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it's too little, way too late.

(Part two. Part one here.)

adult!fire lord zuko x royal secretary!reader | mdni. | wc: 5,3K

summary: in which Zuko discovers that some promises were never meant for the altar, and some conversations are worth risking everything for.

content: fire lord zuko x reader, friends to lovers, mutual pining, arranged marriage, angst, yearning, hea, humor as a coping mechanism (from the author), more tea mentions.

note: written for a request and inspired by ‘too little, too late’ by laufey. this story is split into two parts, part one is already available. ♡

Seven days had passed since the study doors had clicked shut behind you.

Zuko wandered the eastern corridor without a destination, looking close to a ghost haunting his own halls. Servants bowed as he passed, so low their foreheads nearly swept the floor.

"Fire Lord."

"Your Majesty."

He answered each greeting with hollowed out eyes, barely registering the faces around him.

His feet carried him toward the eastern gardens before he realized where they were going.

Every evening, once the final meeting had adjourned and the ink had dried on the day’s endless decrees, he’d find you waiting there. You’d be perched on the low stone wall bordering the lotus pond, one leg tucked beneath the other. Two cups would be steaming between you, releasing the fragrance of whatever funny blend you had decided you two needed that day.

"If you're going to insist on working past sunset," you’d sigh, passing him a cup before he could even sit down, “the least I can do is make sure you don't accidentally poison yourself trying to brew tea.”

"It's just boiling water."

"Yes… and last month you nearly set the kettle on fire.”

The place was empty, this meaning: no tray, no stack of unfinished reports she'd smuggle outside despite promising to leave them in the study, no fond banter waiting for him the moment he arrived, no funny flavors…

Truth was something not easy to face, weird to unravel, and bitter to admit, but the truth was, that he hadn't realized how many places in the palace belonged to the two of you until he was forced to walk through them alone.

"Your Majesty?"

A young attendant hurried across the stone path, clutching scrolls against his chest.

"The Royal Secretary asked me to deliver these."

Zuko reached out, taking the scrolls. "She isn't coming to hand them over herself?"

"No, Fire Lord," the boy stammered, ducking his head. "The Secretary requested that all future correspondence be routed strictly through the lower archive office."

Point blank.

You weren’t coming back. A foolish spark had remained tucked inside his chest all week in the shape of hope that every time he turned a corner, he’d catch sight of you walking toward him. He’d braced himself for your brilliant smile, or even your angry frown- Agni, he would have begged for the frown… anything that meant you were still within reach.

"I see."

The servant bowed once more before hurrying away.

Zuko stared down at the scroll in his hand, but he couldn't bring himself to unroll it. Looking at your precise handwriting now was a form of execution knowing he’d never get to tease you over a misplaced stroke, or watch your eyes narrow when he pointed out a tiny flaw.

He added it to the growing list of things that had suddenly stopped being worth the effort.

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back toward the twilight.

I thought she'd know…

"Fire Lord?"

Zuko didn't answer. He didn't even move, hoping the earth would swallow him whole before he had to face whatever duty was calling for him next, or more of your handwriting.

"Fire Lord."

He opened his eyes.

Minister Shinu stood at the edge of the path. "There you are," he said with visible relief. "We've been looking everywhere."

"Is something wrong?" Zuko asked, straightening his posture.

"Not at all. Master Kaito has arrived for the final fitting for your wedding attire. Shall we?"

Add it to the list.

Master Kaito stepped around the perimeter of the fitting dais, two young apprentices hovering in his wake like skittish birds. Between them, they carried yards of materials of the required colors and even some gold thread, and brass pins held between their lips.

“Your Majesty, if you could raise your left arm juuust a fraction higher?” Kaito asked, smoothing the stiff fabric over Zuko's shoulder.

His gaze was locked onto a blank patch of stone wall past the tailor’s figure.

Kaito cleared his throat, exchanging a quick glance with his lead apprentice. “Your Majesty?”

Zuko blinked, the fog clearing from his eyes for a second as he looked down at the old tailor. “What?”

“Your arm, Sire,” Kaito repeated with patience, gesturing toward the sleeve. “The ceremonial mantle needs to sit flush against the collarbone for the oath.”

“Right.” Zuko raised his arm, letting them tug at the sleeves, take care of the high collar, and debate the sweep of the hem as though he were nothing more than a mannequin standing in the center of the room.

They fussed over every fold of the standard Fire Lord regalia. The voices around him drifted in and out, muffled and unimportant.

“The shoulder seam needs another half-inch, Master,” the younger apprentice whispered, leaning in with a pair of shears. “He’s slumping.”

“He isn't slumping, he’s exhausted,” Kaito muttered back, adjusting a pin near Zuko's throat. “The Royal Secretary would certainly come in handy right about now. She usually knows how to keep him awake through these lengthy fittings...”

The title didn't just break Zuko's trance, it struck him.

His eyes snapped wide. Suddenly, the room roared back to life with clarity. The heat of the apprentices crowding his space felt unbearable, as did the sharp pull of the pins against his ribs, the weight of the silk choking his throat, the invasive touch of four sets of hands fussing over his clothes… it was all too much, and it was burning him up from the inside out.

Zuko took a step back off the center mark, almost tripping the apprentice behind him.

“Your Majesty!” Kaito gasped, dropping his shears in surprise.

“I need everyone out,” Zuko said. Without raising his voice, he made every servant listen.

Kaito looked at his face, caught the exhausted panic rising in the Fire Lord's eyes, and bowed. “Of course, Sire. We will…. return when you are ready! Out, out, everyone!”

Within seconds, the tailors gathered their tools and shuffled out.

Zuko stood alone on the fitting dais. He turned his head toward the tall mirror resting against the far wall. Reflected back at him was the absolute pinnacle of Fire Nation majesty: every line of the ceremonial attire designed to project power, tradition, and authority…

He scarcely recognized the man staring back at him. He stared waiting to feel something close to pride, duty, resolve, even fear- but he felt rather hollow wearing a suit meant for a wedding he’d never wanted.

He reached for the clasp at his shoulder, intending to strip the robes off, when a knock interrupted him. He didn’t give time to hope to form.

"Enter."

Ursa stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Her eyes stayed on him for only a moment before moving to the pins scattered across the platform, the measuring tape dangling from the edge of the chair and the shears resting on the floor where Master Kaito had dropped them.

"I take it the fitting went exceptionally well!" she said.

Zuko let out a humorless laugh. "They needed a break."

Ursa smiled. "... So I gathered."

She crossed the room, her slippers making barely a sound, before stopping beside the mirror. She looked at his reflection first, taking in the grand robes, before turning her eyes onto him.

"Someone’s forgotten to shave."

His fingers brushed against the rough stubble there before dropping again. “I’m trying something new.”

“Before your wedding?” she asked, before frowning and pursing her lips with skepticism. “That’s a bit risky, don’t you think?”

“I’ll shave it off, Mom,” he muttered, stepping down from the platform and pacing toward her. “Did you need something? I told Kiyi to let me know if anything was missing from your quarters. She should have gotten her dress altered by now. Has—?”

“Where is she, Zuko?”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “Kiyi should be with the seamstresses—”

“Not Kiyi,” Ursa clarified, offering him a frail, compassionate smile.

It was a painfully familiar ache, watching her read through every wall he tried to build. He hated disappointing her, and though she’d spent years reassuring him that her concern wasn't disappointment but love, he felt he didn't deserve her worry either. Even less over a mess he’d brought upon himself.

“Where is your secretary, Zuko?” she asked. “Where is your friend?”

Zuko swallowed. "Working."

He could practically hear the gears turning in her head as she put the pieces together.

"Fine. She’s avoiding me," he admitted, his chin dipping to break eye contact.

His mom, with all the grace she'd ever carried, walked past him and sat on the platform. She only needed to pat the space beside her twice for Zuko to cross the room and sit down next to her.

Ursa folded her hands in her lap. "What happened?"

"I couldn't write the vows…”

"So she helped."

He nodded. "She told me to imagine..." A dry smirk cracked across his face. "...the woman I was supposed to marry standing in front of me. So I did."

“And Lady Kida was nowhere to be found, I suppose.”

He shook his head. "I looked at her and I-I told her everything I'd wanted to say for years."

"And then?"

"She told me to be happy.” He grunted, dragging a hand over his face and letting his palm stay over his mouth. “I handled that remarkably well, didn't I?"

Ursa turned toward him. "No."

“Ouch, Mom?”

Ursa placed a hand over his shoulder, her fingers pressing through. "You handled it exactly the way you've handled everything else, Zuko. You loved her so… quietly, you hoped she'd somehow hear the things you never said.”

He rested his head in his hand, his elbow propped against his leg.

"You know..." Ursa murmured, "for years, I thought the two of you had already figured it out."

Zuko’s head snapped toward her. "What do you mean?"

"The way she looked at you." She shrugged. "The way you looked at her… You were never particularly subtle, darling."

"I spent years making sure I was."

"Perhaps only believing you were. I've watched that girl walk into a room and find you before anyone else, even when you two were little, and I've watched you answer questions you hadn't even heard because you were watching her instead. I thought everyone knew!"

He huffed a laugh. "...Except us."

"Except you," she affirmed. “You know, when I married your father..." she said, her eyes drifting toward the open window, "...I convinced myself that duty would eventually become enough. I told myself affection could be learned, and that peace was worth any sacrifice." A wistful smile crossed her face. "It was a comforting lie."

Zuko listened, sitting so still he barely seemed to breathe.

"I do not regret the life that brought me you and Azula." She reached over, covering his tensed hand with hers. "But if someone had offered me the choice… I would've married the man I truly loved.”

Her thumb brushed across his knuckles, tracing the skin with sweeps even the Spirits knew he needed.

"Kida deserves someone who looks at her with love, too…” Ursa waited until he turned his head, ensuring she met his eyes before continuing. "And your friend deserves better than spending the rest of her life believing those vows belonged to someone else."

"The invitations have been delivered, mom. The delegations have crossed half the world to be here." He dragged his thumb hard across his jaw. "If I call this off now, I don't just embarrass myself. I embarrass her, insult her family… I jeopardize an alliance."

Ursa lowered her hands back into her lap, her eyes searching his face. "You think marrying Lady Kida is the honorable thing to do."

"It is."

"Is it, Zuko?”

Ursa turned her eyes toward the ceremonial robes hanging nearby. "Tell me… and please, feel free to be honest: if you were Lady Kida, would you want to marry a man who loved someone else?"

Zuko opened his mouth to answer, but the words died in his throat.

“I will never tell you what to do, Fire Lord, but when I married your father, no one asked me that question.” Zuko saw how a sad smile brushed her lips. "Do not take away her chance to be loved honestly."

"...I've made a mess of everything..."

"That doesn't mean you have to spend the rest of your life living inside it." She leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to his cheek before standing up. “You built a different world, Zuko, it is a gift that you get to choose now, and so do they."

Zuko stood up after she left, and went back to what he was doing. He reached up and undid the clasp at his shoulder, the mantle slipping to the floor.

An attendant met his eyes in the mirror. “Fire Lord, Lady Kida has arrived."

The room assigned to the Lower Provincial Registry had none of the life of the palace study. The windows were smaller, the shelves older, the air carrying the permanent scent of dust and dry parchment instead of incense. It wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't remotely close to home.

You tied another bundle of records together, tightening the cord before adding it to the growing stack waiting to be catalogued… Three days' worth of work you'd finished it in one. Turns out there was very little left to do once you stopped allowing yourself distractions.

A sound from the doorway made you look up. You’d left it propped open… just in the wildly impossible, entirely foolish hope that someone whose title began with Fire and ended in Lord might pass by.

Emi peeked her head inside, balancing an oversized crate against her hip with a puff of air. "So there you are!"

"I wasn't expecting visitors."

"Neither was I." She nudged the crate onto the nearest table with a groan before dusting off her sleeves. "I'm actually here to apologize."

You raised an eyebrow, your hands pausing over the twine. "Oh, no. Should I be worried?"

"A liiittle."

She reached into the crate and produced a thick, cream colored envelope sealed with the Fire Nation crest, not crooked. "It turns out someone at the shop made a rather spectacular mistake."

You accepted it and turned it over. "The invitations?"

Emi nodded sheepishly, wincing ahead of time. "We somehow forgot to print Minister Shinu's."

"You forgot the man whose entire personality revolves around proper seating arrangements?"

She nodded again.

"The man currently organizing a royal wedding, Emi?"

"I am painfully aware." Emi clasped her hands together in a plea. "The palace has sent us two increasingly terrifying letters. Seeing as you're the only person Minister Shinu has never actually threatened..."

Debatable, you thought, though you kept your lips pressed shut.

"...I was hoping you'd deliver it."

You stared down at the seal. "I don't think that's appropriate, Emi."

"It'll take five minutes. Ten, tops!"

Five minutes inside a palace that had once felt more like home than your own childhood bedroom. Ten, tops… You could survive ten minutes.

"Fine." You slid the invitation into your satchel. "It should've been caught before they were delivered."

Emi's shoulders dropped in relief, and she clapped her hands together. "I owe you!"

"You owe me several things by now," you murmured, sliding the heavy envelope into your satchel.

"I'll start with lunch! I promise!" Emi called out over her shoulder, already spinning on her heel toward the hallway. She offered a grateful wave as she backed through the doorway.

You reached for your cloak. You told yourself you were merely delivering an invitation, merely correcting a clerical error, and of course, you were being responsible.

You were not using a forgotten piece of paper as a pathetic excuse to breathe the same air as Zuko one last time. Absolutely not. It had been decided.

Your traitorous pulse, however, was already throwing a full blown parade in your neck…

You listened to the things moving around inside your satchel and kept your eyes fixed ahead. The plan was simple: you'd find Minister Shinu, hand him the crisp envelope, and leave as calm as possible.

Yet around you, the grand corridors were anything but calm. Servants darted between pillars like frightened swallows, carrying armfuls of ceremonial decoration, gilded platters, and towering arrangements of fire lilies.

"...Has anyone seen the Palace Steward?"

"No, but the eastern pavilion's been cleared."

"Already?"

"That's what I heard."

You barely registered the conversations as you walked, keeping your head held high.

"...The Fire Lord dismissed everyone."

You slowed your pace. Not prying, of course, merely adjusting your cloak. To keep up appearances, you stopped beside a carved dragon sconce, inspecting it and evaluating its dust levels.

"What?" the second servant asked, her fingers clutching the wrist of her companion.

The first servant glanced around before dropping her voice to a whisper. "The council. They were sent away not twenty minutes ago. I've never seen Minister Shinu look so furious!"

The two scurried around the corner, their hushed whispers fading. You kept walking, but a strange coil was tightening in your stomach. Dismissed the entire council? The day before his own royal wedding? That didn't sound like Zuko at all, or at least, not the Zuko who had spent months going crazy over every diplomatic detail.

You gave your head a firm shake, mentally slapping yourself. Not your concern anymore.

When you rounded the final bend into the administrative wing, you were spared the trouble of hunting Minister Shinu down. He was already there, looking like a man enduring a very normal, highly chaotic workday as he barked orders at three scurrying attendants. Perfect. Quick handoff, quick exit.

"Minister Shinu?"

He spun so abruptly that a scroll slipped from beneath his arm, clattering noisily onto the stone floor. "What is itt now?"

You reached into your satchel, pulling out the envelope. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Minister—"

“Speak, Secretary…” he snapped, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“There was an error with the printing office," you explained, extending the paper toward him. "Your invitation was inadvertently omitted from the primary dispatch, so I brought it personally.”

He snatched the envelope from your hand.

"Marvelous."

"I wanted to ensure you received it directly."

"You needn't have troubled yourself," he said. He stared down at the invitation for a long moment before letting out an incredulous laugh. "Rather useless now, isn't it?”

"I'm sorry?"

Minister Shinu waved the invitation dismissively through the air. "The wedding isn't happening."

Your head spun as the words hit you. It couldn't be true; the ceremony was barely twenty four hours away.

"The wedding is tomorrow," you said, the breath knocked out of your lungs. "Why on earth would he do that?"

"If I knew, I imagine I'd be considerably less irritable," Shinu said, shoving the invitation beneath his arm alongside the scrolls before whirling around to bark across the corridor. "No, no- the eastern pavilion! The pavilion!"

The attendants scattered like mice, leaving you rooted to the floor.

"The eastern delegation wants reassurance, the northern ministers want clarification, the Palace Steward wants a revised schedule..." He rolled his eyes. "...and His Majesty has vanished!"

“... Literally?”

"You know how he is. He claims he is 'thinking.' He left strict instructions that no one is to disturb him unless the palace is actively engulfed in flames." Shinu’s eyes narrowed. "Frankly, I am considering setting something ablaze."

You buried a huff of laughter behind a cough.

"Actually." Shinu paused, looking you up and down as though calculating a desperate administrative solution. "Perhaps you could speak to him. You are still the only person who has ever managed to convince His Majesty to write a coherent apology letter." He adjusted the stack under his arm. "And judging by the number of foreign dignitaries currently threatening to board their ships, he is going to need one."

You hesitated, your knuckles whitening around the strap of your satchel.

Shinu let out a long suffering sigh. "He mentioned that he would be waiting for a cup of tea."

“Tea?” you repeated, coughing for real this time.

"Tea, precisely!" Shinu confirmed. "He has, in my professional opinion, completely lost his mind."

Without waiting for your response, he swept down the corridor, already shouting at some unfortunate page who had made the grave error of carrying the wrong set of ledgers.

Tea.

Oh, Zuko. He really had lost his mind…

You'd walked that path hundreds of times without thinking, balancing stacks of reports while muttering tomorrow's agenda and while Zuko pretended to listen. Every turn knew you by heart, but when you stepped into the courtyard, the tray was already waiting on the low wall, set with a steeping pot and two cups.

Zuko sat hunched on the stone ledge, his elbows resting against his thighs. He picked up one of the porcelain cups, turning it between his fingers in a circle.

He didn't turn around. “You’re back sooner than I expected.”

You closed the distance between you, your shoes brushing over the stones before stopping a few paces short. "Minister Shinu requested I help you draft an apology to the eastern delegation along with every other dignitary currently hyperventilating in the main hall."

He looked over his shoulder, and didn't argue. His eyes flicked down to the empty space beside him. “Would you mind taking a seat?”

What was there to lose? You hoisted yourself up and sat.

“I’d like to ask for your help with something else first. If you don't mind,” Zuko said, reaching into the fold of his robes and pulling out a sheet of creased parchment.

You stared at the ink showing through the thin paper. “Are those…?”

“My vows.”

You immediately pulled back, your spine stiffening. “I shouldn't even be here. I have cataloguing to finish, and I am not—”

"You told me they should be my words." He held the paper out to you. "So I finished them. I just... I need you to read them."

You crossed your arms, pressing them against yourself to keep your hands from reaching out. "I shouldn't. They're private."

"They're yours." He didn't lower his hand, he just moved his wrist, holding the page closer to your side.

"What do you mean?"

"I wrote them for you."

You let out an incredulous laugh. “That’s cruel, you know?"

“I know how it sounds, but—”

"No, Zuko, you don't." You turned your head, forcing your eyes to meet his. "Do you have any idea what this past week has been like?"

“It’s been awful,” he admitted. "I thought..." He looked down at the creased parchment between his fingers, a self-deprecating shake of his head breaking his posture. "Agni, I thought it was obvious."

You stared at him in utter disbelief. “You really have lost your mind.”

"No! I—I mean, yes, but—ugh." He cut himself off, his fingers digging into his hair as he yanked his head back in frustration. "I wasn't talking about Kida."

"How could it possibly have been obvious?" you asked, throwing your hands up in exasperated motion.

"Because I never looked at her," he said, his hand reaching out to catch your wrist, holding you so you couldn't retreat. "I was looking at you."

He eased his grip, his fingers sliding down your arm to press the folded sheet into your palm, curling your fingers over it until you were holding it together.

"I know how insane it sounds.." He let out a shaky breath. "But when you told me to picture the woman I wanted to marry… there wasn't anyone else to picture."

"But Lady Kida is—"

"I ended it." He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, his arm fell back to his side. "I should've done it long before I ever asked you to help me with those vows. I spoke to her this morning, and I apologized."

“What for?” You stared down at the paper in your grip.

"I couldn't stand in front of her tomorrow and promise her a life I already knew belonged to someone else. She deserved the truth." He exhaled. "So did you."

"And the alliance?" you asked. "The council? Everything you've spent months preparing?"

He ran a hand through his hair, turning his posture toward you, leaning forward until his shadow covered the stone wall between you.

"Well, they're furious, of course."

You half smiled. "I can imagine."

"I've spent the entire afternoon being informed that I've single-handedly created a diplomatic disaster…”

"Which, you probably have."

"I probably have, yeah." Zuko looked at the cup cooling beside the teapot.

"I don’t mind spending the next few months apologizing to ministers…" He gave a crooked tilt of his head, waiting for your verdict. “... when I would've spent the rest of my life apologizing to myself."

You guided your hands to the pot, the creased paper still tucked between your thumb and palm. You filled the cool cup, took a sip, and set it down. After that, you unfolded the parchment.

“If you're reading this, then I'm trying this again. Last time I started with everything except the part that mattered. So let me fix that first: every word on this page is meant for you.

Here's my first promise: I'll stop expecting you to hear the things I never say aloud.

I promise there will always be tea waiting for you at the end of the day, not because it's tradition anymore, but because somewhere along the way, it became my favorite part of coming home.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes blurring over his handwriting. You could practically hear his voice in the cadence of the lines.

“I promise to remind you that you don't have to carry everything alone. And when you inevitably ignore me, I'll remind you again the next day.

I promise that no matter how many meetings run late, or ministers lose their tempers, or treaties end up covering my desk, I'll always save enough time to sit beside you.

You have spent years laughing at my worst jokes. I'd like the chance to make you laugh to better ones.”

You touched the bottom margin where his grip had wrinkled the corner.

“I was afraid I had found these words too late. If I haven't, I'd like to spend the rest of my life saying them on time.”

You looked up.

"If..." He swallowed, the movement of his throat visible. "If you don't feel the same, that's alright. I meant every word anyway. I just- I couldn't let you keep believing they belonged to someone else.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but the ridiculousness of his question choked the words into a half strangled laugh.

"Not feel the same?"

His hopeful expression faltered, uncertainty clouding his features.

"Zuko..." You shook your head, pressing the folded parchment against your chest as if to keep your heart from rattling out. "...If anything, I've been late too. For… years."

Zuko stared at you.

"I kept telling myself there would be another day." You looked down at the creased parchment, feeling a smirk tugging at your mouth in recognition of your own stubbornness. "Another council meeting, another evening with the teapot…. right up until you handed me a list of wedding preparations.I thought..." You shook your head. "I thought I'd missed my chance. That maybe I'd been selfish for wanting something you were never going to offer me. So I laid my sword down."

A tear spilled down your cheek.

"I convinced myself that keeping my mouth shut was the kindest thing I could do, for you, for the Fire Nation... mostly because I was terrified you'd never feel the same." You pressed your knuckles against your mouth for a second. "I'm so sorry."

He dropped onto one knee on the stones in front of you, wrapping his fingers around yours before you could pull your hands away.

"No. Don't apologize."

You let out a snort, wiping at your chin with your sleeve. "You literally just apologized, so now it's my turn."

"No," he said, shaking his head with conviction. "It'd make this whole mess incredibly confusing."

It earned a full bodied laugh from you, which made him smile.

You reached out, framing his face between your hands. "I genuinely am sorry." Your thumbs moved over the roughness of the stubble he'd forgotten to shave. "I thought..." Your voice caught. "...I thought it was too late."

His eyes closed, leaning his forehead forward until it rested against yours. "Not this time.”

Zuko opened one eye, looking up at you. "...Can I get a hug?"

You stared at him, caught right on the edge of a smile. “After all of this? I don’t think you deserve a hug.”

Before he could open his mouth to protest, you reached out, hooked your fingers into his collar, and yanked him up into you.

The kiss started as a collision, clumsy with months of restraint snapping all at once. His breath hitched against your mouth, caught off guard. The height suited you; you dragged him closer, your hands wandering blindly, urgent and everywhere. One hand tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him against you, while the other slid up his sleeve to grip his shoulder.

He leaned into the momentum, his arms wrapping around your waist to haul you flush against the edge of the stone. Every secret word you’d buried, every night you’d convinced yourself you were dreaming up a life that couldn’t exist, melted under the press of his lips.

He didn't pull back. He just held you tighter, his palms pressing hard against your back.

"I've been wanting to do that for years," he murmured against your mouth.

"Me too..."

You pulled back to glance down at his posture. “Do you want to sit again? That looks wildly uncomfortable.”

He pretended to weigh his options, and ended up hooking his arm behind your knees and yanking you straight down onto the grass with him.You tumbled across his lap, your arms locking behind his neck to catch your balance.

“Or that works too. Really.”

He chucked, and he leaned down, pressing the scarred side of his face against your cheek.

When he finally pulled back, his hand moved into his inner sleeve once more. "There is still one thing I need your help with…”

You let your head fall back against his shoulder with a groan.

"I knew there'd be paperwork!"

He produced another folded sheet of parchment. "I have to explain this to half the world."

You reached out and accepted it.

"What are you telling them?"

"The truth." He looked back toward the looming red towers of the palace, his jaw set. "A marriage built on dishonesty could never bring peace to the Fire Nation. It didn't for my parents, and it won't now."

You glanced up at him from his lap. "That's actually very good."

"I learned from the best." He offered a wink. "And that's why I know there's no better place to draft a diplomatic disaster than my study, preferably with a fresh pot of tea. Should we…?"

You laughed, rolling out of his lap and pushing yourself up from the grass. You extended a hand toward him, he took it, letting you pull him up off the ground. He didn't let go once he was on his feet.

You reached down, intending to pick up the tray, but his grip on your fingers tugged you toward the path instead.

"Leave it," Zuko said, stepping alongside you. "I'll make another. It's gone cold anyway."

You raised an eyebrow, nudging him with your shoulder. “I wonder where we could find a Firebender around here to heat it up…”

He gave you a fond bump back.

You laughed. "Get moody all you want, we both know you'd end up burning the kettle anyway…”

“I didn't see a promise about my tea-brewing skills in those vows,” he countered, holding your hand tighter as you walked.

"Maybe I'll write one in for you," you said.

"This time," he murmured, "let's not leave anything important unsaid."

note: I’m so excited to finally be done with this request!!! To the person who asked for it, I hope this wasn’t too little, too late (wink wink). I also owe everyone an apology for the excessive amount of tea featured in this fic, but at some point it became its own love language and there was no going back. On the bright sideeee I finally got to write Ursa! and that alone made me incredibly happy. Thank you so much for reading, and I really hope you enjoyed it. ♡ xx

🏷️my dear taglist (always open!xx): @highlady0239 @xoxocelestial @eepypupy @maee67 @keropiiko @yeonatingz @magnificentlyrainythunder @highlady0239 @solarlovesxyz @mutsu422 @overfandoming

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