had spent far too long insisting they were perfectly fine. Over the following week, the feeling only grew stronger. The exhaustion refused to improve despite every opportunity to rest. Instead, new symptoms quietly appeared one after another. The smell of grilled fish sent her hurrying from breakfast one morning. Fresh tea turned her stomach the next. More than once, Zuko caught her staring absently at untouched meals before quietly pushing them aside.
Every time he questioned her, the answer remained exactly the same.
"I'm just tired."
"You said that yesterday, Iris."
"Because I was tired yesterday too," she reasoned sharply.
"You barely ate anything today."
"I wasn't hungry."
"You almost dropped an expensive tea tray earlier in the corridor."
"It slipped, Zuko. People drop things."
"The tray was entirely dry, Iris. Your hands were shaking."
By the end of the week, instead of improving, she seemed to grow weaker. One morning, while they sat together over breakfast, Iris stared at the bowl of plain white rice in front of her before quietly covering her nose.
"You haven't eaten a single bite of anything."
"The smell is incredibly strange," she whispered.
"It's plain white rice, Iris."
"I know what it is," she snapped weakly, "but it smells wrong."
Zuko said nothing after that. Instead, he simply watched. He noticed how frequently she paused whenever she stood too quickly. He noticed the dark circles beginning to settle beneath her eyes. He noticed how often she pressed a hand against nearby furniture when she thought no one was looking, steadying herself before continuing as though nothing had happened.
More than anything else, he noticed how determined she was to pretend none of it existed. One rainy evening, while she was preparing tea in their sitting room, her hand suddenly froze over the porcelain kettle. She closed her eyes and braced herself against the table as though waiting for the room to stop spinning.
Zuko was beside her almost instantly. "What happened?"
"Nothing," she muttered, keeping her eyes closed.
"You went completely pale, Iris. Your knuckles are white."
"I just stood up too quickly."
"You keep saying that exact phrase!"
"Because it keeps happening," she replied stubbornly.
"That's not reassuring in the slightest!"
"You worry far too much, Zuko."
"You nearly fainted yesterday in the courtyard."
"I did not faint."
"You collapsed onto the courtyard couch incredibly dramatically, Iris."
"I sat aggressively," she corrected, her voice tight.
"That's not better!"
Neither of them realized just how close they had come to the end of Iris's stubbornness until several days later. The greenhouse had become one of her favorite places to escape the endless demands of palace life. Even with dozens of attendants ready to care for the medicinal herbs and exotic plants gathered from across the Four Nations, she still insisted on tending many of them herself whenever she found the time. The familiar scents usually helped clear her mind after particularly exhausting council meetings.
That afternoon, however, even the greenhouse felt unusually warm. Sunlight filtered through the glass ceiling, bathing the rows of herbs in a soft golden glow as Iris finished recording the condition of several newly transplanted medicinal plants. She set the brush aside and reached for the edge of the marble worktable, intending only to steady herself for a brief moment before moving on to the next row.
The dizziness struck without warning. The entire room tilted violently. She squeezed her eyes shut, tightening her grip on the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white. The sensation passed after only a few heartbeats, leaving behind nothing but a wave of nausea and an exhausting heaviness throughout her body. Just breathe.
"Iris?" The familiar voice came from the entrance.
She opened her eyes just as Zuko stepped into the greenhouse, having returned earlier than expected from a meeting with the agricultural ministers. Relief instinctively crossed her face.
"You're back earlier than I expected."
"The meeting ended sooner than—" The words died in his throat.
Even from several paces away, he could see how pale she looked. Not merely tired. Not overworked. Pale enough that every instinct he possessed screamed that something was terribly wrong.
He crossed the greenhouse without another word. "Iris..."
"I'm alright."
"You don't look alright."
"I'm just a little tired." She tried to straighten herself away from the table. The moment she shifted her weight, her knees buckled.
Zuko reached her before she could fall. "Iris!"
His arms caught her instantly as her body sagged against him. For one terrifying moment, she barely seemed aware of where she was. Her breathing had become shallow, and when she opened her eyes again, they struggled to focus on his face.
"...I'm okay," she whispered.
"No." His voice cracked despite himself. "No, you are absolutely not okay."
"I just... stood up too quickly."
"You almost collapsed."
"I'm just tired, Zuko..."
"You've been saying that for days." Fear finally overcame every ounce of patience he had been trying to maintain. "For days, Iris."
"I'm fi—" She stopped abruptly, swallowing hard as another wave of nausea swept over her. Her free hand flew instinctively toward her mouth, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
That was enough. Without another word, Zuko slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her effortlessly into his arms before she could protest.
"Zuko!" Her eyes flew open. "Put me down."
"No."
"You're overreacting."
"You almost fainted in front of me."
"I did not faint."
"You were halfway there."
She let out an exasperated sigh and rested her forehead briefly against his shoulder. "You're embarrassing me."
His jaw tightened. "What's embarrassing is that I believed you every single time you told me you were fine."
The quiet hurt beneath his words struck far deeper than his frustration ever could. Iris didn't answer. She simply closed her eyes again, suddenly realizing how frightened he truly was. Zuko carried her straight out of the greenhouse without another glance behind him. Palace servants hurried aside the instant they saw the Fire Lord striding through the corridors with the Fire Lady cradled in his arms, his expression drained of every trace of composure.
"Send for the Chief Royal Physician," he ordered, his voice echoing sharply through the corridor. "Immediately."
No one hesitated.
The chief royal physician arrived within minutes, accompanied by two younger physicians carrying wooden cases filled with medicines, examination instruments, and neatly folded linens. They found Iris seated against a mountain of pillows upon the bed, looking more annoyed than ill, while Zuko paced relentlessly across the room like a caged dragon.
The elderly physician bowed respectfully before approaching the bedside. "Your Majesty, may I examine the Fire Lady?"
"You may," Zuko answered before Iris could speak.
"I am perfectly capable of answering for myself," Iris muttered.
"I know."
"You answered anyway."
"I did."
The physician wisely chose not to involve himself in that particular disagreement. He settled onto the stool beside the bed, gently taking Iris's wrist between his fingers as he counted her pulse. His questions came slowly and methodically, allowing her enough time to answer each one.
"When did the exhaustion begin, Your Majesty?"
"I'm not entirely certain."
"More than a week ago," Zuko answered immediately.
Iris turned toward him. "It has not been more than a week."
"It has absolutely been more than a week."
"You counted?"
"I started counting after you nearly walked into a pillar."
"I did not walk into it."
"You walked into the guard standing beside it."
"The guard moved."
"The guard was standing still."
The physician cleared his throat before either of them could continue. "Have you experienced dizziness?"
"Occasionally."
"Daily," Zuko corrected.
"Not daily."
"You almost collapsed this afternoon."
"I was standing for too long."
"You were standing for less than five minutes."
The younger physicians exchanged quick glances while continuing to unpack their instruments.
The chief physician maintained remarkable composure. "Nausea?"
"...Yes."
"Has it become more frequent?"
"A little."
"A little?" Zuko repeated. "She can barely tolerate breakfast. Yesterday she left because someone brought grilled fish into the dining room. This morning the smell of tea made her sick."
"I simply wasn't hungry."
"You haven't been hungry for days."
"I have eaten."
"You've been surviving on fruit."
"And rice."
"Three bites of rice."
Iris folded her arms. "You are becoming extremely dramatic."
"I watched you nearly faint in my arms."
"I did not faint."
"You keep saying that as though it improves the situation."
"It does."
"It really doesn't."
The physician raised a calming hand. "If I may continue..."
Both of them fell silent. He nodded gratefully before continuing the examination, checking her eyes, asking additional questions about headaches, sleep, appetite, and recent changes in her health. Every answer only seemed to deepen the thoughtful expression upon his face.
Meanwhile, Zuko's imagination had already begun racing far ahead. "...Could it be poison?"
Three physicians looked up simultaneously. "What?"
"Poison," Zuko repeated. "The palace kitchens receive supplies from every province. Something could have slipped through inspections."
"No, Your Majesty."
"A rare illness, then? Something contagious?"
"I don't believe so."
"A spirit curse?"
The younger physician nearest the window blinked. "...A spirit curse?"
"We've dealt with stranger things." Zuko replied immediately.
"That is... true," the chief physician admitted diplomatically. "However, I do not believe spirits are responsible."
"What about exhaustion from healing too much?" Zuko continued. "She overworked herself repeatedly while treating my injuries. Could that have weakened her?"
"I don't think so."
"A poisoning that only acts after several weeks?"
"No, Your Majesty."
"A tropical parasite?"
The physician stared at him. "...No."
Zuko frowned, clearly unconvinced. "Could it be a severe allergy from foreign herbs?"
"I don’t think allergies caused these symptoms, Your Majesty.”
“Maybe you just don’t know much about herbs. She has been looking like a walking corpse for days.” Zuko was still seemingly nervous.
For the first time since entering the room, the old physician's lips twitched upward ever so slightly."I believe I know precisely what is causing the Fire Lady's condition. Her pulse is... remarkably clear."
Zuko stopped pacing so abruptly that everyone in the room looked at him. "You do?"
"I do."
"Can you treat it?"
"Oh, certainly."
Relief flooded across Zuko's face so quickly that Iris almost laughed. "Thank Agni."
The physician rose slowly from his stool, his smile becoming warmer as he looked from Iris to Zuko.
"Although... I suspect 'treatment' may not be quite the word Your Majesty is expecting."
The room fell completely silent.
The old physician regarded them both for another long moment before turning back toward Iris. "Your Majesty," he said gently, "if you would permit me... I have one final question."
She nodded.
"When was your last monthly cycle?"
The question caught Iris off guard. She frowned slightly, instinctively searching her memory. The past several weeks had blurred together beneath endless council meetings, Zuko's injuries, and the investigation stretching across the Four Nations.
"I..." She hesitated. "I'm not entirely sure."
Zuko looked between them in confusion. "What does that have to do with anything?"
The physician did not answer immediately. Instead, he continued his examination, placing two fingers lightly against Iris's wrist once more while his other hand rested gently over the lower part of her abdomen. His expression remained thoughtful for several moments before something in his eyes shifted. Recognition. A slow, knowing smile spread across his weathered face.
One of the younger physicians standing nearby noticed it as well. "...Master?"
The old physician gave an almost imperceptible nod.
Zuko caught the exchange immediately. "What is it?"
Neither physician answered.
Zuko took another step forward. "What did you find?"
The elderly physician looked back toward Iris, whose eyes had widened ever so slightly as realization began creeping into her own thoughts. "...Your Majesty," he asked softly, "is there any possibility that you stopped getting your monthly cycle for more than two moons?"
The room became perfectly still. Iris stared at him. For the first time since the examination had begun, she did not answer immediately. Instead, she slowly lowered her gaze. She began counting backwards. The weeks after Zuko's first mission. His return. His injuries. The days they had spent almost refusing to leave each other's side afterward. Then the second mission. His return again.
...
Her cheeks slowly began turning crimson. "Oh..."
Zuko looked between Iris and the physician, completely bewildered. "...Oh what?"
Iris covered her mouth with one hand, still staring down at the blankets. "...I..."
The physician chuckled warmly. "I believe that answers my question."
He rose from his stool before offering them both a respectful bow. "My sincerest congratulations, Your Majesties."
Zuko blinked. "I'm sorry..." He looked at Iris. Then back at the physician. "...Congratulations for what?"
The old physician's smile widened. "The Fire Lady is expecting."
Silence. Utter, complete silence filled the royal chambers.
Zuko simply stared at him. "I'm... afraid I still don't understand."
The physician's amusement became impossible to hide. "Your Majesty..."
He gestured gently toward Iris. "You are going to be parents."
For several long heartbeats, neither of them spoke. Iris closed her eyes, suddenly remembering every reunion after Zuko had returned from those missions—the desperate relief of finding him alive, the nights spent clinging to one another as though tomorrow might steal them apart again. They had never planned it. Neither of them had even discussed trying for a child. They had simply been so overwhelmingly grateful that the other was still alive that, every time Zuko came home, they had forgotten almost everything else.
"...Oh, spirits," Iris whispered, burying her burning face in both hands.
Across the room, Zuko remained completely motionless. Then, very quietly, almost to himself, he whispered, "...We're having a baby?"
He had spent weeks preparing himself to hear that he might lose her. Nothing had prepared him to hear that they had created a new life instead. No one spoke. The silence that settled over the room felt almost sacred. Zuko remained exactly where he stood, his eyes fixed somewhere between the physician and Iris as though his mind had simply stopped working. He opened his mouth once, then closed it again, still trying to understand the words he had just heard.
"...A baby," he repeated quietly.
The physician smiled. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"Our baby?"
"Unless there is another Fire Lord we have somehow overlooked." One of the younger physicians immediately lowered his head, hiding an ill-timed smile.
Zuko did not seem to hear the joke. His gaze drifted toward Iris. She was still sitting against the pillows with both hands covering her face, her cheeks burning so brightly they rivaled the royal banners hanging outside the palace windows. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he crossed the room.
"Iris..."
She lowered her hands just enough to look at him. Their eyes met. For a long moment, neither of them needed to speak. Everything they had survived together seemed to pass silently between them—the war, rebuilding a nation, endless separations, dangerous missions, injuries that had nearly taken them from one another, and every reunion that had ended with the simple, overwhelming relief that the other was still alive. Only now did they both realize that those reunions had given them something else entirely. A future neither of them had expected.
"...I thought I was sick," Iris admitted softly, half laughing through the tears beginning to gather in her eyes.
"You are," the physician replied kindly. "Fortunately for both of you, it is a very temporary condition."
That finally broke something inside Zuko. A laugh escaped him. It was quiet at first, almost disbelieving, before he covered his face with one hand and shook his head. "We're..." Another laugh slipped out. "We're having a baby."
The words sounded just as impossible spoken aloud as they had inside his own mind.
Iris laughed too, though hers dissolved almost immediately into tears. "Oh, spirits..." she whispered, wiping at her face. "Why am I crying?"
The physician answered before Zuko could. "That, Your Majesty, is also perfectly normal."
"I don't like how often you're saying 'perfectly normal,'" Zuko muttered.
"It is my professional responsibility."
"I preferred tropical parasites."
The physician chuckled. "I assure you, Your Majesty, this diagnosis is considerably easier to treat."
Finally, Zuko sat carefully on the edge of the bed. He reached for Iris's hands, threading his fingers through hers. "...You tried carrying our child while attending council meetings."
Iris gave him a guilty smile. "...Maybe."
"You argued with the Ministry of War yesterday."
"They were wrong."
"You reorganized the greenhouse this morning."
"It needed reorganizing."
"You nearly collapsed."
"I recovered."
"You absolutely did not."
She looked away. "...I was getting there."
Zuko stared at her for another long moment before letting out a weary sigh that somehow managed to contain equal parts exasperation, relief, and overwhelming affection. "I married the most stubborn woman in the Four Nations."
"And yet," Iris murmured, finally smiling again, "you still seem rather fond of her."
"I was," he answered, leaning forward until his forehead rested gently against hers. His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. "I'm even more fond of you now."
After the physicians quietly excused themselves, leaving the couple alone with the impossible news, Iris's composure finally gave way completely. She laughed. Then cried. Then laughed again. And Zuko, who had spent weeks imagining every terrible possibility the world could throw at them, discovered that he had never been happier to be completely, utterly wrong.
The news spread through the palace far more quickly than either of them expected. No one dared gossip openly about the Fire Lord or Fire Lady, but the sudden arrival of the Chief Royal Physician, followed by several senior healers entering the royal chambers in broad daylight, was impossible to overlook. Before long, a familiar knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," Zuko called.
The door slid open almost immediately.
"I heard the physicians were summoned."
Iris looked up. "...Mother."
Concern was already written across her mother's face as she crossed the room without ceremony, stopping beside the bed. Her eyes swept over Iris from head to toe, lingering on her unusually pale complexion. "What happened?" she asked quietly. "Were you injured?"
"I'm alright."
"You don't look alright." She reached out instinctively, brushing a loose strand of hair behind Iris's ear before resting a gentle hand against her forehead. "No fever..." she murmured.
"I've been telling everyone I'm fine."
"And no one believes you."
"...Apparently not."
Her mother sighed softly, though there was affection behind the exasperation. She had watched Iris stubbornly ignore exhaustion for years. This was hardly the first time. Only then did she glance toward Zuko. He wasn't speaking. He simply stood beside the bed, looking as though the world had quietly shifted beneath his feet. Relieved. Terrified. Wonderstruck. It was an expression she had never seen on him before.
Her brows slowly drew together. "If she isn't ill..." she said carefully, "...why was the Chief Royal Physician summoned?"
Silence settled over the room. Iris looked at Zuko. Zuko looked back at her. Neither seemed willing to be the first to speak.
Finally, Iris smiled—a small, almost disbelieving smile. "...Mother." She drew in a slow breath. "I'm pregnant."
Everything became still. Her mother's eyes widened. She searched Iris's face carefully, almost as if expecting to find uncertainty there. Instead, she found quiet happiness.
"...Truly?"
Iris nodded.
The older woman's lips parted, but no words came. Instead, tears welled unexpectedly in her eyes. "Oh..."
She closed the remaining distance in a single step, wrapping Iris in an embrace that was careful enough not to hurt her. For several moments, she simply held her. When she finally spoke, her voice trembled.
"I always prayed that one day you'd have a home where you never had to survive."
Iris felt her throat tighten.
"You've found it."
The words struck harder than either of them expected. After everything—the war, the years apart, the burdens Iris had carried since childhood—it was never simply about having a family. It was about finally belonging to one.
Iris buried her face against her mother's shoulder, laughing softly through fresh tears. "I'm making you cry."
"You've been doing that since the day father brought you home."
A watery laugh escaped both of them.
When they finally pulled apart, her mother gently cupped Iris's face before turning to Zuko. "Take care of her."
There was no accusation in her voice. No warning. Only trust.
Zuko met her gaze without hesitation. "I will."
He didn't speak like a Fire Lord making a promise. He spoke like a husband.
"I'll protect both of them."
She studied him for a long moment before smiling. "I know you will."
Her gaze drifted back to Iris, warmth filling her eyes once more. "It seems I'll have a grandchild to spoil."
Iris laughed. "I had a feeling that would be your first concern."
"It absolutely is."
For the second time that afternoon, laughter filled the royal chambers. Only now, it carried something new. Not relief. Not surprise. But the quiet certainty that another branch of their family was about to begin.
When the door finally closed behind Iris's mother, silence settled over the royal chambers once more. The afternoon sunlight continued pouring lazily through the open windows, illuminating the polished floors as though nothing remarkable had happened at all. Somewhere beyond the walls, the palace continued its ordinary rhythm. Ministers were undoubtedly still arguing over budgets. Guards continued changing shifts. Servants carried trays through endless corridors. The entire Fire Nation simply carried on.
Yet inside the chamber, the world felt completely different. Neither of them spoke for a long while. Zuko remained seated beside her on the bed, one of his hands still loosely wrapped around hers while the other rested absentmindedly against the blankets. Every now and then, his gaze drifted downward toward her abdomen before returning to her face, only to repeat the exact same journey several moments later.
Iris watched him quietly for nearly a full minute before the corners of her mouth finally curved upward. "...You've looked at my stomach at least seven times."
"I have not."
"You absolutely have."
"I was verifying something."
She raised an amused eyebrow. "What exactly were you verifying?"
Zuko looked genuinely thoughtful for a moment before answering with complete sincerity. "I don't actually know." That unexpected confession earned him a laugh. "I think I keep expecting something to... happen."
"What kind of something?"
"I'm not entirely certain." He frowned slightly, still staring toward her stomach. "A kick, perhaps."
She stared at him in complete disbelief before another burst of laughter escaped her. "Zuko."
"What?"
"I'm barely over two months pregnant."
"I know."
"The baby is hardly bigger than a plum."
"I know." He looked faintly embarrassed. "I also know that makes absolutely no sense. But every time I remember there's really someone in there..." He glanced toward her stomach again with a helpless smile. "...I keep expecting something to happen." He considered the question with the same grave seriousness he usually reserved for military strategy. "...Perhaps a very enthusiastic plum."
She dissolved into laughter again, covering her face with one hand. "You are impossible."
"I've never done this before," he defended himself without the slightest embarrassment. "For all I knew, Fire Nation babies might announce themselves early."
"Oh?"
"Maybe a tiny burst of fire."
She laughed so hard she had to lean against his shoulder. "I can assure you they do not."
"That's disappointing."
"It would be deeply concerning."
"I suppose that would make childbirth significantly more complicated."
"It certainly wouldn't help."
For several moments, neither of them said anything else. Iris slowly rested her head against his shoulder while Zuko absentmindedly threaded his fingers through hers again, the comfortable silence between them requiring no effort at all. The reality of everything still hadn't fully settled. It lingered somewhere just beyond comprehension, too enormous to grasp all at once.
Eventually, Zuko let out a slow breath. "We're really going to become parents."
The humor faded naturally from both of their expressions.
"We are," Iris answered softly.
His eyes drifted downward again, this time lingering there much longer than before. There was no panic in his expression anymore. Only quiet amazement. "I still can't quite believe there's actually someone in there."
She gently guided his hand toward her stomach, covering it with her own. "I can't either."
His thumb brushed lightly across the fabric of her robes, almost afraid to apply too much pressure despite knowing there was nothing to feel yet. "I wonder who they'll resemble."
Iris smiled. "I just hope they inherit your kindness."
Zuko snorted softly. "I was hoping they'd inherit your intelligence."
"They'll need both if they're going to survive us."
A grin slowly spread across his face. "I'm suddenly realizing something."
"Hm?"
"If they inherit your stubbornness...the palace is going to have a very difficult future."
Iris laughed quietly. "The palace?"
"The tutors."
She laughed harder.
"The ministers."
She nodded in agreement. "The Royal Physician."
"I feel especially sorry for him." Zuko's grin widened. "And whichever poor soul eventually has to tell our child 'no.'"
They looked at one another for a heartbeat before arriving at exactly the same conclusion. "...Not happening," they said together.
Their laughter echoed warmly through the chamber, softer this time, free from the earlier disbelief. It was no longer the laughter of two people overwhelmed by unexpected news, but of a husband and wife slowly beginning to imagine the wonderfully chaotic future waiting for them.
Zuko eventually drew back just enough to look at her again. His eyes were still slightly red from crying, yet they were brighter than Iris had seen in months. They lingered on her face for a long moment before, almost involuntarily, drifting toward her abdomen once again.
Iris caught him immediately. "...You're doing it again."
"What?"
"Looking."
"I was thinking." A faint flush crept across Zuko's cheeks, though he made no attempt to deny it. "I still can't quite believe it," he admitted quietly. "Every time I remember there's actually a baby..." He shook his head with a helpless laugh. "My brain simply starts over."
Iris smiled, reaching over to lace her fingers through his. "I think mine does too."
Silence settled comfortably between them once more before Zuko suddenly straightened. "...Uncle."
Iris blinked. "What about Uncle?"
"We have to tell him."
The thought immediately softened her expression. Uncle Iroh. He was undoubtedly going to cry. Whether from happiness, relief, or overwhelming excitement remained to be seen, though Iris strongly suspected it would be all three simultaneously. Zuko insisted upon writing the letter himself. He refused assistance from the royal scribes with the same stubborn determination he usually reserved for diplomatic negotiations, claiming that such news deserved to come from him personally. Unfortunately, that conviction did not translate into actually writing a coherent letter. The first draft lasted less than a minute before he crumpled it. The second survived only slightly longer. By the fifth attempt, Iris was openly laughing.
"I cannot write, 'Uncle, we accidentally created a child,'" Zuko muttered, glaring at another ruined sheet of parchment.
"You absolutely cannot."
"But that's objectively what happened."
"You're the Fire Lord."
"I know."
"So perhaps sound somewhat dignified."
"I am trying."
"You also wrote, 'I don't know how this happened.'"
"...In my defense, I'm still processing it."
"You know exactly how it happened."
"I wish you'd stop reminding me."
Eventually, after far more revisions than any royal announcement had any right to require, Zuko stared at one final sheet, sighed deeply, and declared that perfection was impossible. The letter that ultimately left the palace read—
Uncle,
Iris is pregnant.
I still don't know how to process this.
Please visit soon.
Zuko.
Iris laughed so hard that tears immediately returned to her eyes. "That is somehow both deeply heartfelt and spectacularly uninformative."
"It's the best my brain is capable of today," Zuko replied with complete sincerity before pressing the royal seal into the cooling wax.
"I believe you."
Once Iroh’s letter had been entrusted to the messenger hawks, Iris reached for another sheet of parchment.
“Your mother should hear it from us as well.”
Zuko nodded immediately. Unlike the letter to Iroh, this one came together far more easily. Iris wrote most of it herself, carefully explaining the physicians’ diagnosis before assuring Ursa that both she and the baby were healthy. Zuko added only a few lines at the end, though he spent considerably longer deciding what those few lines should say.
“I think she’s going to cry,” Iris murmured as she pressed the royal seal into the wax.
Zuko smiled to himself. “Without question.”
“I almost feel guilty for not telling her in person.”
“So do I.” He looked down at the finished letter before shaking his head. “But if we wait until she visits, I’ll probably tell her the moment she walks through the palace gates anyway.”
Several more letters soon followed.
One was addressed to the rest of Team Avatar. That, unexpectedly, proved to be a far more difficult task.
“How do we tell them?” Iris asked, absently twirling the brush between her fingers.
“The truth?”
“I was hoping for something slightly more specific.”
Zuko considered it seriously. “We could simply write that we’re expecting a child.”
“And hope Sokka behaves like a normal person?”
“…You’ve convinced me.”
Eventually, they settled on a short, straightforward letter informing their friends that Iris was expecting, that both mother and child were healthy, and that they hoped everyone would be able to visit the palace when circumstances allowed. Neither of them had the slightest idea just how chaotic the replies were about to become.
The messenger hawks began arriving several days later. The first letter came from Ursa. By the following morning, another hawk landed upon the palace balcony carrying a parchment so thick that the attending servant needed both hands to bring it inside.
Zuko frowned. "...Why is it so heavy?"
Iris glanced at the seal before smiling. "Team Avatar."
"I should have known." The moment the seal was broken, several folded sheets immediately slipped onto the table. "They wrote... more than one letter?"
"I don't think they know how not to."
Zuko unfolded the first page.
The very first line was unmistakably Sokka's.
CONGRATULATIONS.
ALSO, DO NOT DO ANYTHING STUPID.
"...That's rich coming from him," Zuko muttered.
Iris leaned closer as he continued reading.
Republic City is stable. We have everything under control.
Do NOT, under ANY circumstances, leave your pregnant wife to chase criminals across the Four Nations.
Zuko sighed.
"I knew that was coming."
The next paragraph had clearly been added later in Katara's handwriting.
Sokka is exaggerating. Slightly.
But if you even think about accepting another dangerous mission right now, I'll personally come to the Fire Nation and make sure you stay in bed long enough to reconsider your life choices.
Take this time to be together. We'll handle things here until you're ready.
"...That sounds much more like Aang," Zuko said with obvious relief.
At the very bottom of the final page, squeezed into the remaining space, another message had been added.
Toph says congratulations.
She also says your kid is going to out-stubborn both of you.
Zuko stared at the sentence. "...She's probably right."
Iris smiled innocently.
"Probably?"
"I was trying to be optimistic."
She laughed, folding the letters together again. "I think they're all happy."
"They are." He looked at the stack of parchment once more before smiling to himself. "They're just expressing it... exactly the way I'd expect."
Uncle Iroh's reply never arrived. Instead, three mornings later, the palace guards announced his arrival at the front gates.
"He what?" Zuko looked up from the stack of reports on his desk.
"He said the letter seemed too important to answer with parchment, Your Majesty."
A smile spread across Zuko's face before he could stop it. "...That sounds like Uncle."
By the time they reached the main courtyard, Iroh had already climbed out of his carriage. He looked exactly as Iris remembered him—warm-eyed, smiling, and carrying far more luggage than any one man reasonably should. Several servants hurried after him, struggling beneath the weight of numerous wooden crates.
Zuko blinked. "...Uncle."
"Prince Zuko!" Iroh opened his arms without hesitation, pulling Zuko into a tight embrace before turning immediately toward Iris. "And my dear Iris." Before either of them could say another word, he embraced her just as warmly. "I am so very happy for both of you."
"Thank you, Uncle." Only then did Zuko glance toward the mountain of crates. "...Did you bring all of Ba Sing Se with you?"
"Oh, no." Iroh looked almost offended by the suggestion. "Only the essentials."
"The essentials?"
"Tea."
Zuko stared. "...All of that is tea?"
"Well..." Iroh clasped his hands behind his back. "Some of it is tea."
"And the rest?"
"A few books."
"How many books?"
"I lost count after twenty."
Zuko rubbed his forehead. "I should have known."
Iroh smiled serenely. "I also brought several blends that are said to ease morning sickness, improve sleep, calm anxious thoughts, strengthen the body, and simply taste delightful." He paused thoughtfully. "I may have become a little enthusiastic."
"A little?" Iris asked, trying not to laugh.
Iroh's smile widened. "I am going to be a grand-uncle."
Neither Zuko nor Iris could argue with that.
That evening, after the palace servants had finally finished carrying Iroh's seemingly endless collection of tea and books into the guest residence, the royal palace settled into an unusual calm. For the first time in many months, neither urgent reports nor unexpected visitors demanded Zuko's attention. The ministers had been dismissed until morning, the corridors had grown quiet, and only the distant crackle of lanterns accompanied the soft breeze drifting through the open windows. Zuko and Iris stood together upon the balcony overlooking the palace gardens, watching the last traces of sunset disappear beyond the horizon.
"...Everything feels different," Iris murmured.
Zuko slipped his hand into hers. "It is."
She rested her head lightly against his shoulder, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. It was strange how quickly the world had changed. Only that morning, she had believed herself to be seriously ill. Now, every plan they had ever made seemed to stretch into an entirely new future.
"Do you think we'll be good parents?" she asked quietly.
Zuko didn't answer immediately. Instead, he lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against her knuckles before looking out across the sleeping city.
"I don't know," he admitted honestly. "But I know one thing."
She turned to look at him.
"Our child will never have to wonder whether they're loved."
A warmth spread quietly through Iris's chest. She smiled, intertwining their fingers a little tighter as she leaned into him once more. Far below, the lights of the Capital shimmered beneath the evening sky, completely unaware that somewhere high within the royal palace, the future of the Fire Nation had quietly begun with a single, tiny heartbeat.
I can’t comment cause I’m not in the community but I would block that person. What an asshole! I’m sure your writing is amazing and just cause it doesn’t have a lot of reads doesn’t mean anything! More people will come across it and those whos cup of tea it is, will love it! And when I have time I’m gonna read it! Fuck that hater!
Hahaha, thank you so much for the passionate support, dear Anon! 🥺🫶🏻
Since I only shared what happened in the AO3 community, I might as well post it here on my blog too.
I’ve received quite a bit of backlash ever since I started posting Worthwhile simply because of the pairing, and honestly, I had prepared myself for that. Not everyone likes Canon x OC, and that’s perfectly fine. I also don’t mind constructive criticism about my writing. In fact, I’m genuinely grateful whenever someone cares enough to point out things I could improve.
But this particular commenter on my TikTok account—the one I specifically use to promote my fic—kept leaving comments like, “instant skip,” or “not interesting.” I honestly couldn’t care less about those. If my story isn’t for you, that’s completely okay.
What crossed the line for me was when they started bringing up my stats and comparing my fic to “a bad cup of tea with only a few fans.” At that point, they weren’t criticizing my writing anymore (which I doubt they even read). They were looking down on the people who genuinely enjoy reading it. Somehow, that made me much angrier than if they had simply insulted my fic.
I honestly don’t write for the stats. Of course I’d be happy if more people found Worthwhile, but that’s never been the reason I spent months planning, outlining, and writing it. I shared this story because I hoped there might be other people out there who were looking for the same kind of story I had always wanted to read.
Seeing readers discuss theories, leave thoughtful comments, cry, laugh, and accompany me throughout this journey has been more than I could have ever asked for.
So once again, thank you—to every reader, every commenter, every person who has taken the time to give Worthwhile a chance. You guys are truly made in heaven. 🥺💕🫶🏻
Fandom : Avatar the Last Airbender (ATLA)
Pairing : Zuko x Fem. OC
Tags : Romance, 10 years after war, Emotional Anchor, Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fire Nation Politics, Team Avatar conflicts
Worthwhile Masterlist
AO3 : Worthwhile by Allhaillordzuko
Status : WIP/ On goingㅣRating : General/Mature
**Summary: After finally returning home, old wounds begin to heal while new responsibilities refuse to wait. As duty once again calls them in different directions, they find themselves cherishing the quiet moments they can steal together. Amid political obligations, lingering dangers, and the weight of rebuilding a nation, they slowly rediscover what it means to simply be with one another—proving that sometimes the smallest moments are the ones worth holding onto most.
There were dozens of questions she wanted to ask. They could all wait until she had finished making certain he would live long enough to answer them. The royal infirmary had already been prepared by the time they arrived. Several physicians stood waiting beside neatly arranged trays of herbs, clean bandages, steaming water, and polished bronze instruments, having anticipated the Fire Lord's arrival from the moment Appa had appeared above the Capital. They immediately bowed as Iris guided Zuko through the doorway, though more than one pair of experienced eyes lingered upon the blood that continued to stain the bandages wrapped around his side.
"The examination room is ready, Fire Lady," the Chief Physician informed her respectfully. "We've prepared pain-relieving tinctures, fresh bandages, and healing salves."
"Thank you." Iris helped Zuko onto the examination table before turning toward the physicians. "I'll treat him."
The older physician hesitated only briefly before bowing once more. "Of course, Fire Lady."
No one questioned the decision. It had long since become common knowledge throughout the palace that whenever the Fire Lord returned injured, the Fire Lady preferred to treat him herself. The physicians quietly withdrew from the chamber, closing the doors behind them until only the two of them remained beneath the warm glow of the lanterns. Silence settled between them. For the first time since Team Avatar had departed from the palace courtyard, there were no ministers waiting for reports, no physicians asking questions, and no friends trying to lighten the mood with jokes.
There was only Iris carefully unfastening the clasps of Zuko's armor. Piece by piece, she removed the bloodstained plates before setting them neatly aside. She removed Katara's emergency bandages with practiced hands until the wound beneath was finally exposed. The bleeding had stopped thanks to Katara's healing, but the flesh surrounding the injury remained swollen and deeply bruised where the jagged stone had struck. Several smaller cuts still crossed his ribs, and the muscles around the wound had stiffened from hours of travel. She examined every inch of it without saying a word. After a long moment, she reached toward a nearby tray and picked up a thick, knotted medicinal root.
Zuko immediately frowned. "...I know that root."
"I'm glad."
"It tastes terrible."
"It also eases pain."
"I don't think it eases enough pain to justify tasting like that."
She broke off a piece with a sharp crack and held it out toward him. "Chew."
He looked from the root to her face. "I've been away for weeks."
"You have."
"I was hoping my wife would welcome me home."
"I am."
"This feels less like welcoming and more like punishment."
"You can have a proper welcome after you've stopped bleeding."
Reluctantly, he accepted the root and bit into it. His expression collapsed almost instantly. "...That is somehow worse than I remember."
"I know."
"It tastes like boiled bark."
"Because it is bark."
"I was hoping marriage had improved the recipe."
"I'm your wife, Zuko. Not a miracle worker."
Despite himself, a quiet laugh escaped him before he immediately regretted it, one hand instinctively moving toward his side. "...Ow."
"I warned you."
Only after she was satisfied he had swallowed the medicine did Iris lift the shallow ceramic basin resting beside the examination table. At the gentle movement of her fingers, clear water rose silently into the air, gathering into a slowly rotating sphere between her hands. The familiar blue glow of healing water gradually illuminated the room, washing the stone walls in soft light. Zuko watched her quietly. No matter how many times he had seen her heal, the sight never became ordinary. The glowing water drifted toward the wound, spreading gently across the torn flesh before sinking beneath the surface of his skin. Warmth immediately flowed through his side, easing the sharp pain that had followed him all the way home. Iris closed her eyes briefly, allowing the currents to move deeper through the damaged muscles. The water obeyed every subtle movement of her hands, searching carefully for torn tissue and hidden fragments of stone that might still remain beneath the skin. Then she pressed a little harder.
Zuko inhaled sharply. "Iris."
"Hm?"
"That hurts."
"I know."
"A little sympathy would be appreciated."
"You have my sympathy." The glowing water pressed deeper. "You simply do not have my gentleness."
He shut one eye. "I noticed."
She continued without apology, carefully following the bruising around his ribs.
"I think," Zuko muttered through clenched teeth, "you're enjoying this."
Only then did she glance up. "I spent the past several weeks wondering whether you were sleeping properly, eating properly, or remembering to take care of yourself." The water continued its slow work beneath her hands. "And you've returned home after throwing yourself in front of an explosion."
"The explosives would have killed everyone."
"I know." Her answer came so quietly that it almost disappeared into the room. "I also know," she continued after a moment, "that if the same thing happened tomorrow, you would do it again."
He couldn't deny it. She sighed softly before continuing the healing, guiding the luminous water through the last of the damaged muscle until the swelling slowly began to subside. Little by little, the blue light dimmed as the wound finished knitting itself together. Finally, the water drifted away from his side and settled back into the basin. Iris reached for fresh linen and carefully wrapped new bandages around his torso, tightening them just enough to support the healing muscles without restricting his breathing. After tying the final knot, she rested both hands lightly against his side, remaining there for several long moments.
"You frightened me." The words were barely louder than a whisper.
Every trace of amusement disappeared from Zuko's face. "I'm sorry."
She drew a slow breath before finally meeting his eyes. "I know you are."
She stepped closer until her forehead rested gently against his. "I've missed you."
Zuko closed his eyes, lifting one hand to rest against hers. "I've missed you too."
For a long while, neither of them moved, content to remain in the quiet stillness of the infirmary, grateful that after weeks apart, they had finally found their way back to one another.
Neither of them noticed how much time had passed before Iris finally stepped back. She glanced once more at the fresh bandages wrapped securely around his torso before retrieving his discarded robes from the nearby chair. "Can you stand?"
"I think so."
"You think so?"
"I'd rather not test the alternative."
She offered him her hand anyway. Zuko accepted it without hesitation, allowing her to help him down from the examination table. The moment both feet touched the floor, a dull ache shot through his side, forcing him to pause as his balance wavered ever so slightly.
Iris caught him before he could pretend otherwise. "So," she said evenly, "that's what 'I think so' looks like."
"I was almost convincing."
"You were convincing yourself."
He smiled sheepishly. "I've missed arguing with you."
"I wasn't aware we had stopped."
Supporting him carefully by his uninjured side, Iris led him from the infirmary and into the quiet palace corridors. Most of the servants they passed lowered their heads respectfully before continuing on their way, though several glanced discreetly toward the Fire Lord's fresh bandages before wisely deciding not to ask questions. Night had already settled over the Capital by the time they left the infirmary. Moonlight spilled through the palace windows as Iris guided him slowly along the quiet corridors, never once loosening her steady grip beneath his uninjured arm. Neither of them hurried. After weeks spent apart, simply walking beside one another again felt strangely precious.
When they finally entered their chambers, Iris quietly closed the doors behind them. The room looked exactly as he remembered. His swords still rested upon their stand beside the balcony doors. A half-finished game of Pai Sho remained arranged upon the low table near the windows, untouched since the morning he had departed. Fresh flowers from the royal gardens stood in their usual place, their faint fragrance filling the room.
"You never finished our game," Zuko observed.
"I wasn't about to beat you while you weren't here to complain about it."
"I appreciate your restraint."
"I also moved your lotus tile."
His eyebrows rose. "You cheated?"
"I preserved my advantage."
He laughed softly before immediately pressing a hand against his ribs.
"There it is again," Iris sighed.
"What?"
"The consequence of your own decisions."
"I don't remember marrying someone this merciless."
"You married a healer."
"I thought they were supposed to be compassionate."
"They are." She gently helped him sit on the edge of the bed before kneeling to remove his boots. "They're just not particularly sympathetic toward stubborn patients."
"I feel personally attacked."
"You should."
She set the boots aside before rising again, carefully helping him out of the remaining layers of his robe until he was left wearing only a loose inner tunic that wouldn't press against the fresh bandages. Only then did she finally allow herself to sit beside him. No duties. No advisors. No soldiers waiting outside the door. Only the quiet crackle of the fireplace and the comforting certainty that he was finally where he belonged. Without saying a word, Zuko reached for her hand. She intertwined their fingers immediately. Neither of them felt any need to speak. After weeks spent separated by interventions, responsibilities, and battlefields, the simple warmth of the other's hand was enough.
The following days settled into a rhythm neither of them had realized they had been longing for. For the first time in weeks, Zuko woke without the sound of messenger hawks announcing another attack or the urgency of another village waiting for help. His mornings were instead filled with quiet breakfasts shared with Iris before she attended the council chamber, while he remained under strict orders to rest despite insisting each day that he had recovered enough to resume his duties.
Each morning, Iris answered exactly the same way. "No."
Each morning, Zuko attempted a different argument. Each morning, he lost. The palace physicians visited daily to examine the wound, each time expressing quiet satisfaction at how cleanly it continued to heal. They attributed the progress to Katara's initial treatment, the medicinal regimen they had prescribed, and the Fire Lord's good fortune. Neither Zuko nor Iris corrected them. Even so, Iris refused to allow him anywhere near the training grounds, the royal dragon, or anything she considered remotely capable of reopening his injury until the bruising across his ribs had faded completely. Much to Zuko's annoyance. Much to everyone else's relief.
By the fifth day, he had resumed handling lighter matters of state from his study, reviewing reports, meeting briefly with trusted advisors, and signing decrees while Iris continued presiding over the more demanding council sessions. More than once, the ministers seemed almost disappointed to discover that the Fire Lady remained every bit as involved in governing despite the Fire Lord's return. Zuko found himself smiling whenever he heard about it.
One quiet afternoon, as sunlight streamed through the open windows of his study and a warm breeze carried the scent of the royal gardens into the room, the familiar cry of a messenger hawk echoed across the palace courtyard. Zuko instinctively looked up. The palace attendant entered only moments later, bowing respectfully before extending a scroll bearing the unmistakable Avatar Aang’s seal.
"A message for you, Fire Lord."
Zuko accepted the scroll, recognizing Aang's handwriting before he had even broken the seal. His expression gradually lost its warmth as he read. The investigation had finally uncovered the location of the organization coordinating the attacks across the Four Nations. The leaders had abandoned their mountain camps and retreated toward the eastern coast, where they were preparing to flee by sea before Team Avatar could surround them.
The letter ended simply.
We've found them. We can't finish this without you.
For several long moments, Zuko remained perfectly still, the letter resting silently in his hands. He had known this moment would come. He simply had not expected to resent it quite so much. Beyond the open window, Iris’s laughter drifted faintly across the palace gardens as she spoke with one of the young gardeners while making her way back from another council meeting. Home had only just begun to feel like home again, and already duty was asking him to leave it behind once more. Zuko remained seated for several minutes after the attendant quietly withdrew, the letter still open in his hands as though reading it again might somehow change its contents. It did not. The words remained exactly the same. They had found the people responsible. The trail that Team Avatar had spent weeks following was finally coming to an end. And they were asking him to return. He folded the letter carefully before slipping it back into its envelope.
A quiet knock sounded against the study door. Before he could answer, Iris stepped inside carrying another stack of council reports balanced neatly against one arm. "I thought I'd find you here." She smiled, though it faded almost immediately when she noticed the expression on his face. "What happened?"
For several long moments, neither of them spoke. The letter rested silently between them upon the desk, its message impossibly brief for something that carried so much weight.
“They found them,” Iris said at last.
Zuko nodded.
“And they need you.”
“As soon as possible.”
Silence settled once more. Beyond the open window, the palace gardens remained blissfully unaware of the decision that had already been made inside the study. Somewhere below, the fountain continued its steady song while gardeners laughed softly among themselves beneath the afternoon sun.
“I thought we’d have a little longer,” Iris admitted quietly.
“So did I.”
He crossed the room until only a single step separated them. His hand found hers instinctively. “I don’t want to leave again.”
A faint sadness crossed Iris’s face. “I know.”
“I hate this.”
Her fingers tightened gently around his. “So do I.”
He let out a weary breath, resting his forehead briefly against hers. "I keep thinking that eventually there will come a day when the world stops needing us."
"There will."
"You really believe that?"
"I have to." She gently squeezed his hand. "Otherwise everything we're fighting for would lose its meaning."
Zuko searched her face, wondering—as he had countless times before—how she always managed to find hope where he found only exhaustion. "I wish you would ask me to stay."
Her answer came after a long silence. "I've wanted to ask since the moment I finished reading that letter." She looked up at him, her eyes shining with quiet honesty. "But if I did... you wouldn't be the man I fell in love with."
The words settled heavily between them. Zuko closed his eyes for a brief moment before drawing her into his arms as carefully as his healing ribs allowed. She held him just as tightly. No promises were made. Neither of them spoke about when he would return. They had lived through enough separations to know that some goodbyes were made more painful by trying to measure them. Instead, they simply stood together in the fading afternoon light, stealing a few more quiet moments from a world that always seemed eager to take them away.
Zuko departed before sunrise the following morning. The farewell itself was painfully brief. Iris had long since learned that lingering at the palace gates only made leaving more difficult. She straightened the collar of his traveling robes one last time, reminded him in a voice gentler than usual not to ignore Katara if she ordered him to rest, then pressed a lingering kiss against his forehead before stepping back. Neither of them attempted to say everything that weighed upon their hearts. They never did. Some goodbyes had become so familiar that words only made them heavier. Moments later, Druk disappeared beyond the eastern horizon, leaving the palace strangely quiet once again.
The palace settled quickly back into its familiar rhythm after his departure, though the quiet somehow felt heavier than before. Iris buried herself in council meetings, provincial reports, and diplomatic correspondence from dawn until evening, but every so often her thoughts wandered eastward toward a husband who had once again disappeared beyond the horizon. Three days was hardly a long journey by the standards of Team Avatar. Even so, the palace seemed noticeably emptier without him.
The mission lasted only three days. Three days later, a messenger hawk landed upon the balcony outside Zuko’s study. The scroll bore Aang’s seal. Iris happened to be the one who received it. The letter itself was remarkably brief. Team Avatar had intercepted the remaining members of the organization before they could escape by sea. Their leader had been captured alive after a short but fierce confrontation aboard one of the fleeing vessels, while the surviving members had surrendered soon afterward. Months of investigations, ambushes, and endless travel had finally come to an end.
The remaining members of the group were taken into custody, the stolen blasting jelly recovered, and the interrupted railway construction resumed under renewed security. According to the reports submitted by Team Avatar and the authorities of the Four Nations, the attacks had been carried out by men and women who believed the peace that followed the Hundred Year War had never truly reached them. Viewing Republic City as a symbol of a future that had left them behind, they had turned to sabotage in the hope of halting its construction before it could be completed. For the first time in months, the Four Nations could finally turn their attention back toward rebuilding.
Only after finishing Aang’s report did Iris notice another sentence hastily squeezed into the bottom of the parchment in Sokka’s unmistakable handwriting.
Tell Iris not to worry. Sparky decided to collect another scar. It’s only his shoulder this time. Katara already patched him up.
Iris stared at the sentence for several long moments before quietly closing her eyes. “…Only his shoulder.”
By late afternoon, the distant roar of a dragon echoed above the Royal Capital. Druk descended through the clouds and landed heavily within the palace courtyard, scattering dust across the marble stones as palace guards and attendants hurried forward to welcome the Fire Lord home. Zuko dismounted without assistance, though the stiffness in his movements betrayed the soreness lingering throughout his body. A fresh bandage disappeared beneath the fabric covering his left shoulder where a sword had managed to cut through his defenses during the final battle. Compared to the injury that had forced him home only days earlier, it was little more than a deep slash, but it was enough to stain the linen beneath his robes with faint traces of blood. Iris had already reached the foot of the palace staircase before he turned toward her. Her eyes immediately found the bandage crossing his shoulder. For several moments, she said nothing.
“You were gone for three days,” she observed quietly.
“I know.”
“And you came home injured.”
Zuko glanced down at the bandage before offering the small, almost apologetic smile that never seemed to work whenever he returned from a mission, wounded. “…Technically, less injured.”
She regarded him for another long moment before releasing a slow breath somewhere between relief and exasperation. “I suppose that is progress.”
“I was hoping you would think so.”
“I didn’t say I approved.”
Before either of them could continue, the familiar bellow of Appa rolled across the evening sky. Both of them looked upward as the great sky bison descended into the courtyard moments later. Aang guided Appa gently onto the stone before Team Avatar climbed down one after another, each of them looking considerably more exhausted than victorious.
Sokka spotted Iris first. He immediately raised both hands in surrender. “Before anyone blames me, I’d like to point out that this wasn’t my fault.”
“It absolutely was,” Toph answered before anyone else could.
“He jumped in front of Sokka,” Katara explained with a tired sigh as she climbed down from Appa’s saddle. “Again.”
“I had everything under control,” Sokka protested.
“You were hanging over the side of a moving ship.” Suki corrected him.
“I was hanging strategically.”
Toph folded her arms. “You were screaming.”
“I was screaming strategically.”
Aang smiled apologetically. “The important part is that the mission is finished.”
Silence settled over the courtyard for exactly three heartbeats before every member of Team Avatar slowly looked toward Iris, then toward the fresh bandage on Zuko’s shoulder. Without another word, they collectively reached the same conclusion.
“We should probably head back,” Aang said.
“Immediately,” Katara agreed.
“We’ve suddenly remembered several urgent responsibilities,” Sokka added.
Before Zuko could object, Team Avatar had already climbed back onto Appa’s saddle. The great sky bison launched himself into the air once more, leaving the Fire Lord standing alone in the courtyard with his wife.
Zuko watched them disappear into the distance before letting out a quiet sigh. “…Traitors.”
“They’re survivors,” Iris replied evenly, finally stepping closer until she stood directly before him. Her fingers gently brushed the edge of the bandage wrapped around his shoulder before she met his eyes again. “Come inside.”
“I assume there’s another medicinal root waiting for me.”
“There is.”
Zuko closed his eyes briefly. “…I almost miss the swordfight.”
The days that followed settled back into the familiar rhythm of palace life, yet those who served within the Royal Palace gradually began noticing that something had changed. The Fire Lord resumed his daily audiences, military briefings, and council meetings as though he had never left, while the Fire Lady continued overseeing matters of state with the same composure and efficiency she had displayed throughout his absence. Reports continued to arrive by the dozens, ministers continued to argue over budgets and provincial affairs, and palace servants hurried endlessly through the corridors carrying scrolls, tea, and correspondence from dawn until long after sunset.
Yet despite the endless demands upon their time, Zuko and Iris seemed entirely incapable of letting the other disappear for very long. It began innocently enough. One morning, a young maid approached the Fire Lord's study carrying a fresh pot of jasmine tea and several documents awaiting his review. She knocked politely before announcing herself.
"Fire Lord, your morning tea."
No answer came. Assuming he had become absorbed in his work, she carefully pushed the door open. The reports remained untouched upon the desk. Instead, the Fire Lord stood beside the open balcony while the Fire Lady adjusted the collar of his robes with patient fingers. Whatever conversation they had been having dissolved into quiet laughter before Zuko reached for her hand, drew her closer, and kissed her with the unmistakable tenderness of someone trying to recover every moment that weeks of separation had stolen from them.
The maid froze. "...Your Majesties..."
Neither of them heard her. Color rushed to her face as she quietly retreated into the corridor, gently closing the door before anyone inside noticed she had entered.
Several minutes later, another servant passed by carrying a stack of records. "Didn't you deliver the tea?"
"I... thought perhaps His Majesty would prefer it while it was still hot."
"So?"
"...I'll come back later."
The servant looked at the untouched tray before smiling knowingly. "Ah."
No further explanation was necessary. It happened again two days later. An elderly chamberlain arrived outside the royal library carrying several diplomatic agreements requiring the Fire Lord's signature before the afternoon council session. After knocking twice without receiving a reply, he opened the door just far enough to announce himself.
"Your Majesty, the ministers from the Western Provinces require—" His voice stopped.
Zuko sat upon the edge of the long reading table while Iris stood between his knees, absentmindedly brushing a loose strand of hair away from his forehead. She said something too quiet for the chamberlain to hear, earning a smile from the Fire Lord that had become almost painfully rare during the weeks he had spent chasing conspirators across the Four Nations. Before either of them noticed they were no longer alone, Zuko leaned forward and kissed her once more.
The chamberlain immediately lowered his eyes. "My apologies, Your Majesties."
He closed the door with practiced dignity and calmly turned away.
Another attendant waiting farther down the corridor looked at him curiously. "Were the documents signed?"
"They... will be."
"When?"
The chamberlain considered the question for a brief moment. "...Not immediately."
The palace servants noticed the change immediately, trading amused whispers in the grand corridors. One young maid accidentally walked into the grand royal library late one afternoon, only to immediately back out with a crimson face after discovering the Fire Lord thoroughly distracting Iris, kissing her fiercely against the high mahogany bookshelves instead of reviewing the urgent provincial council documents spread across the table.
By the end of the week, an entirely unofficial routine had established itself throughout the palace. Whenever someone approached the Fire Lord’s office, the royal library, or the private sitting room adjoining their chambers, they knocked once before entering. If no answer came, they waited. Then they knocked again. If silence continued to greet them, they quietly turned around and found something else to do for the next ten minutes. No one complained. No one whispered scandalous rumors through the servants’ quarters. On the contrary, most of the older attendants simply smiled to themselves.
“It is nice to see them together again,” one elderly housekeeper remarked as she folded freshly laundered robes.
“They hardly spent a week apart after they were married,” another servant replied. “Then suddenly His Majesty was gone for weeks.”
“And came home injured.”
“Twice.”
The older woman sighed softly. “Then let them steal a few moments whenever they can. The palace has waited longer for less important matters.”
The Fire Lord had always been diligent. The Fire Lady had always been composed. Together, they remained every bit as devoted to their responsibilities as before. Council meetings were still held on schedule, petitions were still reviewed, and provincial affairs continued to receive prompt attention. Yet the attendants soon noticed that whenever an unexpected free time appeared in their schedules, however brief, Their Majesties invariably disappeared together.
No one knew quite where they went. Sometimes it was the palace gardens overlooking the caldera. Sometimes the library. Occasionally they retreated to the quiet pavilion beside the koi ponds, only to return nearly an hour later looking considerably more rested than when they had left. One afternoon, a chamberlain arrived outside the royal study with several urgent documents requiring the Fire Lord's seal. After waiting several minutes without receiving an answer, he eventually found Their Majesties strolling unhurriedly through the eastern gardens instead, speaking so quietly to one another that they scarcely seemed aware of the world around them.
"My apologies, Fire Lord," he said with a respectful bow. "The ministers are waiting."
Zuko accepted the documents with an expression that suggested he had entirely forgotten the afternoon council meeting. "...Already?"
Iris glanced toward the position of the sun before looking back at him. "I believe we may have lost track of time."
"I was under the impression we had at least another half hour."
"So was I."
The chamberlain wisely pretended not to hear. It was hardly an isolated incident. Breakfasts lingered well beyond their intended hour. Evening walks somehow extended until lanterns had already been lit throughout the palace. More than once, ministers found themselves waiting outside the council chamber while Their Majesties arrived together, exchanging one last quiet smile before resuming the dignified composure expected of the rulers of the Fire Nation.
The younger attendants occasionally found the change amusing. "I've never seen the Fire Lord smile this much," one maid whispered while arranging fresh flowers outside the royal chambers.
An older housekeeper chuckled softly. "Neither had I."
"I almost feel guilty interrupting them."
"You'll get used to waiting."
"For how long?"
The older woman folded another robe with practiced hands before answering. "Oh... until one of them remembers they have an entire nation waiting."
She paused, her smile deepening ever so slightly. "Fortunately, they always do."
Fandom : Avatar the Last Airbender (ATLA)
Pairing : Zuko x Fem. OC
Tags : Romance, 10 years after war, Emotional Anchor, Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fire Nation Politics, Team Avatar conflicts
Worthwhile Masterlist
AO3 : Worthwhile by Allhaillordzuko
Status : WIP/ On goingㅣRating : General/Mature
**Summary : The journey beyond the Fire Nation grows longer, the enemy more elusive, and the distance from home more difficult to bear. But not every battle is won on the battlefield, and not every homecoming comes without a price.
While life within the Fire Nation slowly settled into a new routine under Iris's careful stewardship, the journey beyond its borders had become anything but routine. Weeks had passed since Team Avatar first departed for another mission, yet the investigation surrounding the mysterious attacks on Republic City's construction showed no signs of reaching its conclusion. What initially appeared to be a series of isolated incidents gradually revealed itself to be part of something far more extensive than any of them had anticipated. Every hideout they uncovered pointed toward another hidden camp. Every captured mercenary possessed only enough information to lead them toward another shipment of stolen explosives, another group of hired soldiers, or another attack waiting to happen somewhere else across the Four Nations. No sooner had they dismantled one operation than another messenger hawk arrived with reports of fresh sabotage in an entirely different province.
The journey became a relentless cycle of traveling, investigating, and fighting. Days blended together beneath endless stretches of open sky, while unfamiliar villages replaced one another with such frequency that even Sokka occasionally admitted he had lost track of where they were. They spent more nights sleeping beneath the stars than beneath proper roofs, and proper meals had gradually become whatever they could manage between destinations before Appa carried them toward the next crisis. Even Appa, despite his remarkable endurance, seemed noticeably more exhausted than usual. For Zuko, however, the physical exhaustion was the easiest burden to bear.
Whenever the day's responsibilities finally settled into a rare moment of quiet, his thoughts inevitably wandered back toward the Capital. He found himself wondering whether Iris had remembered to take breaks between council meetings or whether she had once again become so absorbed in her work that she skipped lunch without realizing it. He wondered whether she still visited the royal greenhouse every morning before attending to palace affairs, whether the gardeners continued treating her more like a friend than their Fire Lady, and whether she still slept on her side of the bed despite there being no one occupying the other half.
He had written to her whenever circumstances allowed, although the opportunities had become increasingly rare. More often than not, the messenger hawks arrived carrying reports from military outposts rather than empty parchment for personal correspondence, leaving him with little more than enough time to reassure her that he was safe before duty demanded his attention once again. Every letter ended exactly the same way.
I miss you.
A quiet snort from somewhere behind him interrupted his thoughts. "You've got that look again."
Zuko glanced over his shoulder to find Sokka balancing carelessly near Appa's saddle, an unmistakably smug grin already spreading across his face. "What look?"
"The one where you completely disappear for about five minutes without moving."
"I was thinking."
"Exactly." Sokka folded his arms triumphantly before looking toward the others. "I told you."
Katara looked up from the waterskin she had been refilling before smiling knowingly. "You were thinking about Iris again."
"I was thinking about home."
Sokka's grin only widened. "Which just happens to include your wife."
"It also includes an entire nation."
"And yet," Sokka replied with exaggerated seriousness, "I somehow doubt you were sitting there wondering whether the eastern tax records have been properly organized."
Aang chuckled quietly while scratching Appa behind one ear. "I have to agree with Sokka on this one."
Zuko sighed, already recognizing there was little point denying it. "I was wondering how she's doing."
The teasing softened almost immediately.
Katara rested her hands upon her knees before offering him a reassuring smile. "She's probably keeping the entire palace running better than any of us expected."
"I know." His voice carried a quiet confidence rather than uncertainty. "That's never been what worried me."
Suki tilted her head curiously. "Then what does?"
Zuko remained silent for a moment, his gaze drifting toward the clouds stretching endlessly across the horizon. "I know she can handle everything I left behind." He smiled faintly before lowering his eyes toward his hands. "I just wish she didn't have to."
No one answered immediately. There was very little any of them could say. They all understood why Zuko continued traveling beside the Avatar instead of returning to the Fire Nation. Every village they saved revealed another community waiting for help. Every prisoner they questioned uncovered another threat that had to be stopped before innocent people paid the price for their failure. None of them had chosen this endless journey, yet none of them possessed the luxury of walking away from it either.
The silence lingered comfortably between them until the familiar cry of a messenger hawk echoed overhead. The bird descended through the clouds before landing neatly upon Aang's outstretched forearm. He untied the small scroll secured to its leg and began reading, his expression growing noticeably more serious with every passing line.
Sokka was the first to recognize the look. "...Please tell me that's our ticket home."
Aang slowly lowered the message before meeting everyone's eyes. "I'm afraid not."
Zuko already knew the answer before the Avatar spoke again. "Another attack?"
Aang nodded. "There have been reports of another shipment moving through the northern mountain pass. If the information is accurate, they're transporting enough blasting jelly to destroy several sections of the railway before it reaches Republic City."
A heavy silence settled over the group. Zuko closed his eyes for only a brief moment before exhaling quietly through his nose. Somewhere within his travel bag rested Iris's most recent letter, folded so many times that the edges had already begun to soften from repeated handling. He resisted the familiar urge to take it out again, knowing there would be time for that later.
Instead, he adjusted the swords resting across his back before looking toward Aang. "Then we'd better move."
The valley erupted into chaos. The masked archers unleashed another volley of arrows from the cliffs above while the men gathered around the railway instinctively reached for their weapons, unsure whether they had just become allies or expendable pawns. The hesitation that had briefly settled over the valley vanished beneath the deafening clash of steel, bending, and exploding stone.
"Protect the explosives!" one of the masked figures shouted.
"They're trying to collapse the pass!" Sokka warned as another arrow struck one of the wooden crates.
Aang launched himself into the air upon a powerful current of wind, redirecting the tumbling barrel before it could strike the railway workers scrambling desperately for cover, yet even before his feet touched the ground once more, both of his arms swept outward in one fluid motion that drew a wall of earth upward across the railway, intercepting another volley of arrows before they could reach the workers huddled behind the unfinished tracks. With scarcely a pause between movements, he twisted sharply upon one heel, guiding a ribbon of water from the mountain stream Katara had already uncovered into the burning grass where several flaming arrows had landed, extinguishing the growing fire before it could spread toward the stacked blasting jelly.
Toph slammed both palms against the ground. The mountain answered. Great slabs of stone erupted beneath the feet of the attackers, throwing several from the cliffs before they could lose another arrow. At the same time, Suki and Sokka charged through the confusion with practiced precision as they deflected blades while their shields formed a moving wall between the workers and the explosives.
"Left flank!" Suki called.
Zuko was already moving. Twin broadswords flashed through the evening light as he forced three masked men away from the detonators positioned beside the tracks. Jets of fire burst from his feet, carrying him across the battlefield before he landed between another attacker and a terrified railway worker who had stumbled to the ground.
"Run!" Zuko ordered.
The young man hesitated only long enough to nod before disappearing toward the far end of the valley.
"They're trying to light the fuses!" Katara shouted.
"I see them!" Sokka answered, hurling his boomerang toward one of the torches. It struck straight, sending the burning brand spinning harmlessly across the gravel before Suki swept the remaining torch aside with her fan.
For several minutes the battle swung steadily in Team Avatar's favor. One by one, the masked attackers were disarmed or driven back toward the cliffs, while those who had originally been hired to transport the explosives gradually lowered their weapons altogether. Several even began helping frightened workers escape the railway instead of continuing the fight. Aang landed lightly upon one of the unfinished railway beams before driving both palms toward the ground. The earth answered immediately. Thick stone pillars erupted beneath several masked attackers, separating them from the workers they had been pursuing, while a sweeping kick carried another current of air across the valley, hurling a cluster of discarded shields high into the sky before sending them crashing harmlessly between the opposing forces. As another firebender attempted to ignite one of the fuses, Katara thrust one hand forward, drawing a narrow stream from the nearby river that wrapped around the burning torch before extinguishing it instantly, leaving only drifting steam where flames had existed a heartbeat earlier.
"We're pushing them back!" Aang called.
One of the masked figures glanced frantically across the battlefield. Fallen comrades littered the valley floor, while those still standing were steadily being forced away from the railway. His gaze settled upon the stacked crates of blasting jelly beside the unfinished tracks.
"Forget the retreat!" he shouted.
Several of the remaining attackers immediately abandoned the fight, breaking away from their companions and sprinting toward the explosives instead.
"What are they doing?" Sokka called, knocking another attacker aside with his shield.
"I don't know," Katara answered, her eyes following them. "But stop them!"
Then everything changed. One of the masked figures, realizing defeat had become inevitable, abandoned his sword altogether and reached instead for a concealed firework rocket strapped across his back.
Suki's head snapped toward him. "Zuko!" She barely had time to shout.
The rocket streaked across the battlefield, not toward Team Avatar, but toward the stacked crates of blasting jelly lining the railway. Without thinking, Zuko lunged forward. A wall of fire burst from both hands, striking the projectile before it reached the explosives. The rocket exploded prematurely in midair, but the force of the blast sent burning splinters and shattered stone raining across the valley. One jagged fragment, propelled by the explosion with terrifying speed, tore through the smoke before slamming into Zuko's side. The impact threw him several feet across the railway. The premature explosion scattered burning fragments across the valley, igniting patches of dry brush on both sides of the railway. Aang swept one arm outward, drawing the flames together with practiced firebending before guiding the blazing current harmlessly into a barren stretch of stone where it quickly exhausted itself, denying the attackers the smoke and confusion they had hoped to create.
"Zuko!" Katara screamed.
Before anyone could reach him, part of the cliff weakened by the explosion gave way. Massive boulders thundered down the mountainside, forcing everyone to scatter as dust swallowed the battlefield. Aang reacted almost instinctively, a tremendous surge of air slowing the first avalanche just enough for frightened workers to escape its path before he drove both hands downward with all the force he could summon. Great walls of earth erupted from the valley floor, intercepting the largest boulders before they could crush the railway beneath them, while streams of water torn from the nearby river rushed across the shattered stone to smother the fires spreading dangerously toward the crates of blasting jelly. Beside him, Toph seized the trembling mountainside itself, forcing the fractured earth back into place with every ounce of strength she possessed until the violent shaking finally subsided.
As the last of the masked attackers disappeared into the surrounding forest, the valley gradually fell silent. Those who had surrendered quietly laid down their weapons beneath the watchful eyes of the railway workers they had nearly killed, while the remaining laborers emerged cautiously from behind shattered stone barricades to inspect the damage. Smoke drifted lazily across the mountain pass where fractured cliffs still shed loose rocks in scattered echoes, and the sharp scent of blasting jelly lingered stubbornly in the evening air despite the fires having finally been extinguished. The railway had survived. So had the people who had nearly lost everything protecting it. Yet no one celebrated.
Suki reached Zuko first. She dropped to one knee beside him, quickly pulling him away from another shower of falling rocks before pressing one hand firmly against the wound spreading crimson beneath his armor. “Katara!”
"I'm here!" Katara slid beside them almost immediately, her hands already glowing with healing water as she carefully pushed aside the torn armor. Her expression immediately changed. "...This is bad."
Zuko remained barely conscious. "I've had worse."
"You always say that," Katara muttered. "And you're always wrong."
Sokka finally reached them, breathing heavily after helping the remaining workers escape. He looked down at the blood soaking through Zuko's uniform before grimacing. "Well..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "...Iris is going to kill you."
Despite the pain, Zuko managed to let out a weak snort. "That's... reassuring."
"I'm serious." Sokka folded his arms. "She spent weeks keeping your kingdom together, and you're planning to come home looking like you fought a mountain."
"I did fight a mountain," Zuko answered faintly.
"The mountain won."
Even Suki smiled despite herself. "It certainly landed a good hit."
Sokka looked back toward the shattered railway, where blackened fragments of the crates still smoldered among the rubble. "I still don't get it."
Katara glanced up from the glowing water around her hands. "What?"
"They spent the entire battle protecting those explosives." He frowned. "Then, the moment they realized they were losing, they tried to blow them up themselves."
"They didn't want us to recover them," Suki said quietly.
Toph folded her arms. "Or they figured if they couldn't have them, nobody could."
Aang's gaze lingered on the ruined crates and the scorched stretch of railway beyond them. "Either way... they were willing to destroy everything they'd stolen just to keep it out of our hands." Aang looked completely devastated, his head resting in his hands. "I thought things were getting better. I really thought we were making progress."
"They are getting better, Aang," Katara answered quietly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But healing takes time."
Sokka leaned back against a brick chimney, staring up at the stars. "A horrifying amount of time."
Toph crossed her arms, her face grim. "People don't just stop being angry because some bald monk tells them peace is nice."
"...Thanks, Toph," Aang muttered into his knees.
"You're welcome," Toph grinned. "My point is, Twinkletoes, people don't trust speeches." She gestured toward the workers now helping one another. "They trust what they can actually see."
Aang turned to the direction she pointed. After a long moment, he smiled quietly. "...Maybe that's enough."
Katara was already pulling the water out of her flask, the liquid glowing with a soft, radiant blue light as she prepared her healing arts. "You need to stop getting injured."
"That advice feels unrealistic for our current lifestyle," Zuko muttered, wincing slightly as the cool water made contact with the angry, burned flesh of his shoulder.
Aang came over and sat beside him quietly, looking out over the dark water of the bay. "You should go home for a few days, Zuko."
"There's still cleanup here," Zuko argued, his stubborn nature flaring up.
"There's always cleanup," Katara answered softly, her voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and gentle reprimand.
Sokka nodded dramatically, crossing his arms. "Besides, your terrifyingly pretty wife is probably preparing revenge herbs already. I wouldn't cross her if I were you."
Toph smirked lazily from her spot on the ground, leaning her head back. "Yeah. She heals like she's punishing you personally."
"And the mission—" Zuko muttered again between uneven breaths.
"Will continue," Suki interrupted firmly. "The rest of us can handle it."
Sokka nodded in agreement. "You've done your part. And," he added with another crooked grin, "if we don't send you home now, Iris might decide to finish what that mountain started."
For the first time since the battle ended, genuine laughter spread quietly through the group. Even Zuko couldn't entirely disagree. No one argued after that. Even Zuko understood what the others had already decided for him. The journey back to the Fire Nation was quieter than usual. Katara remained beside him throughout the flight, renewing the healing water whenever the pain threatened to overwhelm him, while Aang guided Appa steadily through the evening sky. Sokka, perhaps sensing that no amount of teasing could truly distract Zuko from his frustration, spent most of the trip unusually silent. Even Toph eventually stopped making jokes.
By the time the familiar coastline of the Fire Nation came into view, the sun had already disappeared beyond the horizon. Appa landed heavily within the Royal Palace courtyard, sending a gust of wind sweeping across the stone pathways. Palace guards immediately hurried forward, followed closely by servants and royal physicians who had already been alerted by the watchtowers.
Aang climbed down first before helping Katara steady Zuko as he carefully descended from Appa.
"I still don't like leaving you like this," Katara admitted quietly.
"You aren't leaving me," Zuko replied. "You're finishing the mission."
Suki nodded. "Someone has to keep following their trail before they disappear again."
"We've already lost valuable time bringing you home," Aang added. "If we wait until you're recovered, we'll lose them."
"I know." His answer came without hesitation.
There had never really been another choice.
Sokka rested both hands upon his hips before looking Zuko up and down with exaggerated concern. "You know, I was planning on telling Iris we kept you perfectly safe." He glanced toward the bandages wrapped around Zuko's torso. "That plan has fallen apart."
"I noticed." Zuko muttered.
"She's going to ask what happened."
"I'll tell her the truth."
Sokka winced. "Bold strategy."
Toph smirked. "I give him five seconds before she starts yelling."
"She won't yell," Zuko answered automatically.
Five pairs of eyes turned toward him. "...Much."
That earned the first genuine laugh anyone had managed since leaving the mountain pass.
Aang stepped forward, placing a hand on Zuko's shoulder. "Take the time to recover."
"I don't intend to stay long."
"I know you don't," Aang replied. "That's exactly why I'm telling you."
For a brief moment, none of them spoke. The silence felt strangely familiar, reminding Zuko of the countless mornings they had spent breaking camp together during the war before setting off toward whatever impossible task awaited them next. It felt like saying goodbye all over again.
Suki stepped forward first, embracing him carefully enough to avoid his injuries. "We'll keep each other alive until you catch up."
"You'd better."
Katara followed, squeezing his shoulder gently. "Try listening to your healer this time."
Toph folded her arms. "Don't get soft while you're home, Sparky."
Aang smiled. "We'll send word as soon as we learn anything."
"I'll be waiting."
The towering palace doors slowly opened before the attendants waiting inside had the opportunity to announce the Fire Lord's return. Iris stepped outside the grand palace wearing the same robes she had worn during the afternoon council meeting, her hair still carefully arranged from a day spent presiding over ministers and provincial governors. Judging from the unopened scroll still resting beneath one arm, someone had likely interrupted her before she had even finished reading the latest reports. The moment her eyes found Zuko, however, the scroll ceased to matter altogether.
Her gaze moved over him with practiced precision, lingering only briefly upon his face before settling on the blood that had seeped through the bandages wrapped tightly around his side. She took in the stiffness in his posture, the way Katara remained close enough to steady him should his balance fail, and the unmistakable exhaustion written across every movement he made.
"What happened?"
The question came quietly, yet every member of Team Avatar recognized the dangerous calm beneath it.
Zuko offered the faint, apologetic smile that rarely worked whenever he found himself injured. “Apparently mountains take offense to explosions.”
Without missing a beat, Sokka folded his arms and nodded. "To be fair, the mountain started it."
"It most certainly did not," Toph replied dryly. "The mountain was sitting there minding its own business until Sparky decided explosions sounded like a wonderful idea."
"I didn't cause the explosion."
"No," Suki agreed. "You just threw yourself directly in front of it."
Aang rubbed the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile. "It... happened very quickly."
Katara let out a quiet sigh before looking at Iris. "The wound looks worse than it is. I managed to stop the bleeding, but he'll need proper treatment as soon as possible."
Iris nodded once, never taking her eyes off Zuko. "Thank you." She stepped beside him, carefully slipping one arm around his uninjured side with the same natural familiarity she had shown countless times before. The gesture appeared almost effortless, yet Zuko immediately realized she had already adjusted her grip to avoid putting pressure anywhere near the injury. "Can you walk?"
"I can."
She looked at him for another brief moment, as though deciding whether she believed him. "...We'll find out."
That earned a quiet laugh from Suki. "I told them you would handle this better than any physician."
"I've had plenty of practice," Iris answered, though there was little humor in her voice.
For a moment, silence settled over the courtyard as the reality of the situation quietly returned. Appa stood patiently behind Team Avatar, already saddled for another journey, while several palace guards discreetly began loading fresh supplies that had been prepared for them even before their arrival. The mission had not ended simply because the Fire Lord had been forced to withdraw from it.
Aang finally broke the silence. "I wish we could stay longer, but we already lost nearly two days bringing Zuko back to the Capital. If we don't continue tonight, whoever organized these attacks may disappear before we find them again."
"I understand," Iris replied. "You don't need to explain."
Katara hesitated before speaking again. "I feel terrible leaving him like this."
"You aren't leaving him," Iris answered gently. "You're doing exactly what he would have wanted all of you to do."
Sokka sighed dramatically. "See? This is why she's the reasonable one."
"I heard that," Zuko muttered.
Suki smiled before stepping forward and placing a reassuring hand against Zuko's shoulder. "We'll keep following the trail until you recover."
"No," Katara corrected immediately. "You'll return when Iris says you can."
Toph smirked. "Now that's a rule even the Fire Lord can't argue with."
"I probably could," Zuko muttered.
"You'll lose." Toph snapped back.
“…I know,” Zuko answered, smiling unapologetically at Iris.
One by one, they climbed back onto Appa. Before taking his place upon the saddle, Aang looked toward Iris one final time and inclined his head. "Take care of him."
She met his eyes with a small, grateful smile. "I always do."
With a powerful sweep of his tail, Appa launched himself into the evening sky, carrying Team Avatar back toward a mission that remained far from over. Iris stood beside Zuko until the familiar silhouette disappeared beyond the clouds, only then turning her attention fully toward the husband she had not seen in weeks.
She looked once more at the blood staining his uniform before quietly tightening her grip around his arm. "Come with me."
*I tagged all who followed my blog and who often react to my posts. Message to remove or add tag
A/N :
First of all, thank you so much to everyone who's been reading Worthwhile here on Tumblr. 💕
I know many of you also read it on AO3, but for those who only follow it here, I really appreciate you sticking with the story.
I have to admit, though... sometimes Tumblr feels a little quiet. 😅 Since I post the same story on both platforms (just split into smaller chapters here), I don't always know what everyone's thinking. A like or a reblog already means a lot, but if you ever have a thought—even if it's just "I liked this scene" or "this made me laugh"—I'd absolutely love to hear it.
Your comments genuinely motivate me more than you probably realize. 🫶
Fandom : Avatar the Last Airbender (ATLA)
Pairing : Zuko x Fem. OC
Tags : Romance, 10 years after war, Emotional Anchor, Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fire Nation Politics, Team Avatar conflicts
Worthwhile Masterlist
AO3 : Worthwhile by Allhaillordzuko
Status : WIP/ On goingㅣRating : General/Mature
**Summary: While the Fire Lord is away, life at the palace continues. Responsibilities quietly pile up, familiar routines take shape, and even in the busiest days, some absences are impossible to ignore. Sometimes, it takes someone who knows you well to remind you that you're not carrying everything alone.
Thousands of miles away, the Fire Nation Royal Palace stood in stark contrast to the chaos unfolding along the eastern coastline. The Capital greeted another peaceful morning beneath clear blue skies as the first rays of sunlight spilled across crimson rooftops and gilded palace walls. Servants moved gracefully through the endless corridors carrying trays of freshly brewed tea, while palace guards quietly exchanged shifts beneath towering archways overlooking the city below. The rhythmic trickle of fountains echoed softly through the inner courtyards, accompanied by the distant songs of birds nesting among the flowering trees that filled the royal gardens.
To anyone walking through the palace, it seemed like another ordinary day. Only those closest to the royal family understood how much had changed. Since Team Avatar began investigating the mysterious attacks surrounding Republic City's construction, Zuko had scarcely remained in the Capital for more than a few days at a time. Every mission uncovered another. Every captured criminal led them toward an even larger operation. Before one investigation had concluded, another messenger hawk would already arrive carrying news of fresh sabotage somewhere else across the Four Nations.
The Fire Lord had become a traveler once again. The palace had quietly adapted to his absence. His council still gathered every morning. Petitions from governors continued arriving by the dozens. Trade negotiations still required approval. Military reports accumulated upon his desk with alarming consistency. The kingdom continued moving forward, whether its ruler stood within the palace or thousands of miles away fighting beside the Avatar.
So did Iris. She had gradually fallen into a routine of her own. Every morning began exactly the same. She awoke before sunrise, not because she particularly enjoyed early mornings, but because remaining in bed only reminded her that half of it remained empty. The blankets beside her stayed neatly folded exactly as they had been the night before, untouched by the husband who had promised he would return as quickly as he could.
At first, she found herself instinctively listening for footsteps beyond the royal chambers, convincing herself that perhaps Zuko had returned during the night without waking her. Sometimes she even caught herself glancing toward the door whenever it opened, only to find another servant arriving with breakfast instead. Eventually, she stopped expecting him. The disappointment never disappeared. She simply became better at hiding it. After dressing herself in one of her simpler formal crimson robes, Iris stepped outside the royal chambers, where several attendants were already waiting with scrolls tucked neatly beneath their arms.
"Good morning, Fire Lady," one of them greeted with a respectful bow. "Your schedule for today."
Iris accepted the parchment with a grateful smile, quickly scanning the long list of appointments awaiting her. A council meeting. A trade delegation from Yu Dao. Two petitions from the western provinces. A luncheon with several noble families. Three separate audiences with local governors. The list seemed endless. She released a quiet, almost amused sigh.
"It appears the Fire Nation intends to keep me occupied."
One of the attendants smiled politely. "The ministers have already gathered inside the council chamber."
"I'm aware." She carefully rolled the schedule closed. "I'll join them shortly."
The attendants bowed before quietly returning to their duties. Instead of walking toward the council chambers, however, Iris turned in the opposite direction. None of the attendants appeared surprised. By now, nearly everyone within the palace knew exactly where the Fire Lady disappeared before every council meeting. The royal greenhouse had become something of a sanctuary for her.
Whenever ministers searched for her throughout the palace, they rarely bothered checking the royal library or her private chambers anymore. More often than not, they simply followed the winding stone paths leading toward the eastern gardens, where they inevitably found her with dirt upon her hands, speaking with the gardeners as though she had worked beside them her entire life. The gardeners themselves had long since stopped treating her visits as unusual.
"Good morning, Fire Lady." Several voices greeted her almost immediately after she stepped through the carved wooden gate.
She smiled warmly at the familiar faces. "Good morning."
One of the younger gardeners looked up from a freshly planted flowerbed before offering a sheepish grin. "The lilies still aren't cooperating."
"Are they giving you trouble again, Yuki?"
"I'm beginning to think they're doing it on purpose."
Several of the older gardeners laughed.
"They're flowers," one of them teased. "Not stubborn recruits."
"They'd probably listen better if they were recruits."
The laughter spread naturally throughout the garden. Iris walked toward the flowerbed before lowering herself gracefully onto one knee, paying little attention as the hem of her robe settled against the rich volcanic soil. She gently brushed the earth between her fingertips before studying the neat rows of young lilies stretching before her.
"They're planted a little too close together."
The young gardener rubbed the back of his neck. "That would be my apprentice's doing."
The apprentice immediately lowered his head. "I thought they'd bloom faster if there were more of them."
"They'll certainly look fuller at first," Iris answered gently. "But eventually they'll compete with one another."
The boy looked up. "They'll fight over sunlight?"
"And water." She lightly loosened the soil surrounding one of the seedlings before carefully lifting it free. "The roots will eventually tangle together. They'll spend so much energy competing that none of them will have enough room to grow properly."
Understanding slowly dawned across the apprentice's face. "So... they need more space."
"They do." She handed the tiny plant back to him with an encouraging smile. "Sometimes caring for something means knowing when to give it room to grow."
The older gardeners exchanged knowing smiles. "I think our apprentice just received today's lesson."
"I promise I don't charge tuition."
Soft laughter once again drifted through the morning air. Someone quietly handed Iris a small gardening trowel without needing to ask whether she intended to stay. She accepted it as naturally as if she had done so every day of her life. In many ways, she had. There was no throne. There was only the warm morning sun, the scent of damp earth and blooming jasmine, the cheerful conversation of familiar gardeners, and the peaceful rhythm of tending living things with her own hands. It was the one place inside the palace where the silence left behind by Zuko's absence became just a little easier to bear. Unfortunately, peace within the royal gardens rarely lasted very long.
A palace attendant appeared at the entrance, patiently waiting until Iris noticed his presence before offering a respectful bow. "My apologies for disturbing you, Fire Lady."
Iris looked up from the flowerbed, gently brushing the loose soil from her hands. "Yes?"
"The Royal Council has assembled. The ministers are awaiting your arrival."
Around her, several of the gardeners exchanged knowing smiles. They had grown accustomed to these interruptions over the past several months. More often than not, Iris managed little more than an hour among the flowers before palace affairs inevitably reclaimed her.
She sighed with quiet resignation as she rose to her feet. "I suppose flowers are considerably more patient than ministers."
Soft laughter spread throughout the garden.
"They certainly complain less," one of the older gardeners remarked.
"And they never argue over trade agreements," another added.
"I'll remember that the next time the council becomes difficult."
That earned another round of chuckles.
She returned the small trowel with a grateful smile before dusting the remaining dirt from her sleeves. "I'll be back later this afternoon."
"You always will," the elderly gardener replied warmly.
"I have to make sure Yuki doesn't overwater the lilies again," Iris teased.
The young gardener immediately protested. "It happened once!"
"It happened twice," another gardener corrected.
"I've learned my lesson."
"I certainly hope so."
The laughter followed Iris as she left the gardens, gradually fading behind her while the scent of damp earth and blooming jasmine gave way to polished marble corridors and the quiet rhythm of palace life. Servants hurried past carrying scrolls destined for various ministries. Messengers crossed the hall with sealed correspondence from distant provinces. Palace guards saluted as she passed, each acknowledging her presence with growing familiarity.
The Fire Lady who laughed among flowers slowly disappeared. By the time the towering doors of the Royal Council Chamber came into view, only the woman entrusted with governing the Fire Nation in her husband's absence remained. The guards pushed open the heavy doors. The conversations inside immediately subsided. Nearly two dozen ministers and councilmen occupied their usual seats surrounding the great circular table. Maps stretched across one wall depicting every province under Fire Nation authority, while stacks of military reports, financial records, diplomatic correspondence, and provincial petitions covered nearly every available surface.
At the head of the chamber stood the Fire Lord's throne. Empty. It had become an increasingly familiar sight. Instead of occupying Zuko's seat, Iris walked toward the chair positioned beside it, exactly where she had sat since the Fire Lord began accompanying Avatar Aang across the Four Nations. The first few meetings had been... difficult. Not because she lacked the Fire Lord's authority. Because she had not yet earned the council's confidence.
Several ministers had questioned whether the Fire Lady possessed enough political experience to oversee matters of state. Others quietly wondered whether someone born beyond the Fire Nation nobility could truly understand its people. None had challenged Zuko directly. They had simply waited until the Fire Lord departed before testing the woman he left behind. Weeks later, they no longer questioned why she sat beside the throne. Not because Iris demanded obedience. Because she had earned it.
"Good morning, Fire Lady," the council greeted together.
She inclined her head politely. "Good morning, gentlemen. Shall we begin?"
The Minister of Finance stepped forward first, placing several bound ledgers before her. "Our first matter concerns the eastern trade routes."
He unrolled a large map across the table, revealing several ports marked in red ink. "The repeated attacks upon merchant convoys have significantly disrupted trade throughout the eastern sea. Representatives from Yu Dao and several independent merchants have submitted a joint petition requesting temporary reductions on import tariffs until the shipping lanes are secured."
"They're asking far too much," another minister immediately objected. "The royal treasury has already suffered enough losses."
"The merchants have suffered considerably more," another countered.
"If we reduce tariffs now, provincial revenues will fall even further."
"If we refuse, they'll simply dock elsewhere."
"They won't abandon Fire Nation ports over temporary difficulties."
"They already have."
The discussion rapidly expanded until multiple ministers spoke at once, each defending his own proposal with increasing conviction. Iris remained silent. She allowed every opinion to be heard before calmly raising a single hand. The chamber gradually quieted.
She studied the reports for another moment before looking toward the Minister of Finance. "Minister..."
"Yes, Fire Lady?"
"How much revenue would the treasury lose if we approve their request?"
He glanced through several ledgers. "Approximately six percent over the next two months."
"And how much revenue has already been lost because merchant vessels have avoided the eastern ports?"
The minister paused. "...Slightly more than four percent."
"So if we refuse..." Her gaze slowly swept across the council. "...there is a possibility we lose both the tariffs and the merchants."
Silence settled across the chamber.
An elderly councilman folded his hands together. "With respect, Fire Lady, merchants are practical people. Once these attacks end, they'll return."
Iris met his eyes without the slightest trace of irritation. "Would you?"
The minister blinked.
"If another nation offered safer ports, lower tariffs, and more reliable trade..." She tilted her head ever so slightly. "...would you choose loyalty or profit?"
The old man hesitated.
She rose from her chair and walked toward the map. "The merchants did not create this crisis." Her fingertips traced the vulnerable shipping routes. "They have continued trading with us despite losing ships, cargo, and crews."
She looked back toward the council. "If we expect them to shoulder every burden alone while we continue governing as though nothing has changed..." Her voice remained gentle. "...then we are asking for trust without first extending our own."
No one interrupted. Even the ministers who disagreed found themselves quietly considering her reasoning.
The Minister of Finance adjusted his spectacles before speaking again. "A temporary reduction... limited to the affected ports... with a fixed expiration date..." He nodded slowly. "...would likely recover the losses before the end of the fiscal year."
Another minister spoke. "It would also encourage merchants to keep using Fire Nation ports rather than seeking alternatives."
One by one, objections dissolved into discussion.
The elderly councilman who had challenged her first eventually inclined his head. "I withdraw my concerns."
Iris smiled softly. "There is no need. We all seek the same outcome. We simply approach it from different directions."
The tension within the chamber eased considerably.
One of the senior ministers leaned back in his chair before chuckling to himself. "I suppose I owe the Fire Lord an apology."
Several councilmen looked toward him. "When His Majesty first informed us of his marriage..." the old minister admitted with an embarrassed smile, "...I assumed he'd made the decision with his heart."
A few ministers exchanged awkward glances, evidently remembering similar private conversations.
The old man continued. "It appears His Majesty also married someone remarkably capable."
A younger councilman laughed. "Remarkably capable? I think the Fire Lord accidentally married someone who negotiates better than half of us."
That finally broke the remaining formality. Laughter echoed throughout the council chamber. Even several ministers who had once questioned her abilities found themselves smiling.
A faint blush warmed Iris's cheeks. "I sincerely hope no one repeats that when His Majesty returns."
"And why not?" another minister asked with a grin.
She laughed quietly. "Because my husband would become unbearably smug."
The room erupted once again. For a brief moment, the council chamber no longer felt burdened by reports, politics, or endless responsibilities. Somewhere beyond the horizon, the Fire Lord stood beside the Avatar protecting the Fire Nation from threats beyond its borders. Within the Capital... His wife quietly ensured there would still be a nation waiting for him when he finally came home.
The days continued to pass with remarkable consistency. One council meeting gave way to another. Reports arrived from every corner of the Fire Nation in seemingly endless stacks, while governors, merchants, military officers, and foreign dignitaries came and went through the palace with such regularity that Iris gradually stopped noticing the passage of time altogether. Each morning began before sunrise, each evening ended long after the palace lanterns had been lit, and somewhere between those hours she quietly assumed every responsibility Zuko had entrusted to her before leaving alongside Avatar Aang.
The ministers gradually stopped referring to matters as those requiring the Fire Lord's immediate attention. Instead, they simply brought them directly to the Fire Lady. At first, the adjustment had felt almost uncomfortable. Now it had simply become routine. Although Iris rarely admitted it aloud, there were evenings when she found herself smiling at the thought that Zuko would probably panic if he returned home to discover just how efficiently the palace functioned without him. The smile never lasted very long.
Every night, regardless of how exhausting the day had been, the royal chambers remained painfully quiet. The candles burned exactly as they always had. The balcony overlooked the same brilliant lights stretching across the Capital below. The servants still prepared tea before retiring for the evening. Only one thing remained absent. Him.
Letters arrived whenever circumstances allowed. Sometimes the messenger hawks delivered them only a few days apart. Other times more than a week passed without a single word, leaving Iris to wonder where Team Avatar had been sent this time and whether Zuko had managed to find time to sleep between one crisis and the next.
His letters were rarely long.
We're safe.
Another mission came up before we could return.
Uncle was right. Sokka still complains more than anyone else.
I miss you.
Those three words somehow occupied more space inside her heart than entire pages ever could. It was perhaps because of those increasingly irregular letters that one particular visitor appeared at the palace gates several weeks later.
The announcement reached Iris while she was reviewing another stack of provincial reports inside her study. "General Iroh has arrived."
A smile immediately spread across her face before she had fully realized it. "Please show him in."
The doors had barely finished opening before the familiar warmth of his presence filled the room. "There you are."
Iris rose from her chair almost immediately. "Uncle."
Before she could properly bow, Iroh had already opened his arms, embracing her with the same effortless affection he had shown ever since welcoming her into their family. The embrace was gentle, comforting, and wonderfully familiar in a palace that often felt far too large whenever Zuko was away.
"My dear girl," he said warmly as he stepped back, studying her face with the careful attention only Iroh seemed capable of giving. "You have been working far too hard."
Iris laughed softly, although there was a noticeable weariness behind it. "I could say the same about your nephew."
"I was planning to."
His smile remained, though concern quietly settled behind his eyes as he noticed the stacks of reports covering nearly every corner of the room. Scrolls occupied her desk, additional ledgers rested upon nearby tables, and several unopened documents still waited patiently beside the window.
"So..." he said at last, looking from the paperwork back to Iris. "He truly left the entire nation with you."
"He insisted it was only temporary."
"And temporary appears to have lasted several weeks."
She gave a helpless shrug. "Every time one mission ends, another begins before he has the chance to return."
"I suspected as much." Iroh slowly lowered himself into the chair opposite hers before releasing a thoughtful sigh. "I waited in the Jasmine Dragon expecting my nephew to appear at any moment demanding tea." A fond smile crossed his face. "Instead, another messenger hawk arrived informing me that he had already departed with Avatar Aang again."
He looked at Iris with unmistakable affection. "So I decided that if Zuko insists on running across the Four Nations solving everyone's problems..." His eyes drifted toward the endless collection of reports surrounding her. "...then someone ought to make certain he hasn't left his wife carrying the rest of them alone."
For a moment, Iris simply stared at him. "You came all the way to the Capital... just to check on me?"
Iroh looked genuinely puzzled by the question. "Of course." His answer carried the same quiet certainty he always possessed whenever speaking of family. "You are my niece, Iris. Whether my nephew happens to be standing beside you or halfway across the world makes no difference to me."
Something tightened quietly inside her chest. She had spent so much of the past several weeks ensuring that everyone else was cared for that she had almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone worrying about her instead. Iroh seemed to recognize the emotion immediately, though, as always, he chose not to draw attention to it. Instead, he reached for the teapot resting upon the warming tray beside the window and began pouring two cups of fragrant jasmine tea with practiced ease.
"I believe," he said, sliding one cup toward her with an amused smile, "that the Fire Nation is capable of surviving one afternoon without either of us solving its problems."
Iris accepted the cup with a quiet laugh. "I certainly hope so."
"It survived my brother."
"It barely survived your nephew."
Iroh laughed heartily. "Ah, yes. That sounds considerably more accurate."
The room gradually settled into a comfortable silence as steam rose gently between them. Outside the study, palace officials continued hurrying through the corridors carrying reports that would undoubtedly still be waiting when Iris returned. For the first time in weeks… She allowed herself to leave them there.
The afternoon that followed unfolded at an unhurried pace. Although Iris had every intention of returning to the mountain of reports waiting upon her desk after finishing her tea, Iroh seemed remarkably determined to prevent that from happening. He glanced toward the neatly stacked scrolls before looking back at her with an expression of complete innocence.
"Tell me," he said, taking another sip of jasmine tea, "has my nephew taught you how to play Pai Sho yet?"
Iris blinked. "...we played a little."
Iroh sighed dramatically. "I leave him alone for a few months, and he neglects his responsibilities."
She laughed. "I was under the impression his responsibilities involved governing the Fire Nation."
"They do." He nodded thoughtfully. "But teaching one's wife Pai Sho is certainly among them."
"I'll be sure to inform him."
"Oh, please do." His eyes twinkled with unmistakable amusement. "I would like to hear how he attempts to defend himself."
A servant quietly entered the study carrying a polished Pai Sho board before carefully placing it between them. Iris stared at the board before looking back toward Iroh. "You planned this."
"I had hoped." He smiled without the slightest hint of guilt. "I suspected you might try returning to work before sunset."
"I was going to."
"I know." He gently arranged several white tiles upon his side of the board. "Which is precisely why I asked the servants to prepare this before I arrived."
Iris shook her head, unable to suppress another smile. "You've become terribly clever."
"I've always been clever." He placed another tile. "I simply hide it beneath tea."
The game began slowly. Whenever Iris hesitated over where to place a tile, Iroh patiently explained the reasoning without ever making her feel as though she were being taught. Before long, the conversation wandered naturally between strategy, palace life, and the seemingly endless responsibilities that accompanied the royal family.
"So," Iroh said after several turns, "how many ministers attempted to frighten you during your first council meeting?"
She laughed outright. "Only four."
"Only?"
"The fifth apologized before he had the chance."
"I see my nephew underestimated you."
"I think they underestimated both of us."
"That sounds considerably more likely." He studied the board before placing another tile. "I heard Minister Hanzo attempted to argue with you over provincial funding."
"He did."
"And?"
"He lost."
Iroh smiled knowingly. "I expected as much."
"He argued for nearly half an hour."
"And you?"
"I listened." She moved one of her own tiles. "Then I asked him how his proposal would affect the farmers in the southern provinces."
Iroh looked up. "I imagine he hadn't considered them."
"He had not."
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
He nodded approvingly. "One of the most underrated talents a ruler can possess."
"My father always said the same thing."
"He was a wise man."
"He mostly said it because my mother talked more than he did."
That earned a warm laugh from Iroh. "Your father and I would have become good friends."
"I think so too."
The conversation drifted again. They spoke about the palace gardens, and Iris admitted that half the gardeners now insisted she spent more time with them than the flowers themselves.
"They're beginning to give me advice."
"On gardening?"
"On marriage."
Iroh nearly laughed into his tea. "Oh?"
"Apparently I should stop worrying whenever Zuko disappears on another mission because 'that poor boy already worries enough for two people.'"
He smiled knowingly. "Wise gardeners."
"They also believe he forgets to eat."
"They are correct."
She shook her head, laughing softly. "I sometimes wonder whether the entire palace has quietly decided to adopt us."
"They have." Iroh's answer came without hesitation. "The palace watched Zuko grow from a frightened little boy into the Fire Lord." His expression softened. "They have been waiting a very long time to see him happy."
The smile lingering on Iris's face gradually became gentler. "I hope they think he is."
"I know they do." He looked at her for a long moment before adding quietly, "I do too."
Silence settled comfortably between them as the game continued.
After several more turns, Iroh rested another tile upon the board before speaking again. "My dear..." His voice remained as warm as ever. " I have noticed something."
Iris looked up.
"You smile whenever someone mentions my nephew."
She smiled again without realizing it.
"And yet..." His gaze remained kind rather than probing. "...the moment the conversation ends..." He watched her carefully. "...your eyes always wander toward the palace gates."
The room fell quiet. Iris lowered her gaze to the Pai Sho board. She hadn't realized anyone had noticed. Of course… Iroh had. He always did.
*I tagged all who followed my blog and who often react to my posts. Message to remove or add tag
A/N:
Thank you for staying with Worthwhile. ❤️
Sometimes I still can't believe we've reached this point. Looking back, the chapters until Iris's Origins were really just the introduction. The story is only now beginning to unfold.
I'll admit something personal. There were moments when I almost stopped posting this fic altogether. Writing an OC paired with Zuko isn't exactly the safest choice, and over the past few months I've received my share of dismissive comments about the pairing. Recently, someone even pointed out that after fourteen chapters and nearly 100k words, the story hadn't reached 2,000 hits, and compared it to "a bad cup of tea with only a few fans."
For a moment, those words got to me.
Then I looked back at the comments many of you have left. The long discussions, the theories, the excitement, the laughter, and even the emotional reactions to these characters reminded me why I started writing Worthwhile in the first place.
I'd much rather write a story that a smaller group of readers genuinely loves than chase numbers by writing something that isn't from my heart.
So if you're one of those readers who keeps coming back every chapter, leaving a comment, sharing a theory, or simply reading quietly... thank you. Truly. You're the reason this story continued instead of ending much earlier than I originally planned.
I hope you'll continue walking this journey with Zuko, Iris, and the rest of Team Avatar. We've only just begun.
WORTHWHILE - Chapter 24: The World Still Needs Them
Fandom : Avatar the Last Airbender (ATLA)
Pairing : Zuko x Fem. OC
Tags : Romance, 10 years after war, Emotional Anchor, Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fire Nation Politics, Team Avatar conflicts
Worthwhile Masterlist
AO3 : Worthwhile by Allhaillordzuko
Status : WIP/ On goingㅣRating : General/Mature
**Summary: The war is over, but peace proves far more fragile than anyone imagined. As the world struggles to heal from a century of conflict, Zuko finds himself caught between the responsibilities of a Fire Lord, a member of Team Avatar, and a husband trying to build a life he rarely has time to live
The first year of Zuko and Iris' marriage was not peaceful. At least, not in the way either of them had quietly imagined during the darkest days of the war. The war itself had ended. Fire Lord Ozai had been defeated and imprisoned beneath the Capital, the colonies had begun the slow and painful process of rebuilding their fractured identities, and the Four Nations had finally lowered the weapons that had defined an entire century. Roads were repaired one village at a time. Burned ports reopened to merchant vessels. Families who had spent decades separated by battle lines cautiously found one another again, each carrying wounds that would require years—perhaps generations—to truly heal.
Yet peace after a hundred years of relentless conflict proved to be an incredibly delicate thing. It resembled cracked porcelain painstakingly pieced back together—beautiful from a distance, yet threatening to splinter apart beneath the slightest careless touch. Entire generations had grown up knowing nothing except war. Hatred had become tradition. Suspicion had become instinct. Although the battles had ended, resentment lingered across every nation like smoke that refused to leave long after the fire itself had burned out.
As Fire Lord, Zuko quickly discovered that ending the war had only been the beginning of his responsibilities. From sunrise until long after sunset, he buried himself beneath endless council meetings, reconstruction proposals, diplomatic correspondence, and disputes that had somehow survived generations of rulers before finally reaching his throne. Noble families challenged land reforms. Provincial governors pleaded for resources the royal treasury struggled to provide. Military commanders found themselves attempting to redefine their purpose in an era where conquest was no longer celebrated, but condemned. Every decision carried consequences, and every compromise left someone dissatisfied.
Still, the Fire Nation was not the only place demanding his attention. Before he accepted the throne, Zuko had also accepted another responsibility—the promise he had made to Avatar Aang during the final days of the war. Protecting peace did not end with Fire Lord Ozai's defeat. If anything, it had become even more difficult. The threats they now faced wore no uniforms. They hid within fractured communities, former military factions unwilling to surrender, criminal organizations profiting from instability, and extremists from every nation who refused to believe the world could move forward without another war.
Whenever diplomacy failed, Team Avatar answered together. That first year of Zuko and Iris' marriage, those summons came far too often. Sometimes they investigated merchant vessels disappearing along the Earth Kingdom coastline before their cargo could reach the rapidly growing settlement that would one day become Republic City. Other times they dismantled smuggling operations trafficking stolen military explosives, tracked down rogue commanders attempting to rebuild old armies, or mediated violent conflicts that threatened to ignite into something far larger. Every mission seemed to uncover another. Every victory revealed another corner of the world still struggling beneath the long shadow cast by the Hundred Year War.
Gradually, the rhythm of their marriage settled into something neither of them had expected. Whenever another messenger hawk arrived bearing Aang's seal, Zuko would quietly excuse himself from whatever council meeting occupied his day before making his way through the palace in search of Iris. Over the following months, he always found her eventually.
Sometimes she sat surrounded by towering stacks of books inside the royal library, so completely absorbed in reading that she failed to notice him until his shadow fell across the pages. Other mornings she wandered through the palace gardens before the sun had fully risen, kneeling beside elderly gardeners while asking endless questions about herbs, fruit trees, and flowers she had never seen growing in the Earth Kingdom. On quieter afternoons, he occasionally found her sitting beside the koi pond with parchment balanced across her lap, sketching ideas or writing letters she rarely allowed anyone else to read.
No matter where she happened to be, however, she always seemed to recognize the expression on his face before he spoke a single word. "You have to leave again."
It was never asked as a question. Only a quiet acknowledgment of the life they had both accepted the day he became a member of Team Avatar once again. Each time, guilt settled a little deeper inside Zuko's chest. He had imagined their first year of marriage very differently. He had imagined learning the small routines that came with sharing a life together—sharing breakfast without a council meeting waiting, taking evening walks through the palace gardens, falling asleep beside her without wondering whether another emergency would summon him across the world before dawn.
Instead, he found himself apologizing far more often than he ever expected. "I'm sorry," he murmured quietly.
Iris simply smiled, though the faint sadness lingering behind her eyes never escaped his notice. "You don't have to apologize."
Then, as though it had become another part of their routine, she stepped closer and helped fasten the leather straps securing his traveling armor. Her fingers carefully adjusted the collar beneath the armor where it had folded unevenly before brushing away a loose strand of dark hair that had fallen across his forehead.
Only after she was satisfied did she look up at him. "Come home safely."
Zuko gently rested his forehead against hers, allowing himself a single quiet moment before duty inevitably pulled him away once more. "I always will."
Whether he truly believed those words, he could never quite tell. A few hours later, the familiar silhouette of Appa cut steadily through the endless blue sky, carrying Team Avatar far beyond the borders of the Fire Nation. Beneath them, the sea stretched toward the horizon in brilliant shades of sapphire, broken only by scattered islands and the occasional merchant vessel drifting lazily across the waves. At first glance, the world below appeared almost peaceful. It was an illusion.
Sokka lowered the spyglass from his eye, his usually relaxed expression becoming noticeably more serious as the distant coastline slowly came into view. "There."
He pointed toward a narrow harbor tucked between towering cliffs, where thick columns of black smoke climbed steadily into the afternoon sky. "They're already attacking."
Every conversation stopped. Zuko shifted his attention toward the shoreline as Appa descended through the clouds, and the scene unfolding beneath them immediately erased whatever hope he had carried during the journey. Flames had already begun spreading from one merchant vessel to another, while terrified civilians scattered through the harbor carrying whatever belongings they could salvage before the fire reached them. The sharp sound of collapsing timber echoed even from high above as another section of the docks gave way beneath the growing blaze.
Aang's expression hardened. "We're too late to stop the attack."
Katara shook her head, already drawing water from the sea below as ribbons of it spiraled upward around her arms. "No," she answered firmly. "But we're still in time to stop them."
The village had not been entirely defenseless. A detachment of Kyoshi Warriors escorting nearby relief shipments had reached the harbor shortly after the attack began. Though badly outnumbered, they had managed to establish evacuation routes through the burning streets, buying just enough time for Appa’s distant silhouette to finally appear overhead. Appa had not even fully landed before Aang launched himself into the air, riding a powerful current of wind toward the burning harbor while Katara sprinted toward the shoreline, directing massive streams of seawater over the spreading flames. Beside them, Toph leaped from Appa's saddle, her feet striking the earth with enough force to send thick walls of stone surging upward between the fleeing civilians and the advancing attackers. Sokka immediately began directing the evacuation alongside Suki and the Kyoshi Warriors, who scattered through the narrow streets with practiced precision, guiding frightened families away from the fighting while cutting off every obvious escape route the smugglers might attempt to use.
Zuko scarcely hesitated before throwing himself into the battle alongside them. Duty had once again carried him hundreds of miles away from home. And somewhere beyond the endless horizon, Iris had already begun another day without him.
The moment Zuko's boots struck the weathered wooden pier, the familiar rhythm of battle settled over him almost instinctively. Shouts echoed throughout the harbor as terrified civilians scrambled away from the burning docks, clutching frightened children and whatever belongings they had managed to salvage before the flames consumed everything else. Thick black smoke rolled heavily across the sky, carrying with it the sharp scent of burning timber, saltwater, and oil. Merchant vessels strained violently against their moorings while fire crept relentlessly from one ship to another, threatening to engulf the entire harbor before the village had any hope of containing it.
Above him, powerful gusts of wind swept through the smoke as Aang darted effortlessly between collapsing rooftops, redirecting the flames away from densely populated sections of the village whenever he could. Katara stood knee-deep within the surf, her arms moving with practiced precision as enormous streams of seawater surged through the air before crashing onto the burning docks in great waves of hissing steam. Every few moments, another terrified villager emerged from the smoke, only to be hurried toward safety by Sokka, Suki, and several Kyoshi Warriors, who had already spread throughout the streets with remarkable efficiency.
Years of fighting beside one another had eliminated the need for elaborate strategy. Everyone simply knew where they were needed. Zuko's attention, however, remained fixed upon the largest cargo vessel slowly pulling away from the harbor. Its crew had taken advantage of the chaos, cutting loose their mooring lines while the village struggled merely to survive the attack they had unleashed. Crates bearing faded military markings were stacked carelessly across the deck, partially concealed beneath heavy canvas sheets that had already begun catching stray embers drifting through the air.
From farther down the docks, where he was helping usher civilians toward safety, Sokka shouted, “They’re escaping!” His voice carried above the chaos as he deflected an attack from one of the smugglers attempting to break through the evacuation line. “Zuko!”
He did not need to be told twice. Fire burst beneath his feet as he launched himself across the widening stretch of water, landing heavily atop the enemy vessel with enough force to send several nearby men stumbling backward in surprise. The wooden deck groaned beneath the impact while loose embers scattered harmlessly into the sea around them. Silence settled over the ship for only the briefest of moments. Every pair of eyes turned toward him. Recognition spread almost immediately. Not because of the burn scar crossing the left side of his face. Because of who he was. Even dressed in simple traveling armor rather than his ceremonial robes, there was no mistaking the young man standing before them.
"Fire Lord Zuko..."
The words were spoken almost involuntarily by one of the younger soldiers standing near the mast. Zuko slowly looked around the deck, and with every face he recognized, the familiar ache inside his chest quietly returned. These were not ordinary criminals. Their uniforms, though worn and weathered by time, still bore faded insignias belonging to the Fire Nation Navy. Several men carried themselves with the disciplined posture of trained soldiers rather than common bandits, while others instinctively maintained defensive formations despite the obvious disorder spreading around them. Many had likely spent years serving beneath his grandfather or father, believing without question that every battle they fought had been for the glory of their homeland. Now the war had ended. The world had changed. But they had not.
"You don't have to continue this," Zuko called, keeping his voice calm despite the growing tension surrounding him. "The war is over. Whatever you're fighting for now, it isn't the Fire Nation."
Several men exchanged uncertain glances. One older sailor slowly lowered the spear clutched tightly within his hands. Another's grip around his sword visibly loosened. For a single hopeful heartbeat, Zuko believed they might actually surrender. Then someone stepped forward from the rear of the ship. The officer was considerably older than the others, his once-pristine naval armor dulled by rust and years of neglect. Deep scars stretched across one side of his weathered face, and although age had begun bending his shoulders ever so slightly, there remained nothing uncertain about the hatred burning within his eyes.
"You dare lecture us about loyalty?" the older man spat, his voice thick with contempt. "After everything you threw away?"
No one moved. The entire deck seemed to hold its breath.
"You surrendered a century of sacrifice to our enemies." The officer took another step forward, pointing accusingly toward Zuko. "You abandoned the colonies. You disgraced your father's legacy. You handed victory to the Avatar and called it peace."
His words hung heavily between them. Zuko had heard them before. Not from strangers. From members of his own court. From former generals. From nobles who still whispered that Fire Lord Ozai should never have been defeated. Even now, months after the war had ended, there remained countless people who viewed him not as the ruler who had saved the Fire Nation from itself, but as the prince who had betrayed everything they believed their nation should have been.
He drew a slow, measured breath. "My father's legacy," Zuko answered quietly, "left children without parents in every nation of the world."
The older officer's expression darkened. "Peace came for everyone except us."
For the first time, genuine anger slipped into Zuko's voice. "It taught an entire generation that strength could only come through conquest. It taught us to measure our worth by how many people feared us." His amber eyes swept across the faces surrounding him. "Is that truly the nation you still want to fight for?"
Silence answered him. Not because they agreed. Because they were thinking. Zuko recognized that hesitation. He had lived it himself. Not so many years ago, he would have stood exactly where they were standing now, defending his father's vision of the Fire Nation without ever questioning whether it was right. That realization never stopped hurting. Unfortunately, someone else had no intention of allowing the conversation to continue.
The older officer's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. "Enough." Steel rang sharply as the blade left its scabbard. "He may wear the crown..." The officer lowered himself into a fighting stance. "...but he is no Fire Lord of mine."
Around him, hesitation finally shattered. One after another, swords slid free. The battle began.
The first man reached him before the others. His sword cut cleanly through the smoke-filled air, aimed directly toward Zuko's shoulder with the speed and precision of someone who had spent years drilling the same strike beneath Fire Nation instructors. Zuko pivoted smoothly, allowing the blade to pass only inches from his chest before redirecting it aside with a swift movement of his forearm. Fire blossomed from his opposite hand almost simultaneously, forcing the soldier backward without inflicting unnecessary harm. The blast struck the wooden deck instead, erupting into a shower of sparks that separated them before either could press the attack.
Almost immediately, two more soldiers rushed forward. Zuko's feet shifted instinctively into a familiar stance—one Uncle Iroh had patiently drilled into him countless times until every movement had become second nature. A sweeping arc of flame spiraled outward from both hands, driving the attackers apart before he stepped between them, striking the hilt of one man's sword hard enough to send the weapon skidding across the deck.
"Enough!" he called, his voice carrying above the clamor of battle surrounding the harbor. "I don't want to fight you."
The words reached them. He could see it. Several soldiers hesitated once again, their expressions wavering beneath the uncertainty that had never completely disappeared. They were veterans. They recognized discipline. They understood command. Even after years of resentment, old instincts remained difficult to silence when the order came from the Fire Lord himself.
The older officer saw that hesitation as well. "Don't listen to him!" he roared, shoving one of the younger soldiers forward with enough force to nearly send the man stumbling. "He's forgotten what it means to fight for this nation!"
"No," Zuko answered firmly, his gaze never leaving the officer. "I finally remembered."
The officer's expression twisted with fury. "You sound just like the Avatar."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Without another word, the older man attacked. Unlike the younger soldiers surrounding him, years had not dulled his technique. His blade cut through the air with surprising speed, forcing Zuko to retreat several steps across the deck as sparks erupted each time steel met fire. The officer fought with the relentless aggression of someone who had survived decades upon countless battlefields, leaving almost no opening to exploit. Every strike carried the weight of years spent believing absolute victory justified every sacrifice demanded to achieve it.
For a brief moment, the harbor around them seemed to disappear. There was only the clash of steel. The roar of flames. And two generations of the Fire Nation colliding upon the deck of a stolen ship. Behind them, the rest of Team Avatar continued fighting with practiced coordination. Aang swept through the smoke overhead, using powerful currents of wind to scatter burning debris before it could crash into nearby homes. Katara had already extinguished most of the fires consuming the eastern docks, redirecting the seawater into towering waves that blocked several smugglers attempting to flee through the harbor. Along the shoreline, Sokka and Suki fought back-to-back with the effortless rhythm born from years of trusting one another completely, while the Kyoshi Warriors systematically disarmed the remaining attackers before binding their hands with practiced efficiency. Toph, meanwhile, had trapped nearly an entire group of smugglers beneath thick walls of earth that rose from the ground faster than any of them could react.
Everything was unfolding exactly as they had trained for. Everything except this. The older officer drove Zuko backward until the edge of the ship pressed against the backs of his legs.
"There!" the man shouted triumphantly. "You hesitate!"
"I do."
The admission seemed to catch him completely off guard.
Zuko met the officer's stunned expression without raising his guard. "I hesitate because every person standing on this ship is part of the nation I'm trying to rebuild."
For the briefest instant, the older man's sword faltered.
"I don't want more Fire Nation families mourning family members who should have survived the war." Zuko's voice remained calm. Steady. Almost pleading. "The fighting is over."
The officer's grip tightened once more. "No." His answer came quietly this time.
Before either of them could move again, an enormous gust of wind tore across the deck. Having finished helping evacuate the civilians, Aang landed gracefully between them, his staff already held defensively across his body as loose ropes and torn canvas whipped violently around the ship. "Zuko!" he called without taking his eyes off the remaining soldiers. "The harbor's secure!"
Almost as if the words themselves signaled the end of the battle, the sounds surrounding them began changing. The desperate cries of civilians gradually faded. The fires consuming the docks had nearly all been extinguished. One after another, smugglers lowered their weapons as they realized every escape route had already been blocked. Along the shoreline, Kyoshi Warriors escorted groups of prisoners toward the waiting village guards while Sokka coordinated the recovery of the stolen cargo. Several merchant sailors emerged cautiously from hiding, staring in disbelief at the crates now being unloaded from the captured vessel—medicine, grain, construction tools, and supplies that countless villages had believed were lost forever.
The older officer slowly looked around him. For the first time since the battle began, the certainty in his expression cracked. They had lost. Not because Team Avatar had overwhelmed them with greater strength. But because they had protected the very people his men had endangered. His shoulders seemed to sag beneath the weight of that realization. The sword slipped quietly from his hand before striking the deck with a dull metallic clang. Around him, the remaining soldiers followed. One after another. Until the only sounds left were the crashing waves against the hull and the weary sighs of men who had finally accepted that the war they refused to let go had truly come to an end.
The operation continued well into the evening. By the time the last fire had finally been extinguished, the harbor no longer resembled the battlefield Team Avatar had arrived to only hours earlier. Villagers emerged cautiously from temporary shelters to inspect what remained of their homes, while local fishermen worked alongside Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom sailors alike to secure the damaged ships before the incoming tide could carry them farther out to sea. Smoke still drifted lazily across the water, softening the crimson glow of the setting sun into muted shades of orange and gold.
The stolen cargo was gradually unloaded beneath Sokka's supervision. One crate after another was pried open, revealing sacks of grain, preserved food, medical herbs, construction tools, and replacement machinery intended for settlements surrounding the future site of Republic City. As more supplies were recovered, the expressions on the villagers' faces slowly shifted from disbelief to quiet relief.
"So they really were stealing relief shipments," Katara murmured as she watched several healers carefully inspect bundles of medicinal herbs that had narrowly escaped the fire.
Sokka nodded, checking another inventory list before making several notes along the margin. "And this isn't even the first shipment." His voice remained heavy with frustration. "Judging by these records, they've been intercepting supply vessels for months."
"Which means there are probably more groups like this."
Everyone turned toward Zuko. He stood near the edge of the harbor with his arms folded across his chest, watching the captured soldiers being escorted toward temporary holding cells prepared by the local authorities. The older officer walked among them in complete silence, his wrists bound behind his back, his gaze fixed firmly upon the ground. Whatever anger had fueled him throughout the battle seemed to have vanished, leaving only quiet exhaustion in its place.
Aang stepped beside Zuko, following his line of sight. "You think this wasn't an isolated operation."
Zuko slowly shook his head. "No." His answer came without hesitation. "If these men managed to organize this much on their own, someone supplied them. Someone financed them. Someone convinced former soldiers from different units to work together again." He released a slow breath, his eyes lingering on the weathered uniforms worn by the prisoners. "This was planned."
Silence settled briefly between them.
Sokka eventually folded the inventory scroll closed with a sigh. "I hate it when you're right."
"I hate being right." Zuko lowered his gaze.
Toph snorted as she brushed dirt from her hands. "Well, congratulations to both of you."
Despite everything that had happened, a faint smile briefly tugged at the corner of Katara's lips. Somehow, even after the longest missions, Toph always found a way to lighten the mood. Unfortunately, the relief lasted only a moment.
One of the White Lotus messengers assigned to accompany Team Avatar hurried across the harbor carrying a sealed message tube. "Avatar Aang."
Aang accepted the scroll with a puzzled expression before breaking the wax seal. As his eyes moved steadily across the parchment, the smile gradually disappeared from his face.
Sokka noticed immediately. "...What is it?"
Aang remained silent for another moment before lowering the scroll. "We've received another report."
Toph groaned loudly enough for several nearby villagers to glance in their direction. "Seriously?"
Katara pinched the bridge of her nose. "We just finished this one."
"The White Lotus confirmed another attack." Aang looked toward Zuko before continuing. "This time near the western colonies."
Nobody spoke. The exhaustion hanging over the group suddenly became far heavier.
Suki quietly crossed her arms. "How long would it take us to get there?"
"If we leave tonight," Aang answered, "Appa can have us there by tomorrow afternoon."
Sokka let out a slow breath. "So we don't even have time to sleep."
"Apparently not." Toph threw both hands into the air. "I miss retirement."
"You've been saying that since yesterday," Katara replied with a tired smile.
"And I'll keep saying it until retirement actually lasts longer than five minutes."
Aang looked around at each of them. No one complained. No one argued. After everything they had endured together throughout the war, another mission was simply another responsibility waiting to be answered. Zuko glanced once more toward the fading horizon, where the last traces of sunlight disappeared beyond the sea. Somewhere far beyond those waters... Beyond the Earth Kingdom. Beyond Republic City. Beyond the countless miles stretching between nations... Iris was waiting for him. He had promised her he would come home safely. Instead, before he had even finished one mission, another had already begun.
*I tagged all who followed my blog and who often react to my posts. Message to remove or add tag
A/N : Once I mentioned that the plot had shifted, and to be completely honest… Chapters 1–12 were actually one very long introduction. 😅 Thank you so much for sticking with the story this far. From here onward, the mystery and the emotional core of the story really begin to unfold. I hope you enjoy what’s coming next, and as always, I’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback! ❤️
Fandom : Avatar the Last Airbender (ATLA)
Pairing : Zuko x Fem. OC
Tags : Romance, 10 years after war, Emotional Anchor, Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fire Nation Politics, Team Avatar conflicts
Worthwhile Masterlist
AO3 : Worthwhile by Allhaillordzuko
Status : WIP/ On goingㅣRating : General/Mature
**Summary: As long-hidden truths emerge from the frozen North, Iris finds herself caught between the echoes of her past and the life she has built. Some answers bring closure, while others redefine what it truly means to belong.
Disclaimer: This chapter is longer than usual, I tried to trim it but apparently I successfully failed.
Several evenings later, after the formal diplomatic duties had concluded, Ayla invited them privately into her traditional family home. The stone and ice house overlooked the frozen, dramatic shoreline near the high northern cliffs. Warm cedar smoke drifted through the air from the central hearth, while beautifully woven blue tapestries lined the walls beside carved whale bone ornaments and old, faded family portraits. The atmosphere felt deeply lived in. Old. Loved.
Iris sat quietly on a thick fur cushion beside the warm hearth while Ayla prepared traditional tea. For a while, the conversation remained light and comfortable. They discussed medicinal cultivation, the unpredictable northern weather patterns, and playful arguments about the proper root preservation temperatures.
Then eventually, Ayla's tone shifted, dropping into a soft, reverent register. "You remind me so much of my younger sister."
The entire room fell into a sudden, heavy stillness.
Ayla's gaze lowered toward the flickering firelight of the hearth. "Her name was Ila."
Something tightened immediately inside Iris' chest, her hands steadying her tea cup.
"She was one of the finest, most talented healers I've ever known in my life," Ayla continued quietly, a faraway look in her eyes. "Too gentle for her own good sometimes." A small, sad smile crossed her weathered face. "She tried healing injured seal-pups in the harbor when she was only six years old."
Several of the relatives sitting nearby laughed softly at the memory.
"She brought them right inside the house constantly," one older woman added, shaking her head with affection. "Our mother nearly lost her mind with the mess." "She eventually married a brilliant man named Kavik," Ayla continued, laying out the past.
At the mention of that name, Zuko's attention sharpened immediately, his posture straightening.
Ayla smiled faintly despite the heavy memories. "Kavik was... well," she paused briefly, searching for the word. "He was incredibly loud."
That earned another collective, genuine laugh from the gathered family.
"And stubborn," another older relative muttered into his drink.
"Extremely stubborn," Ayla agreed, nodding. "But an immense affection always lingered beneath his words. He was a remarkably, uniquely gifted waterbender." Her expression dimmed slightly afterward, the sadness returning. "He could sense water from impossible distances."
Zuko saw Iris go completely, utterly still beside him on her cushion.
Ayla’s voice continued softly, cutting through the silence. "He located vast underground springs beneath massive glaciers long before anyone else in the tribe even sensed they were there. Sometimes he predicted severe storms hours before they ever arrived on the horizon."
Fragments of hidden memory stirred painfully, violently behind Iris' eyes. She felt an absolute stillness. She felt water moving deep beneath thick ice sheets. She felt a deep, distant vibration rattling her bones. Then, it vanished.
Several of the relatives exchanged meaningful glances quietly across the room.
"Kavik firmly believed that the North should fight the Fire Nation raiders directly during the war," Ayla continued carefully, mindful of Zuko's presence. The cozy room's warmth seemed to dim slightly at the mention of the conflict. "He absolutely hated the tribe's strict policy of neutrality during the worst years of the war." Her fingers tightened faintly around her warm tea cup. "He argued constantly and fiercely with the chief council." A heavy pause filled the room. "Several years before the war finally ended, the political arguments became... significantly worse."
One of the older men sitting nearby sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. "Kavik openly accused the council of cowardice, of hiding in the ice while the Southern Water Tribe suffered and bled out."
Ayla nodded slowly. "The chief refused any military involvement. The confrontation ended violently."
"Kavik lost control of his emotions," the answer came softly from Ayla. "There was a physical fight in the council chambers." Ayla's expression grew incredibly distant now, staring into the flames. "Afterward, the council officially exiled him from the tribe forever."
The room became painfully, suffocatingly quiet.
"They exiled poor Ila too," another relative whispered bitterly from the corner.
Ayla closed her eyes briefly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "She stubbornly refused to leave his side. She loved him too much." A heavy pause. "And they took their young daughter with them into the wild."
Daughter. The single word echoed strangely, loudly inside Iris' chest, vibrating in her soul. Zuko remained completely still, watching her reaction closely.
Ayla's gaze lowered toward the fire, her voice trembling. "She was only five years old when they left."
Iris felt incredibly cold suddenly, despite the roaring fire right next to her. "What was her name?" she asked quietly, her voice barely a whisper.
Ayla looked toward her slowly, her eyes filled with a lifetime of unshed tears. "...Shina."
An absolute silence crashed through the room like an avalanche. Zuko saw Iris' fingers tighten faintly around her ceramic cup, the knuckles turning white.
Ayla continued softly, entirely unaware of the emotional storm building inside the room. "We never saw any of them ever again."
Something old, profound, and deeply painful moved through Iris' chest. It was not a specific, clear memory returning to her mind. It was simply the raw, aching feeling of a massive loss.
Then Zuko spoke quietly, breaking the spell. "There's something important you all should see."
Every single eye in the room turned toward him in surprise. Iris looked at him immediately, her eyes wide with unasked questions. Zuko gave her a small, deeply reassuring nod. Trust me.
After a long moment of hesitation, Iris slowly stood up from her cushion. The northern family followed them outside the house, walking toward the snowy cliffs that overlooked the frozen, endless shoreline below. The biting, cold wind swept fiercely across the jagged ice beneath the darkening northern sky. For several moments, nobody spoke a word.
Then quietly, Zuko turned to her. "Iris."
She understood exactly what he was asking of her. Slowly, Iris closed her eyes. The world around her became perfectly still. She let go of her fear, let go of her doubts, and reached deep down into her core. Then, the water answered her call.
Far below the high cliffs, the massive ocean shifted violently beneath the thick, frozen layers of surface ice. The snow trembled lightly across the ground around their boots while deep, powerful currents moved like living veins beneath the rocky shoreline. Iris tilted her head slightly to the side. Listening. She sensed the bustling harbor miles away. She mapped out the hidden underground rivers cutting through the rock. She felt the depth of the distant wells in the city. She tracked the moving water beneath the heavy stone foundations. She felt absolutely everything.
The northern family stared at her in stunned, breathless silence. Ayla covered her mouth slowly with trembling fingers, her eyes wide with shock. Because she had seen Kavik stand exactly like that before, with his head tilted to the side, listening to the water. Exactly like that. Iris opened her eyes slowly afterward, visibly unsettled and breathless by the sheer, terrifying scale of what she had just sensed. The silence that followed became almost unbearable.
Then quietly, Zuko spoke the truth out loud. "I think Iris might actually be Shina."
Nobody moved. Nobody even dared to breathe.
Zuko continued speaking carefully, laying out the timeline. "She remembers almost nothing of her childhood before she was found."
Ayla stared at Iris with widening, tear-filled eyes. Zuko's voice lowered slightly, filled with sympathy.
"My formal investigation confirmed that a waterbender couple disappeared into the Fire Nation territory a few years before the war ended."
The cold wind moved silently around them, whipping their cloaks.
Then, more quietly, Zuko delivered the final blow. "Kavik and Ila are dead."
The final words shattered whatever emotional restraint remained in the old healer. Ayla began crying immediately, the dam breaking. It was not a soft, quiet crying. It was twenty years of buried grief breaking apart all at once as she crossed the snow in a frantic rush and pulled Iris tightly into her arms, hugging her with all her remaining strength.
"Oh spirits..." her voice cracked violently against the wind. "Shina... my sweet Shina..."
Iris froze for one brief, disorienting second, her arms hanging at her sides. Then, she broke completely too. Because all her life, she had firmly believed she came from absolutely nowhere. She believed she had no real family, no true origins, and no surviving blood relations left on this earth. And suddenly, a woman was holding her in the snow like she had been deeply mourned and missed for twenty years.
"I'm so incredibly sorry," Ayla whispered repeatedly through her heavy tears, rocking her. "I should've stopped them from leaving the tribe... I should've done something to protect you all..."
Iris cried silently against her shoulder, burying her face in the thick blue fur. It wasn't because she fully, clearly remembered Ayla's face from her youth. It was because some deeply buried, broken part inside her recognized the profound feeling of safety anyway. Home. Or something painfully, beautifully close to it.
For a long moment, nobody said anything at all. The wind howled softly across the cliffs while the northern family stared at Iris as though afraid she might disappear if they blinked.
Then one of the older men finally cleared his throat. “…Does the Fire Nation know?”
The question broke the silence. Several heads immediately turned toward Zuko.
Ayla wiped hastily at her eyes. “About Shina,” she clarified softly. “About who she really is.”
Zuko glanced briefly toward Iris before answering. “No.”
The relatives exchanged surprised looks.
“No one outside a very small number of people knows,” Zuko continued calmly. “And I would strongly prefer it remains that way for now.”
Ayla frowned faintly. “You want to keep it a secret?”
“For the moment, yes.” Zuko declared reluctantly
The old healer studied him carefully. “Why?”
Zuko looked out toward the frozen sea before answering. “Because Iris has spent twenty years having other people decide who she is.” His voice remained steady. “The Fire Crow decided she was an asset. The world decided she was a mere healer from Kikusa. Various officials decided she was a political curiosity.”
His gaze shifted toward Iris. “I’m not interested in announcing her identity to the world before she’s had time to live with it herself.”
The northern family fell quiet.
“When the time is right,” Zuko continued, “the world will know eventually.” A faint shrug lifted one shoulder. “It’s not exactly the sort of thing that stays hidden forever.”
A few watery laughs escaped from the gathered relatives.
“But for now,” Zuko said firmly, “this belongs to Iris first.”
Ayla’s expression softened immediately. After a moment, she nodded. “That seems fair.”
Several of the others nodded in agreement.
Then Ayla tilted her head slightly. “Can I ask another question?”
Zuko instantly looked suspicious. “That depends entirely on the question.”
A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “When did you know she was a waterbender?”
Iris blinked.
Ayla folded her arms. “Before or after the wedding?”
The entire family seemed suddenly interested in the answer.
Zuko groaned quietly. “Oh, spirits.”
“That means before,” one elderly woman declared immediately.
“It absolutely means before,” another relative agreed.
Iris looked thoroughly entertained.
Zuko sighed the long-suffering sigh of a man who had somehow become the target of an interrogation. “Yes,” he admitted. “I knew.”
Ayla’s eyebrows shot upward. “You knew she was a waterbender and married her anyway?”
Zuko stared at her. There was a beat of silence. Finally he said, completely deadpan, “Well, it would’ve been rather difficult not to notice.”
Several relatives burst out laughing.
“How?” one younger man demanded.
Zuko looked genuinely offended by the question. “She carries water everywhere.”
Iris gasped. “I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I carry medicinal supplies.”
“Which somehow always includes water.”
“That’s because water is useful.”
The northern relatives laughed harder. Even Ayla covered her mouth to hide a smile. Then her expression softened.
“And you never had any reservations?” she asked quietly.
The humor faded. Zuko looked toward Iris. The answer came immediately. “No.”
The wind swept softly across the cliffs.
“I knew she was a waterbender,” Zuko said simply. “And I never cared.”
Iris went completely still.
Zuko shrugged lightly. “I was already in love with her. That tends to make political concerns significantly less persuasive.”
A collective groan rose from the relatives.
“Oh, spirits,” one of the older women muttered.
“That’s disgustingly romantic,” another relative complained.
“I liked him better when he was threatening people,” one of the younger men said.
That finally made Ayla laugh outright through her tears. Meanwhile, Iris could feel her face growing warm despite the cold. Unfortunately, Zuko noticed immediately.
His expression became entirely too pleased with himself. “You’re blushing.”
“I’m standing in the middle of a snowstorm.” Iris tried to cover her redden cheeks.
“You’re blushing.”
“The wind is cold.”
“Definitely blushing.”
Ayla laughed again. “She’s always done that.”
Iris blinked.
Ayla smiled fondly through her tears. “Whenever she was embarrassed as a child, her entire face turned red.”
“I think it’s very useful information,” Zuko said.
“You are enjoying this far too much.”
“Immensely.”
For the first time since the truth had been spoken aloud, genuine laughter echoed across the snowy cliffs.
The following days in the Northern Water Tribe passed quietly, filled with a soft, healing peace. For the very first time in her entire life, Iris found herself surrounded by people who remembered real pieces of her actual childhood. It was not the terrifying Fire Crow version of her life, nor was it the frightened, amnesiac child that Commander Hwan had rescued from the woods.
Ayla sat with her for hours every day, telling her stories. They were small, ordinary things mostly. How Ila used to sing beautiful traditional melodies while cooking over the hearth fire. How her father Kavik had accidentally flooded half the training docks once because he had argued far too aggressively with an instructor during a sparring practice. How little Shina used to follow the senior healers around the compound constantly, clumsily carrying bundles of bandages she could barely hold properly in her tiny hands.
Every single story felt entirely unreal to Iris, like listening to the detailed life of a completely different person. And yet, faint fragments of memory kept forcefully surfacing afterward in her quiet moments. The specific sound of dry snow crunching beneath tiny boots. The warmth of heavy fur blankets on a stormy night. A deep, booming laugh echoing somewhere nearby. A woman's gentle hands carefully braiding her hair in the morning. The memories were never complete, never clear. They were only disjointed pieces. But they were enough to hurt, and they were enough to matter.
The northern relatives embraced her carefully afterward. They were not forceful, nor were they demanding of her time or affections. They acted like they understood with deep empathy that she was still actively learning how to exist inside this massive new truth.
Zuko watched everything unfold quietly from the sidelines. He saw the way Iris laughed significantly more easily here than she ever did in the tense atmosphere of the palace. He watched the way the older tribe members instinctively touched her shoulder with deep affection when passing her in the walkways. He saw the way the local children followed her through the healer compounds, drawn to her kindness. Even the biting cold weather seemed to recognize her somehow, her cheeks flushing a healthy red.
And for the very first time since this entire investigation began, something uneasy and vulnerable settled deep inside his chest. It was not jealousy. It was a profound fear. Because Iris fit into this northern world far more naturally than he had ever expected her to.
One evening near the very end of their diplomatic stay, Zuko found her standing completely alone on a high terrace overlooking the frozen sea. The northern sky glowed a pale, ethereal blue above the endless expanse of white ice, while the cold wind drifted across the jagged cliffs below. Iris stood wrapped heavily in thick, fur-lined robes with her hands tucked securely beneath her wide sleeves. She looked incredibly peaceful. That peacefulness somehow made the fear in his chest significantly worse.
Zuko approached her quietly over the snow, before stopping right beside her at the stone railing. For a long while, neither of them spoke a word. Only the distant, heavy sound of waves crashing beneath the thick ice echoed through the cold silence.
Then eventually, he spoke. "You belong here."
Iris blinked faintly in surprise before looking toward him.
Zuko kept his gaze fixed firmly on the horizon. "Your real family is here," he said carefully, forcing the words out. "Your childhood is here. Your history." He paused, swallowing hard. "Your real name."
A long silence stretched between them in the cold.
Zuko swallowed faintly afterward, his jaw tightening. "If you wanted to stay here..." The difficult sentence faltered slightly, hanging unfinished in the air.
But Iris understood exactly what he was trying to say. For the very first time since she had known him, the proud Fire Lord looked genuinely, completely uncertain. It was not a political uncertainty, nor was it a strategic hesitation. It was deeply, painfully personal. The sudden realization hurt her chest unexpectedly.
Slowly, Iris turned more fully toward him, stepping closer. "I am deeply relieved to be here," she admitted softly.
Zuko finally looked at her then, his golden eyes filled with anxiety.
"I spent most of my adult life feeling completely unfinished, Zuko," she whispered, looking up at him. "Like there was an entire, massive part of my soul missing somewhere in the dark." The cold wind moved softly through strands of her hair. "Now, because of this journey, I know exactly who I was. I had real parents." A faint, shaky laugh escaped her lips. "I had a real, happy childhood before the Fire Crow took me."
Zuko remained completely silent, listening to her.
"And I still have family left alive," she continued quietly. "By blood."
Something fragile and painful loosened inside his chest at her words, preparing for the goodbye.
Then, Iris smiled faintly at him. "But that simply isn't the whole story anymore, Zuko."
Zuko frowned slightly, confused.
"I also have the life that I actively chose for myself. The palace gardens that I built." A small, fond smile touched her lips. "My medical work." Then finally, she glanced up toward him, her eyes shining. "And an incredibly awkward Fire Lord who somehow managed to become my husband."
"You literally threatened a foreign diplomat with turtleducks, Zuko."
"He completely deserved it."
"That defense becomes significantly less convincing every single time you use it." A quiet, genuine laugh escaped her afterward, warming the air. "And honestly," she admitted while rubbing her freezing hands together beneath her sleeves, "I miss my warm greenhouse terribly."
Zuko stared at her, blinking in surprise.
"My fingers completely stopped functioning yesterday morning."
"That only happened once."
"I nearly froze to death just walking to the dining hall for breakfast."
"You are exaggerating wildly."
"The North is actively trying to kill me personally, Zuko."
That declaration finally made Zuko laugh softly, a rich, relieved sound. The heavy tension inside his chest loosened for the very first time in days. Iris smiled faintly up at the sound of his laugh. Something fragile and beautiful shifted across Zuko's expression. And for the very first time since they had arrived in the frozen lands of the North, he finally, truly believed that she would come home with him.
The final morning of their stay arrived far too quickly. Soft snow drifted lazily across the harbor while the heavy northern ships creaked loudly against the thick ice beneath a pale gray sky. Workers moved quietly along the wooden docks, preparing the final supplies for their departure, their voices muffled beneath the cold wind sweeping across the sea.
The farewell at the docks felt significantly heavier than anyone had originally expected it to be. Especially for Ayla. She stood near the edge of the harbor wrapped in thick blue furs, watching Iris speak with several of the younger healers one last time. The apprentices crowded around her reluctantly, asking final, repetitive questions about medicinal storage temperatures and preservation salts, despite the fact that Iris had already written them detailed notes twice. It was entirely obvious to everyone watching that none of them actually wanted to discuss herbs anymore. They simply did not want her to leave yet.
Iris laughed softly when one of the younger healers tried extending the conversation by asking whether dried mint retained its potency better in clay or cedar containers. "You asked me that exact question three days ago," she pointed out gently.
"Yes," the apprentice admitted immediately, unbothered. "But I forgot the answer."
"You absolutely did not forget."
The girl looked entirely unashamed of her tactics. Several of the others laughed quietly nearby, wiping away tears. Ayla watched the interaction silently from a distance, while something painful and warm tightened inside her chest again. Because Ila used to do that exact same thing during her youth. She would gather people around herself without ever trying to. She created a profound warmth simply by existing near it. And now Shina was doing the exact same thing. Not Shina, Ayla corrected herself quietly in her mind. Iris.
The realization still felt incredibly strange sometimes. It wasn't because she doubted her identity anymore, she didn't. The physical resemblance alone would have been enough to convince her. The display of advanced waterbending sensitivity had removed all remaining uncertainty entirely. No, what unsettled Ayla was simply realizing how much time had already passed. The young child she had mourned for twenty years no longer existed. In her place stood a grown, confident woman with another life entirely. Another name. Another home.
And despite the deep grief still lingering beneath everything else, Ayla was profoundly grateful for that reality. Because Iris looked truly happy. She was not untouched by pain—never that, for her eyes carried the shadow of the past—but she was deeply loved. She was safe. That mattered significantly more than blood lines ever could.
Eventually, the final preparations for the ship ended. The large vessel waited quietly beyond the frozen docks while the northern relatives gathered near the harbor entrance, wrapped tightly in heavy winter clothing. The atmosphere grew much quieter afterward, more emotional. Iris hugged several of the healers goodbye, promising to continue sending updated preservation methods from the south to the north through messenger ships. One of the younger apprentices immediately burst into loud tears midway through the conversation.
Iris looked deeply alarmed by the outburst. "Oh no," she whispered helplessly, patting her shoulder while the girl cried harder.
Zuko, standing a few paces nearby, looked entirely unsympathetic to her plight. "You went and made them emotionally attached to you again."
"I didn't do anything specific."
"You taught them medicine and unyielding kindness, Iris. That's basically the exact same thing."
"That cannot possibly be true."
"It clearly is."
Iris shot him a fierce look while still awkwardly patting the crying apprentice's fur-lined shoulder. Ayla laughed softly for the very first time that morning. The sound made Iris glance toward her immediately, the playful look fading. And suddenly, the reality of her leaving settled properly between them. The older healer stepped forward slowly over the snow. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Ayla reached up carefully and touched Iris' cheek gently with her trembling, weathered fingers.
"You look so much like her sometimes," she whispered, her voice thick.
Iris's throat tightened instantly, a lump forming.
Ayla smiled faintly despite the heavy tears gathering in her own eyes. "But your expressions are entirely different." She paused, tracing her cheekbone. "You smile much more openly than she did."
Something about that observation nearly broke Iris all over again. Because for the very first time in her entire life, someone was actively comparing her to a family member instead of wondering who she belonged to in the world.
Ayla lowered her hand afterward, speaking more quietly. "You will always have a true home here, Iris."
Iris swallowed hard before answering, her voice steady. "And you'll always have a home at the palace too, Ayla."
Ayla laughed shakily beneath her tears, shaking her head. "I don't think my old bones would survive Fire Nation summers."
"You wouldn't," Iris admitted honestly, a small smile breaking through. "They're absolutely horrifying."
"That sounds overly dramatic."
"It's entirely accurate."
A faint smile appeared through Ayla's grief. Then slowly, she pulled Iris into another deep embrace. This time, Iris held her back immediately, wrapping her arms around her without a shred of hesitation or uncertainty. Ayla closed her eyes tightly for a moment, holding onto the miracle. Because spirits—Shina was alive. She was not lost in the dark. She was not broken beyond repair by the world. She was not buried somewhere nameless beneath the scars of war. She was alive. The sheer relief of that truth hurt almost as much as the decades of grief had.
Zuko approached quietly afterward, offering Ayla a deeply respectful bow of his head. "Thank you for everything," he said sincerely.
Ayla looked at him for a long moment, evaluating the young ruler. Then softly, she said, "You found her."
Zuko glanced briefly toward Iris standing nearby before answering, his voice dropping to a quiet murmur. "No. She survived."
Something fragile and understanding shifted behind Ayla's expression at that. Then finally, the time to leave came. The harbor workers released the heavy ship lines while the snow drifted steadily across the dark northern waters. Iris stood near the edge of the wooden dock beside Zuko, looking back one final time as the northern family gathered together beneath the pale winter sky. Ayla lifted one hand slowly in farewell. Iris did the same, her heart was full.
Then, the distance began widening between the ship and the shore. Little by little, the gap grew. Until eventually, the bustling harbor became nothing more than a small speck against the endless expanse of white snow and ice.
Ayla remained standing there on the pier long after the royal ship had completely disappeared beyond the jagged frozen cliffs. The biting cold no longer bothered her. Not today. Around her, the relatives slowly returned toward the warmth of the village in quiet conversation, but Ayla stayed behind near the shoreline while the snow drifted softly around her fur-lined shoulders. And for the very first time in nearly twenty long years—she allowed herself to remember her family properly, without the crushing weight of despair.
She saw Ila laughing warmly while crushing fresh herbs beside the fire. She saw Kavik arguing far too loudly during the council meetings. She saw little Shina running across the deep snow with tiny, frozen hands wrapped tightly around stolen healer bandages.
The old pain collided violently with a profound relief inside her chest. Because those precious memories no longer ended with a sudden, tragic disappearance into the dark. Now, there was something beautiful afterward. Survival. A real life. A future. Ayla closed her eyes briefly against the cold wind, a peaceful smile touching her lips. Somewhere far beyond the frozen sea, Shina was alive. Loved. Safe. And somehow—that was more than enough.
The ocean was significantly quieter that night. Only the slow, rhythmic sound of waves breaking against the drifting ice sheets echoed across the dark water, while the heavy royal ship carved its way steadily through the frozen northern sea. The snow drifted softly from heavy clouds overhead, dissolving against the dark wooden deck before melting into silver droplets beneath the warm lanternlight.
Most of the ship's crew had already retreated below deck to escape the biting cold of the open ocean. Iris remained outside alone. She stood near the wooden railing wrapped tightly in her heavy northern furs, watching the ship force its way through sheets of ice. The ocean groaned softly around them each time the reinforced hull split the frozen water apart. Endless white ice met an endless dark sea. The North was slowly, definitively disappearing behind them. And somehow, that reality hurt more than she had originally expected it to. It wasn't because she wanted to stay there, but because now she finally understood exactly what had been taken from her as a child. A family. A childhood. A name. Shina.
The word still felt incredibly strange inside her own mind. It wasn't wrong, just distant. Like touching an old scar that belonged to another body entirely. The cold wind swept across the deck hard enough to sting her face, but Iris barely noticed the discomfort anymore.
Then, a sudden warmth wrapped around her from behind. Strong arms slid firmly around her waist while heavy, warm black fabric surrounded both of them at once. Zuko. Without saying a single word, he pulled her backward against his broad chest and tucked her fully inside his heavy outer coat, actions natural and practiced. Warmth spread through her limbs almost immediately, chasing away the chill.
Iris laughed softly beneath her breath, leaning into him. "My personal heater finally returns."
"You would've frozen to death out here without me," Zuko murmured.
"That seems overly dramatic."
"It's entirely accurate."
Zuko rested his chin lightly against the top of her head afterward, while the wind continued howling across the open deck around them. For a while, neither of them spoke a word. Iris watched the icy sea silently while his inner warmth settled steadily around her, anchoring her.
Then eventually, quietly, she asked, "Why did you do it?"
Zuko frowned faintly against her hair. "Do what?"
"All of this." Her voice softened, nearly lost beneath the wind. "You investigated the Fire Crow. You searched for dangerous answers. You brought me all the way to the North." She looked down toward the dark, churning water below. "You did all of that knowing full well that I might want to stay here with them."
The words settled heavily between them in the dark. Zuko's arms tightened instinctively around her waist, holding her closer. For several moments, he said absolutely nothing. Only the sound of the ocean remained.
Then eventually, he exhaled slowly through his nose. "I know."
"Then why do it?"
"Because you deserved to know the truth, Iris." Simple. Honest.
Iris remained silent, watching the tension in his face.
Zuko swallowed faintly, his voice dropping lower. "You spent most of your life firmly believing that you belonged absolutely nowhere," he said softly. "No family. No history. No origin." The wind moved through dark strands of his hair. "And I absolutely hated that for you."
Something painful and warm tightened inside Iris' chest at his words.
Zuko rested his forehead lightly against her temple. "I love you," he admitted quietly. "Which means eventually, your pain becomes my problem to solve too."
"It probably is," he agreed, a small smile touching his lips.
But Zuko's expression remained entirely serious afterward. "I didn't investigate your past because I wanted to find a way to keep you," he continued softly, meeting her eyes. "I investigated because you deserved the truth of your life, even if that truth ultimately took you away from me."
Iris went completely still in his arms, the snow drifting quietly around them.
"When Ayla first looked at you in the courtyard," Zuko admitted after a long pause, "I knew something was profoundly wrong immediately." His voice lowered further. "And when we finally arrived in the North... you fit into their world far more easily than I had ever expected you to." The confession sounded painfully honest. "You laughed differently with them. You looked familiar standing in the snow."
Iris stared at him silently, seeing the deep vulnerability he usually hid from the world. For the very first time since this entire journey had begun, she realized just how terrified he truly had been of losing her to the ice.
Zuko's arms loosened slightly around her waist, giving her space. "And I kept thinking to myself... what if you realize this is where you truly belong?"
The words nearly broke her heart. Because she knew he meant them completely. If she had chosen to stay in the North, he would have let her go, even if it completely destroyed him inside.
Slowly, Iris reached up and touched his face gently, her warm fingers resting against his jaw. "Zuko."
He finally looked at her fully then, his golden eyes wide.
"I did feel familiar there," she admitted softly, her voice steady. "Like some buried, broken part of me remembered the snow before my mind did." The icy wind moved through her hair. "But familiarity isn't the same thing as belonging."
Zuko remained silent, listening.
Iris smiled faintly up at him. "My blood came from the North. My parents came from there. My childhood started there." Then slowly, she leaned closer until her forehead rested lightly against his, sharing their breath. "But my life didn't start until I met you."
Something fragile and beautiful shifted visibly across Zuko's expression, the fear melting away.
"The palace is my true home," Iris continued quietly, her voice full of warmth. "The gardens I planted. The people there who rely on me." She paused, looking into his eyes. "You."
A profound warmth spread slowly through his chest so suddenly it almost physically hurt. Then, true to form, Iris ruined the romantic moment immediately.
"And honestly," she muttered, shrugging and burrowing farther into his heavy coat, "the North is actively trying to murder me personally. The weather is completely unacceptable."
Zuko blinked in surprise. Then, a reluctant, genuine laugh escaped him finally, echoing across the deck. Iris smiled against his chest at the sound, happy to hear it. For a long, peaceful moment afterward, they simply stood there together in the dark while the royal ship continued cutting through the frozen northern waters beneath the falling snow, heading back toward the warmth of the Fire Nation.
Then quietly, almost lost beneath the howling wind, she spoke. "Thank you."
Zuko looked down at her. "For what?"
"For finding me," she whispered.
And for once in his life, the Fire Lord had absolutely no response at all, content to simply hold her close in the dark.
*I tagged all who followed my blog and who often react to my posts. Message to remove or add tag
A/N :
On AO3, each chapter is usually around 7–10k words, but for Tumblr I've been splitting them into smaller parts (around 2–4k words) since it feels easier to read here.
As the story goes on, though, some chapters are becoming much harder to split naturally. Sometimes I'd have to cut in the middle of an emotional scene, which I'm not a huge fan of.
What would you personally prefer?
Keep the current format and split longer chapters into 3 parts if needed?
Let some Tumblr chapters be longer if it means the chapter flows better?
I'd genuinely love to hear your thoughts!
Fandom : Avatar the Last Airbender (ATLA)
Pairing : Zuko x Fem. OC
Tags : Romance, 10 years after war, Emotional Anchor, Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fire Nation Politics, Team Avatar conflicts
Worthwhile Masterlist
AO3 : Worthwhile by Allhaillordzuko
Status : WIP/ On goingㅣRating : General/Mature
**Summary : The answers are finally coming, but they don’t feel comforting at all. Iris is learning who she was before Hwan found her, while at the same time realizing just how much Hwan sacrificed to protect her. And now that they’re in the North and people are starting to recognize something in her, it feels like the past is no longer a mystery waiting to be solved—it’s actively waiting for her.
The following evening, Iris stood near the edge of the palace balcony, watching heavy storm clouds gather beyond the jagged capital mountains. The northern charm remained tucked carefully, securely inside the wide sleeve of her robe. She had not stopped thinking about the fragmented memories that had surfaced. It wasn't the terrifying nature of the memories themselves that haunted her, but rather the intense feelings of guilt attached to them. Every single time she remembered the last cruel things she had said to Hwan, a violent guilt twisted through her chest all over again.
You stole my life from me. Spirits.
The memory made her feel physically sick to her stomach now. Behind her, the heavy wooden study doors opened quietly. Zuko entered the room carrying several unfinished state reports, before stopping almost immediately upon seeing the tense line of her shoulders.
"You should still be resting in bed," he said gently.
Iris gave a faint, humorless laugh, not turning around. "That seems highly unlikely at this point, Zuko."
Zuko set the reports aside on a small table, watching her. A tense silence stretched briefly between them in the fading light.
Then, quietly, she spoke. "I want to visit him."
Zuko's expression hardened instantly, his posture stiffening. "No." The answer came so fast it nearly overlapped her words.
"You didn't even ask who I wanted to visit."
"I don't need to ask." His jaw tightened visibly, his golden eyes flashing. "You literally almost fainted from stress yesterday, Iris."
"I know."
"You could barely stand on your own two feet afterward."
"I know."
"And now you want to walk willingly into a locked cell with one of the most dangerous, manipulative men in the entire nation." His voice remained entirely calm, which somehow made it sound far more serious and unyielding than open anger.
Iris folded her arms loosely over her chest, meeting his gaze. "I need answers, Zuko."
"You already have the answers from the reports."
"No." Her gaze lifted steadily toward him, refusing to back down. "You know about the tragic fate of my parents now. But I still don't know who I actually was before all of that happened."
Zuko looked away briefly, running a hand over his face. "Iris—"
"He won't tell me anything about my family out of spite, I know that," she interrupted quietly, her voice softening. "But he knew me personally during those lost years." She stepped forward. "He could be one of the only people left alive on this earth who did."
"He's going to manipulate you. It's what he does."
"He manipulates everyone, Zuko."
"That doesn't make walking into that room any safer for you."
Iris stepped closer, her voice carrying a quiet desperation. "I spent most of my life firmly believing that I only became a real person after Commander Hwan rescued me from the wild." She looked up at him. "But what if valuable parts of who I originally was survived long before that rescue? I need to know."
"That man systematically trained innocent children into cold-blooded assassins, Iris."
"I know."
"He is highly dangerous."
"I know."
"You don't owe him a single thing."
"This isn't being done for him." The answer came immediately, ringing with absolute clarity. "It's entirely for me."
The large room fell into a heavy silence once again. Finally, Zuko exhaled sharply through his nose, a defeated sound. Spirits, he absolutely hated this. It wasn't because he wanted to control her actions, it was because he understood with painful clarity exactly why she desperately needed this closure. And because a deep part of him was utterly terrified of what dark truths she might hear inside that cell.
"You're not going in there alone," he said eventually, compromising.
"I need to go alone, Zuko."
"No."
"I'll have the royal guards posted right outside the door."
"That's not the point."
Iris looked at him steadily, her voice softening with logic. "If you are standing in that room with me, he will only speak to you to bait you, instead of answering me."
Zuko opened his mouth immediately to argue, then stopped himself. Because she was absolutely right. The assassin would view him as the primary target for psychological games. A heavy silence lingered between them.
"...Conditions," Zuko muttered reluctantly.
Iris waited patiently.
"You keep a full squad of royal guards directly outside the chamber door."
She nodded once. "Agreed."
"If anything feels wrong, or if he threatens you in any way, you leave the room immediately."
Another firm nod. "I will."
"And the heavy iron door remains completely unlocked the entire time."
"I can easily agree to that," she said softly.
Zuko stared at her for a long moment longer, searching her face for any signs of hesitation. Then, finally, he gave a slow, reluctant nod of agreement. "I still absolutely hate this."
A faint, tired smile crossed Iris' face as she stepped forward to touch his arm. "I know you do. Thank you."
ㅡㅡㅡ
The cold prison corridors beneath the palace felt significantly colder than Iris remembered. The dim torchlight flickered wildly across the damp stone walls, casting monstrous shadows while the heavily armored royal guards escorted her silently through the labyrinthine underground halls. It smelled of old ash, cold metal, and stagnant smoke. Something about the oppressive atmosphere twisted painfully inside her chest. It was not a specific memory returning, but rather a visceral body recognition of captivity. Yet, her steps never slowed. The guards walking beside her looked far more nervous about the meeting than she did.
Zuko walked right beside her in complete, tense silence until they finally reached the final, heavy iron door at the end of the corridor. The guards stopped immediately, drawing their weapons to a ready stance.
One of them glanced toward Zuko uncertainly. "My lord—"
"You stay outside," Zuko interrupted coldly, his voice leaving no room for argument. Then his gaze shifted toward Iris, a final flash of hesitation flickering across his golden eyes. He reached out, squeezing her hand briefly. "You do not owe him any composure, Iris."
Iris looked at him quietly, drawing strength from his presence. Then she nodded once.
The heavy iron door groaned open. The Fire Crow leader looked up immediately from where he sat against the far wall, his chains rattling. For the very first time since Iris had seen him in captivity, a flash of genuine surprise crossed his weathered expression. It wasn't anger or fear, it was just pure surprise.
"...Interesting," he murmured.
The heavy door closed behind her with a definitive thud.
The old assassin studied her carefully from the shadows, his sharp eyes taking in her posture while the chains shifted softly against the stone floor. "You actually came down here alone."
"No," Iris replied calmly, her voice echoing in the small cell. "Zuko is standing right outside."
"Of course he is."
Iris remained standing in the center of the cell, refusing to sit on the provided stool. She showed no visible fear, no hesitation, and no weakness. Fourteen years ago, that exact level of absolute composure would have been expected and praised inside the Fire Crow walls. Now, realizing she still possessed it unsettled even him.
The leader noticed it immediately, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. "You still move exactly like one of us, girl. You tilt your head to listen before you even sense the layout of the room."
The words landed strangely in her ears, sending a chill down her spine. Iris ignored the observation entirely, pressing forward. "I didn't come down here to discuss my parents' choices."
"No?"
"No." Her voice remained perfectly steady, ringing with an authority that surprised them both. "I want to know exactly who I was before I was found."
A heavy silence settled briefly across the small cell, the tension palpable. The assassin watched her for a long, calculating moment before finally answering. "...You adapted remarkably quickly to the environment."
Not trained. Adapted. The exact same choice of words he had used with Zuko.
"How old was I when they first brought me to the order?" Iris asked, her voice tight.
"Five."
The single word landed like a bucket of freezing water. Iris went completely still, her heart dropping. Five years old. Spirits. The leader watched her reaction silently, enjoying the weight of his words. Fragments of memory surfaced violently for half a second behind her eyes. She saw deep snow. She saw dark, imposing uniforms. She felt a woman's trembling hands pushing her forward. Then it was gone again, locked away.
Iris swallowed hard, forcing the emotion down. "And I stayed there for...?"
"Five long years."
Ten years old. That meant half of her entire childhood had belonged entirely to the shadows of the Fire Crows. Something about that stark realization hollowed out her chest completely. She had been far too young to experience such darkness. Iris kept her facial expression perfectly still anyway, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.
"You barely spoke a single word when you first arrived at the compound," the leader continued calmly, his voice echoing in the small space. "You simply watched everything around you instead."
Fragments flickered faintly behind her eyes again. Dark, endless hallways. The smell of torch smoke. Heavy, militaristic footsteps echoing on stone. Gone immediately.
The older assassin continued, his tone clinical. "The younger recruits actually feared you initially."
Iris frowned slightly at the claim, her brows drawing together. "Why would they fear a child?"
"Because you never once cried." The small room fell into an absolute silence. "Most children cried for weeks during the initial physical training. You didn't." His sharp gaze remained fixed on her face. "You never shed a single tear."
Something cold and painful twisted tightly beneath her ribs at the thought of her childhood self. The leader continued calmly, mapping out her past. "You learned the use of weapons far more quickly than the others."
"I hate weapons," the words left Iris' mouth automatically, spoken from a deep, instinctual truth.
"Yes." He paused, his chains rattling. "But you survived to learn how to use them efficiently anyway."
Iris looked away briefly, staring at the damp stone floor. Survived. Even now, the word felt ugly and hollow when applied to a child.
"You were considered highly valuable to the future of the organization, girl."
"Because of my waterbending." Iris replied. It was not a question.
The older man nodded once, confirming her suspicion. "Your elemental control was unusually powerful even as a child. You had a rare raw strength." The leader's gaze narrowed slightly in recollection, his mind drifting back. "But raw power was never actually the most valuable thing about you to us."
Iris frowned faintly, genuinely confused. "Then what was?"
"Your senses." The older assassin leaned back slightly against the cold stone wall, his eyes locking onto hers. "You sensed water differently from every other waterbender we had ever captured or trained."
Fragments flickered faintly behind Iris' eyes again. Absolute stillness. Deep, underground vibrations. The distinct feeling of water moving silently beneath solid stone. Gone.
"You sensed pressure changes in the environment instinctively," the leader continued, his voice dropping into a professional cadence. "Movement through water systems. Underground currents. Structural disturbances. Even blood in veins" His voice remained terrifyingly calm. "With enough proper training, you could locate targeted people from impossible distances."
Iris stared at him, her mind reeling as the puzzle pieces of her life finally clicked together.
"You were able to map out and sense entire enemy patrol routes through connected water systems before most adult scouts had even finished their basic tracking drills."
A strange, profound coldness moved through her chest. "That's the only reason I was valuable to you. As a tool."
"Yes." There was no hesitation in his voice, no sugarcoating the past. "You were officially considered a long-range detection asset." The leader continued clinically, discussing her childhood as if reading an inventory report. "With enough refinement and age, your detection range would have become extremely dangerous to our enemies."
Dangerous. Not remarkable. Not gifted. Not special. Dangerous.
Iris looked down briefly at her own hands, her breath shaky. Now, suddenly, all the strange, unexplainable moments throughout her adult life felt completely different. Finding vast networks of underground water beneath drought-stricken villages. Knowing a storm was arriving hours before the clouds appeared. Sensing the distinct footsteps of guards through flooded city streets. She had always blindly assumed those deep instincts were merely an unusual quirk of her bending. Apparently, those very instincts had frightened grown men long before she was old enough to understand them herself. A faint, sudden flicker of memory surfaced. Water crashing violently through absolute darkness. Someone screaming in terror. Gone.
"You sensed underground currents instinctively," the leader continued, snapping her back to the present. "You learned to manipulate pressure changes faster than most adult waterbenders could ever dream of."
Iris swallowed faintly, her throat dry. "And the organization wanted to use that asset for political assassinations."
"Obviously." The answer came without a shred of hesitation. The bluntness of his admission somehow made the reality of her past significantly worse.
The word settled heavily between them in the dark cell. Asset. Not a child. Not a person. Not a daughter. Iris forced herself to keep breathing evenly, gripping the fabric of her sleeves.
"If I was so incredibly valuable to your order... why didn't you ever come to reclaim me after Commander Hwan took me away?"
For the very first time during the interrogation, the leader went completely silent, holding her gaze longer than usual. The dim lanternlight flickered softly across the cracked stone walls.
Finally, he answered, his voice dropping its clinical edge. "Because by the time we located you, you had already completely lost your operational memories."
Iris stared at him, her heart skipping a beat.
"You no longer remembered our operational structures. You didn't remember names. You didn't remember locations." He paused, looking away. "An asset who remembers nothing is no longer worth the risk of public exposure."
The cold words hit her significantly harder than she expected. Not worth it. Her entire survival had hinged on being deemed useless to them.
"Commander Hwan was a highly respected, heavily guarded military figure in the Fire Nation." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Attempting a high-profile retrieval of a broken child would have drawn the attention of the Fire Nation army into matters we preferred to remain hidden in the shadows."
"So you simply let me go.”
"Yes." No regret. No cruelty. Just cold, pragmatic fact.
The leader tilted his head slightly afterward, studying her royal robes. "You should honestly be grateful to us."
Something sharp and furious flashed briefly across Iris' expression. "Grateful?"
"You lived," the old man said simply.
The absolute simplicity of the answer nearly made her laugh out loud. Instead, she looked away from him. Because horrifyingly enough... a part of his twisted mind truly believed that abandoning her to live a life of amnesia was an act of mercy.
ㅡㅡ
A month later, after extensive preparations and political arrangements, Zuko and Iris departed quietly from the capital for the Northern Water Tribe. Officially, the high-profile royal visit was strictly diplomatic. Lady Iris wished to personally evaluate the progress of the medicinal preservation projects that had been established after the northern healers returned home from their training. And technically, that cover story was entirely true.
The very moment their royal ship arrived, Iris immediately buried herself inside the newly constructed greenhouse structures and medicinal storage halls with the exact same relentless, intense focus she always carried. The northern preservation projects had expanded rapidly under her guidance. Large glass cultivation rooms now stood near several of the main healer compounds, glittering against the white ice. Advanced underground heating systems warmed the fragile medicinal roots through the freezing northern nights. Massive storage cellars lined with specialized mineral salts preserved delicate herbs that previously would have rotted within weeks during the winter.
Iris looked genuinely, radiant delighted walking through the warm structures.
"You adjusted the intake airflow channels," she said excitedly, examining one of the glass greenhouse walls.
A younger northern healer smiled and nodded proudly. "It reduced our mold growth by nearly half over the last month."
Iris immediately crouched down beside one of the cedar vents for a closer, technical inspection. "That's absolutely excellent work."
Zuko watched the scene from a nearby walkway, a soft smile on his face while several northern apprentices hovered anxiously around Iris, carrying notebooks and asking multiple questions simultaneously. As usual, people gravitated toward her effortlessly, drawn to her warmth. Growth and life seemed to follow Iris almost unnaturally, even here in the frozen wastes. Especially here. But this time, Zuko noticed something else too. The staring. It was no longer coming only from Ayla. Other people were doing it. Older tribe members. Senior healers. They watched Iris quietly from corners when they thought she wasn't paying attention.
And every now and then, while walking through the compounds, Zuko caught fragments of whispered, frantic conversation among the locals.
"She looks exactly like her..."
"The way she smiles too..."
"Do you think Ayla noticed the resemblance?"
Each time his heavy footsteps approached their position, the whispers stopped immediately, the locals bowing respectfully. Iris either entirely failed to notice the odd behavior, or she was pretending not to for her own peace of mind.
*I tagged all who followed my blog and who often react to my posts. Message to remove or add tag
A/N :
A little confession.
There was a point where I seriously considered ending this story much earlier than I originally planned.
When I first started posting, I received quite a bit of backlash simply because I paired Zuko with an OC. It got into my head more than I'd like to admit, and for a while I genuinely lost confidence in the direction of this fic. These chapters exploring Iris's past almost never saw the light of day because I kept thinking, "Is this becoming too OC-centric? Will anyone even care?"
But then I remembered something important: this has always been the story I wanted to tell. Iris's past isn't meant to replace Zuko's story—it exists because it shapes the person he fell in love with, just as his past shapes him. Their journeys only make sense because both of them are fully realized people.
So... thank you. Every comment, every theory, every little bit of excitement you've shared has quietly convinced me to keep writing the story the way I originally envisioned it. I don't think I'd have had the confidence to reach these chapters without all of you. ❤️
A close-up of a comms I did for @allhail-lordzuko 🫶🏼 it's Iris, their oc and Zuko! Read Worthwhile on Tumblr or Ao3 if you like to read the journey of rebuilding the Fire Nation after the war 💕
Fandom : Avatar the Last Airbender (ATLA)
Pairing : Zuko x Fem. OC
Tags : Romance, 10 years after war, Emotional Anchor, Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fire Nation Politics, Team Avatar conflicts
Worthwhile Masterlist
AO3 : Worthwhile by Allhaillordzuko
Status : WIP/ On goingㅣRating : General/Mature
**Summary: The pieces are finally starting to move. Between Zuko digging into Iris’s past, Ayla’s growing suspicions, and Iris’s memories fighting their way back to the surface, it feels like the story is standing right on the edge of a major revelation. The answers are getting closer—and somehow that’s the most unsettling part.
That very same night, deep in the dark stone foundations far beneath the palace, Zuko sat across from a man who had never once feared his title. The leader of the remnants of the Fire Crow assassin order looked thoroughly annoyed when the heavy iron cell door swung open. He wasn't surprised by the late-night visit, he was just deeply annoyed.
The older assassin sat casually against the cold stone wall, one leg bent loosely beneath the heavy hanging chains that bound his wrists. Thin, jagged scars crossed his weathered face, catching the dim, flickering lanternlight. Even stripped of his weapons and imprisoned in the deepest dungeon of the Fire Nation, he carried himself with the quiet composure of someone who had accepted pain and death a very long time ago.
"You came for the girl," the assassin said immediately, his voice gravelly.
Zuko stepped into the cell and shut the heavy door behind him, the latch clicking into place. "No."
The assassin scoffed quietly, a cynical smile touching his lips. "You wear your thoughts far too loudly for a ruler, boy."
Zuko dragged a heavy wooden chair slowly across the stone floor, the scraping sound echoing loudly in the damp space, before sitting backward on it and resting his arms over the backrest.
"You vastly overestimate your importance to me. I actually came down here because I genuinely enjoy seeing you imprisoned."
The old man snorted, shaking his head. "You always were your father's son."
"I certainly hope not," Zuko replied coldly.
The Fire Crow leader stared at him for a long, silent moment, evaluating the young Fire Lord's posture. Then finally, he spoke with a cold finality. "If you were here looking for information regarding her past, you went to the wrong place. She ceased being anyone before she ever became ours."
Zuko's expression sharpened slightly, his eyes narrowing. "What exactly does that mean?"
"It means identities are discarded within the order," the older assassin explained, his voice remaining terrifyingly calm. "No birth names are kept. No family ties are permitted to remain. No history is recorded." The lanternlight flickered wildly as a draft moved through the corridor. "Once a child is inducted, a member belongs entirely and solely to the order."
Zuko leaned back slightly on the chair. "And what happens to those who reveal former identities?"
"The highest betrayal imaginable." The old assassin's eyes narrowed faintly, staring directly into Zuko's. "The loyal are protected by the shadows." A heavy pause filled the room. "The disloyal are erased from existence."
Silence settled briefly between them, thick and suffocating.
Zuko smiled slightly, a cold, calculated expression. "Well," he said conversationally, deliberately breaking the tension, "Iris had a highly productive day today."
The leader closed his eyes immediately, letting out a long breath like a man who was already thoroughly exhausted by a tedious conversation.
Zuko continued speaking anyway, his voice loud and clear. "She spent six hours teaching the northern healers exactly how to preserve delicate medicinal roots without losing their potency."
There was no response from the prisoner.
"And afterward," Zuko added, a smug tone creeping into his voice, "she went out of her way to apologize to the harbor workers because she thought she had sounded slightly too strict during the unloading earlier."
Still, absolute silence met his words.
Zuko rested his chin against his folded arms, watching the man's face intensely. "I genuinely do not understand how your brutal organization managed to utterly fail at ruining her."
A tiny, almost imperceptible twitch crossed the assassin's scarred jaw.
Zuko noticed it immediately. "She's terrifyingly kind," he continued with visible satisfaction, leaning into the description. "Children climb onto her lap entirely uninvited when we visit the lower districts. My personal guards absolutely adore her. The palace kitchen staff constantly smuggle her extra snacks because apparently she gets so caught up in her work that she forgets to eat."
The old assassin finally opened his eyes, glaring across the cell. "Do you ever stop talking?"
"No," Zuko smiled brightly, entirely unbothered. "That's widely considered one of my better qualities."
The leader looked profoundly unimpressed, his chains rattling slightly as he shifted his weight.
Zuko ignored his annoyance completely. "She completely reorganized three massive greenhouse storage rooms yesterday because apparently the handwritten labels on the jars offended her organizational skills personally."
No response came from the dark corner.
"She also argued fiercely with the chief palace physicians for twenty minutes straight because they had the audacity to try and make her rest after a long day."
The assassin muttered something highly unpleasant and treasonous under his breath.
Zuko's smile only widened. "And somehow," he continued conversationally, "despite all of that stubbornness, people still completely adore her."
The old man stared up toward the cracked stone ceiling, wishing for silence.
"Children follow her around the courtyards constantly now," Zuko added, fueling the fire. "One of the kitchen staff's sons actually cried for an hour straight because Iris had to leave for a brief provincial trip last month."
Still, the prisoner maintained his silence, his breathing steady.
Zuko tilted his head slightly, his gaze dropping the playful edge. "I really expected your dark organization to produce someone significantly worse than her."
A faint, bitter scoff escaped the leader's throat before he could stop himself. "You fundamentally misunderstand the purpose of survival."
"Do I?"
The old assassin's gaze snapped back to Zuko, sharpening with a sudden, lethal intensity. "She survived because she adapted."
Zuko noticed the specific wording immediately. Not trained. Not molded. Adapted.
"She doesn't seem particularly adapted to the art of assassination," Zuko replied mildly, challenging him. "Last week she nearly cried because one of the palace messenger hawks injured its wing against a branch."
"That sounds incredibly inconvenient for a ruler."
"It was deeply inconvenient," Zuko agreed solemnly. "I lost an entire afternoon of state meetings because she absolutely refused to stop explaining detailed bird anatomy to me while she bandaged it."
A tiny, fleeting expression of reluctant recognition flickered across the older man's face. It was gone almost instantly, swallowed by his stoic mask, but it was enough for Zuko. Zuko leaned slightly forward, his voice dropping to a serious register. The assassin remained completely silent, watching him.
"She healed me once too. I was injured badly during an ambush," Zuko continued, his voice softening with the memory. "I was nearly unconscious from blood loss. Iris stabilized the deep wound almost immediately."
The old man closed his eyes again, his voice dropping into a low murmur. "Not immediately."
Zuko went completely still internally, his protective instincts flaring. Outwardly, he only raised a single eyebrow, maintaining his composure.
The leader looked instantly annoyed with himself, realizing he had let his guard down. "Immediately would've been her mother. She was faster."
An absolute silence filled the damp cell. Zuko did not move a muscle. He did not react. But his pulse sharpened instantly, hammering in his ears. The assassin stared fixedly toward the far stone wall now, looking like a man who wished he could physically drag the words back into his mouth.
Zuko rested his chin against his folded arms again, keeping his voice light. "Oh," he said pleasantly.
The older man glared at him with pure hatred. "Oh?"
Zuko smiled. "So now we're finally discussing her mother."
"Shut up."
"She was a professional healer then?"
There was no response. Zuko continued speaking anyway, letting his deductions flow. "That explains several things honestly. Iris completely terrifies our official palace physicians. Her standards are terrifying."
The assassin looked deeply disgusted by the sentimentality. Zuko looked absolutely delighted.
"She's frighteningly competent," Zuko continued, his chest swelling slightly. "The palace medical staff still hasn't fully recovered from the time she completely rebuilt half the emergency burn treatment procedures from scratch."
The leader snorted quietly before he could check his own reaction.
"There it is," Zuko said immediately, pointing a finger.
The older man's eyes narrowed dangerously. "There what is?"
"That specific expression." Zuko leaned forward slightly, his voice cutting through the dark. "You sound genuinely offended every single time she does something deeply compassionate."
The assassin stared at him coldly, his voice dripping with venom. "Kindness creates fatal weakness in an operative."
"And yet she survived your entire organization anyway," Zuko countered sharply.
A tiny, tense twitch crossed the assassin's jaw.
"She once disappeared entirely from an important diplomatic banquet because she sensed that someone had burned their hand in the kitchens." Zuko added.
Silence stretched between them. Then, the old man asked quietly, almost despite himself, "She still tilts her head first?"
Zuko's attention sharpened instantly, his body locking up. "What?"
The leader sounded intensely irritated with himself again for asking. "When listening." A heavy pause. "Before sensing water."
Zuko remained very still, his breath caught in his throat. Because Iris did exactly that. Constantly. Whenever she was looking for a fresh spring or testing the moisture in the greenhouse.
"She found a vast network of underground water beneath half a drought-ridden village once," Zuko said carefully, testing the waters.
The assassin scoffed softly, a sound of bitter validation. "Of course she did."
Zuko's pulse quickened dramatically. "She acted like it was completely normal."
"It was normal for her father." The answer came automatically. Then the leader realized what he had confirmed. Too late. The cell fell into a dead, heavy silence.
Zuko smiled slowly, the pieces rushing together in his mind. "Interesting."
The old assassin looked utterly exhausted now, leaning his head back against the stone. "You are unbelievably irritating, boy."
"I've been told that before by much more dangerous people," Zuko replied smoothly. He crossed his arms loosely over his chest. "Her father sensed water too then?"
There was no verbal answer. Only a heavy, resentful silence. But the silence itself had already become an absolute confirmation. The older man stared at the flickering lanternlight with visible annoyance, the memories clearly weighing on him.
"That man could sense people movement through half a damn mountain," the assassin muttered eventually, his voice trailing off into the dark. "And he somehow stubbornly believed everyone else could do it too."
Zuko's breath nearly caught in his chest. Movement. Water. Not a metaphor for survival. A waterbender.
Outwardly, Zuko only hummed thoughtfully, maintaining his calm facade. "Well," he said lightly, "his daughter turned out to be incredibly impressive too."
Zuko suddenly understood something profoundly important at that moment. The Fire Crows had not created Iris' incredible skills. They had simply failed to erase them. They had tried to mold a captured child into a weapon, but her true nature had proven far too strong to break. And somehow, that realization felt far more terrifying and beautiful than anything else.
Zuko smiled slowly, standing up from his chair. "Oh, this conversation is becoming very educational."
"Shut up and leave."
Zuko ignored his demand completely, stepping toward the door. "She inherited that elemental sensitivity from him too then?" he asked smugly.
No answer came, but the silence was loud enough. The old assassin looked toward Zuko with narrowed, lethal eyes. "You planned this whole conversation."
Zuko smiled slowly, deliberately not denying it as he reached for the iron latch.
The leader gave a quiet, disgusted laugh, the chains rattling against the stone. "You are a manipulator."
"You trained children into assassins," Zuko replied calmly, his voice echoing in the doorway. "You don't get to complain about my methods."
As Zuko walked back up the cold stone corridors, his mind was racing. He had managed to gather enough scattered clues from the interrogation to finally piece together the truth about Iris' real parents. She was the daughter of a powerful waterbender father who possessed an unnatural sensitivity to water, and a highly talented healer mother. A pair who had somehow ended up in Fire Nation territory during the height of the global conflict.
According to everything Katara had told him over the years, there were only two possibilities for waterbender origins, the Southern or the Northern Water Tribe. Katara had explicitly told him that every single waterbender from the South had been seized and taken by the Fire Nation raiders, leaving her as the last one. Iris' parents could have been among those desperate prisoners who managed to escape captivity, fleeing into the mainland to hide. For one of many reasons, Zuko's instincts were screaming at him to look toward the North first.
In the next evening, a heavy rain tapped softly against the large palace windows, while the low rumble of distant thunder rolled across the capital beyond the jagged mountain cliffs. Most of the massive palace had already gone completely quiet for the night, the servants retiring to their quarters. Iris sat alone near the open bedroom balcony wrapped in a loose, comfortable robe, the northern charm resting carefully in her open palm. The room smelled faintly of sweet cedar smoke from the dying fireplace.
She turned the charm from Ayla slowly between her fingers, tracing the deep grooves of the symbols. Familiar. The persistent feeling unsettled her deeply. It wasn't because she recognized the object fully, it was because she didn't. It felt precisely like standing outside a locked, heavy door while hearing the muffled voices of loved ones speaking through the walls, unable to make out the words.
Something buried deep beneath years of trauma and forced memory loss stirred again. She felt a cold wind biting at her cheeks. She saw the crunch of fresh snow beneath tiny, fur-lined boots. She heard a woman humming softly nearby, a sweet, lilting tune. Iris inhaled sharply, her body tensing.
The images vanished instantly, snapping like a broken thread. A sudden, blinding pain exploded through her head, sharp enough to make her physically flinch and cry out. She pressed her trembling fingers tightly against her temple, closing her eyes as the dizziness worsened.
More fragmented memories threatened to force their way to the surface of her mind. She heard the sound of thick ice cracking violently beneath heavy, frantic footsteps. Someone was laughing warmly in the distance. She heard the roar of rushing water deep underground. It was too much. Too fast.
Iris shut her eyes tightly, tears of pain leaking through her lashes. "No."
The whisper came out strained and breathless. The agonizing pain only intensified the harder she tried to hold onto the fleeting images, her mind actively fighting against itself. So she stopped forcing it. Slowly, deliberately, she lowered the charm back onto the wooden table, leaning her head back against the high chair and forcing herself to breathe evenly, counting the inhalations until the sharp throbbing in her temples finally began to ease.
Silence returned gradually to the room afterward, broken only by the steady rain. Iris stared up toward the dark ceiling for several long, quiet moments, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Then, she whispered into the empty room, "...What is happening to me?"
No answer came from the shadows. Eventually, she stood up from the chair, intending to walk down to the kitchens to find some soothing tea before attempting to sleep again. But while passing through the adjoining study, something on the large desk caught her attention immediately. Papers. Several stacks of official documents rested carelessly across Zuko's desk, clearly left unfinished in great haste when he had been called away.
That itself wasn't unusual for the overworked Fire Lord. But the black insignia stamped across the top of one of the documents was. Iris stopped walking entirely, her breath catching. The stark Fire Crow emblem. Her stomach tightened instantly into a hard knot.
Slowly, as if moving through deep water, she stepped closer to the desk. More detailed reports lay scattered beneath the main file. Maps of old military movements. Hand-written notes. Lists of names. Old, classified military records from the war. Fire Crow dossiers. Understanding hit her almost immediately, cold and heavy. Zuko. He had been actively investigating her past behind her back.
Iris stared down at the documents silently while a profound coldness moved through her chest. It was not anger that she felt, nor was it a sense of betrayal. It was pure, unadulterated fear. Because Zuko rarely hid things from her. He was honest to a fault. Which meant that whatever he had discovered during his investigation had frightened him enough to make him hesitate to tell her.
The heavy wooden study doors opened quietly behind her. Zuko paused the moment he stepped into the room and saw the classified papers clutched firmly in her hands. A thick, heavy silence stretched between them in the dim light. Neither of them moved.
"...I was going to tell you," Zuko said softly, breaking the silence.
Iris looked up slowly, her eyes reflecting the candlelight. "When?"
Zuko stepped fully into the room and closed the doors behind him, cutting off the draft from the hallway. "When I knew enough to give you real answers."
The sound of the rain echoed softly outside the glass.
Iris lowered the report back onto the desk carefully, her hands trembling slightly. "What do you know about me, Zuko?"
"...More than I did before."
Iris felt her stomach tighten further. "How much?"
Zuko hesitated for a fraction of a second. That brief hesitation frightened her more than anything else he could have done. Because Zuko usually answered her immediately, without filtering his thoughts.
Finally, he spoke, his voice incredibly quiet. "I know your parents were Fire Crow operatives."
"No," she whispered immediately, shaking her head.
"I thought so too when I first saw the files."
"No." She shook her head harder now, her voice rising slightly. "That doesn't make any sense. It can't."
"Iris—"
"No." Her breathing sharpened into uneven, ragged gasps. "My father told me absolutely nothing about them. Nobody told me anything my entire life."
"Commander Hwan wasn't hiding your past from you because he was cruel, Iris." Zuko's voice lowered carefully, filled with a deep gentleness. "He was hiding it because he was actively protecting you from it."
"...What?"
"The Fire Crow order systematically erased all identities after a child was inducted. No family names were allowed. No history was kept." His jaw tightened faintly with anger at the thought. "And apparently, their policy of forcefully reclaiming former members or their children was common practice."
Iris stared at him, her mind spinning out of control.
"The current leader implied that Hwan found you and took you away before the Fire Crows could retrieve you again after your parents died."
Something inside her chest cracked violently at the revelation. Suddenly, a torrent of old memories resurfaced all at once, reframing her entire childhood. She remembered Commander Hwan constantly changing their travel routes during their long journeys across the colonies. She remembered his intense, paranoid habit of checking every exit before entering a new room. She remembered the fierce, unyielding way he never let her stay in one village for more than a few weeks.
Stay alive first. Ask questions later. His old motto. The realization hit her so hard she physically recoiled against the edge of the desk.
"No..."
Zuko stepped toward her immediately, reaching out his hands. "Iris—"
"I blamed him," she whispered, her voice breaking instantly as hot tears spilled down her face before she even realized she was crying. "I told him to his face that he stole my entire life from me."
Zuko remained silent and softly grabbed her shoulder.
"I accused him of taking me away from a family that loved me." Her hands were trembling visibly now, clutching at her robes. "And he—"
Fragments of trauma slammed suddenly through her mind like a physical blow. She saw cold, dark stone corridors. She smelled thick torch smoke. She saw Hwan kneeling in front of her, his hands on her shoulders. Run, Iris. Don't look back. Another memory surfaced, his voice urgent and terrified. Do not let them find you.
Iris gasped sharply for air, the room tilting violently around her as the vertigo took hold. More memories surfaced chaotically, crashing into each other. Snow falling. Heavy chains rattling. Dark, endless hallways. Someone screaming in agony in a distant room. A child crying desperately somewhere nearby. It was too much. Too fast for her brain to process.
"Iris!"
Zuko caught her arms immediately, pulling her against his chest just as her knees completely gave out beneath her.
Her breathing became dangerously uneven, bordering on a panic attack. "I blamed him," she whispered. "Spirits... he was protecting me from them the entire time, and I—" her throat tightened, "...I told Father I hated him before he died."
"He knew you didn't mean it, Iris."
"You don't know that for a fact."
"I do know it." The absolute certainty in his voice nearly broke her all over again.
A heavy, somber silence settled between them, the storm outside mirroring the turmoil within. Outside, the thunder rolled softly across the distant mountains.
Then, after a long, careful moment of contemplation, Zuko spoke softly. "I think the older northern healer knows something."
Iris frowned faintly, shifting her head against the pillow. "Ayla?"
Zuko nodded slowly. "I saw the precise way she looked at you during the lessons."
"She looked at me strangely because I'm the Fire Lady, Zuko. People are intimidated."
"No." His answer came immediately, far too firmly to be dismissed. "It wasn't suspicion or intimidation." He paused, looking into her eyes. "It looked exactly like grief."
The rain continued softly through the remainder of the night, casting a quiet shroud over the palace. Neither of them managed to sleep much afterward, lost in their own thoughts.
*I tagged all who followed my blog and who often react to my posts. Message to remove or add tag
A/N : One of my favorite things to write in this chapter was Zuko's interrogation scene. Instead of threatening the Fire Crow leader, he basically spent an hour shamelessly bragging about his wife until the poor man got so annoyed that he accidentally started giving away information. 😭
So yes, alongside mastering firebending and dual broadswords, Zuko has apparently unlocked a new combat style: weaponizing his unconditional love for Iris. Surprisingly... it was incredibly effective.
Fandom : Avatar the Last Airbender (ATLA)
Pairing : Zuko x Fem. OC
Tags : Romance, 10 years after war, Emotional Anchor, Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fire Nation Politics, Team Avatar conflicts
Worthwhile Masterlist
AO3 : Worthwhile by Allhaillordzuko
Status : WIP/ On goingㅣRating : General/Mature
**Summary : What begins as a peaceful exchange of healing knowledge slowly becomes something far more personal. An old healer sees something impossible in Iris, while a small northern keepsake stirs memories that should not exist. By the end of the chapter, the past is no longer quietly waiting in the shadows—it is beginning to reach back.
The first northern delegation arrived without ceremony and no royal procession crossed the capital, nor did any bright banners bearing the crest of the Northern Water Tribe flutter beside the palace gates to announce their arrival to the citizens of Caldera. No court musicians stood at the docks to play traditional instruments, and no formal heralds walked the cobblestone streets. Only healers came.
There were no fine silks, no exotic spices, and no crates of weapons. Instead, the ships carried vast amounts of medicinal supplies. Dried sea kelp, meticulously bundled in tightly woven hemp nets, sat stacked in towering rows. Ice-preservation jars, carved by hand from thick, pale northern stone, rang with a low, heavy sound as they were set upon the wooden planks. There were bundles of aromatic herbs wrapped carefully in cured sealskin cloth to keep out the salt air, and dense stacks of handwritten journals, their ink preserved inside waterproof leather cases. By the time word of their arrival finally reached the upper tiers of the palace, the northern delegation had already begun unloading the preservation equipment personally. Which was exactly how Iris liked people. Practical.
Across the low morning table in the royal dining pavilion, Zuko muttered a line from the early report while reading over breakfast. “Oh, Iris would love to meet them.”
Iris immediately looked up from her plate, her soft blue eyes focusing on him. "Who?"
"The northern delegation," Zuko replied, setting the parchment down.
The moment he muttered those words, her attention sharpened entirely. "They finally came?"
Zuko barely had time to nod before Iris was already standing up from her cushion. The movement was so sudden and unexpected that one of the nearby attendants nearly dropped the heavy bronze tea kettle they had been carrying.
Zuko pointed out the half-eaten breakfast remaining on her plate, his voice carrying a note of familiar concern. "You haven't finished eating."
"I can eat later," Iris said, already moving toward the doorway.
"You said that yesterday too," Zuko reminded her, his brow furrowing slightly.
"I survived."
"Barely."
Iris ignored him entirely, her thoughts already sweeping past the palace walls toward the harbor. By the time Zuko managed to follow her outside several minutes later, she was already halfway across the expansive palace courtyard. She was speaking animatedly with one of the harbor officials, her hands gesturing quickly while she simultaneously fastened the wide sleeves of her outer silk robe. Zuko stopped at the top of the stone steps and sighed, shaking his head. Then he smiled despite himself, watching the sheer focus that drove her forward.
The palace gardens had slowly and dramatically transformed under Iris' constant supervision over the year. What had once been cold, decorative courtyards meant primarily for the vanity of high-ranking nobility had become living, breathing medicinal grounds. Every terrace was overflowing with carefully cultivated herbs brought in from every nation possible, turning the once-sterile stone paths into an oasis of growth.
Large glass greenhouse structures, warmed by carefully controlled underground heat channels that Iris had designed herself, occupied the eastern terraces. Tall drying racks built from fragrant cedar wood lined the outer walkways, catching the natural breeze. Thick medicinal vines climbed up the ornate lattice walls beside the still lotus ponds, and the air itself smelled intensely alive. It was a thick, rich mixture of sharp mint, pungent ginger, dried citrus peel, and the deep scent of earth after rain.
Upon entering the courtyard, the northern healers looked visibly stunned. It was not simply because the gardens were beautiful, though they certainly were. It was because nothing like this could exist naturally in the extreme climate of the North. Fresh medicinal cultivation in frozen regions remained an extremely difficult, often impossible endeavor. Many delicate plants lost their vital potency during the long transport across the ocean, or suffered structural damage during crude preservation attempts. Others simply could not survive the biting northern temperatures at all, freezing into useless black stalks before they could be harvested.
Iris had changed that completely. Her innovative preservation methods—which included tightly controlled drying temperatures, infusions of specialized medicinal oils, mineral preservation salts, and the implementation of underground heating systems for winter cultivation—had spread quietly across neighboring nations over the last year. Most of the visiting healers had expected the Fire Lady to oversee the massive project from a distance, watching from a high balcony while dressed in fine silks. Instead, they found her kneeling in the damp, dark soil beside teenage apprentices, completely unbothered by the dirt smudged across her hands while she explained root preservation techniques.
"Too much heat destroys the medicinal oils," Iris explained gently, her fingers separating the thin, fragile roots across the woven wooden trays. "Most people dry herbs far too quickly because they panic about the onset of mold."
One of the younger northern apprentices frowned slightly, leaning forward to get a better look at the trays. "But slower drying risks rot."
"Yes," Iris agreed, looking up with a faint, reassuring smile. "So you control the airflow instead of raising the temperature." She reached out and adjusted one of the cedar screens nearby, angling it to catch the cross-breeze. "Warm air moving continuously preserves flexibility much better than direct, stagnant heat."
The apprentices leaned closer immediately, murmuring among themselves as they took notes. None of them noticed the older healer standing silently near the back of the stone courtyard. It was Ayla. Her mixed dark and silver-white hair had been braided carefully down her back in the traditional northern style, the heavy, dark fur lining around her shoulders still damp from the travel rain that had met them at the docks. Age had bent her posture slightly over the years, stealing some of her height, but it had done nothing to dim her eyes.
Those eyes remained incredibly sharp and observant. And at that exact moment, they were entirely fixed on Iris. To Ayla, Iris looked impossible. The resemblance still struck Ayla like sudden ice cracking beneath thin water. It was there in the precise shape of her jaw, the softness around her mouth when she smiled at the students, and the way she listened with absolute stillness before speaking. It was even present in the small, unconscious habit Iris had of brushing loose hair behind one ear while concentrating on her work.
Ayla's breath caught painfully in her throat. Spirits. For one terrible, disorienting moment, it felt exactly like looking directly at a ghost from her youth. Ayla said absolutely nothing to the people around her, because hope was a dangerous thing to nurture in an old heart, and wise women learned long ago not to trust in miracles. It was also because logically, it could not be true. Iris was known across the world now. The woman beside Fire Lord Zuko was a lady with fire in her veins, not a lost daughter of the winter snows.
The lessons lasted for nearly two weeks, establishing a rigorous, comforting rhythm in the palace gardens. Every morning, Iris guided the northern delegation personally through the intricacies of preservation techniques, walking them through the greenhouses and detailing the chemical reactions of different mineral salts. Every afternoon, she somehow ended up reorganizing the massive storage rooms herself, completely ignoring the repeated, panicked objections from servants and royal attendants who insisted the Fire Lady should not be lifting heavy crates. Every evening, she sat cross-legged on the stone floor among the apprentices, patiently answering their endless questions long after the formal instruction hours had ended for the day.
The northern students grew to adore her almost immediately. It was not because she was the Fire Lady, in fact, most of them entirely forgot her royal title within a few hours of working beside her. They loved her because Iris never behaved like a nobility. She remembered every single one of their names after hearing them once, she apologized sincerely when her explanations became too technical or confusing, and she listened seriously to the ideas of the younger students instead of dismissing them as inexperienced.
Once, during a particularly chaotic afternoon session, a nervous young apprentice accidentally spilled an entire tray of finely crushed mint leaves across the polished greenhouse floor. The poor girl froze, looking moments away from bursting into panicked tears as she stared at the mess.
Instead of scolding her or calling for a servant, Iris blinked once at the green carpet of leaves, before quietly saying, "Well. At least the room smells better now."
The entire greenhouse burst into spontaneous laughter at the remark. Iris herself joined in, her shoulders shaking with genuine amusement. The sound of that laugh hit Ayla so hard that she nearly dropped the ceramic tea cup she was holding. It wasn't just the tone of the voice, it was the specific, radiant warmth inside it. It was exactly the same. Ayla stared down into her tea afterward, her hands trembling slightly as her vision blurred unexpectedly with unshed tears.
Beside her, another northern healer noticed the sudden stiffening of her posture. "Ayla? Are you well?"
"I'm fine," Ayla murmured, keeping her eyes downcast.
But she wasn't fine. Because grief did not simply disappear because a few decades had passed. Sometimes it only waited quietly in the dark corners of the mind, biding its time until something familiar and long-lost walked back into the room.
Zuko noticed the constant staring by the third day of the lessons. At first, he assumed the older northern healer simply found Iris unusual, as most traditionalists did when they first encountered her. Iris had an unfortunate, persistent habit of collecting the deep loyalty of strangers completely by accident. But as the days rolled on, he eventually realized something else was at play. Ayla did not look at Iris with mere curiosity or political suspicion. She looked at her like someone staring directly at a deep wound that had suddenly reopened beneath layers of old, brittle scar tissue. That realization changed things entirely.
That evening, he approached Iris while she was busy reorganizing the heavy stone preservation jars in one of the quiet greenhouse storage rooms, the lanternlight casting long shadows across the rows of shelving.
"You've gained another admirer," Zuko said, stepping into the room.
Iris looked up from the low shelves, a jar balanced in her hands. "What?"
"The older northern healer."
"Ayla? She's fifty, Zuko."
"That doesn't answer my statement."
Iris snorted softly, turning back to the shelf to set the jar down in its proper place.
Zuko leaned casually against the wooden doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. "She keeps staring at you. Every single day."
Iris shrugged, her movements methodical. "Probably because I'm completely reorganizing her people's traditional storage methods without their formal permission."
"That's not why."
Something specific in his tone finally made her pause. She turned her head, studying his face. "What then?"
Zuko hesitated briefly, looking down at the floor before meeting her eyes. "I don't know yet."
Iris studied the tension in his jaw for a long moment before returning her attention to the shelves. "Well," she said lightly, trying to ease his mind, "try not to interrogate any elderly healers this time."
Zuko looked deeply offended, straightening up from the doorframe. "I interrogate people professionally, Iris."
"You threatened a high-ranking diplomat with turtleducks last month."
"He deserved it."
"That's not the point."
Zuko crossed his arms defensively. "The turtleducks were extremely persuasive."
Iris laughed quietly under her breath, the sound echoing softly in the enclosed space. Outside the large greenhouse windows, standing in the fading light of the courtyard, Ayla watched the playful interaction silently.
On the final evening before the northern delegation was scheduled to depart back across the sea, the persistent rain finally stopped. The expansive palace gardens glowed softly beneath the warm light of hanging paper lanterns, while a cool, crisp evening air drifted through the open greenhouse terraces. Most of the younger healers spent the night inside, frantically packing their preservation notes, journals, and dried samples for the long return journey.
Ayla approached Iris while she was standing alone near the outer herb gardens, checking the soil moisture one last time.
"You've changed northern preservation entirely," the older woman said quietly, her voice cutting through the stillness of the night.
Iris turned, offering a faint smile. "I think that description might be slightly dramatic, Ayla."
"It isn't." Ayla's voice carried a quiet, unshakeable certainty as she stepped closer. "In frozen climates, losing an entire harvest of medicinal plants during a harsh winter means losing human lives. You have given us a way to keep them alive."
Something in that statement softened Iris immediately, the professional distance melting away. "That's exactly why I started experimenting with these methods originally," she admitted softly, looking out over the plants. "Too many small, isolated villages depended on unstable trade routes that closed during storms. People shouldn't die just because the weather changes."
"I made this for you," she whispered.
She extended her hand, offering Iris a small, carefully wrapped cloth bundle.
Iris blinked in visible surprise before accepting the gift with careful hands. She pulled back the cloth, revealing a handcrafted northern charm. It was woven from pale blue thread and polished, intricately carved pieces of whale bone. At the exact center hung a smooth white stone, deeply etched with old Water Tribe symbols that represented protection and homecoming.
The moment Iris' bare fingers brushed against the stone, something cold and profound moved suddenly through her chest. It was not a physical pain, but rather a sudden, violent jolt of recognition. A strange, distant sensation flickered vividly behind her eyes. She felt the bite of freezing wind. She saw endless expanses of blinding white snow. She heard the faint sound of a woman humming a soft, comforting melody nearby. She felt the phantom sensation of tiny, numb fingers gripping tightly onto thick, fur-lined sleeves.
Then, it was gone instantly, snapping back into the dark. Iris inhaled sharply, her chest heaving as she stared down at the object. Ayla noticed the sudden change in her breathing, her own heart hammering against her ribs.
"It's beautiful," Iris whispered honestly, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to steady herself.
The older healer smiled faintly, though her eyes were filled with a profound sadness. "It belonged to a specific pattern my family used generations ago."
She stared down at the charm much longer than she expected, her thumb tracing the carved bone. "It feels strange somehow," she admitted quietly, unable to hide her confusion. "Like I've seen something very similar to this before."
Ayla's throat tightened violently at the confession. A million words rushed to her lips, a million questions she desperately wanted to ask. But she forced them back down. She only said, "Perhaps."
Nothing more. Because hope could still destroy people if it proved false, and Ayla had survived too much loss in her lifetime already to break herself now
Fandom : Avatar the Last Airbender (ATLA)
Pairing : Zuko x Fem. OC
Tags : Romance, 10 years after war, Emotional Anchor, Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fire Nation Politics, Team Avatar conflicts
Worthwhile Masterlist
AO3 : Worthwhile by Allhaillordzuko
Status : WIP/ On goingㅣRating : General/Mature
Presenting : Zuko and Iris (OC)
Art by: Ig @_kyl.nyom and X @_kylmnopqrstu
A lil love note:
This commission is probably the closest visual representation of how I imagine Zuko and Iris while writing.
When I first started this story, I never set out to create an OC simply for the sake of pairing Zuko with someone. Iris was born from a question that had been sitting in my mind for years: how did Zuko grow from the grumpy, awkward, short-tempered prince we knew in the original series into the calm, wise, and composed Fire Lord we later see?
People grow, of course. Time changes everyone. But such a profound transformation over only a few years made me wonder if there had been someone beside him—someone who challenged him, grounded him, and helped him heal from wounds that even victory couldn’t erase. That thought eventually became Iris.
But the heart of Worthwhile has never been only about Zuko’s love life.
In many ways, the story is just as much about the Fire Nation itself.
The Hundred Year War left devastation across the world, and yet within only a few years, the Fire Nation had already begun rebuilding diplomatic ties and earning back the trust of former enemies. I’ve always been fascinated by that transformation. How does a nation responsible for a century of destruction begin to make amends? How do ordinary people move forward when the scars of war still remain? What does reconciliation actually look like beyond the ending of a war?
Those questions became just as important to me as the characters themselves.
This story has always been my own interpretation of Zuko’s journey after the war. It’s not meant to replace canon or compete with it. It’s simply the version of his story that lives in my head: one where healing is difficult, growth is gradual, and rebuilding a nation can be every bit as challenging as rebuilding a person.
What I never expected was for so many people to become invested in it.
This fic began as nothing more than a story that had been buried in my mind for a very long time. I wrote it because I wanted to finally put those ideas into words. I genuinely never imagined readers would become attached to these characters, discuss theories, leave thoughtful comments, or tell me they were emotionally invested in the story.
Every like, repost, hit, bookmark, comment, and kind message still surprises me. Thank you for giving this story—and Iris—a chance. It means more than I can properly express.
And thank you for following along on this journey with me. ❤️
WORTHWHILE -Chapter 19: The Festival of Returning Lights
Fandom : Avatar the Last Airbender (ATLA)
Pairing : Zuko x Fem. OC
Tags : Romance, 10 years after war, Emotional Anchor, Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fire Nation Politics, Team Avatar conflicts
Worthwhile Masterlist
AO3 : Worthwhile by Allhaillordzuko
Status : WIP/ On goingㅣRating : General/Mature
**Summary: Training takes an unexpected turn when hidden talents begin revealing themselves in ways nobody anticipated. As Team Avatar spends their final days on Ember Island together, chaos, laughter, and old memories fill every corner of the beach house. A local tradition offers a chance to reflect on everything that was lost—and everything that was saved. Amid friendships old and new, everyone finds something worth carrying forward. And by the end of the journey, the meaning of home feels a little different than before.
The second day of training somehow managed to become even more chaotic than the first. Mostly because Team Avatar collectively, and entirely without Iris's consent, decided that her training needed to become "practical." Which, in the vocabulary of Team Avatar, was a profoundly terrible sentence that usually preceded an emergency room visit.
It started immediately after a hurried breakfast, when Katara attempted to teach Iris how to react faster under intense, sudden pressure.
"Again," Katara instructed, standing ankle-deep in the foaming water, her arms raised in a loose, fluid guard.
Iris exhaled slowly, clearing her mind before raising her arms to match. The ocean answered almost instantly to her intent. A smooth, massive stream of seawater rose beside her, lifting into the air in perfect, flowing spirals that mirrored the growth of vines. Katara watched the display carefully, her analytical mind tracking every ripple. Even after a full day of observation, the way water moved around Iris still felt profoundly strange. Not wrong, but fundamentally different from any style she had ever seen. Katara bent with rigid, fierce discipline, Aang bent with pure, joyful instinct, Master Pakku bent with razor-sharp, lethal precision.
But Iris—Iris bent like somebody gently asking the water for help. And somehow, the water always, without fail, said yes. Katara launched a sudden, controlled wave directly toward her chest. Iris reacted late—too late, her mind overthinking the martial form. The wave splashed directly into her, soaking her completely from head to toe.
Sokka immediately jumped up, pointing from the dry shoreline. "THE OCEAN CLAIMS ANOTHER VICTIM!"
"Quiet, Sokka!" Katara snapped instantly without turning around.
Iris pushed a clump of wet, salty hair away from her face, wiping her eyes while trying her absolute best not to laugh at her own clumsiness. "I think the ocean likes me significantly less today, Katara."
"No," Katara corrected thoughtfully, stepping closer through the surf. "The ocean loves you. You just hesitate right before defending yourself because you're treating the water like an opponent instead of an extension of your own space."
Iris's expression softened slightly, her eyes dropping. Because Katara was entirely right. Every single movement Iris made still carried a profound, heavy restraint. She never fully committed her strength or force into the water, because somewhere deep inside her memories, she genuinely feared what would happen if she lost control and hurt someone. Katara noticed that deep-seated fear, and perhaps that was what unsettled her most about the girl's potential. Iris possessed a frightening, almost limitless natural ability, yet she treated it with the fragile gentleness of a glass flower. As though power itself made her deeply uncomfortable.
Nearby, Toph stretched out lazily across the warm, sun-baked sand, her hands behind her head. "You know," she called out casually, "that specific attitude is exactly how somebody accidentally becomes absolutely terrifying later on."
"I'm really not terrifying, Toph," Iris called back, wringing out the hem of her wet dress.
"You literally redirected massive underground water systems across entire islands during the regional dry spells!" Toph pointed out, sitting up.
"For gardening!" Iris repeated her eternal defense.
"That somehow keeps sounding worse and worse every time you say it," Toph snorted.
Sokka nodded seriously, crossing his arms like a scholar. "Yeah, it's like hearing Azula casually mention that she only committed horrific war crimes recreationally on the weekends."
"Too far, Sokka," Zuko answered immediately from his porch seat, his voice dropping into a warning growl.
"Fair," Sokka conceded quickly, raising his hands.
Aang, meanwhile, attempted to help the situation. Unfortunately, "helping" from Aang usually involved a massive inflation of scale that created three additional problems.
"I think Iris just needs a massive burst of confidence!" Aang cheered, jumping up onto his feet.
Then, before anybody could physically stop him or even shout a warning, Aang formed a massive, towering column of seawater upward behind him dramatically, the wave casting a shadow over the entire beach.
Katara turned instantly, her jaw dropping. "AANG!"
"What?" the Avatar blinked, hovering slightly on a small air current.
"We are NOT throwing giant, catastrophic waves at beginners during their second day!"
"It builds character!" Aang defended, his eyes bright with childlike logic.
"That is the exact phrase Azula used right before she started throwing throwing-knives at the back of my head during royal target practice," Zuko muttered into his tea.
Sokka pointed at his friend immediately. "See? Classic trauma bonding! It works wonders!"
Right on cue, Aang lost his concentration for a split second. The giant, towering wave collapsed sideways, entirely missing Iris but dumping several tons of cold seawater directly onto Sokka, flattening him into the sand. Everybody exploded into laughter. Even Toph. Especially Toph, who rolled over onto her stomach to pound the sand in absolute glee.
By noon, the beach had transformed into complete, unadulterated nonsense. Aang had created floating, spinning air-scooters over the shallow water, racing across the waves. Sokka loudly insisted to anyone who would listen that he had almost caught a sea-bass "the literal size of Appa," gesturing wildly with his arms. Suki calmly, systematically corrected every single exaggerated detail of his story from her spot on the towel.
Meanwhile, Katara continued her tireless effort to teach Iris proper defensive movement.
"Don't think about controlling the volume of the water," Katara instructed gently, guiding Iris's hands through a slower arc.
"That's difficult," Iris admitted softly, "because it... it moves before I even think about it."
Katara paused, her hands freezing. "...What?"
Iris hesitated, looking down at the small ripples swirling around her toes. "Sometimes it reacts before I even consciously decide to do anything."
A heavy silence fell over the immediate area. Katara slowly looked down toward the ocean, then toward Iris's hands, then across the sand toward Zuko.
Zuko calmly sipped his tea under the shade. "Yes. That happens. Frequently."
"How are you saying this so casually?!" Katara yelled across the beach.
"I married her, Katara. I adjusted my expectations regarding safety months ago," Zuko replied without a hint of irony.
Katara stared at Iris again, her curiosity completely overriding her instructor persona. "Show me."
Iris looked deeply uncertain. "Show you what?"
"The instinctive reaction. Don't think. Don't do a form."
"I don't know how to do it on command," Iris whispered.
"That is somehow infinitely more concerning," Katara muttered.
Eventually, Katara decided on a radical test. She flicked her wrist, tossing a quick, sharp stream of water directly toward Iris's shoulder without a single word of warning. Immediately—before Iris could even blink, let alone consciously move a single muscle—the ocean surged upward with terrifying speed. A perfectly curved, thick shield of dense seawater rose instantly around her like a protective dome. It was fast, smooth, and entirely automatic. Everyone on the beach froze instantly. Even Iris, who was staring at the inside of the water wall with wide, shocked eyes. The seawater slowly, smoothly lowered back into the surf, leaving her completely dry. A stunned silence settled over the entire shoreline.
Then, Suki slowly sat upright on her towel, her jaw slightly slack. "...Okay, yeah. That is officially a little horrifying."
Sokka pointed a trembling finger from his spot. "She waterbends like haunted swamp-plants, I'm telling you! It's alive!"
"I don't think haunted plants actually waterbend, Sokka," Aang answered, scratching his head.
"You don't know their life choices!"
Katara remained standing in place, staring thoughtfully at the flat surface of the ocean. Because logically, no beginner should ever be able to react like that. No beginner should instinctively move that volume of water without a massive expenditure of willpower. And yet, Iris stood there looking more surprised and bewildered than anyone else on the beach. Which, honestly, might have been the scariest part of the entire realization.
That afternoon, the group eventually abandoned all pretense of training and drifted toward swimming and lounging instead. Mostly because Sokka loudly and dramatically declared to the heavens, "If I have to suffer through the mental anguish of fishing without a single bite, everybody suffers with me in the deep water!"
So, naturally, the entire group ended up splashing into the ocean. Sokka attempted to race Aang across the cove and immediately lost by a margin of several hundred yards. He instantly demanded a rematch, claiming a rogue wave had fouled his stroke, and proceeded to lose even more spectacularly. Toph, true to her nature, flatly refused to enter the deeper water unless somebody physically carried her, citing her profound hatred of losing her connection to the earth. Which somehow resulted in a deeply annoyed Zuko carrying her on his back like a pack-mule while she spent the entire time loudly insulting his posture and stride.
"You walk too stiff, Sparky! You're like a wooden toy!"
"I'm literally carrying your weight through wet sand, Toph," Zuko growled, his boots splashing.
"Excuses, excuses. A real Fire Lord would have a smoother gait."
Meanwhile, Katara and Iris remained closer to the shallow shoreline, the warm seawater curling softly around Iris's hands absentmindedly while she listened to Katara explain the deeper, spiritual philosophies of their art.
"Most waterbenders focus entirely on adaptation," Katara explained, her hands tracing gentle ripples in the surf. "Changing your form with the movement of the opponent. Redirecting their own force back at them."
Iris listened quietly, her eyes tracking the movement of the tide. Then, after a long moment of quiet reflection, she asked, "What if... what if the water moves before you even have a chance to adapt?"
Katara blinked, turning to look at her with a wry smile. "...Iris, you keep saying things that concern me deeply on a theological level."
Iris laughed softly, the sound light and musical against the crashing waves.
By evening, the pleasant beach weather shifted significantly cooler. Heavy, dark clouds drifted slowly across the setting sun while the ocean wind carried a sharp, cold bite through the open spaces of the beach house. And somehow—entirely without any formal discussion—everyone gathered together in the main room. Sokka collapsed dramatically beside the stone fireplace first, wrapping himself in three separate blankets.
"I'm freezing," he groaned, his teeth chattering artificially.
"You literally live in the South Pole," Katara reminded him, rolling her eyes as she sat down across from him.
"Yes, but now I'm city-bred and emotionally delicate," Sokka shot back, sniffing.
Aang immediately curled up right beside Zuko on the large bench, seeking warmth. Then Toph migrated over, burying herself against Zuko's other side. Suki rested her head somewhere near Zuko’s waist. Then Katara joined the cluster, until eventually, Zuko found himself once again buried beneath a mountain of Team Avatar, everyone using him as a living, breathing furnace.
It was exactly like during the final months of the war. Back then, freezing cold nights happened constantly in the mountain camps, the ruined temples, and the sudden rainstorms. And eventually, Team Avatar had simply discovered that Zuko radiated enough ambient body heat to function as highly efficient, portable survival equipment.
Sokka sighed happily from his spot near Zuko's boots. "The Furnace Lord returns to his people."
"I still absolutely hate that name," Zuko growled, though he didn't move to push anyone away.
"Raise the temperature, Sparky. My toes are like icicles."
"I am not a campfire, Sokka."
"You literally are," Toph mumbled, snuggling deeper into his shoulder.
Meanwhile, Iris watched the entire ridiculous situation from a nearby chair with helpless, joyous amusement. Because somehow, this terrifying, legendary group of world-saving war heroes had collectively regressed into a pile of exhausted children stealing warmth from a grumpy Fire Lord.
Then, Aang looked up toward her, his eyes bright in the dim light. "You should join us, Iris!"
Iris blinked, her cheeks warming. "...Join what?"
"The official Zuko heating pile!" Aang cheered.
"That is absolutely NOT what we call this," Zuko answered immediately, his voice rising in pitch.
Toph smirked, not opening her eyes. "That's exactly what we call this in the official logs, Sparky."
Eventually, Iris slid down from her chair and settled beside Zuko too, wedging herself into the space next to his arm. The exact moment she curled near him, Zuko's entire posture shifted, his arm moved to wrap around her waist, and he instinctively adjusted the ambient warmth of his firebending to concentrate directly around her specifically. Immediately, everyone in the pile noticed the sudden spike in temperature.
Sokka gasped dramatically, throwing his blanket off his face. "Special treatment! I feel a distinct micro-climate forming over there!"
Katara pointed an accusing finger from the edge. "He made it warmer only for Iris!"
Toph smirked, nudging Zuko's ribs with her elbow. "Pure simp behavior, Fire Lord. Disgraceful."
Zuko closed his eyes, letting out a long, hot breath that carried a few tiny sparks. "I regret surviving the war. I truly do."
"No, you don't," Aang answered immediately with a massive, beaming smile.
And despite all his fierce complaining, Zuko still kept his internal flame burning steady, keeping everyone perfectly warm through the long, cold night anyway. Later, the conversations softened, turning less chaotic and far more tired as the fire crackled quietly in the hearth and the waves crashed softly beyond the open balcony doors. For a long while, they simply exchanged old, familiar stories—some funny, some deeply embarrassing, some lingeringly painful.
Sokka dramatically retold the legendary story of him accidentally drinking cactus juice in the desert. "It was the quenchiest thing in the entire world, Iris! You don't understand! The sky was geometric!"
"It was absolutely, unequivocally not quenchiest," Katara answered immediately, shuddering at the memory.
Toph nearly fell sideways off the bench laughing, remembering the sound of Sokka talking to a giant friendly mushroom.
Then, eventually, the drifting stories shifted toward their actual war memories. Not the heavy, terrifying battles or the scars, but the gentler, quiet moments between the danger—the horrific campfire meals Zuko had attempted to cook, Aang sleepwalking on top of Appa's head, Sokka's snores that sounded like an incoming airship fleet, and Katara mothering everybody aggressively until they wanted to hide in a cave.
And Zuko quietly realized something again as he held Iris close. She listened to every single word of those old stories like they were the most important things in the world. Not because these people were famous international heroes, but because she cared about their lives. She asked questions softly, laughed at the right moments, and looked genuinely sad during the brief mentions of painful memories. She fit beside them naturally, an unforced piece of the puzzle.
And perhaps the strangest, most beautiful thing of all was—Team Avatar accepted her just as naturally too. Not as the formal Fire Lady, not as Zuko's political wife, but just as Iris.
By the time everyone finally drifted toward sleep in a tangled mass of blankets, the old beach house felt warmer than it ever had before. Not because of firebending, but because of the people inside.
Every morning on Ember Island unfolded slightly differently, and yet, somehow, they were exactly the same. Sokka spent the vast majority of his time attempting to catch fish with increasingly over-engineered and dramatic techniques, while Suki stood nearby, encouraging him like a deeply supportive, incredibly patient wife witnessing absolute, unadulterated nonsense.
"That specific fish was definitely afraid of your warrior stance, Sokka," she noted deadpan as a tiny trout swam away.
"THANK YOU!" Sokka cheered, completely missing the sarcasm.
On the third afternoon, Toph finally crossed her arms smugly, facing Katara and Iris near the water. "You two should duel. An official, high-stakes water-match. Let's see what the gardener's really got."
Immediately, both Katara and Iris answered in perfect, terrified unison, "No."
"That means yes in earthbender language!" Toph cheered.
Unfortunately for Iris, Team Avatar agreed instantly, cheering and setting up an impromptu boundary line in the sand. And so, eventually, Katara stood facing Iris near the shoreline while the afternoon waves crashed softly around their knees.
"We'll keep it completely controlled, Iris," Katara assured her, offering a warm, encouraging nod. "Just standard sparring."
That promise lasted approximately thirty seconds.
At first, Katara attacked very gently—smaller, lazy waves, controlled strikes, and simple, introductory forms. Iris defended awkwardly but successfully, her movements rigid but effective. Then, Katara increased the pressure slightly, throwing a faster succession of water rings.
And somehow—Iris answered it. Not skillfully, not with any recognizable Northern or Southern style, but through pure, raw instinct. Massive torrents of water surged around her in enormous, sweeping flowing arcs, responding to her panic almost before she even consciously moved her arms.
Katara's eyes widened slightly as she felt the sheer, crushing mass of the ocean shifting under Iris's influence. Then, the waterbender master stopped holding back entirely, her own competitive fire flaring up. The ocean rose instantly around them both. Massive, sweeping currents spiraled through the air like liquid dragons. And somehow, through sheer volume alone, Iris still endured. Not because she was more skilled—Katara remained vastly, undeniably superior in every technical aspect of the art—but the sheer, staggering scale of Iris's bending became increasingly, hilariously absurd. The ocean itself seemed entirely too eager to answer her every call.
Finally, Katara lowered her arms first, breathing heavily, her hair soaked. The massive sea structures settled slowly back into the surf afterward, flattening out into calm ripples.
Absolute silence fell over the beach.
Then, Sokka pointed a trembling hand dramatically toward Iris. "That... that is a horrifying human being."
Toph grinned proudly from her rock. "We accidentally trained a localized natural disaster, guys! Good job!"
Iris still looked completely confused, looking at her dry hands. "I thought I did really badly. I lost my footing twice."
Katara stared at her, still panting slightly. "Iris... you have practiced formal waterbending for exactly TWO DAYS."
Sokka wandered over to Zuko, leaning in close. "You know? You're not winning a single argument against Iris from this day forward, buddy. Your wife is officially terrifying."
"I am well aware," Zuko answered softly, his eyes fixed on Iris.
But Zuko never once saw Iris's immense power as terrifying. Because despite the terrifying scale of what she could do when pushed, she remained, at her core, entirely gentle. And that beautiful, unyielding gentleness only made him love her more deeply with every passing second.
_____
That night, they gathered around the massive stone fireplace inside the beach house while a crisp ocean wind rattled softly against the heavy open windows. And naturally—because Team Avatar never let a good joke die—the conversation returned down the inevitable path to Iris fighting off imperial assassins using a wooden herb drying rack.
Sokka physically got up to reenact the scene in the center of the rug, his face twisted into a comical sneer. "Just imagine being a highly trained, elite shadow-assassin," he whispered dramatically.
Aang immediately joined in, creeping around the edge of the couch with exaggerated stealth. "You infiltrate the secret village successfully under the cover of darkness—"
Then, Sokka grabbed a random wooden serving tray from the table, spinning it around like a battle-axe. "AND SUDDENLY—HERB VIOLENCE! BAM! A Face full of dried lavender and solid oak!"
Toph nearly fell over sideways onto the floor laughing, her boots kicking the air. Katara buried her face deeply into her hands, her shoulders shaking. Even Zuko looked dangerously, unprecedentedly close to actual tears from laughing so hard, his shoulders trembling as he tried to maintain his royal dignity.
Meanwhile, Iris sat wrapped in a massive mountain of blankets on the floor, looking deeply, profoundly betrayed by everyone she held dear. "It worked," she muttered defensively.
"That's somehow the exact core of the problem, Iris," Suki answered gently, still wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. "You set a terrifying precedent for the security detail."
Eventually, the evening grew much colder, the fire dying down to low embers. Which, once again, naturally and automatically triggered an old, unalterable Team Avatar instinct. One by one—like a colony of sleepy penguin-otters—they gravitated across the rug toward Zuko's bench.
"Furnace Lord," Sokka announced proudly, wedging his shoulder under Zuko's arm.
"I still hate that name with every fiber of my being," Zuko growled out.
"Raise the temperature, campfire man."
"I'm not a campfire, Sokka."
"You literally are," the whole room echoed in perfect harmony.
For the first time since Team Avatar had reached the shores of Ember Island, nobody woke up screaming from a nightmare. There were no dramatic late-night ambushes, no fishing disasters before sunrise, and absolutely no accidental elemental explosions from Aang attempting to cook a massive breakfast using all four elements simultaneously. Just quiet, steady waves, warm morning sunlight streaming through the blinds, and the distant, peaceful sound of seabirds circling high above the shoreline.
Zuko woke earlier than everyone else out of pure, unalterable habit. For a few long, quiet moments, he simply remained perfectly still beneath the heavy blankets, enjoying the sensation of the soft ocean wind drifting through the open balcony doors. Beside him, Iris still slept peacefully, her breathing deep and even. The golden morning sunlight fell softly across her face, illuminating the faint dust motes in the air, while loose strands of her dark hair rested messily against the white pillow.
Zuko stared quietly at her for a long moment, then another, his chest filling with an ache that felt like warmth. It still surprised him sometimes, even after all these months. Not the simple fact that he loved her—that specific part had stopped frightening his guarded heart months ago. What still startled him, what still caught him off guard, was the sheer quietness of it. The total absence of conflict. The peace. For most of his traumatic life, love had always felt painful, complicated, fragile, and dangerous—something sharp you wrestled with, something easy to lose in a flash of fire. Yet beside Iris, love often felt strangely, beautifully simple. Like sunlight across a calm ocean.
After a late breakfast, the entire group eventually wandered out toward the local Ember Island village together, seeking a change of scenery. The dirt roads leading into the coastal town already bustled with an unusual amount of dense movement. Bright paper lanterns hung in long, colorful rows across every single storefront. Strips of vibrant, dyed fabrics stretched high between the stone rooftops, fluttering in the breeze. Local children ran laughing through the crowded streets, carrying small, folded paper lights and wooden sticks. Festive music from traditional stringed instruments drifted through the marketplace while villagers carried large wicker baskets filled to the brim with fresh flowers, wax candles, and unpainted lantern frames.
Iris slowed her pace slightly, sliding closer beside Zuko as they navigated the crowd. "What's happening today? Is it a regional holiday?"
"I don't know," Zuko admitted, his brow furrowing as he looked around.
That alone felt incredibly strange to him. Usually, every major Fire Nation celebration or festival was connected directly to some milestone of the royal family—military victories, historic expansions, political anniversaries, or the birth of an Fire Lord. Yet this specific festival felt different immediately. Lighter, softer, and entirely un-bureaucratic somehow.
Sokka, naturally, already disappeared toward the nearest food stalls within a matter of seconds, drawn by the smell of roasting meat. Meanwhile, Aang stared upward excitedly at the rows of hanging lights, his eyes wide. "This looks absolutely amazing, guys!"
Toph tilted her head slightly, her ears twitching as she listened to the rhythmic murmurs of the crowds. "There's a lot of people out here today. Way more than yesterday."
"I'm blind, not stupid, Sugar Queen," Toph shot back, sticking her tongue out.
Eventually, an elderly woman who was carefully arranging hand-painted lanterns outside her small paper shop noticed the group lingering nearby, looking a bit lost. "You children are here for the festival?" she asked warmly, her wrinkled face breaking into a kind smile.
Sokka answered first, somehow already holding three separate skewers of heavily spiced grilled meat in his hands. "Yes! Absolutely!" Then, leaning in a bit quieter, "What festival exactly?"
The old woman laughed softly, a wheezing, pleasant sound. "The Festival of Returning Lights, young man."
Something about the name made Zuko pause in his tracks, his eyes fixing on a lantern.
The woman continued arranging her fragile paper frames carefully while she spoke. "It began... right after the great war finally ended."
A quiet silence settled gently around the group—not uncomfortable or tense, but deeply attentive, their smiles softening.
The woman smiled faintly, her eyes looking backward into memory. "The common people wanted something to remember... to remember the simple feeling of peace returning to the world."
Not a celebration of a grand military victory. Not a monument to a conqueror. Not a tribute to the Fire Nation or even to the Avatar himself. Just peace itself, raw and untangled.
"So every year now," the old woman murmured, "we release lanterns out onto the water... for the people we lost along the way... and for the people who managed to survive long enough to see the world become gentle again."
Nobody spoke immediately afterward. Because somehow—deep down—none of them had ever expected the ordinary citizens of the world to remember the end of the war in this specific way. Not through the lens of grand politics, treaties, or heroes, but through the shared language of grief, hope, and profound relief.
Sokka looked quieter first, his food skewers lowering slightly. Then Katara's eyes shined with unshed tears. Even Aang's bright expression softened into something deeply mature and ancient.
The old woman continued smiling gently, entirely, blissfully unaware of exactly who stood before her small shop—the Fire Lord, the Avatar, and the heroes of the era. "You should release a few lanterns tonight too," she said kindly, reaching into a basket. "Everyone deserves a chance to send a little light forward into the dark."
Then, she handed several unfinished, simple wooden lantern frames toward them. "For your wishes."
Zuko stared down at the thin paper lantern in his hands for a long, heavy moment. Simple white paper, thin strips of bamboo wood, and softly painted red flames along the base. Yet somehow, it felt heavier than any crown he had ever worn. Beside him, Iris watched the busy streets quietly—the children laughing, the families gathering, the thousands of lights waiting for the sun to drop. And suddenly, looking at Zuko's face, she understood exactly why this festival moved him so deeply. Because for his entire life, the Fire Nation had only celebrated power, fear, conquest, and strength. But this? This beautiful, quiet night celebrated survival. The exact, fragile thing Zuko had fought so desperately to protect for his people.
The rest of the afternoon passed peacefully afterward, the heavy mood lifting into a gentle, drifting joy. They wandered through the heavily decorated streets while the villagers prepared for the evening. Sokka bought alarming, medically hazardous amounts of local seafood snacks. Suki somehow managed to prevent him from spending his entire vacation stipend on a massive grilled squid. Aang helped a group of local children hang their lanterns high between the eaves using small, precise gusts of airbending.
Toph loudly pretended she absolutely hated the noise of festivals while secretly smiling every single time a child ran up and handed her a textured paper light. Katara spent nearly half an hour helping an old woman carry heavy flower baskets up a steep flight of stone stairs.
And Zuko simply walked quietly, hand in hand, beside Iris through the crowded, vibrant streets.
Nobody recognized them under their simple travel cloaks. Or if they did—nobody cared enough to disturb their peace. It felt strangely, intoxicatingly freeing. At one point, Iris paused near a small stall selling beautiful, carved wooden lantern holders shaped like twisting dragons.
The elderly craftsman behind the counter smiled proudly at her interest. "Beautiful, aren't they, miss?"
Iris nodded softly, her fingers tracing the wood. "They really are."
Zuko quietly stepped forward and bought the carved piece without a single word of discussion.
Iris turned to him as they walked away. "Zuko, you didn't have to buy that. It was expensive."
"I wanted to, haven't I told you I like dragons?" Zuko answered simply. Then, after a brief pause, his voice dropping to a soft murmur, he added, "I want to remember this vacation. Every part of it."
Something deeply warm crossed Iris's expression, her grip on his hand tightening. Because she understood exactly what he truly meant behind the words. He wanted to remember this specific feeling—the feeling of existing in his own nation without an ounce of fear.
That evening, the festival finally began in full, and the small island transformed completely into a sea of light. Thousands of lanterns hung across the streets, glowing like a low galaxy, while festive music echoed through every market square. By nightfall, the entire shoreline glowed brilliantly beneath the light of thousands of floating paper lanterns. One by one, the glowing boxes drifted out across the dark ocean water, carrying whispered wishes into the vast night.
Aang released his first, his face solemn as he pushed the wooden frame into the surf. "For the Air Nomads... may your spirits find the wind."
Katara lowered hers quietly beside him, her hand trailing in the water. "For healing... for everyone who still carries the scars."
Sokka stood completely silent for once in his life, his expression soft as he watched his lantern catch the breeze. "For Yue... look after us up there."
Toph crossed her arms awkwardly before crouching near the damp shoreline, pushing her lantern forward with a gentle nudge of her toe. "For the people who stayed behind... for the families that held the ground."
Then, Suki released hers softly, her eyes tracking its path. "For those who fought bravely even when nobody would ever remember their names in the histories."
Zuko watched the thousands of lights drifting silently across the black water before finally lowering his own lantern down into the surf. "For the peace staying this time... for a gentle future."
Beside him, Iris released her lantern last, her fingers letting go of the wood with a lingering tenderness. "For the home we continue building together."
The small lights drifted farther and farther into the dark horizon together, merging with the distant stars, moving steadily toward tomorrow. Later that night, while standing on the high balcony of the beach house and watching the lanterns float endlessly across the black sea, Zuko spoke quietly beside Iris.
"This should become official," he murmured, his hands resting on the wooden railing.
Katara, who was sitting nearby on the porch swing, blinked in surprise. "The festival, Zuko?"
Zuko nodded once, his profile sharp against the starlight. "Every single year. A national day of remembrance across the entire Fire Nation."
Not a holiday celebrating a bloody victory or a conquest, but an official day celebrating the quiet, beautiful day that peace finally returned to the world. And so, quietly beneath the soft lantern-light and the cool ocean wind—the Fire Nation gained its newest annual festival.
Their final night on Ember Island felt strangely, beautifully calm afterward, the frantic energy of the week entirely spent. Sokka and Suki sat on the rug, playing a thoroughly illegal game of Pai Sho badly while making up rules. Aang and Katara argued softly over points nobody else in the room understood anymore. Toph loudly complained about every single little inconvenience she faced openly, just to keep her streak alive.
Iris laughed freely among them, her head resting back against the cushions like she had always belonged there from the very beginning. And Zuko—Zuko simply watched quietly from his familiar place near the dying fire, his heart fuller than it had ever been.
The next morning arrived far too quickly for anyone's liking. Appa waited patiently near the shallow shoreline, his massive tail lazily swatting the water while the palace servants loaded the remaining supplies for the long journey back. Aang stretched sleepily beside Katara, yawning widely. Sokka complained dramatically to the wind about leaving the luxurious vacation life behind for city logistics. Toph threatened to permanently entomb herself on Ember Island to avoid the upcoming diplomatic meetings.
And eventually, beneath the bright morning sunlight and the fresh ocean wind, Team Avatar prepared to leave for Republic City once more.
Before boarding the massive saddle, Katara stepped forward and hugged Iris tightly, burying her face in her shoulder. "We're visiting the palace again very soon, Iris. I promise."
Sokka pointed a dramatic finger down from Appa's head. "And next time, absolutely no secret escaping to private beach houses without leaving a map!"
"No promises, Sokka," Zuko answered with a tiny, rare smirk.
Suki smiled softly toward Iris, offering a warm hand. "You survived us, Iris. That's an achievement."
"Barely," Iris laughed.
Toph smirked, leaning over the edge of the saddle. "She'll fit in perfectly with us. She's already got the property damage down to a science."
Then, finally, with a massive grunt and a heavy snap of his tail, Appa lifted gracefully into the bright sky, carrying Team Avatar back toward Republic City beneath the drifting clouds. A profound, quiet silence settled softly over the beach afterward. Only the steady, rhythmic sound of the waves remained.
Then, beside the edge of the shore, Iris slipped her hand into Zuko's quietly, her fingers intertwining with his. "...Ready to go home, Fire Lord?"
Zuko looked up toward the empty blue sky for one final, long moment. Then down toward the glittering sea. Then, finally, he turned his gaze entirely toward her. And for the first time in his entire, turbulent life, the word home no longer felt like a complicated, painful riddle wrapped in fire.
"Yeah," he answered softly, his smile small but entirely whole. "I am."
Fandom : Avatar the Last Airbender (ATLA)
Pairing : Zuko x Fem. OC
Tags : Romance, 10 years after war, Emotional Anchor, Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fire Nation Politics, Team Avatar conflicts
Worthwhile Masterlist
AO3 : Worthwhile by Allhaillordzuko
Status : WIP/ On goingㅣRating : General/Mature
**Summary: A peaceful retreat quickly becomes much livelier when Team Avatar arrives on Ember Island. Between old friendships, embarrassing moments, and endless chaos, everyone settles into a rare period of rest far from their usual responsibilities. Amid the laughter and teasing, Katara offers to help Iris explore a side of herself she has never fully understood. What begins as a simple lesson soon raises unexpected questions. Meanwhile, Zuko discovers that sometimes peace is not found in silence, but in being surrounded by the people you love.
The third morning on Ember Island began with violence. Not actual violence—though with the members of Team Avatar gathered under one roof, the distinction was often dangerously thin. It was, more accurately, Team Avatar violence, a chaotic storm of booming voices, heavy-footed pacing, and a total disregard for the sanctity of early morning slumber.
The peaceful, rhythmic sound of waves lapping against the shore outside the Ember Island residence had lasted exactly until sunrise. Then, right on cue, the tranquility shattered. Heavy, uncoordinated footsteps thundered through the lower floor of the beach house, sending vibrations right up the wooden stairs. Several voices, already operating at peak midday volume, argued loudly somewhere downstairs before migrating rapidly up toward the bedrooms.
"That's definitely their room," a voice insisted, booming with the unearned confidence of someone who had never lost an argument in his own mind.
"No, it isn't," a second voice countered, sharper and dripping with immediate annoyance. "Sokka, you're looking at the linen closet."
"It absolutely is their room! The linen closet doesn't have a giant brass handle shaped like a dragon, Katara. How would you even know anyway?"
"Please," a third, raspy voice chimed in, sounding profoundly bored yet inherently mischievous. "They're married. Just look for the room that radiates high-intensity awkwardness and a faint smell of burnt hair."
Something slammed violently downstairs. It was a heavy, metallic thud that suggested someone had either tripped over a decorative urn or attempted to carry all their luggage at once. Probably Sokka. Or Toph. Quite possibly both, locked in a clumsy struggle for dominance.
Zuko's eyes snapped open immediately. Years of surviving late-night assassins, grueling war meetings, and the terrifying, silent midnight prowling of Azula had unfortunately trained his body to wake at the absolute slightest sign of movement. His heart hammered a quick, defensive rhythm against his ribs before his brain fully registered where he was.
Beside him, Iris slowly groaned into her pillow, a low, pathetic sound of pure denial, before burying her face deeper against the heavy linen blankets.
"...No," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "Tell the world I died."
Outside their bedroom door, the footsteps officially ground to a halt. Sokka sounded personally offended by existence itself as he drew a massive breath.
"TRAITORS!"
Zuko immediately closed his eyes again, squeezing them shut as if he could physically manifest a shield between himself and the outside world. "They found us," he muttered, his voice raspy and laced with profound defeat.
Iris's voice came out muffled against the mattress. "That's unfortunate."
"It's catastrophic."
The footsteps grew louder, shifting from the hallway directly onto the wooden floorboards right outside their door. The floorboards groaned. Then, multiple footsteps began arguing in a frantic, overlapping huddle.
"We should knock first," Aang insisted, his voice the sole voice of reason, an incredibly anxious one. "Guys, seriously. We should knock."
"Why?" Sokka snapped back.
"Because normal people do that! People with manners! People who respect boundaries!"
"We gave them TWO DAYS," Sokka pointed out, his voice rising an octave in righteous indignation. "Two whole days of wandering around the palace, eating dry crackers, and pretending we didn't notice they sneaked off to a private beach house. The grace period is officially over!"
Toph grinned quietly, her blind eyes fixed somewhere near the doorknob as she leaned her weight against her heels. "That's fair, actually."
Inside the room, Zuko buried his face briefly into Iris's shoulder, inhaling the faint scent of jasmine and warm skin, trying to block out the impending disaster. "I'm never forgiving them," he whispered into her collarbone.
"You love them," she reminded him softly, a tiny, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of her lips despite her exhaustion.
"That's irrelevant."
Then, suddenly, the illusion of safety shattered. The bedroom door burst open dramatically, bouncing off the wall with a deafening crack. Sokka stood in the threshold, his arm flung out wide, his chest puffed out like a theater actor preparing for a tragedy.
"YOU ABANDONED—"
He froze mid-sentence.
Silence. Absolute, suffocating silence descended upon the room. Behind Sokka, Aang physically stopped breathing, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. Katara took one look past her brother's shoulder and immediately turned a shade of bright, violent red that rivaled the Fire Nation royal banners. Suki, who had been pushing her way to the front, instantly halted and stared directly, unblinkingly, at the wooden beams of the ceiling.
Because unfortunately, the situation looked exactly as bad as it actually was.
Zuko and Iris remained buried beneath a mountain of tangled blankets on the bed, very visibly unwilling to move even a single inch, their shoulders bare and their expressions a mix of sheer horror and deep irritation. And the room itself practically radiated evidence of exactly what had transpired the night before. Their clothes—a chaotic trail of silk robes, formal tunics, and sashes—were scattered carelessly across the floorboards. The heavy curtains had been partially loosened from their ties, hanging askew.
The blankets were tangled beyond saving, twisted into a knot that defied the laws of physics.
Most incriminating of all, several parts of the bedsheets near the edges, along with a distinct patch of the wooden bedpost, were very visibly singed from accidental, emotional firebending. Blackened, smoking edges crinkled slightly in the morning air. The cool ocean breeze drifted calmly through the open balcony doors, fluttering the loose fabric like the spirits themselves wanted to make the situation infinitely worse.
Toph stood in the center of the doorway, her head tilting back and forth in the heavy silence, thoroughly confused. "...Why did everybody stop talking?"
Nobody answered. Sokka's jaw was unhinged. Aang looked like he was trying to figure out if he could airbend himself into another dimension.
Then, Toph's bare foot shifted slightly against the floorboards, her toes curling as she read the vibrations of the room. A slow, wicked grin spread across her face immediately.
"Oh no."
"Toph," Katara warned weakly, her voice trembling with intense mortification. "Don't."
"There's heat damage," Toph announced cheerfully, her grin widening.
Zuko closed his eyes, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low rumble. "Please leave."
"There's a LOT of heat damage!" Sokka shouted dramatically, finally breaking out of his paralysis and gesturing wildly at the singed sheets. "The bed is practically a charcoal briquette!"
Iris immediately hid deeper beneath the blankets, pulling the fabric over her head until she was nothing but a defensive lump in the mattress.
Sokka looked spiritually devastated, placing a hand over his heart as if he had been betrayed by his closest kin. "YOU LEFT US FOR THIS?"
"Yes," Zuko answered immediately, his tone entirely deadpan, devoid of any shame or hesitation.
The brutal honesty stunned everyone silent again. Sokka gasped, his hand flying to his mouth. Aang finally recovered enough to spin around aggressively, grabbing Sokka by the back of his tunic.
"We should go," Aang squeaked, his voice cracking slightly.
"Yes," Suki agreed immediately, still firmly focusing all her attention on the ceiling architecture. "Right now."
"NOW," Katara added, her face still burning as she grabbed Sokka's other arm.
Meanwhile, Toph remained exactly where she was, crossing her arms smugly over her chest. "You know, being blind somehow made this worse."
"You cannot even see the room," Zuko muttered.
"I can hear everybody's heartbeats," Toph retorted, her smirk turning downright devilish. "And right now, yours sounds like a cornered platypus-bear, and hers is practically trying to break through her ribs."
That somehow made everything infinitely more horrifying.
Sokka pointed dramatically toward Zuko one final time, allowed himself to be dragged backward out into the hallway, and let out a parting cry, "You're still traitors!"
Katara physically dragged him out of the room by his collar while Suki shoved a thoroughly traumatized Aang toward the hallway. The heavy wooden door slammed shut afterward, the latch clicking into place with definitive force.
Silence returned to the bedroom, heavy and thick, broken only by the gentle rustle of the wind through the balcony.
From beneath the mountain of blankets, Iris's muffled voice emerged. "We need to disappear forever."
"That's reasonable," Zuko agreed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"I can never face them again. We'll have to live in the Earth Kingdom. Under assumed names. I can be a potato farmer."
"I'm considering exile," Zuko said honestly, sighing deeply before flopping back onto the bed, his head hitting the pillow with a dull thud. He stared at the singed bedpost, rubbing his temples. "...We should probably get dressed."
Neither of them moved for another five minutes.
____
Breakfast became an exercise in emotional survival. By the time Zuko and Iris finally forced themselves downstairs nearly an hour later—having meticulously checked the hallway three separate times for ambushes—Team Avatar had already gathered around the long dining table overlooking the glittering blue ocean. The table was piled high with fresh fruit, steaming pots of tea, and sweet pastries, but the real feast was the collective attention that snapped toward the doorway the moment the couple entered.
Everyone looked up. Iris immediately wanted the floorboards to open up, swallow her whole, and deposit her at the bottom of the sea. She kept her eyes glued to her sandals, her hands sub-consciously smoothing down the front of her simple linen dress.
Sokka, predictably, grinned first, a wide, insufferable smirk that stretched from ear to ear. "Well, look who finally rejoined civilization."
Katara smacked his shoulder instantly, a sharp, ringing crack. "We agreed not to mention it anymore!"
"That was before I remembered the bedsheet," Sokka whined, rubbing his arm. "Katara, the thermodynamics alone—"
"SOKKA!"
Meanwhile, Aang looked deeply, desperately committed to behaving normally. He sat up perfectly straight, a rigid, artificial smile plastered onto his face as he carefully poured tea into a cup. "Good morning," he said carefully. Too carefully. Suspiciously carefully. His eyes darted to Zuko's collarbone and then snapped immediately back to his teapot, his knuckles turning white.
Suki took pity on them first, breaking the mounting tension with a gentle, soothing tone. "You both look rested."
Zuko narrowed his eyes, pulling out a chair for Iris before sitting down himself. "That sounded threatening."
Toph snorted loudly from her seat, her mouth full of a melon slice. "You should hear your heartbeats."
"I hate all of you," Zuko said, picking up his chopsticks with entirely too much force.
"We know," Katara answered calmly, pouring a cup of warm tea and sliding it toward Iris with a sympathetic, albeit still slightly flushed, smile.
Then, suddenly, Sokka leaned back dramatically, crossing his arms and tapping his chin. "You know what this reminds me of?"
"No," Aang answered immediately, his eyes widening in sudden panic. "No, it doesn't. It doesn't remind us of anything."
"Yes, it does," Sokka continued anyway, completely ignoring the Avatar. "Remember when you and Katara first got married?"
Katara froze instantly, her teacup hovering inches from her lips. Aang looked horrified already, a faint pink hue creeping up his neck to his arrow tattoo.
Toph grinned, leaning forward and resting her chin in her hands. "Oh, this story sounds valuable. Tell it, Snoozles."
Sokka pointed proudly across the table. "They had the SAME problem!"
Katara covered her face immediately, her shoulders slumping. "Sokka, I will waterbend you into the reef."
"There was a major property damage," Sokka cheered, thoroughly enjoying himself. "Seemed like Aang unconsciously blew up the entire tent structure with a sudden airbending burst in the middle of the night—"
"I DIDN'T MEAN TO BLOW UP THE TENT!" Aang flustered, his arms flailing wildly as his face exploded into a bright crimson. "The Southern Grasslands are very windy! The drafts cause sudden elemental reactions! It was a localized meteorological event!"
The table exploded into laughter immediately. The sheer absurdity of Aang's defense broke the final dam of awkwardness. Even Iris laughed helplessly beside Zuko, her shoulders shaking as she watched Aang slowly accept spiritual death, covering his face with his wide sleeves. Zuko's lips twitched, the rigid tension leaving his shoulders as he took a slow sip of his tea.
And just like that—the sharp edge of embarrassment finally softened into familiar, comfortable chaos instead of acute humiliation. Because this was Team Avatar. Nothing stayed serious long enough to become truly unbearable, every piece of dignity was public property, distributed equally among friends.
Eventually, Katara sighed dramatically, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. "Alright. We're letting this go before Zuko accidentally firebends emotionally and takes out the kitchen."
"That's a real possibility," Toph answered, tapping her foot against the floor to monitor his internal spike in temperature.
Zuko looked thoroughly exhausted, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I regret this friendship."
"No, you don't," Suki replied calmly, passing him a plate of rice cakes.
Unfortunately, she was entirely correct.
Breakfast slowly shifted afterward into easier, drifting conversations. At least, as normal as conversations could possibly become after Team Avatar had accidentally barged into a bedroom while Zuko and Iris were very obviously naked beneath a single layer of linen. Which, honestly, still felt like a massive hurdle to fully recover from.
Iris remained suspiciously quiet while eating, meticulously dissecting a dumpling with her chopsticks. Zuko noticed it immediately. Mostly because she kept her chin tucked down, utterly refusing to look at anybody directly across the table. Especially Sokka.
Unfortunately, Sokka noticed that too. He paused, a half-eaten pastry hovering near his mouth, and gasped dramatically. "Oh no. She's still embarrassed!"
"I wonder why," Katara answered flatly, glaring at her brother with the intensity of a thousand blizzards.
"You people literally broke down our door," Zuko reminded them, his gold eyes flashing.
"We were looking for traitors!" Sokka defended defensively.
"You found emotional damage instead," Toph added smugly, reaching across the table to blindly swipe a sweet roll from Sokka's plate.
Iris covered part of her face with one hand, letting out a soft, defeated sigh. Meanwhile, Aang looked deeply, fiercely committed to pretending the morning had never happened, nodding along to an invisible conversation about agricultural trade routes. Which, honestly, only made the atmosphere worse. Every time somebody mentioned anything remotely related to bedrooms, blankets, heat, temperature, or fire, a brief, agonizing static charge of tension rippled through the room.
At one point, Suki quietly leaned over toward Iris, lowering her voice to a reassuring whisper. "For what it's worth, this isn't even the worst thing Team Avatar has interrupted."
That somehow did not help in the slightest. Iris lowered her hand, looking at Suki weakly. "What could possibly be worse than this?"
Suki looked thoughtful, tapping her chin as she recalled past horrors. "Well, Sokka accidentally walked into the temporary bathhouse while Toph was bathing once during our travels."
"I sensed severe psychological trauma immediately," Toph answered proudly from across the table, her ears sharp enough to catch the whisper. "The vibrations of his clumsy boots running away were magnificent."
Sokka looked personally offended, throwing his hands up. "That should've remained private! It was a dark cave! The lighting was terrible!"
"Nothing is private in Team Avatar," Katara answered with the grim weariness of a seasoned veteran. "We lived in dirt trenches and saddlebags for a year, Sokka. I know exactly how many moles you have on your left shoulder."
"That's horrifying," Iris whispered, her eyes wide.
Zuko sighed tiredly, leaning back in his chair. "You'll get used to it."
"No, you don't," Toph corrected instantly, pointing a sticky finger at him. "You just learn to internalize the horror until it hardens into a shell of bitter resentment. Right, Sparky?"
"Eat your pastry, Toph."
Breakfast continued through overlapping conversations and constant, low-level chaos. Sokka complained dramatically about how starving he was after the long ship ride from the capital, gesturing with a fork. Aang kept trying to sneakily steal fruit from Sokka's plate using tiny, precise gusts of airbending, causing Sokka to yell about ghost thieves. Katara scolded both of them repeatedly, her maternal instincts kicking in automatically as she confiscated the air currents with a wave of her hand. Toph, despite being nowhere near the central serving trays, somehow managed to steal three more pastries through a series of subtle rock-vibrations that tilted the platters just out of Sokka's reach.
And through all of it—Zuko slowly realized something.
The beach house felt alive now. The echoing, dust-mote silence that usually inhabited the sprawling Ember Island estate had been entirely obliterated. And Iris sat among them naturally. Like she had always belonged there, a soft anchor within the swirling storm of their dynamic. Zuko quietly watched her smile at something Suki said, the tension completely leaving her eyes. Then he watched Toph immediately drag Iris into a heated argument about the proper consistency of Earth Kingdom stews. Then Katara leaned in, asking her gentle questions about how she was adjusting to life outside the capital.
Suddenly, something deep within Zuko's chest softened unexpectedly, a warm, heavy ache. Because for most of his life, Zuko had feared introducing the people he loved to each other. His family hurt people, that was their legacy. His royal title complicated every relationship it touched. The Fire Nation palace swallowed warmth whole, turning honest affection into political leverage. Yet, somehow, Iris sat there laughing with Team Avatar while bright morning sunlight poured through the wide windows and the salty ocean wind drifted through the open house. The people he loved most in the world existed together, peacefully, under one roof.
It almost frightened him how badly he wanted to protect this specific moment forever.
Eventually, Sokka stopped mid-chew, squinting across the table and pointing a finger toward him suspiciously. "Why are you staring at us like that?"
Zuko blinked, his rigid composure snapping back into place. "...I'm not."
"You absolutely are. You have that creepy, wistful Fire Lord look. Like you're about to write a poem about a single leaf falling into a well."
"He's emotional," Toph answered immediately, smacking her hand on the table. "His pulse is all warm and fuzzy."
"I am not emotional," Zuko snapped, his cheeks darkening.
"Your heartbeat says otherwise."
"I hate your seismic sense."
"And I hate your face," Toph shot back instantly with a bright grin.
"Children, please," Katara sighed, rubbing her temples.
"I'm older than him," Toph argued, puffing out her chest.
"No, you aren't," Zuko said.
"In spirit, I am."
That somehow ended with Sokka nearly choking on his tea from laughing too hard, spraying a small mist across the table which Katara immediately waterbent away with an expression of profound disgust. And breakfast dissolved back into beautiful chaos once more.
Mostly because Team Avatar had spent the last two days wandering around the vast, silent Fire Nation palace while waiting for Zuko and Iris to finish their formal duties before coming to Ember Island—and they still could not stop talking about the sheer transformation of the place.
Katara rested her chin against one hand, looking out toward the ocean thoughtfully. "I still can't believe how different the palace feels now. The last time I walked those halls, it felt like a tomb."
Aang nodded immediately, his expression turning solemn for a brief second. "It used to feel intimidating. Like the walls were watching you, waiting for you to make a mistake."
"Now it smells like flowers," Sokka added, reaching for a slice of melon. "Actual, nice-smelling things. Not just sulfur and old armor."
"And soup," Toph said approvingly. "The kitchens actually cook real food now, not just those weird, tiny royal portions that look like art projects."
Iris blinked slightly, surprised by the sudden shift in topic. "...Soup?"
"The kitchen staff absolutely worship you," Suki added calmly, a small smile playing on her lips.
"The head chef told me you personally authorized a budget for a rooftop herb garden so they didn't have to keep importing rare spices from the colonies."
Zuko quietly drank his tea while listening, a sense of immense pride blooming in his chest.
Meanwhile, Sokka leaned dramatically across the table, nearly dipping his bead-string necklace into his bowl. "How did you even manage it?"
"Manage what?" Iris asked.
"The palace," Katara explained softly, her eyes warm. "The whole energy of the Caldera. It feels... peaceful now. It doesn't feel like a fortress waiting for a war."
Iris looked genuinely surprised by the weight of the question, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I didn't really do anything special," she murmured, looking down at her teacup.
Toph barked out laughing instantly, slamming a fist on the table. "That's the most terrifying answer possible! She completely overbalanced a century of military oppression by accident!"
But Iris only smiled softly, her eyes reflecting the bright morning light. "I just thought... if people spend their whole lives inside those dark stone walls, it should feel alive. It shouldn't just be a monument to power." Then, quietly, she added, "So I planted things."
Simple. Honest. Entirely Iris. And somehow, that answer made complete, absolute sense to everyone at the table. Because the palace truly had changed after she arrived. Not through bloody political purges or aggressive administrative decrees, but emotionally. She had brought the soil back to a place that had only known fire.
Later that afternoon, the sticky heat of the midday sun began to soften, replaced by a steady, refreshing breeze off the water. Katara approached Iris near the shoreline while the others wandered nearby, their voices carrying across the sand as Aang attempted to teach Sokka how to skip stones using air currents.
"Can I ask you something?" Katara asked, her boots sinking softly into the wet sand as she fell into step beside Iris.
Iris nodded, though a faint hint of caution crept into her posture. "Of course."
"...Your waterbending," Katara said gently, her eyes fixed on the small pools of water left behind by the receding tide.
Immediately, Iris looked slightly uncomfortable, her shoulders tightening ever so slightly. Katara noticed it at once, she had spent years reading the subtle shifts of her students and friends.
"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," Katara added quickly, raising her hands reassuringly. "I was just curious."
"No, it's okay," Iris hesitated briefly, watching a small crab scuttle into the surf. "I just... I never really learned properly. Not the way you did. Not like a style."
Katara blinked, stopping in her tracks. "What do you mean?"
"I only use it for gardening," Iris explained.
That single sentence would continue to haunt Team Avatar for the next several days, echoing in their minds like a profound cosmic joke. Katara stared at her in absolute, unblinking disbelief. Iris looked confused by the reaction, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
"I mostly help with the irrigation systems and root growth in the outer courtyards," Iris continued, trying to downplay it. "And guiding mountain streams toward the lower valleys when the summer heat gets too intense. I never wanted people noticing it too much."
Katara's expression softened slightly as she looked at her, remembering the terrifying reports of the recent assassination attempt at the palace. "Iris... you have incredible raw power. You should still learn combat forms. Especially now."
Iris immediately shook her head, her voice firm and devoid of any martial ambition. "I don't fight."
"You were attacked," Katara countered gently but firmly. "In your own home."
"I survived."
"With a herb drying rack!" Toph shouted helpfully from somewhere nearby, her sharp ears catching the conversation from fifty paces away. She was currently lounging on a rock, completely blind to the scenery but perfectly tuned to the gossip.
Sokka, who had been failing to skip his fourth stone, nearly collapsed into the shallow surf, laughing instantly. "WAIT! THAT'S REAL? I thought Zuko made that up to make the security guards look bad!"
"It was nearby," Iris defended weakly, her face flushing as she gestured vaguely with her hands. "And it was very strong oak wood! It had good balance!"
Katara looked genuinely horrified, her maternal protection instincts flaring up. "You fought trained, lethal assassins with gardening equipment, Iris."
"It worked," Iris muttered.
"That somehow makes it worse," Katara sighed, rubbing her temples in a manner that perfectly mirrored Zuko's habitual stress response.
Eventually, she let out a long breath, looking out over the endless blue horizon. "At least let me teach you basic defense. Just the fundamental movements to redirect an attack. No weapons. No aggressive strikes."
Iris still hesitated, her fingers twisting together.
Then, unfortunately for her peace of mind, Team Avatar united against her with terrifying efficiency. Even Zuko betrayed her calmly from his comfortable wicker seat near the shade of the porch, raising his teacup in a silent toast.
"I think it's a good idea," Zuko called out across the sand, his voice smooth and entirely unapologetic.
Iris turned, staring at him with deep betrayal. "You too?"
"I enjoy you alive," Zuko answered simply, taking a slow sip.
That, unfortunately, ended the argument. Against the combined force of the Fire Lord and the Master Waterbender, there was no logical defense.
And so, the next two days became complete, organized chaos. Which, honestly, was the natural, unalterable state of existence whenever Team Avatar gathered in one geographic location. The mornings usually began peacefully enough, with the soft pink light of dawn reflecting off the glassy ocean. Then, Sokka woke up.
On the first day after training officially began, Iris stepped outside just after sunrise, hoping for a few moments of quiet contemplation, only to find Sokka standing dramatically near the shoreline. He was wearing a ridiculous straw hat and holding three crude fishing spears, looking like a tragic general preparing for an impossible siege.
"I have decided," Sokka announced gravely to the empty horizon, his voice echoing off the cliffs, "that I shall become one with the ocean. I shall provide sustenance for my tribe using nothing but raw instinct and sharp wood."
Zuko walked past him down the porch steps, carrying a steaming pot of morning tea, his expression completely blank. "You almost drowned in knee-deep water yesterday."
"That happened one time!" Sokka yelled, breaking his dramatic posture.
"It happened four times," Katara corrected immediately from behind him, carrying a stack of towels. "And once was because you got your foot caught in a piece of kelp that wasn't even attached to the seafloor."
"Why does everybody remember my failures with such vivid, chronological accuracy?" Sokka whined, stomping his foot.
"Because they're frequent," Toph answered cheerfully, wandering out onto the sand barefoot, already using her toes to track a rogue crab.
Suki, meanwhile, stood beside Sokka, offering complete, unwavering, and entirely sarcastic support as she patted his shoulder. "I think you'll catch something today, Sokka. I really do."
Sokka looked deeply, profoundly moved, his eyes shining as he looked down at her. "You really believe in me, Suki?"
"No."
"...Oh."
"But I support the effort," she added with a bright, encouraging smile.
"That's somehow more romantic," Sokka muttered, adjusting his spears with a sigh.
Meanwhile, further up the beach, Aang discovered a grove of tall coconut trees. That alone immediately became a multi-layered logistical problem for everyone involved. Because instead of simply climbing the tree like a normal, rational human being, Aang somehow decided that using all four elements simultaneously was absolutely necessary for the harvest.
A sudden blast of air lifted him upward into the fronds like a rocket. Simultaneously, a localized pillar of earth rose from the beach to stabilize the trunk against the sudden force. A thin stream of seawater was pulled from the ocean to cool the friction of the falling coconuts, and a small, controlled ring of fire somehow became involved around his ankles despite absolutely nobody understanding its practical purpose.
Katara stared upward in complete, unadulterated disbelief, her hands on her hips. "Aang! You know you can just climb it! Or use a stick!"
"But this is cooler!" Aang shouted back down, spinning gracefully mid-air.
In his excitement, his foot slipped. A large, heavy coconut was launched horizontally from the tree at high velocity, flying across the beach until it struck Sokka directly in the back of the head with a hollow clunk.
Sokka dropped his spears, falling face-first into the sand. "THE AVATAR ATTACKS HIS OWN PEOPLE!" he roared into the surf.
Toph spent most of her mornings near the far side of the beach, completely ignoring the martial arts and the fishing disasters. Instead, she focused on building increasingly ridiculous, sprawling sand structures using highly precise earthbending. At first, it had started as small, simple towers to pass the time. Then, miniature paved roads appeared. Then aqueducts and bridges. Then entire, densely packed commercial districts.
By afternoon, she had created an absurdly detailed sand kingdom stretching across half the shoreline. There were tiny, reinforced walls, intricate canal systems, miniature palaces with micro-columns, and suspiciously large, heavily fortified prison systems occupying the central squares.
Zuko eventually wandered over, holding his third cup of tea, staring down at the miniature metropolis. "...Why does your fake city already have three maximum-security prisons, Toph?"
Toph crossed her arms proudly, a smudge of dark sand on her cheek. "Efficiency, Sparky."
"There are literally more prisons than residential houses."
"Also efficiency," she retorted smugly. "Cut out the middleman. If they're gonna break the law, they might as well live there."
"I fear for your future political career," Zuko said honestly, taking a long sip.
"You should," Toph grinned.
Nearby, Iris laughed softly while watching them, her eyes bright as she leaned against a wooden post. Zuko noticed how much easier she looked now, the tight, defensive palace posture completely melted away. There was no royal formality here, no careful, measured composure designed to appease old ministers, no heavy silk robes weighing down her stride. Just Iris. Barefoot on the beach, her hair loose and fluttering wildly in the sea wind, laughing openly among friends. It suited her beautifully. Maybe too well.
A tiny, quiet part of Zuko wondered if bringing her back to the crushing weight of the capital afterward would feel deeply unfair.
Katara stood near the shoreline, already barefoot, the cool seawater curling softly around her ankles. At first, Iris approached her cautiously. Not out of fear, exactly, but out of a deep, ingrained uncertainty. Waterbending had always seemed strangely, intensely personal to her—a quiet secret she kept in the dirt.
Unlike Katara or Aang, Iris had never viewed bending as a core pillar of her identity or a weapon to wield. It was simply... useful. Helpful. A practical way to help deep roots grow stronger during a dry spell, a way to irrigate parched soil, or a way to guide underground springs toward struggling, forgotten villages in the Earth Kingdom. Combat had never once entered her mind.
Which became painfully, comically obvious almost immediately into the lesson.
"Your stance is too narrow," Katara corrected gently, tapping Iris's heel with her own foot to widen her base. "You have no leverage if a wave hits you."
Iris adjusted awkwardly, her knees wobbling slightly on the shifting sand. "Like this?"
"No, not quite like that. Lower your hips."
"Sorry," Iris murmured, her shoulders hunching.
"Relax your shoulders, Iris," Katara urged, her voice patient but firm.
"I am relaxed!"
"You look terrified," Katara laughed softly, shaking her head.
"That's because you're evaluating me like a general!" Iris protested, though a small smile broke through her nervousness.
From his chair beneath the shade of the porch, Zuko watched the entire scene unfold like a slow-motion comedy, holding his warm tea while the general chaos of Team Avatar swirled around him. For once in his life, he did not need to solve a single crisis. There were no plotting ministers to outmaneuver, no political disasters to manage, no assassination reports to analyze, and no heavy royal responsibilities crushing his chest.
Just the vast ocean, the steady, rhythmic sound of the waves, and his closest friends behaving like complete, beautiful disasters. It felt strangely, profoundly peaceful. Even if Sokka was currently losing a high-stakes battle against a particularly aggressive three-inch fish in the background.
Katara demonstrated several basic, fundamental movements slowly, her arms tracing smooth, circular paths through the air. Iris copied her carefully, her movements initially awkward, rigid, and hesitant. But the exact moment the water actually rose—Katara noticed something strange immediately. The water reacted far too easily. Most beginner waterbenders struggled through intense friction and resistance, wrestling with the fluid dynamics of the ocean, the sea did not naturally obey without deep, rigorous discipline. Yet around Iris, the seawater moved instinctively, almost eagerly. As though it already recognized her voice. Thin, perfect streams of seawater curled upward around Iris's wrists without her even pulling them, flowing naturally through the shapes of the forms.
Katara frowned slightly, her eyes narrowing as she lowered her arms. "...Again. Do that exact same motion."
Iris repeated the form. This time, the surrounding seawater responded before she had even fully completed the physical movement of her arms. A smooth, clean wave rose instantly from the surf, hovering in mid-air. Too instantly.
Katara's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, stepping closer. "You're not pushing the water, Iris."
Iris blinked, the wave splashing back down into the ocean. "What?"
"You're..." Katara hesitated, searching for the right word. "You're listening to it."
The concept sounded ridiculous, even to a master. Yet, it was undeniably accurate. Because Iris never forced the water to obey her commands through willpower, she simply reached out toward it with her intent, and the ocean answered. By afternoon, Katara became increasingly unsettled—not frightened, but profoundly, intensely curious. Because logically, Iris should not be this naturally powerful, this deeply attuned, without a single day of formal Northern or Southern training.
At one point, as they took a brief rest near the surf, Katara finally asked the question that had been weighing on her mind. "How far out can you actually sense water, Iris?"
Iris looked uncertain, wiping a stray drop of spray from her cheek. "I don't know."
Katara frowned, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean, you don't know?"
"I never measured it," Iris said simply, as if discussing the weather. "Why would I?"
Then, calmly from his wicker chair nearby, Zuko answered for her, not even looking up as he blew on his tea. "She can sense underground water through the root systems of the trees across an entire valley."
Absolute silence descended upon the shoreline.
Katara slowly turned her head, her gaze shifting from Zuko back to Iris. "She can what?"
Zuko shrugged, entirely unfazed. "She redirects deep underground water tables during the drought seasons in the outer provinces. It saves the harvests."
Toph immediately stopped shaping her sand kingdom nearby, her head snapping toward them with sudden, sharp interest. "...Hold on. Rewind. She does what to the water tables?"
Katara stared at Iris, her voice dropping an octave. "How deep underground, Iris?"
Iris hesitated, suddenly feeling very small under the collective gaze of the group. "...Sometimes very deep. Where the bedrock shifts."
"How far horizontally?" Katara pressed.
"I really don't know," Iris murmured.
"You seriously never once tested the absolute limits of this?" Katara asked, her voice tinged with a mix of awe and mild desperation.
"I only use it for gardening," Iris defended, her voice entirely genuine.
Toph barked out laughing first, a loud, echoing sound that startled a flock of nearby gulls. "ONLY FOR GARDENING! Sparky, your wife is a walking geological anomaly and she treats it like a seedlings!"
Sokka pointed dramatically from where he was standing knee-deep in the ocean, his spear shaking. "Why are all terrifying people so completely, maddeningly calm about being terrifying?!"
Iris looked genuinely confused, looking between them. "I'm not terrifying."
Katara and Sokka stared at her together, their expressions perfectly synchronized. "You absolutely are," they answered simultaneously.
Zuko quietly hid his growing smile behind his porcelain teacup, taking another slow sip. Because this honestly no longer surprised him in the slightest. He had already seen what Iris could do when she wasn't even trying—the intricate, self-sustaining greenhouse systems, the massive underground irrigation networks she designed, the strange, magnetic way plants grew toward her touch. Iris simply never viewed herself as powerful or dangerous, which somehow made her infinitely more formidable. She was an ocean disguised as a garden.
By evening, the training sessions became significantly more serious. Katara began teaching defensive redirection—building solid wave barriers, maintaining balance against an impact, and mastering counter-movements.
Iris struggled through her combat instincts constantly. Not because she lacked the physical ability, but because she genuinely, deeply disliked the core concept of fighting. Whenever Katara launched a mock attack, Iris's first, unalterable instinct was to retreat, to deflect, to avoid, or to redirect the force away entirely. She never once attempted to strike back or turn the water into a weapon.
Katara noticed that deep-seated hesitation too, lowering her water whip with a soft sigh. "You hesitate every single time I press you, Iris."
"I don't want to hurt people," Iris murmured, her voice quiet against the sound of the evening tide. "Even in practice."
"That hesitation could get you hurt instead," Katara warned gently, her eyes full of a hard-earned wisdom born from a brutal war.
Iris lowered her gaze slightly, her fingers curling into her palms. For a brief moment, Katara regretted the sharp edge of her words, seeing the heavy shadow that crossed her face.
Then, softly, Katara stepped closer, placing a warm hand on Iris's shoulder. "You don't need to become a warrior, Iris. The world has enough of those." Iris looked toward her quietly, her eyes searching. "But you deserve knowing how to protect yourself," Katara added with immense tenderness. "You deserve to be safe."
Something about that sentence settled gently, deeply between them, washing away the last of the tension. And afterward, the training continued much easier. It wasn't a strict master and student dynamic anymore, it was just Katara helping someone she genuinely cared about find her footing in a dangerous world.
That evening, all of them gathered near the edge of the water again after a long dinner. Aang somehow managed to create beautiful, glowing air currents that swirled through the embers of the firelight, illuminating the dark beach. Sokka sat a few feet away, still smelling faintly and vaguely of fish, looking thoroughly defeated. Toph, aggressively destroyed a major part of her own beautiful sand kingdom because she claimed the miniature sand-merchants were protesting that the local taxes were inherently corrupt.
And Zuko simply sat watching.
Watching Iris laugh at Toph's antics. Watching Katara gently adjust Iris's posture even while sitting. Watching Suki patiently helping Sokka untangle his ruined fishing nets for the third time today. Watching Aang spin through the air like an overexcited child, his laughter echoing across the dark waves. Watching peace exist. Real, true peace. Not a temporary ceasefire hammered out in a tense tent, not a fragile political agreement signed with trembling hands, just people existing safely, happily together. For years, Zuko had fought, bled, and suffered for peace without ever fully understanding what it actually looked like in practice.
Now, looking at the firelight reflecting in Iris's eyes, he finally knew. It looked exactly like this.
As someone who spent years writing privately before finally finding the courage to post, I honestly can't put into words how grateful I am. Thank you for reading, commenting, and sharing this journey with me..
This story started as something I wrote for myself.
But somewhere along the way, it became something I wanted to share—and seeing 1,000 hits reminds me that there are people out there willing to come along for the ride. Thank you for giving me the courage and motivation to keep going.
I know 1,000 hits may not seem like much, but for someone posting their writing for the first time, I'm beyond grateful.
