a/n: Finally 😞 I was blasting Legendary Lovers by Katy Perry into my ears while writing this, so honestly that song carried half the emotional damage here. Also, the amount of Dada Zuko edits I’ve watched recently definitely fueled this entire piece.
And before anyone says anything — yes, I hate angst that’s just… left as angst. Absolutely not. Everybody deserves happiness, especially Zuko because that man has suffered enough 😭
I also watched edits of The Notebook and ended up loosely basing Kenji off Lon, so hopefully you guys liked his character because I genuinely had so much fun writing him. He deserved to be sweet, okay.
Also… is it weird that Azula is kind in this fic? 😭 I feel like it strays a little from her canon personality, but at the same time I love the idea of her being quietly observant and lowkey meddling for entertainment.
Fun fact though: I’ve actually never watched Avatar: The Last Airbender. I know. I KNOW. I’m just not really a movie/series person. But I absolutely adore the characters and the lore, especially the dads in this fandom. Aang and Zuko my glorious kings fr.
Anyway, sorry for the rambling. Enjoy! Part ONE here!
pairing: Zuko x Reader
summary: A story about forbidden love, devastating timing, and two people who spend years denying the feelings that were always written in their eyes. 1. Some loves are ruined not by lack of feeling, but by the fear of admitting them too late. 2. After years of yearning and missed chances, Zuko must decide whether he’ll lose you forever or finally fight for the life he truly wants.
risks: emotional damage caused by two people being painfully in love and painfully stupid about it.
Tag List: @maee67 @partofmejustwantstosleep
Your hands trembled as you stood before your reflection, watching your maids rush around the room in a frenzy of concentration and excitement. Every ribbon had to be perfectly tied. Every layer of silk needed to fall flawlessly against your skin.
It was your wedding day, after all.
And yet, despite the chaos surrounding you, time itself seemed frozen.
You had left the Fire Nation Royal Palace weeks ago for many reasons. Your father had discovered your whereabouts and had immediately demanded your return home, furious that his unmarried daughter had spent time at the palace so close to her betrothal.
What would people think when they learned the Commander’s daughter had been staying within the royal walls mere months before her wedding?
But worse than your father’s anger was the ache you had carried home with you.
Because you had gone to the palace hoping for something impossible. And somehow, Zuko had made things worse.
He confessed his feelings only to push you away immediately after, as though loving you and losing you in the same breath would somehow hurt less.
The morning after that disastrous confession—conversation, argument, heartbreak, whatever it truly had been—you learned that Zuko had left the palace during the night to attend to royal matters with the court.
Azula’s explanation had been painfully vague as she lounged lazily across the cushions beside you, entirely too unbothered for someone delivering such devastating news.
Only later did you realize how carefully she had been studying your reaction.
You had been heartbroken. Angry. Humiliated, perhaps.
Azula had chuckled softly beneath her breath when you abruptly excused yourself from the room, clearly amused by the mess her brother had made of things. Visiting the palace under constant supervision bored her endlessly, so the complications between you and Zuko had become a source of entertainment instead.
Which was why it didn’t surprise her in the slightest when you appeared the next morning already dressed for travel, servants gathered around your packed belongings.
You apologized politely for your sudden departure. Too politely. You showed no visible signs of sadness. No anger. Nothing at all.
And somehow, that unsettled Azula more.
Still, she embraced you before you left, warmer than expected as she wished you well. She never once mentioned your upcoming marriage directly until the very end.
“You know,” she said casually, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “you never struck me as the type to give up so easily.”
Her sharp gaze flicked briefly toward the servants preparing your carriage.
“It’s an admirable trait,” she continued. “Resilience.”
Then her eyes met yours once more, something unreadable flickering behind them.
“I’m sure you still have some of it left somewhere.”
And spirits, her words lingered with you.
They lingered even now as you sat alone in your chambers surrounded by flowing silks and arrangements of white flowers that made the room feel suffocatingly beautiful.
Your posture slumped as you wrapped your arms around your abdomen, silently wishing yourself ill enough to avoid tonight’s banquet entirely.
Your maid’s gentle voice cut through the silence.
You looked up only to find her staring at you with such obvious sympathy that irritation flared instantly in your chest.
And so here you were. Walking toward the grand doors of the great hall while music and conversation spilled through the cracks like smoke.
You straightened your spine and lifted your chin just as the doors opened.
Your future husband sat near the center of the long table, speaking quietly with another man seated beside him.
The entire hall turned toward you at once. You could feel every stare following your movements as you crossed the room.
Tonight would be the last evening you belonged solely to yourself.
Tomorrow, once vows and rings were exchanged, you would become someone’s wife. Another possession neatly transferred from one man to another beneath the traditions of this nation.
The thought made your stomach twist.
You didn’t bother searching for your father as you approached the table. You knew he would be somewhere nearby discussing politics or military affairs with someone equally important.
So when you finally took your seat beside your betrothed, you lifted your gaze toward the crowd, already preparing the practiced smile everyone expected from you.
And then your eyes caught on another pair of eyes. Golden.
Zuko sat farther down the table beside your father, though his attention was nowhere near the conversation being directed at him.
His eyes were fixed entirely on you.
The breath left your lungs.
He looked exhausted. And angry. And heartbroken all at once.
The night dragged endlessly after that.
By the time the banquet finally began to empty, exhaustion had settled deep into your bones.
Your future husband rose first, offering you a hand with easy politeness. You had learned throughout the evening that he was kind.
There had been no arrogance in him. No cruelty. No dismissive superiority despite the expectations placed upon him as a man of status within the Fire Nation.
It eased something inside you slightly.
“It was a pleasure, my lady,” he said warmly.
The man—Kenji, you had learned—bowed before pressing a soft kiss against the back of your hand.
You returned the gesture with a small smile and watched as he and his companions withdrew for the evening, likely heading to their chambers to prepare for tomorrow’s ceremony.
The second he disappeared, your ladies-in-waiting swarmed you.
“My lady, are your legs sore?”
“We’ve already prepared a warm bath.”
“I can summon one of the royal healers to massage your muscles before bed—”
They fussed endlessly over you while guiding you from the hall until one maid suddenly hushed the others, squeezing her way toward you with wide eyes.
“My lady,” she whispered urgently, glaring at the others trying to overhear, “the Fire Lord has requested your presence.”
“He’s waiting for you at the loggia.”
Instinctively, your eyes drifted toward the palace windows, searching the darkness outside as though you might somehow glimpse him from here.
“I think,” you said carefully after a moment, “I would like that bath after all.”
The maid stared at you in disbelief.
“My lady, it is unwise to keep the Fire Lord waiting.”
The others immediately began whispering amongst themselves as understanding dawned across their faces. But you ignored them and continued walking, though none of them noticed the slight tremble in your hands.
“If he becomes impatient,” you replied quietly, “then perhaps he’ll leave.”
Hours passed before you finally made your way toward the loggia.
The moon sat high above the palace now, silver light spilling across the stone floors.
Zuko sat hunched forward with his elbows resting against his knees, hands pressed against his face so heavily that he hadn’t even noticed your approach until you lowered yourself into the seat across from him.
“Aren’t you cold, my lord?”
Your voice came out softer than intended. You hated that you still couldn’t be cruel to him.
His eyes were red-rimmed with exhaustion, dark hair disheveled by restless hands. The sight of him made your chest ache painfully with the urge to reach out and smooth it back into place.
“No,” he answered hoarsely before glancing toward the open night sky. “I’m actually… warm despite the wind.”
You hummed quietly and watched him attempt to straighten his posture. The effort lasted only a few seconds before his shoulders sagged once more.
“I never knew it would be Kenji,” he admitted after a long silence.
You crossed one leg over the other, silk whispering softly against the stone as you leaned forward.
“Yes,” Zuko said. “We trained together when we were boys. He was kind then.”
Something unreadable crossed his expression.
A faint smile touched your lips despite yourself.
“He is,” you said softly. “Which is reassuring considering the possibility of being handed off to some arrogant misogynist.”
Zuko dragged a hand through his hair, visibly struggling with whatever thoughts crowded his mind.
“Have you come to congratulate me again?” you asked quietly.
And this time, you didn’t bother hiding the softness in your voice when you looked at him.
Zuko stared at you for a long moment before letting out a slow breath.
“I don’t actually know why I’m here.”
Zuko’s voice was rough with exhaustion.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here actually.”
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
The wind curled through the open arches of the loggia, carrying the scent of the sea and distant lantern smoke. Somewhere far below, the palace guards changed shifts, their armor clinking softly through the quiet night.
You stared at him. Really stared. And spirits, he looked terrible.
Not physically. Zuko would always carry that devastating sort of beauty about him, especially beneath moonlight, but there was something hollow in the way he sat before you. Something frayed.
Like he had been unraveling for weeks.
“You shouldn’t have come then,” you said softly.
The honesty in that single word made your chest ache.
Zuko looked away first, eyes drifting toward the dark gardens below. “I thought if I stayed away long enough…” He laughed once under his breath, humorless. “I thought maybe you’d finally forget me.”
You felt anger spark instantly.
“Forget you?” you repeated quietly.
He nodded, still refusing to look at you. “It would’ve been easier.”
This time his eyes snapped toward yours.
The words echoed sharply between you.
You stood abruptly from your seat, frustration finally boiling over after weeks of trying to bury it. The fabric of your dress swept across the stone as you paced away from him.
“You don’t get to decide that for me anymore.”
“You pushed me away for years,” you continued, voice shaking now. “And every single time I came back anyway. Every single time, Zuko.”
Your hands trembled at your sides.
“And then when you finally admit you love me—when you finally say it—you disappear.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“No.” Tears burned your eyes again. “You were trying to protect yourself.”
Silence. Heavy. Suffocating. Because the worst part was that he knew you were right.
“You think I don’t know that?” he asked quietly. “You think I haven’t hated myself for it every day?”
You swallowed hard as he stepped closer.
“I spent my whole life believing that everything I touched would eventually burn,” he admitted. “And you…” His voice nearly broke. “You were the only good thing I had ever wanted badly enough to fear ruining.”
The tension between you felt unbearable now. Years of longing and restraint and heartbreak pressed into every inch of space separating you.
“You don’t get to say things like that the night before my wedding,” you whispered.
Pain flickered across his face.
Finally—finally—Zuko looked at you the way he had always tried not to.
“Because I can’t do it anymore.”
Your heartbeat stuttered.
“I can’t watch you marry someone else knowing I let you go out of fear.” His voice grew quieter with every word. The confession shattered something inside you completely.
“I have loved you for years. You know this.”
The wind stirred softly around you both.
“You are in every part of my life,” Zuko continued, stepping closer still. “Every room I walk into, every decision I make—I think about you. Spirits, I tried not to. I tried to let you go because I thought you deserved something softer than me.”
His hand twitched at his side like he wanted desperately to reach for you.
“But I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you.”
The tears finally spilled down your cheeks.
“And what happens tomorrow?” you asked shakily. “What happens to duty? To my father? To Kenji?”
At the mention of the other man, guilt crossed Zuko’s expression immediately.
“He’s a good man,” he admitted. “Better than I am in many ways.”
You laughed weakly through your tears. “That isn’t exactly difficult.”
A small smile tugged at his mouth for the first time that night.
Spirits. You had missed him.
“I don’t know what happens tomorrow,” Zuko confessed. “But if you tell me to walk away right now, I will.”
His golden eyes locked onto yours.
“But if there’s even the smallest part of you that still wants me…” His voice lowered. “Then let me finally choose you the way I should have years ago.”
The ache in your chest became unbearable.
Because despite everything—despite the anger and hurt and years of waiting—you still loved him so much it frightened you.
And maybe Azula had been right. Maybe you had never been the type to give up easily. Your voice trembled when you spoke.
“I never stopped wanting you.”
“And I hate you for that sometimes,” you whispered through tears. “Because no matter how many times you pushed me away, it was always you.”
Something inside him finally gave in.
His hands reached you carefully this time, like he was terrified you might disappear if he moved too fast. Warm palms settled against your waist, and the second he touched you again after all this time, every ounce of restraint vanished.
You buried your face against his chest with a broken sound.
Zuko held you like a man starved.
One hand cradled the back of your head while the other tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as though years of yearning could somehow be undone by proximity alone.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “Spirits, I’m so sorry.”
“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled against him.
A breathless laugh escaped him then—small and disbelieving and painfully fond.
“Yes,” he agreed immediately. “I know.”
And when he finally kissed you, it felt less like the beginning of something and more like finally coming home.
The next morning, you asked Kenji to walk with you through the eastern gardens before the ceremony preparations began.
The poor servants nearly fainted from panic at the sight of you requesting privacy from your future husband hours before the wedding.
But Kenji only smiled kindly and offered you his arm.
The morning air was cool as the two of you walked slowly beneath the flowering trees.
“You’re in love with someone else,” he said gently before you could even speak.
You stared at him in shock.
Kenji chuckled softly. “You looked at the Fire Lord as though the rest of the room disappeared.”
Mortification flooded you instantly.
“Was it truly that obvious?”
“To someone who understands?” he asked knowingly. “Yes.”
You blinked. And then, for the first time since meeting him, you noticed it. The softness in his expression when he spoke about home. The absence of disappointment now.
“There’s someone waiting for you too,” you realized quietly.
A faint smile crossed his face.
“A girl from my hometown,” he admitted. “My mother hates her.”
You laughed despite yourself, and Kenji joined you warmly.
“I think,” he continued, “we were both attempting to do our duty for people we care about.”
Guilt twisted inside you. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He stopped walking then, offering you a reassuring look. “A marriage built on obligation would have made us both miserable eventually.”
Emotion tightened your throat.
“You deserve to love someone freely,” Kenji said sincerely. “And judging from the way the Fire Lord looked ready to burn the palace down watching you last night…” He grinned slightly. “I’d say he feels the same.”
By the time you returned inside, the engagement had been peacefully dissolved.
And the palace erupted into chaos. Your maids were shameless. Absolutely shameless.
“The Fire Lord?” one squealed while the others nearly cried from excitement.
“I told you years ago!” another accused proudly. “Nobody looks at someone the way he looks at our lady unless he’s hopelessly in love!”
The entire palace seemed to buzz with the news before noon. Even your father—stern, exhausted Commander that he was—could only sigh heavily after Zuko formally approached him.
“You put my daughter through years of distress,” he grumbled.
“And if you break her heart again, I will personally ensure the next Agni Kai ends badly for you.”
Zuko, to his credit, nodded solemnly. “Understood.”
Your father stared at him for a long moment before finally looking toward you. And when he saw how happy you were—truly happy—something in his expression softened.
“…Just take care of her,” he muttered.
The wedding that eventually followed was nothing like the one originally planned.
It was warmer. Smaller. Real. And Azula, seated near the front in deep crimson silks, watched the entire ceremony with barely concealed amusement.
“You know,” she said later as she embraced you lightly, “the two of you wasted an incredible amount of time.”
Zuko groaned somewhere behind you while Azula smirked.
“But,” she added quietly near your ear, “I suppose it was entertaining to watch in the meantime.”
For the first time in years, the ache inside your chest was gone.
And when Zuko’s hand found yours later that evening—fingers intertwining carefully, lovingly—you realized something else too.
Nothing about your love had ever truly been forbidden.
