ৡThe Fire Lord's Search ৡ
ৡ synopsis ৡ
You, a poor jewellery maker from Ba Sing Se’s Lower Ring, sneak into a royal ball for inspiration, only to captivate Firelord Zuko with a single dance before fleeing into the night.
Armed only with a memory of a lotus hairpin and a forgotten sketchbook, Zuko becomes determined to uncover your identity...
ৡcontentৡ
kinda cinderella au but different, yearning!zuko, kinda stalkerish behaviour from zuko, no use of y/n, fluff, kissing, angst if you squint, slight suggestive themes, non-bender!reader
w.c: 9.5k
The music was beautiful, but loud. It made it hard to concentrate on what you had come here to do.
Another ball held within the Royal Palace, which were becoming more common with each year that had passed since the Avatar had ended the hundred-year war. It was a sign of good fortune for the city, particularly the elite of the Middle and Upper Rings. Even your home in the Lower Ring had seen some prosperity in the last few years. Food was more plentiful, people seemed happier, and even the crime rates had dropped. Things had been looking up.
Fashion trends changed quickly, and one had to adapt to what the high-society folks deemed cool.
Your family’s jewellery business had once been famous. So famous that they’d had a shop in the Upper Ring, where all the rich residents would go to buy their jewellery for gatherings just like this. Whether it was wedding rings for their brides, pearls for their mistresses, or even the Earth King’s ceremonial mianguan, they had been revered as the best jewellers in the Earth Kingdom.
Verdant Jewels.
Forgotten, of course. Like many businesses during the Hundred-Year War, with the Fire Nation cutting off supply lines and destroying over half of the mining villages across the land.
You had never seen any of of your family's old prosperity, and it may as well not even have existed. But the skills passed down through your family, finally landing in your hands had not wavered, unlike the money. You had once seen it as pointless. Starving, unable to fight back without the gifts of bending... you could have laughed in the faces of your ancestors.
But discovering that skill to fire metal, twisting and tinkering with even the smallest scraps and slivers borrowed from the blacksmith, had proven to be your saving grace. It was what stood between you and quietly fading away in some alley of the Lower Ring, with an empty stomach and no one to remember you.
It started as simple chain bracelets, which at first you'd give away for free to the little girls of the neighbourhood. Then their mothers caught wind, and by that stage you'd grown just proficient enough to set small, pretty stones inside tiny prongs of metal at the cusp of bracelets, necklaces, and even rings. They were uneven, with rough edges and symmetry far from balanced. One day, you were told they had charm. It had been enough to fill you with confidence to keep going. The mothers had demanded you begin charging for them, and from then, you had been able to set up a humble stand on market square and sell them for a copper piece each. It was enough.
Your parents had always talked about the incredible designs created by Verdant Jewels. Sharp, gem-encrusted hairpins shaped like the delicate neck beak of a swan, engraved bangles of the purest jadeite, heavy golden necklaces dripping with every jewel imaginable littered their stories, and even they had never laid eyes on them. Scattered across the Upper Ring, deemed out of fashion and forgotten about in their chests and drawers. All that remained were stories, of a legacy you were struggling to reclaim.
It was important to remain aware of changing style among the upper class, as it influenced the money-spending of the Lower Ring. And it hadn't been easy gaining an invite to the Upper Ring- you owed it all to a Earth Kingdom commander on patrol, who had spotted a set of glass droplet earrings hanging on your market stall and thought they would be perfect for his wife. She had clearly been impressed, and invited you to advertise your wares to her in her personal home. The house itself had been intimidating, never mind the task of stealing an invite to the Earth King's ball, thrown in honour of some special guest, after you had spotted it sitting on the lady's desk.
It was a miracle they hadn't come after you, or that the soldiers at the palace doors had not checked to ensure you actually were Mrs Lin. They had accepted the invitation without protest, and in a matter of moments you entered the dazzling ballroom.
The wide hall stretched out, its golden ceiling supported by carved pillars of warm stone carved with winding patterns of mountains, vines, and flowers, looking as though they had been rooted there, rather than built.
At first, the floor looked like a glimmering lake, but the moment you stepped on its smooth solidness, you realised it was actually jade. Laid in sweeping circular patterns which echoed the city walls, and illuminated by the light of the golden lanterns, all hung at various heights, it glowed.
Like sunlight through a leaf, you pondered. Perhaps a necklace of silver leaves, each one unique, all linked together with a flower at its cusp...
Your eyes fell onto the raised dais at the north of the hall, where the seat of the Earth King rested. It made an impressive picture, with the backdrop of perfectly painted mountains and various animals- platypus bears, turtle ducks and badgermoles made it all the more realistic and reminiscent of everything the Earth Kingdom stands for. The clouds of the painting swirled around its mountains, cresting over the dais, where two men stood.
Both were instantly recognisable, despite the fact you'd never seen them in your life.
The Earth King wore robes of muted green and cream, a beautiful string of jade around his neck and gilded glasses perched at his nose. He smiled down at his people, who were mingling in various spots across the jade flooring and enjoying the endless spread of delicacies you wanted to bundle up and hand out to the people of the Lower Ring.
Your eyes didn't linger on the Earth King. It was incredibly easy to forget he was even there, when compared to the Fire Lord who stood at his side.
He was as impressive as the stories, the ones that had made it through the Ba Sing Se walls.
Once a banished prince, he had well and truly reclaimed his honour. He shone with it, from the ruby red of his robes to the gleaming golden headpiece adorning his hair, which was the most impressive shape of rising flames. You couldn't even begin to imagine how old it was, how much skill it would take to fire gold into that blazing shape. Not even the scar over his left eye and upper cheek marred his glow.
A line of people queued to speak to him. You doubted you would ever be able to get close enough to Fire Lord Zuko to get a proper look at the crown of the Fire Nation, so you settled on weaving through the throng of attendees, catching glimpses of their hairpins, necklaces and earrings and recording each one in your mind. Inspiration was the food of artists, and tonight, inspiration would put food on your table.
You shoved as many jiaozi in your face as possible and continued to work, subtly sketching away in a scrap of parchment all the designs that came to mind. At one point, you had even found yourself tracing the engravings of the pillars, the vine patterns too beautiful to ignore. The edges of the room are easy to cling to, and offer opportunities not only to observe jewellery trends, but how the other half truly live.
"Excuse me."
Your eyes darted up at the voice. You hadn't even noticed the people around you went quiet. It was obvious why, when Fire Lord Zuko stood before them.
Your stared at him, the parchment and charcoal long hidden up your sleeve. You became eerily aware of every sensation- the shift of your stolen clothes against you, the tightness of the shoes, and the gentle caress of the dangling glass droplets of your hairpin against your nape.
"Dance with me."
For a moment, you wanted to glance behind you and look for the person he was talking to. Because surely, he was just looking straight through you. Surely, the Lord of the Fire Nation had not looked at you. had not spoken to you. And he'd spoken in a way you'd never assumed a noble would.
But his eyes were definitely on you. And he was waiting.
Panic flared underneath every inch of your skin, as your mouth moved without a single sound coming out. And the worst thing? He waited.
Eventually, you remembered that you have in fact spoken before (many times, in fact), and should be speaking right now.
"I- uh, I don't... why?"
There was the tiniest hint of a smile that pulled at his lips. "I think you're the only person in this room who hasn't come to talk to me."
Had he been watching you? You glanced around at the crowd, who were still dancing and eating and enjoying the rich atmosphere, but still casted sidelong, observant glances towards the Fire Lord. It was then you noticed the sheer amount of young women at the ball.
With the sketchbook a feeling like a stone weight in your sleeve, and knowing deep down you should just refuse and run... you nodded. He was the Fire Lord, and you had to blend in. Rejecting the Fire Lord would be sure to raise eyebrows and stir suspicion.
Zuko's arm was warm, solid, underneath his robes. It brought you a sense of comfort over the pounding dread in your heart, which only amplified as he led you to the centre of the ballroom. You looked up at him in panic.
"I don't know how to dance," You say dumbly, cursing yourself for getting caught up in the lie. It had been far too easy to. Backtracking, you pretend to actually listen to the dramatic change music over the roaring in your eardrums. "Well, not this one. Ba Sing Se has many... variations of dance."
Zuko's lips twitched up again. It distracted you from the way the dissonant conversations quieten, and the way he placed his hand tentatively on your waist.
His head lowered slightly towards you. "I asked them to play this one. It's from my home. I'll show you how."
The energy of the music the musicians now played grew like a steady heartbeat, opposing your own. The strings of the pipa felt as though they were snapping into place, fast and powerful.
Once the sharp flutes began, Zuko started to lead.
Your steps faltered immediately- a mere fraction of a second, but it feels like enough.
His hand tightened at your waist, the other coming to gently grasp your hand, and a collective gasp and mutter runs through the onlookers. By some miracle, he'd made it look as though he had pulled you into him, instead of letting them notice your fault.
“This isn’t—” you start, then stop yourself. Not this style, you almost said. Another half-truth, not quite a complete lie.
The music swelled, the drums settling into a steady, unyielding cadence. Around you, the other dancers seemed to adjust seamlessly into sharper turns, exact steps. Men and women who had grown up in halls like these, living with the luxury of learning to dance rather than to simply survive.
“I know,” he said quietly, carefully yet confidently leading you into a sharp turn which had you clutching at his hand. They remained clasped together, both yours and his elbows bent, as though raising your joint fists in prayer. If the stories were true, he was an incredible fire bender. The best, perhaps. You imagined columns of flame billowing out from his palm, and your own grew sweaty.
You blinked, looking away from your feet for the longest stretch of time since the dance had began.
There was no judgment in his expression. No embarrassment, no irritation. Just that same searching look, which made you feel incredibly see-through. He was royalty, and could probably tell a peasant from a mile away. Still, he didn't say anything.
Your next step came too late, your turn slightly off-rhythm. Heated embarrassment crawls up your neck. You shouldn’t have agreed to this, you knew you shouldn’t have. You wondered if there was still time to slip out. Perhaps no one had gotten a proper look at your face except for him, and it wasn't like he'd chase after you.
“I can stop,” you muttered under your breath, pulling back and attempting to dissuade him from holding on. “You shouldn't have asked me to dance, there are plenty of others-"
His grip shifted on both your waist and hand, strong enough to keep you exactly where you are.
“No.” His word was quiet, but firm.
You couldn't even still your body to calm your mind, caught between the urge to flee and the fact that you were in the centre of the Earth King's ballroom with the Fire Lord’s hands on you.
The drums pressed on, steady and unforgiving to your predicament. You actually felt sick. It was getting too complicated. You were just meant to slip in, take a few sketches, then leave.
He shook his head softly, guiding you into a complicated stepping spin. When you stumbled, he was quick to cast the bottom half of his robes out to distract any onlookers from noticing it.
“You to don't need to follow the music, you know,” he told you. “Just follow me.”
You started to protest. “I’m not—” you started, then stop.
You weren't even a dancer. Not a noble. You're not supposed to be here.
“Just follow me."
It was like looking into his eyes, two golden gems of amber, placing you under some kind of spell. It was too late to back out now, and perhaps it was easier just to follow along with the lie. So you stepped with him, mirroring his movements as best you could.
At first, it felt slightly off, as though you were pushing against a current rather than flowing along with it. The rhythm was incessant, pressed against the edge of your awareness. But you began to step where he guided you, rather than following the demanding music.
The air between you grew charged with something, as the world seemed to narrow to the sliver of space between your bodies. When your next turn landed much cleaner than the last few, you let out a breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding.
You find yourself looking up at him. A risky move.
"There," he said, quietly. It had been a mistake to look at him, because that's when you noticed the tension in his shoulders, and the way his focus never once drifted, not to the crowd or any watching eyes, but fixed on you.
You never stumbled the rest of the dance.
The final note strikes, and the world rushes back in. Applause, polite for the most part, but then it grew louder for him. The Fire Lord.
That was when you realised his hand was still clasping yours. If he looked any closer, he was sure to notice the scars that dotted it- various burns and cuts from hot, sharp metal, forged in the corner of a dirty blacksmith's shop. Certainly not the hand of noble Lady Lin.
“Firelord Zuko—”
“A remarkable display—”
“Your partner—who is she?”
You hand went rigid in his, feeling its fiery warmth one last time before you pulled it from his grasp. The look of concern he had towards you was a grateful gesture, but you thought nothing of it. You couldn't, not really.
"What is it? A re you alright?"
You shook your head, taking a step back. Panic bit through your words as you look nervously at the approaching noble men and women, who hoped to praise Fire Lord Zuko and his mysterious dance partner.
"I can't," you started, taking another step back. Then another. You clutched your hand to your chest, as though you could still feel his palm pressing against it. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"
You quickly realised there was no possible way to explain. No way that wouldn't get you arrested and sentenced for impersonation and mingling with nobility under false pretences. The Dai Li could be cruel. Inhumane with their punishments.
So you turned, and ran. Quick enough that all you hear is a "Wait!", before you were swallowed by the crowd. Shifting bodies created gaps just big enough for you to slip through, your heart pounding loud enough to drown out the Fire Nation melody now being played by the musicians. You kept your head down, determined to get out before they stop you, before he caught up.
Your breathing finally began to to calm after you'd scaled the wall, back into the Lower Ring. Back to where you belonged.
The next morning, at the first light of dawn, you stepped into the blacksmith shop, ready to take your place at the smaller forge in the corner. You had barely slept last night, tossing and turning on your bedroll, haunted by amber eyes and a warm, gentle hand.
It was only after you had heated the forge and gathered the metal scraps, that you realised what had gone missing.
Your sketchbook.
Zuko stared at where you had disappeared from his sight, his jaw set.
People crowded him, and for once he wished he could go back to his defiant, rude childhood self and tell them all to fuck off and leave him alone. But it wouldn't bode well for the ongoing talks for the construction of the future Republic City- something he desperately needed the Earth King's approval on.
He was stuck trying to make sense of it, they way you had changed your mind, the way your voice had become so panicked, eyes wide with terror. But something shifted near his feet, and he tears his eyes away from where he's last seen your disappearing form.
He picked up the small, worn sketchbook, turning it over in his hands. Just by first glance, it certainly did not belong to any of these people. His thumb brushed over the faint indentations in the leather, where fingertips had spent a long time holding. His scar tingled.
Curiosity had always gotten the better of him.
Placing the sketchbook in the sleeves of his robes, he quickly dismissed himself for the evening, bidding goodnight to Earth King Kuei and his many guests and a promise to meet in the morning for more construction talks.
He carefully slipped into a dark, empty hallway, with his back pressed against the cool stone of a hidden alcove, he opened the sketchbook. A flame ignited in his palm, held not too close to the sketchbook for fear of setting it alight.
Page after page was filled with drawings of various jewellery. Earrings, necklaces, arm cuffs, rings, hairpins... some sketches were more detailed than others, but each was borne from a careful hand, which captured all angles of each piece. Some had been crossed out, with scribbled notes beside them- metal too expensive, stone slips and needs better setting, too thin, bends under pressure.
Another note beside a familiar-looking hairpin caught his eye.
The hairpin had a design of twisting vines, with a lotus flower in bloom cresting at the top. Beads, labelled as being glass, dangled from the flower, looking like dripping dew drops.
Beside the hairpin, a charcoal scrawl read, imperfection makes it more alive. Final version- keep this one.
He continued to pore over the little sketchbook, searching with keen eyes for the slightest mark that could be a signature, an address of a home or shop, but to no avail.
He sat in the bed of the grand guest room within the Earth Palace, silk blankets pooling around his waist, firelight highlighting the yellowish pages and shining a slight glow over his skin. He imagined that hand he held, the hand of his mystery woman, the way it clutched and held on to him. She did not behave the way woman at the Earth Kingdom or Fire Nation behaved. She had been nervous, flighty. He had seen the way she'd weaved through the crowd, and had only looked at him once. Why had she hidden herself away?
It had been wrong of him to pull her into the centre of that jade floor, and subject her to the stares and whispers of nobles and officials. Even King Kuhei had asked him, when the night was over, who that delightful young woman he'd danced with was. It had annoyed him.
Zuko threw his head back onto the pillows, throwing an arm over his face and letting out a heavy sigh.
Who were you?
Where were you?
A lot of things in his life had left him. Some things had stayed away, for the best. And some things had come back to him.
He decided that the mystery jewellery maker would be one of the latter.
The guards standing at his bedroom doors practically jumped out of their skin when he threw the doors open, fixing them with a hard stare. He'd always been very good at giving orders.
"Take this and make copies of every page. If a civilian recognises these pieces, you will inform me immediately."
By the next day, over one hundred civilians had come forward after seeing the copies of the sketchbook pages, claiming to recognise the jewellery in their own collections. But with every house he visited, his hopes of finding you dwindled. Ba Singe Se was the largest city in the world, and clearly filled with people who just wanted to waste his time.
This had been the twenty-third house today, and once again, the noble lady and her husband had laid out the entirety of their jewellery boxes. Gems, gold, and jade shone, and each piece was elaborate and beautifully designed. All flawless, technically perfect. Expensive. But they all felt... empty. Crafted to impress, but not to mean anything.
Not like— His jaw tightened. Not like yours.
Zuko stood, the others in the living room standing with him, with a heavy sigh. He tucked the sketchbook back into his sleeve, before offering a polite smile to the lady and her husband.
"Thank you for your hospitality. I do not think these pieces match the ones I am looking for. Farewell."
Two more days passed in the same way.
House after house, each one boasting an impressive collection of jewels, but less impressive results. Zuko grew more frustrated, spending his nights getting it out of his system by firebending in his private courtyard within the Earth Palace. After accidentally setting several peonies alight, he'd sulked back to his room, turning the sketchbook over in his hands.
It was on the fourth day that something finally turned up.
Once again, he'd been visiting houses to try to match the sketches with the ones owned by the rich families of Ba Sing Se. The routine had gotten thin, as well as his patience. His chances of finding you were growing slimmer.
Mrs Chen, the lady of the house, had fussed over him like a grandmother, wailing in protest when he'd poured his own tea. Her jewellery laid our between them, but he didn't need to compare them against the sketches- they'd been burned into his mind, after several sleepless nights.
Mrs Chen's jewellery collection was much smaller than the other sixty-three families he had visited. She'd carried the wooden box in herself, and with a smug smile she'd begun to tell him the story why.
"I only collect rare items, as you can see," she waved a wrinkled hand over the necklaces, rings and hairpins. "I only keep what is worth keeping."
For a moment, Zuko's disappoint reached a chasm. It was the same as all the others.
But then his breath hitched.
It wasn't the most elaborate piece in the collection, not did it boast the most gems. It was lotus flower hairpin, and he'd seen it before. It had sat in your hair, holding it up away from your neck, and the beads cascading from it had swayed against your nape as you danced.
The only differences, he noticed when he'd carefully picked it up, was that the metal seemed of higher quality. A pink gemstone was nestled in the bud of the lotus, and each of the beads were diamond rather than glass.
Zuko turned it over, once, twice, three times before he asked, "This one. Where did you get it?"
Mrs Chen rubbed her chin. "That's an old piece, one of the first in my collection. It had belonged to my mother, you see. She'd purchased it from a shop that no longer exists."
Zuko's attention, which had gone slightly fuzzy the longer he'd looked at the hairpin, suddenly snapped into place. Mrs Chen looked startled for a moment- fire burned behind his eyes.
"Which shop?"
"It was called Verdant Jewels," she told him. "They were family owned- It closed its doors during the war- too many of the family's mines had been shut down."
Guilt and shame gnawed at him. The Fire Nation had destroyed everything in its path, and he had been a destroyer once. There was a time in his life that Zuko would have actually been pleased to hear that the Earth Kingdom had suffered, and wouldn't have batted an eye at the news of a village being razed do the ground. Or even doing the razing himself.
Suddenly, it clicked.
He pulled out the sketchbook, flicking to the twelfth page where he'd remembered one of your notes beside a delicate bend engraved with flecked markings. It had clearly not turned out the way you had expected it to, so you'd written a reminder to redo it.
Try again with better materials.
Need more brass- save.
What he had stupidly interpreted as you simply saving metal to use for future adornments, was actually a reminder to save money. He pictured that night again, your discomfort in the ballroom, your lack of dancing skills which every other person in the room possessed, and how you had disappeared from his sight within the crowd.
The hairpin burned in his hand, forged by a forgotten jewellers a hundred years ago, and the one you had been wearing were not very different after all. You clearly worked with the same skill these jewellers had all those years ago, who had developed the finest, mot unique adornments for the people of the Upper Ring. You did not possess grand materials; things that were once crafted from gold and jade were now made of smoothed glass, polished stones and brass. But you worked with what you had...
He knew where to find you.
"Mrs Chen," Zuko staggers to his feet, still clutching the bejewelled hairpin. "May I take this? I have gold- lots of it. Name your price."
What he had not fully expected, was the look of outrage on the old lady's face. "I'm sorry, Fire Lord Zuko, but that is a family heirloom, I cannot part with it."
But Zuko still left Mrs Chen's home a few moments later, the hairpin tucked into his sleeve along with your sketchbook and his head feeling a little lighter. He commanded his guards to lead him to the Upper Ring monorail station, and to inform him immediately of the next train departing for the Lower Ring.
Meanwhile, back in her home, Mrs Chen sat wide-eyed, at the Fire Nation crown in her hands.
The market was always busy at this time of day, the sun inching across a cloudless sky to the tune of a hundred footsteps.
You had already made eight sales today, and the copper coins jingled in your pocket to the tune of good meals this week. You could get a couple more rings or necklaces sold, then head back to the blacksmiths and finish up on the brass ring you'd been dying to finish. You'd finally saved up for some extra brass, and could probably have enough left over to make a few more. You were glad you'd memorised the designs, but it would have been better to actually have your sketchbook in hand, so that you could draw out a few more ideas for engravings.
You had also managed to remember some of the deigns you'd seen that night on your... outing to the Upper Ring. Right now, it felt like you had lost more than you gained, with losing the sketchbook, and getting caught up in a fantasy world that involved developing a crush on Fire Lord Zuko. You tried telling yourself it was just the cacophony of emotions that night making you think of him every waking moment.
You had to forget about him. It was nothing more than a silly fantasy that you couldn't afford to get caught up in. Literally. He occupied your thoughts the most during your work at your small table and forge at the blacksmith's. The heat reminded you of him, his hands. The glowing embers became his eyes.
You even caught yourself one afternoon humming the Fire Nation music, before dropping your head into your sooty hands and telling yourself to get a grip. He was nice to dream about, but that was all he was.
"Thank you!" you bid farewell to a gaggle of little girls who slipped bangles onto their wrists with each other's help. You smiled softly as they skip back to their mothers, with a lonely pang in your chest.
You'd brought some polished, coloured glass and wire, hoping to replicate a design you'd spotted on the bony wrist of a Upper Ring noble from the ball during short lulls between customers. You reached for your tools, ready to twist another section of wire into place to securely hold the glass in place, when something in the market's atmosphere shifted. Conversations seemed to fall and spike at something in the near distance.
A man hurried past your stall, eyes fixed ahead as he urged people to the side.
“Move—move—he’s coming through—”
You frowned slightly.
“Who?” somebody called from the stall opposite yours.
The answer didn't come from the man who had rushed past. Instead, it got carried by the crowd like a spark catching on a dry field.
“The Fire Lord!”
A glass bead dropped from your fingers, clacking onto the wood of the stall and matching the rhythm of your heart.
“The Fire Lord is here!"
“No, I heard he’s inspecting-”
“Make way!”
The words blurred together, but the meaning landed on your shoulders all the same.
Firelord.
Zuko.
Your stomach dropped. He couldn't be here. He shouldn't. Why would he-?
Perhaps he was coming with guards. He'd found out you had lied to get inside the King's personal residence, had tricked the officials into thinking you were some commander's wife. You had tricked him, and he had taken it as a slight. he would hand you over to the Dai Li for deserved punishment.
Your pulse kicked hard, sudden and sharp. Then your hands finally caught up to your thoughts, racing to gather your things before it was too late. The tray of finished pieces, your tools, the cloth beneath them, all gathered into your arms. You'd be damned if you left them behind like your sketchbook.
But your movements fumbled in the midst of your panic- the wire you had been working with tangled on a ragged nail poking out from your old wooden stall.
You swear, fingers clumsily trying to free it.
"Make way for Fire Lord Zuko!"
You lowered your head, hoping, praying that he wouldn't notice you. You were just another vendor, another face. But then you made the mistake of taking a chance, and you looked up.
Zuko walked through the space that parted for him, the people of the Lower Ring waving and calling out his name in the hopes he'd notice. He was scanning the throes, not offering anyone a second glance.
Before you fully realised, you were looking into those amber eyes again.
Your eyes dropped immediately, at last freeing the wire and turning away from the market, head down. Walk. Just walk.
"Wait!"
His voice cut through you, and for a foolish moment, you wanted to wait. You selfishly hoped he had come here for you on purpose, and that he had felt the same way you had when you danced together. But it was too much of a risk.
You darted into an alleyway, weaving past people rushing our of their homes to catch a glimpse of the Fire Lord. You quickly turned down a narrower path between homes and stalls, hoping that you're moving fast enough to disappear.
Your shoulder clipped a hanging cloth, sending it swaying, but you didn't dare stop to fix it.
"Stop!"
His voice again, sounding more urgent. You risked a glance back, so see him knocking the same cloth you had out of his way to keep up his chase. People watched with wide eyes, pointing at the Fire Lord and calling out his name. But he just kept going.
You could lose him. You knew these streets well, you just needed to-
An uneven stone catches your foot, sending you stumbling forward and knocking the balance out from right underneath you.
A hand closed around your wrist, catching you before you fell. You remembered that warmth. He had you, and there was no chance he'd let you go.
So, you turned.
It was painful to look at him, knowing that in another life, you perhaps could have had him. Your family would still be prospering in the Upper Ring, every noble wearing an item from Verdant Jewels. You would have been trained in the art of dancing, and it would have been easy to impress the visiting Fire Lord with your grace and skill. But the time for pretending had come to an end.
His gaze searched your face, quick and certain. "You-" he started, before swallowing. "You left."
Your brows furrowed, before realisation dawned. He was talking about the dance.
"I had to," you managed to find your voice, although it was unsteady. His grip on your wrist loosed, but not entirely, not enough to let you run again.
Barely a moment passed before he responded with a, "Why?"
You shook your head, trying to pull your wrist back but he was unrelenting. "I had to. I didn't belong there, it... it was a mistake to go." You waved your other hand, gesturing to yourself. You didn't belong there, not for one moment. It was just pretend.
He stared at you for a moment, his dark eyebrow furrowing. "No, it wasn't."
You stopped trying to pull away from him, now looking at him in utter confusion. You want to help him understand, you truly did. But all it would do is pull you deeper in. In to him. People had already seen you together, watching you run. It wouldn't be difficult for them to assume the worst. And if somehow, incredibly, you made it off without being handed over to the authorities, you wouldn't be able to sell as much as a ring. You would be ostracised, avoided.
As though sensing your worry, he lets go of your wrist to reach into his sleeve, pulling out a familiar item.
Worn edges, soot-smudged edges and that corner you bent and never fixed.
"You left this." Zuko stated simply, eyes darting between it and you. "I've been using it."
Your eyes broke away from one of your only material possessions, and land on his. "What?"
"To find you," Again, he talked like it was obvious. But somehow, you knew he was telling the truth. Perhaps it was that look in his eyes- wide, clearly wanting to understand. "I just... had to know why you left. Why you were even there in the first place."
There was no chance he would leave you now that he'd found you, you realised. This man who had danced with you at the ball, who had kindly covered for your dancing skills (or lack thereof) and had taken care of your sketchbook. You had ran away from him, after all. You owed him an answer.
If you couldn't find the words, then you would have to show him.
"Not here," you told him, as he pressed the sketchbook into your palm with such gentleness it made your lip wobble. "If you want answers... come with me."
You decided, wisely, to avoid the main paths.
One of Zuko's personal soldiers caught up at one point, which he had commanded to retreat- peruse the market.
You never once had to look back. You didn't need to, when you could feel the heat searing from him.
You pushed the door of the small forge the moment you arrived, shutting out the light and any prying eyes. You took a moment to breath, forehead pressed against the door, before you turned to him.
It was funny, how out of place he looked. In his impressive Fire Lord robes, although he'd clearly forgone the crown this time, he looked like the handsome protagonist of one of those street plays.
He glanced around, his eyes lingering on the small forge where you bend metal without any special powers, the tiny rack of tools and the dusty floor. You cringed the longer he looked, and desperate to fill the silence, you spoke.
"This is it. Impressive, right?"
"Yes, I think so."
You stared at him, almost wanting to laugh. His voice was incredibly earnest; did they not teach sarcasm in the Fire Nation?
Shaking your head, you set your bag down in the corner, your gaze passing slightly bitterly over the place you called your life.
After a few moment's silence, you decided to tell him. What more could you lose? Your dignity, perhaps. "This is just what's left of my family's legacy," you said, picking up a half-finished ring and rubbing it with your thumb. "They were jewellers, in the Upper-"
"The Upper Ring," he interjected suddenly. Intensely. "Verdant Jewels. I know."
The ring slipped from your hand, abruptly clattering to the floor. "H-how did you know that?"
The blush that spread across his high cheekbones was a sight you wanted to never stop seeing. Dusty pink just visible in the low light of the blacksmith's, you saw the Prince shining through. He was not a Fire Lord, simply Zuko.
He coughed awkwardly, eyes latching onto yours. "I've been... looking for you. Ever since you left. I was told that Verdant Jewels made the most beautiful and rare things."
His heavy stare made you shift your feet, but you shrugged it off. "They don't exist anymore. It's just me. They at least had the decency to leave me with some of their skills."
Zuko's gaze shifted sideways, barely a fraction, as though searching for something at the back of your head. "You made the hairpin. The one you wore that night- it's in your sketchbook. You've made everything in that book."
You nodded. "Yeah. Some are still a work in progress, though."
"Show me."
You blinked. "What?"
"I want to see you..." he started, lingering on the words for a moment too long. It's a moment that had your heart leaping in your chest. "I want to see you make them."
You didn't quite know what to do. No one had ever asked you, for anything like this. He was the Fire Lord, a man who ruled an entire nation and was one of the most powerful benders in the world. At the least, you appreciated his supposed interest. Could you really deny him?
"You don't have to-"
"I do," he said with finality. That strange feeling tightened your chest up, dangerously.
"... Alright," you replied, maybe a little too quickly. Your eyes dropped to the forge, only a few glowing embers alight from your day's work here yesterday.
You reached for the bag of coal, ready to hoist it up- when a sudden heat torched behind you. You spun around in shock, to see a blazing fire filling the forge. Its flames twisted and curled around each other, and you couldn't look away. But when you did, you saw Zuko's outstretched palm return to his side, a satisfied look on his face.
You raised an eyebrow at him, a smile threatening your lips. "Seriously? Where have you been all this time? I'd have saved a fortune on coal these last couple of years."
You don't catch his small smile when you turn around and busy yourself with gathering what you need- strips of brass, a small glass bead, and your trust, worn tools. The fire he lit in the forge burned a lot hotter than the ones you usually lit, thanks to his clear, natural talent for fire bending. You imagined having that same ability, and huffed at how easy it would be to melt metal with fire beneath your fingertips, or even bend it with the new metal bending fad going around. Had your family, the past owners of Verdant Jewels, possess those talents?
You didn't have to turn around to know he was watching.
Watching as you focus despite the heat brushing incessantly at your skin as you heat the metal in the fire with old prongs, before bringing it back to the small anvil with extreme care. You'd endured enough burns on your skin to last the Avatar's lifetime.
But what you didn't expect was for him to come closer. He doesn't crowd, nor is it intrusive. He was just... near. You'd been closer than this before, dancing to the music from his nation. Your hand had been clasped in his, and his other had been on your hip. You wondered what it would feel like for him to reach forward and put his hand back in that same spot.
You tried to focus harder.
Your fingers twisted with the tools, carefully bending, shaping, then back into the flames. Repeat. Repeat.
You worried at your bottom lip with your teeth. "This part is the most important. If the base is wrong, everything else just... oh."
Zuko's hand enclosed around yours, with the lightest touch.
"Keep going," he murmured, and you feel his chest press against your back, just as gently as his hand was to yours. "I want to see."
Your breath stuttered out of you, to the relentless fever pitch of your pounding heart.
His hand followed yours, every time you twisted the metal or the tools, and even followed as you fired it in the flames. Flames, which you swore burned brighter than before.
"This- this isn't how it's supposed to be done," you breathed.
His mouth, brushing the shell of your ear and making you shiver despite the sweat beading at your neck, simply murmured the words, "I didn't think it would be," His fingers curled around yours, his touch heavier yet flawless in their movements with yours. "You do not possess earth bending... and yet you control this metal like it's a part of you. You- it's incredible,"
The world outside felt very far away, as the crackle of the flames and the shift of fabric filled your senses. His chest was solid against your back, but despite the heat it brought, and as much as you wanted to just turn around and meet the amber eyes that you felt flickering between your joined, working hands and the side of your face, you kept your back to him. It was easier that way.
When he spoke next, his tone was more serious. "Do you regret it?"
You pressed your lips together, focusing creating a small lip in the metal for the ring's setting. "Regret what?"
He was silent for a few moments, as though thinking carefully over what he was going to say next. "Going to the Earth King's ball."
You didn't even risk a look towards him, knowing that if you had, you would do something stupid. But would you even regret that?
"No," you replied, attempting to keep your voice level despite the nerves that threaten it. "I don't."
You had relived that night over and over again in your mind, dreaming of the Fire Lord who had captivated your every thought since. Now he was here, his hands once again touching yours, and you couldn't even get yourself to turn around.
You swore for a moment his hands shifted- just a fraction.
"But you ran away. Twice."
A wry smile tugged at your lips. For being a ruler of a nation, he sure was a little slow to catch on sometimes. "You said to me that I was the only person who hadn't desperately tried to talk to you. But I hid my true self from you," you reminded him, fingers tightening on your tools to the point your knuckles tighten. "You shouldn't make me into something I'm not."
His hands finally fell away from yours, coming to grip the sides of the anvil. Still close. His breath came out hot against your ear. "Then tell me to leave."
Your breath hitched, and finally, you turned to look at him. "What?"
That warm breath tickled your cheek as he leans in, and you saw the flames reflect in his eyes, burning bright as he looked at you. Those same eyes flickered down, to your lips, then back.
"Tell me to leave. Right now," his arm snaked around your back, sliding up and coming to rest at the nap of your neck. His fingers lifted, taking one of the dangling beads of your lotus hairpin and gently rolling it between them. "I'll walk away and leave you to your life, if it is what you truly want. If it will make you happy."
You shook your head, eyes searching his face. His furrowed brow, the arch of his nose, the curve of his lips. You reached a hand up and gently touch the left side of his face.
He didn't stop you, nor did he even flinch. Instead, he raised his other hand, the one that was not on your neck, and placed it right over yours. Over his scar.
He smiled softly. "Imperfection makes it more alive," he whispered. The beads on your hairpin gently clinked together as he continued to feel them between his fingertips.
Your pulse tripped over itself. "You really did use my sketchbook. To find me," The breathless words fell out of you, as you gazed up at him in disbelief. It doesn't feel real. None of it did. You felt that you were about to wake from some perfect dream your heart spun up. "That's insane."
"Probably," he mused. The way his fingers brushed the hair at the nape of you neck made you shiver in the hot forge. "After the sixty-third house, I started getting impatient."
Your eyes widened, but right before you could exclaim an incredulous "What?!", he kissed you.
He had clearly learned his lesson from the dance. You had truly terrible balance.
Right before you could steady yourself with an arm thrown back, a hand ready to clasp onto the edge of the workbench, he reached down and takes it, holding you steady. He brought your arm to his front, wordlessly encouraging you to rest it on his front. So, you did just that.
Mouth moving with his, your fingers fisted into the front of his robes, pulling him in closer. Your back pressed against the edge of the workbench, and your breath escapes you at the feeling.
Immediately, he broke away, searching your face. "Did I hurt you?" The question felt far more loaded that it should, and you felt like he was asking about more than just the workbench.
You shook your head, smiling softly. "No. You didn't."
He kissed you again, mirroring your smile as the forge behind you burned endlessly on.
"All this time, you failed to mention that you have a dragon?"
The massive winged reptile, with it's shimmering red scales, thrashing tail and jagged teeth was something out of a story book. It stared down at you, and for moment, you thought it would simply lean down and snap you up. You tried very, very hard to not look intimidated.
But Zuko stood at the beast's side, patting its leg affectionately. "He's harmless, trust me."
"He's staring at me."
"That's because he likes you."
"How can you tell?"
He paused for a moment, a sneaking smirk written on his lips. "He hasn't tried to eat you."
Incredulously, you stared at him, folding your arms. "You just said he was harmless," But despite yourself, a small laugh escaped you, and you debated just going over there and patting the dragon- Druk, he called him- but something held you back.
The look in Zuko's eyes, perhaps. The pained ache in your chest was large contributor, also. He was leaving soon. Further discussions were to be had over the future of this new idea of a city with other nations, but it would take time. Too long for a Fire Lord to be away from his nation.
It had been two days since the events at the forge in the Lower Ring, and the feeling of Zuko's lips against yours had not left your mind since.
He had made time to come and see you in secret, not wishing to risk you coming over the dividing wall between the rings again. You had spent an evening with him sitting on the rooftop of some houses, staring up into the stars and asking him every question about his adventures across the world. With every story he told, you fell deeper and deeper in love with him.
But all good things had to end, sooner or later.
"I'm going to miss you," the words fell from you before you could hold them in, and simply saying what you had been thinking made tears spring to your eyes. He had come into your life in a whirlwind, spun you around on a dance floor and chased you across the city. He had left a mark on your soul, a brand of fire. "Try to come back and visit, alright? I want to hear more about this 'Republic City' idea."
He abandoned his dragon's side, coming to cup your jaw and press his lips to your falling tears. The sun had begun to rise, and the city was waking around you.
Then, Zuko exhaled softly, as though he made some internal decision. He fixed his gaze on yours, unwavering. "The royal artisan's wing in Caldera City has been empty for years," he stated, "The previous Fire Lord deemed art unworthy of his time and effort."
You blinked. "What?"
His hands dropped from your jaw, coming to rest on your shoulders. You could practically see the cogs spinning behind his eyes, the fire fuelling them was right there in his irises. "Most of the jewellers there only make ceremonial pieces. Decorations."
Your head rapidly started to spin, not helped by the pounding in your chest. "You're doing that thing again," you whispered, and at his quizzical look, you explained. "That thing where you start talking weirdly before you say something that makes my heart literally stop."
He laughed, and the fondness that blanketed your heart told you that you could never live a fulfilling life where that laugh was not a part of it.
He quirked his head, still smiling. "I didn't realise I had a habit," But that smile soon faded, replaced by something more vulnerable. "None of them makes things the way that you do."
Your heartbeat stumbled. "Zuko..."
He shook his head, not wanting to hear protest. "Come to the Fire Nation with me,"
Before you could open your mouth, he pressed on with a soft hush. "I know. I know what I'm asking of you. To leave your life here and start something new in a land unknown to you. I know how selfish I'm being right now. But I am the most selfish man alive when it comes to you."
You smiled sadly. "Zuko... my family lost everything to the Fire Nation."
A beat of heavy silence crossed over. "I know."
"And you're asking me to go there anyway."
"I'm asking you," he said carefully, "to bring your work somewhere it can live again. A new nation. A nation that really needs to find meaning."
The morning wind breezes through the city, catching loose strands of your hair. He reached out automatically, tucking them gently behind your ear. His touch lingered there, brushing against your ear. Then back more, until he made contact with the lotus hairpin. The piece that gave you the most pride. The one he had upturned the city for, all in the hope... all in the hope to find you.
"I've seen what you can create with scraps and broken tools," he continued quietly, over the breeze. "You do not belong at that little workbench in the corner of a blacksmiths. I want to give you more. As much as you will allow me to give you."
As his words settled in your chest, your eyes stung. You looked away for a moment, at the city around you. At the Lower Ring beyond the wall, that physical restriction that had always held you back. But the forge. The market. You had built it from almost nothing, and you were proud of that. Could the Fire Nation offer you more?
"I wouldn't belong there," you whispered.
"Hm. You said the same thing about the ball."
Your breath caught in your throat. "That," you started, the words nearly dying before they were out in the air, "Was different."
He dragged a hand behind your neck, gently forcing you to look up at him. "When you danced with me, what did you feel?" he asked, lips brushing your ear. "When we kissed at the forge, what did you feel?"
Hope. Desire. Belonging.
You didn't say it aloud- you didn't need to. From the small twitch of his lips and the sparkle in his eyes of cut amber, he knew.
"I would never ask you to become anything different than what you are. A jeweller. Someone whose work deserves to be seen."
He pulled away from the side of your face, from where he whispered in your ear and played with your hairpin. He lowered his face to yours, and murmured, "Someone I love."
The world stilled. Even the dragon's tail ceased its swishing and smoke curled lazily from his nostrils, blending with the morning mist.
Your heart gave one more pitiful pull in your chest. Despite very reason that it should frighten you, Zuko was there to calm it. In the same way he had that night, when he took your hand and lead you into a dance.
Your rose onto your tiptoes, and kissed him.
The wind swept around you sharply, carrying the dragon's heat with it.
You kissed him like you still can't quite believe he was real, just like those night after the ball when you replayed every moment like a play, so that you would never forget him. You felt his hands clamp around your waist, pulling you impossibly close, until you were weightless.
His strong arms pulled you from the ground with care, spinning you around once, twice, as you laugh breathlessly against his lips. He gave you one last grinning peck before setting you down, forehead resting against.
You closed your eyes, breathing him in. Then you mumbled, "I'm bringing my tools. How dare you call them broken. They're literally fine."
The relief that flashed across his face actually takes the weight from his shoulders, and his quiet laughter warms your body straight through.
Behind him, Druk the dragon let our what sounded like an impatient huff, as though bored with the display of affection. Your eyes flickered nervously towards him, and back to Zuko.
"...I've never ridden one before."
His expression softened immediately, and he took your hand, carefully leading you over to Druk with guiding steps. He felt warm. Steady and certain, just as before.
"It's alright."
You watched him climb onto the great beast's back, where he settled on the saddle. The sun gleamed ahead of him, bleeding into his eyes and casting light over his scar. The Fire Lord.
Druk sniffed at you as you approached, fixing an eye on your outstretched hand. You placed in on his lowered snout, fingers smoothing over the course scarlet scales. You assumed that the two, slow and reptilian blinks mean climb on.
Zuko leant down, eyes fixed on you and nothing else.
And when he reached out his hand, you took it without hesitation.
ৡ ৡ ৡ
part 2
a.n this took way longer than i though it would, oops! anyway i hope you enjoyed, i kinda veered off the original cinderella plotline bc i wanted it to go a little differently and fit in with the atla universe a little better. i really want to make a part 2 to this, so keep an eye out!
taglist: @gretavankleep37 , @tinybasementrats