Theo arrived at the library's private study area with his usual armful of textbooks and notes, already mentally organizing the tutoring session ahead. Ancient Runes wasn't difficult—not for him, anyway—but apparently you'd been struggling enough that Professor Babbling had assigned him to help.
He'd tutored plenty of students before. This should be routine.
But the moment he rounded the corner and saw you sitting there, something in his brain short-circuited.
You were leaning back in your chair, one leg crossed over the other, fingers idly tracing the edge of your textbook. The late afternoon light streaming through the window caught your features perfectly, and when you looked up at him through your lashes, a slow smile spreading across your lips, Theo forgot how to breathe.
"There you are," you said, your voice warm and smooth. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me."
"I—no, I wouldn't—I mean—" Theo's carefully prepared introduction died on his tongue. He stood there like an idiot, textbooks clutched to his chest, staring at you.
Your smile widened, something knowing flickering in your eyes. "You okay, Nott? You look a little... flustered."
"I'm fine," he managed, but his voice came out rougher than intended. He cleared his throat and moved to sit across from you, but immediately regretted it. This close, he could smell your perfume—something subtle and intoxicating that made his head swim.
"So," you said, leaning forward onto your elbows. The movement made your shirt dip lower, and Theo's eyes dropped before he could stop himself. "Where should we start?"
He forced his gaze back to your face, but that wasn't much better. Your lips were curved in amusement, like you knew exactly what you were doing to him. "Chapter seven," he said quickly. "The translation exercises."
"Mmm, sounds thrilling." You pulled the textbook closer, but you didn't look at it. You were still watching him, head tilted slightly. "You know, I've heard a lot about you, Theodore Nott."
"Have you?" His mouth was dry. Why was his mouth so dry?
"Oh yes. Everyone says you're brilliant. Top of every class. Completely focused on your studies." You paused, your smile turning almost predatory. "They also say you're quite the player. That you've been with half the school."
Theo's face burned. "That's—that's not—people exaggerate."
"Do they?" You leaned even closer, and Theo caught another wave of your scent. Your face was so close, your lips looked so plump and soft, just starring at them make his head dizzy. His trousers were getting uncomfortably tight. "So you're telling me the rumors aren't true? You're not secretly hooking up with girls left & right?"
"No! I don't—I don't have time for that sort of thing."
"That sort of thing," you repeated, clearly amused. "You mean sex?"
The word on your lips made heat flood through him. Theo shifted in his seat, trying to be subtle about it, but the movement only made his growing erection more obvious. "I mean distractions," he said weakly.
"Ah." You sat back, and your eyes—those devastating eyes—dropped deliberately to his lap. "And yet you seem pretty distracted right now."
Theo's heart stopped. He looked down and immediately wanted to die. There was no hiding it—his cock was straining visibly against his trousers, the bulge prominent and unmistakable.
"I—that's not—" He grabbed his textbook, trying to cover himself, but you reached out and gently pushed it back down.
"Don't," you said softly. "I want to see."
Theo made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan. "This is inappropriate—"
"Is it?" You were smiling again, but there was heat in your expression now. "I think it's flattering. I've never seen you like this before, Nott. You're always so composed, so in control. But right now?" Your eyes dragged slowly up his body. "Right now you look like you're about to fall apart."
"I'm not—I can handle—" But he couldn't finish the sentence. His cock throbbed, and he had to bite back another sound.
"Can you?" You stood up, and Theo's breath caught as you moved around the table. You didn't sit next to him—that would have been too much—but you perched on the edge of the table right beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from your body. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're struggling."
"Please," Theo breathed, though he wasn't sure what he was asking for.
"Please what?" You reached out, fingers ghosting along his shoulder, down his arm. The touch was feather-light but it sent electricity through him. "Please stop? Or please keep going?"
Theo couldn't answer. His whole body was trembling, his cock aching so badly it was almost painful.
"You know what I think?" you continued, your voice dropping lower, more intimate. "I think those rumors about you are completely wrong. I don't think you're a player at all." Your hand came to rest on his thigh, not quite high enough to touch where he desperately needed it, but close. So close. "I think you're completely inexperienced. I think you have no idea what to do with this."
The accuracy of your assessment made Theo's face burn hotter. "That's—you can't just—"
"Am I wrong?" Your fingers traced small circles on his thigh, and Theo's hips jerked involuntarily. "Tell me I'm wrong, Theo."
He couldn't. The words wouldn't come.
"Oh my god," you breathed, and there was genuine surprise in your voice now, mixed with something darker. "I'm right, aren't I? You've never—Theo, have you ever even touched yourself?"
The humiliation was overwhelming, but somehow, the way you said it—with fascination rather than mockery—made it bearable. Barely. "I've been busy," he said defensively. "I have priorities."
"Priorities," you repeated, and then you laughed—not cruelly, but with delight. "Theo, you brilliant, ridiculous boy. You've been so focused on your studies that you've never even jerked off?"
Hearing you say it so bluntly made his cock pulse. "I don't—I haven't needed to—"
"Until now." Your hand slid higher on his thigh, and Theo gasped. "Until me."
"Yes," he admitted, the word torn from him. "Until you."
Your smile was triumphant. "Do you have any idea how hot that is? That I'm the first person to make you feel like this?"
Theo shook his head mutely.
"Well, you are." Your hand moved to his belt, fingers tracing the buckle. "And you have no idea what to do about it, do you?"
"No," Theo whispered.
"Poor thing." But you didn't sound sympathetic—you sounded hungry. "You must be aching. It probably hurts by now, doesn't it?"
"Yes." The admission came out as a whimper.
"Do you want me to tell you what to do?" Your fingers popped the button of his trousers, and Theo nearly came right then. "Do you want me to teach you how to make it feel good?"
"Please," Theo begged, beyond caring about his dignity.
"Okay," The endearment made him shudder. "First, you need to actually touch it. Can you do that for me?"
With shaking hands, Theo reached down and pressed his palm against the bulge. The pressure made him gasp, his hips bucking up into his own touch.
"Good," you praised, and the approval in your voice sent another wave of heat through him. "That feels nice, doesn't it? But it'll feel even better without all these clothes in the way. Unzip for me."
“H-here? i-in the library?”
“Don’t you want to feel good? besides this is a private area that only you have access too. Perks of beings top student.” you end with a smirk on your face.
“o-okay”Theo fumbled with his zipper, finally getting it down. His cock was straining against his boxers now, a damp spot visible where he was already leaking.
"Fuck, look at you," you breathed. "You're so hard it looks painful. Get your hand inside, Theo. Touch yourself properly."
He obeyed, sliding his hand into his boxers and wrapping his fingers around his cock for the first time with real intent. The sensation made his head fall back, a broken moan escaping his lips.
"There you go," you encouraged. "Now stroke it. Up and down, nice and slow at first."
Theo's hand moved clumsily, but even the awkward friction felt incredible. He'd never felt anything like this, never imagined it could be so intense.
"Tighter," you instructed, your own breathing getting heavier. "You can grip it tighter than that. And twist your wrist a little when you get to the top—yes, just like that."
Theo followed your directions, and the improvement was immediate. "Oh—fuck—"
"That's it, love. You're doing so well." Your hand was back on his thigh, squeezing encouragingly. "Faster now. Find a rhythm that feels good."
His hand sped up, his breathing coming in short gasps. The pleasure was building, coiling tighter and tighter in his lower abdomen. "I think—something's happening—"
"You're going to come," you said, and the certainty in your voice somehow made it more real. "When you feel it building, don't stop. Don't fight it. Just let it happen."
"I can't—it's too much—" Theo was trembling, his whole body tensing as the pressure became unbearable.
"Yes, you can." You leaned in close, your lips nearly brushing his ear. "Let go, Theo. Come for me."
Your words, your voice, your proximity—it was too much. The coil snapped, and Theo came with a strangled cry, his release spilling over his hand and onto his trousers. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through him, more intense than anything he'd ever experienced, leaving him shaking and gasping.
When it finally subsided, Theo slumped in his chair, utterly spent. He was vaguely aware that he'd made a mess, that his hand was covered in his own release, that his trousers were ruined. But mostly he was aware of you, still perched on the table beside him, watching him with dark, satisfied eyes.
"Well," you said after a moment, your voice slightly breathless. "That was educational."
Theo let out a weak laugh. "I can't believe I just—in the library—"
"I can." You reached out, gently brushing his hair back from his sweaty forehead. "You needed it. And I'm glad I could help."
"Help," Theo repeated, finally meeting your eyes. "Is that what we're calling it?"
Your smile was wicked. "What would you call it?"
"I don't know." He looked down at himself, at the evidence of what had just happened. "Life-changing?"
You laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Good. Because we still have that tutoring session to finish. And something tells me you're going to be much more focused now."
Theo groaned. "I need new trousers first."
"Probably." You hopped off the table, then leaned down to press a kiss to his temple. "Same time next week?"
As you walked away, hips swaying deliberately, Theo realized that maybe being a little less focused on his studies wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.
Especially if it meant more tutoring sessions with you.
cw: explicit, creampie, whining to Zuko that youre tired of riding him.
You’re already panting, thighs burning as you bounce on his cock, it feels so good but you’re getting fkn tired. “Zuko fuck, I’m doing all the work again,” you huff, hips slowing just enough to make a point. Your hands press against his broad chest, nails digging in like that’ll make him move. “Can’t you—ngh—help a little?”
His gold eyes narrow at you as his big hands stay planted on your waist, but they don’t guide you. They just hold you there, thick cock buried deep, “That so?” He thrusts upward once. “Whining already, princess? Thought you wanted to ride me.”
You roll your hips once more, trying to prove something, but it comes out pathetic. His cock twitches inside you, fat and heavy, veins pulsing against your walls. God, it’s so good. Too good. But your legs are shaking and you’re tired and—
“Zuko, please—”
Big mistake.
In one smooth motion he flips you. Your back hits the mattress hard. Zuko looms over you as one massive hand pinning both your wrists above your head. “Princess,” he growls, free hand gripping your thigh and shoving it up toward your chest. The new angle forces his cock even deeper, the thick head bullying. “You wanna complain about doing all the work? Fine. I’ll do it.”
Zuko pulls back just enough for the fat head of his cock to catch at your pussy and then thrusts back in hard. “F-fuck—Zuko—!”
“Yeah?” He pulls back only to drive in again, hips snapping. Every thrust rocks your whole body, tits bouncing, “This what you wanted? Me doing all the fuckin’ work?”
You nod frantically, “Zuko—ahh—too much—slow down—!”
“Slow down?” He scoffs, hooking your leg over his shoulder driving in harder, “You were whining about doing nothing n’ now it’s too much? Tch.”
Sweat slicks your skin, your thighs trembling where he’s got you pinned. “Zuko—Zu—fuck, I’m—!” You whimper louder about to orgasm as the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubs against your swollen clit.
“C’mon then,” he growls, voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Cum on my cock like the spoiled little slut you are. Make it loud for me, princess.”
Tears slip down your cheeks, mouth hanging open in a constant stream of loud, whimpering moans that get louder with every brutal thrust.
You’re a mess but Zuko just looks so fucking happy, that smug smirk never leaving his face. “Still wanna whine about doing all the work?” he asks, thumb brushing your bottom lip.
You shake your head weakly, utterly spent, a satisfied little whimper slipping out instead. You were a lucky girl, indeed.
a/n: ok fuck sorry I folded and I love u guys and and wrote this after work fuck bc I ACTUALLY NEED HIM TO BEND ME OVER RIGHT NOW plz plz plz Zuko I need u more than toji plz actually both of u plz at the same damn time
5 TIMES ZUKO BURNED THE PALACE + 1 TIME THE MAID FINALLY UNDERSTOOD WHY
art cr @ oouyox on X
18+ MDNI, smut, adult!zuko, fire lord!zuko, established relationship, newlywed, dom!zuko, jealous!zuko, fire lady!reader, water/icebender!reader, cockwarming, oral sex, edging, creampie, semi-public sex, dry hump, etc ...
DEAR DIARY, it’s my sixth day as a palace maid & apparently fire lord zuko burns things down whenever he’s alone with his wife. i asked the head maid about it, but she said i’m still too innocent to understand ...? is it because the fire lord is abusive ?! i just hope the kind fire lady is okay :<
O1 | HOPELESSLY DEVOTED TO YOU
The palace staff had quickly learned to read the architectural warning signs. At first, the occasional flicker of the wall sconces was easy to dismiss as a normal side effect of living inside the Fire Nation royal estate, where ceremonial flames burned at nearly every corner and the Caldera heat had a personality of its own. A candle trembling during a tense council meeting was not unusual. A brazier roaring too brightly after the Fire Lord received bad news was simply part of palace life. Firebenders were emotional people, after all, and the palace had housed generations of them.
But then the Fire Lord got married, and suddenly the entire palace became one prolonged fire hazard.
Whenever Zuko was struck by a particularly intense wave of desire for his wife, his inner fire reacted with embarrassing honesty. The decorative flames burning in the iron wall sconces would surge upward, roaring to life in blinding, unnatural pillars of gold. Lanterns trembled on their hooks, curtains smoked at the edges, and the very air in certain corridors grew so thick and hot that walking through them felt like stepping into the throat of a dragon. It became common knowledge among the staff that if a hallway suddenly felt like a furnace and the torches were licking the ceiling, you simply turned around and walked the other way.
No one said anything directly, of course. This was the Fire Lord and Fire Lady, newlyweds and apparently determined to test the structural endurance of every room, corridor, garden, balcony, kitchen, archive, and unfortunately, the royal study. The guards developed a silent rotation around the affected areas. The maids began carrying water basins with the same exhausted professionalism soldiers carried spears. The council, with great suffering and even greater self-preservation, pretended not to notice whenever their notoriously strict, punctual ruler arrived at official meetings with his collar pulled suspiciously high and his hair slightly more ruined than court protocol allowed.
You, naturally, found the entire situation hilarious. Zuko didn’t.
“You’re ruining my reputation,” he muttered one morning over breakfast, glaring into his tea as if the jasmine leaves had personally betrayed him. His hair was still half-loose from sleep, his robe lazily tied at the waist, and the faint reddish mark just beneath his jaw was doing an absolutely terrible job of staying hidden under his collar.
You lifted your teacup with both hands, blinking at him over the rim with exaggerated innocence. “My love, your reputation survived banishment, piracy, treason, and that one unfortunate ponytail era. I think it can survive people knowing you like your wife.”
His golden eyes narrowed. “I do not merely like my wife.”
“Oh?”
His gaze flicked to your mouth, then back to your eyes with the grim seriousness of a man discussing military strategy. “I am devoted to my wife.”
Your heart did something terribly inconvenient inside your chest. Then Zuko, apparently deciding that ruining you emotionally before breakfast was perfectly acceptable royal behavior, added in a lower voice, “Obsessed, even.”
The candle between you burst into a sudden, dramatic flame.
Both of you looked at it.
From the doorway, the head maid closed her eyes and took a very slow breath. “Not again,” she whispered.
O2 | SEVEN MINUTES OF HEAVEN
The first major casualty of your absolute lack of restraint was the royal study. It had started as a minor disagreement over a passing comment made by a visiting Earth Kingdom dignitary, which really should not have escalated as quickly as it did. The dignitary had been harmless enough, charming in that polished diplomatic way, with smooth compliments and practiced laughter that clearly meant nothing beyond courtly manners. You had barely paid him any mind. Zuko, unfortunately, had paid him too much mind.
By the time the heavy doors of the royal study closed behind you both, the Fire Lord’s fiercely protective instincts were already simmering dangerously beneath his skin. The room smelled of cedar, parchment, ink, and the sharp metallic bite of ozone, a scent you had come to associate with your husband trying very hard not to set something on fire. He stood near the shelves with a scroll clenched in one hand, his jaw tight enough to cut glass, while you leaned against the edge of his massive oak map table and crossed your arms.
“You are being ridiculous, Zuko,” you said. The table behind you was covered in carefully arranged naval documents, trade routes, council reports, and one very important scroll that had taken three ministers nearly a week to prepare. “He complimented my diplomacy. That is literally his job.”
Zuko’s eyes flashed. “He complimented more than your diplomacy.”
You rolled your eyes so hard it was honestly impressive you didn’t see the back of your own skull. “You know I only have eyes for you. Besides, you are one to talk. Honestly, with your history, I’m surprised you didn’t accidentally marry half the Earth Kingdom before I got here. Total womanizer.”
Zuko went completely still.
The scroll in his hand lowered slowly, and you realized a fraction too late that you had touched something far more tender than simple jealousy. Over the past decade, Zuko had mellowed into a composed ruler, a man capable of silencing entire council chambers with nothing but a look. But there were still old wounds beneath all that control, places where rejection and loneliness had carved themselves too deeply into him. Your teasing had landed somewhere dangerously close to one of them.
“A womanizer?” Zuko repeated quietly.
His voice was calm, and that was what made it worse. It had dropped into that dark, gravelly register meant only for you, the one that made the back of your neck prickle and your spine instinctively straighten. He placed the scroll down on the desk with careful precision, then moved around the table with slow, heavy steps until he was standing directly in front of you, crowding you back against the polished wood.
“My wife,” he said, his golden eyes burning with raw, defensive intensity, “I haven’t looked at, let alone wanted, another woman in years. I was abstinent before you invaded my palace, pointed a blade at my throat, and drove me completely insane.”
Your breath caught. The firelights in the study flickered at the edges of your vision, but you could barely focus on them with the way he was looking at you, as if the entire world had narrowed down to the space between your bodies.
“That was…” You swallowed, suddenly finding it very difficult to hold onto your smug little smile. “That was a very dramatic answer.”
Zuko only huffed, low and humorless, his mouth twitching like he could not decide whether he wanted to argue with you or ruin you against the nearest available surface.
“Anyway, you have a council meeting in exactly—”
“They can wait.”
“They really cannot.”
“They can,” he said, and there was something almost dangerous in how certain he sounded. His hands found your waist, scorching through the layers of crimson silk as he pushed closer, forcing the edge of the map table to press harder against the back of your thighs. The carefully organized naval reports crinkled beneath your palms when you braced yourself, and Zuko’s eyes dropped to the movement before lifting back to your face, dark and possessive and entirely too pleased with the way your composure had started to slip.
You opened your mouth to respond, but whatever clever retort you had prepared vanished the moment his lips brushed the side of your neck. Zuko had always loved you with a terrifying kind of intensity, and when his emotions caught fire, he had a habit of kissing like he was trying to prove something to both of you at once. Still, there was nothing uncertain in the way your fingers curled into his collar, nothing hesitant in the way you pulled him closer, dragging him down until his mouth finally crashed against yours.
The kiss wasn’t elegant. It was teeth and heat and months of carefully leashed obsession finally snapping under the weight of one careless accusation.
Zuko kissed you like he was still trying to prove a point, like every word you had thrown at him had struck somewhere too close to an old wound and he had decided the only acceptable response was to make you forget you had ever doubted him. One large, calloused hand slid up your spine, fingers spreading firmly between your shoulder blades while the other gripped your hip hard enough to make the silk wrinkle beneath his palm. You answered by biting his lower lip, and the low, broken sound that tore from his throat went straight through you.
“My lord,” you gasped against his mouth, freezing fingers twisting into the front of his robes. “You’re gonna be late—”
“Don’t care,” he panted, voice wrecked and rough. He shoved your skirts up with impatient hands and lifted you onto the map table in one motion. Scrolls scattered. An inkwell tipped over, spilling black across weeks of careful work, but neither of you noticed.
You barely had time to brace yourself before he pushed your legs apart. He freed himself with jerky movements, and the thick, scorching heat of his cock dragged against your inner thigh. You shivered at the contrast.
“Zuko—s-slow down—” The word broke into a sharp moan as he pushed inside you in one deep thrust, stretching you open around burning heat. The clash of temperatures dragged ragged groans from both of you.
He moved with none of his usual restraint after that, the table creaking beneath you as ruined scrolls slipped uselessly to the floor. Your freezing hands clutched at his shoulders, frost blooming beneath your fingertips before melting almost instantly against the fevered heat of his skin.
“You’re unbearable when you’re—ah!—jealous,” you managed between breaths, the words shaky and broken.
Zuko let out a breathless, almost pained laugh against your neck, hips never slowing. “And yet you keep giving me reasons.”
He shifted just enough to find the angle that made the whole room blur at the edges.
“Zuko—right t-there,” you gasped, head falling back as your legs tightened around his waist. The firelights in the study answered before he could, flickering wildly as his control slipped. Flames stretched higher in the sconces, throwing restless gold across the walls, while a nearby candle flared too bright and caught the corner of a discarded scroll.
Neither of you stopped.
Zuko moved with terrifying concentration, one hand planted against the table, the other gripping your thigh as if he needed something solid to hold onto. The room filled with heat, paper crumpled beneath you, and somewhere behind him, another small flame caught at the edge of an old tapestry.
“Zuko—ah, I’m g-gonna—” Your words dissolved into a broken moan as you came first, sudden and shattering. Your walls clenched tight around his burning length.
The cold rush dragged him over the edge right after. He buried himself deep with a choked groan, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you. His inner fire roared so fiercely that two of the wall sconces burst into tall, uncontrolled flames for several seconds before slowly settling.
For a long moment, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the soft crackle of the small fires still licking at the edges of the room.
Zuko stayed buried inside you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. His breath was hot and uneven against your neck. You carded freezing fingers through his messy hair and pressed a soft kiss to his scarred cheek.
“…You’re definitely late now,” you whispered, voice hoarse.
When Fire Lord Zuko finally strode into the grand hall—hair slightly mussed, ceremonial robes hastily straightened, and a very obvious trail of fresh dark marks blooming along the side of his neck—the temperature in the palace had spiked noticeably. The decorative fire sconces outside the royal study were still flaring brighter than usual.
Avatar Aang took one look at him, then at the faint sheen of lingering frost melting on Zuko’s collar, and choked violently on his tea.
The rest of the council suddenly found the table extremely interesting.
Zuko, however, simply took his seat with that terrifyingly composed Fire Lord mask firmly back in place. Though the faint, smug curve at the corner of his mouth gave him away completely.
He was exactly seven minutes late.
And he didn’t look sorry at all.
O3 | “SIR, I’M NOT PAID ENOUGH FOR THIS.”
The outdoor training courtyard was not safe from your antics either. The afternoon sun was blistering, turning the stone tiles warm beneath your bare feet, but the heat rolling off Zuko’s skin was even hotter. He moved across the courtyard with lethal precision, dual dao swords flashing in sharp silver arcs as he pressed forward. You met him strike for strike, your waterbending weaving through his aggression like a river cutting through stone. He had trained under masters, survived wars, fought prodigies and assassins and spirits, but you had learned his body in motion with a familiarity that made every sparring match feel less like combat and more like a private language.
He swung low. You stepped over the blade. He pivoted, and you caught the shift in his weight before he completed the motion, twisting your wrist and drawing moisture from the air until it hardened into a wicked, glittering blade of ice. With a sharp sweep of your ankle and a perfectly timed pull of water beneath his heel, you sent him off balance. Zuko hit the ground with a rough grunt, and before he could recover, you vaulted forward, straddling his waist and pressing the freezing tip of your ice dagger directly against the erratic pulse beating at his neck.
“Dead,” you panted, victorious and breathless, a smirk curling at your lips.
Zuko didn’t look at the blade. He looked at you.
His dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his chest rising and falling beneath the open collar of his training robe. His golden eyes dragged slowly from your triumphant expression to the way your thighs pinned him in place, and the sudden clash of your freezing temperature against his scorching skin visibly wrecked whatever remained of his concentration. A soft cloud of steam curled where your bare legs pressed against him. His hands flexed once at his sides, then slid up to grip your thighs with desperate, reverent heat.
He had simply stopped trying.
“You’re distracted,” you accused, breathless and smug.
Zuko’s gaze flicked back to yours, dark and unashamed. “Well, you’re sitting on top of me.”
“That is a terrible excuse.”
“It’s a very convincing one.”
You laughed, delighted, but the sound barely had time to leave your mouth before his hand moved to the back of your neck and pulled you down into a kiss. The ice dagger dissolved instantly, melting into a harmless stream of water that ran over his collarbone and disappeared into the fabric of his robe. You meant to tease him for surrendering so easily, but then his hips shifted beneath you, and the thought scattered completely. Through the thin layers of training clothes, you felt the unmistakable hard line of him pressed against you, hot and insistent, betraying exactly why his focus had slipped in the first place.
Your breath caught against his mouth.
His grip on your thighs tightened, and when you moved by accident—just a slight shift of your weight over his lap—his reaction was immediate. A rough, strained sound broke low in his throat, his head tipping back against the ground for half a second before his golden eyes snapped back to yours, darker than before. The victory in your expression slowly turned into something far more dangerous.
“Oh,” you breathed, unable to stop the smile spreading across your lips. “So that’s why you lost.”
You shifted again, deliberately this time, just enough to make the heat between you drag in a way that stole the air from both of your lungs. Zuko’s hand slid up to your waist, holding you in place, but he did not push you away. If anything, he pulled you closer, guiding the slow, heated movement until the line between sparring and something far less appropriate blurred completely.
Around you, the courtyard seemed to inhale. The lanterns along the wall flared, the training posts began to smoke, and a nearby guard, who had unfortunately chosen that exact moment to enter through the side gate, stopped mid-step, stared at the scene, and very slowly turned around.
He did not get paid enough for this.
Two more guards followed him without a word.
By the time the flames around the courtyard settled, three practice posts had been scorched, one stone pillar had cracked from thermal shock, and Zuko had somehow managed to look both smug and completely ruined at the same time. You brushed ash off his shoulder later, trying very hard not to laugh, while he stood there with his hair destroyed, his robe uneven, and the kind of expression that made it very clear he had absolutely no regrets.
“This is why the staff avoids us,” you told him.
Zuko leaned down until his mouth brushed your ear. “Good.”
O4 | STEP ONE: CALL HIM ZUZU!
But the most chaotic incident happened in the supposed privacy of your royal bedchamber, fueled by three generous glasses of imported plum wine and your unfortunate discovery of Zuko’s old travel chest.
You were delightfully, shamelessly drunk, rummaging through the old belongings he had kept tucked away at the back of the chamber while he watched you from the bed with the wary patience of a man who knew his wife well enough to expect disaster. There were old cloaks, worn maps, a few dull blades wrapped in cloth, and several items from the years he clearly did not enjoy discussing unless he was already half-asleep and emotionally ambushed by your cold hands on his chest.
Then you found the mask.
The infamous wooden Blue Spirit mask stared up at you from beneath a folded travel cloak, its painted grin just as dramatic as the stories had promised. Your eyes widened. Your mouth fell open. Zuko, immediately sensing danger, sat up.
“No,” he said.
You slowly lifted the mask.
“No.”
“Zuko.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Zuzu.”
His expression tightened. “Don’t Zuzu me.”
You turned toward him with the biggest, most delighted smile he had ever seen, clutching the mask like a sacred treasure. “Katara told me about this.”
Zuko closed his eyes.
Of course Katara had told you. Katara had a gift, and it was not just waterbending, healing, or her terrifying ability to mother people into becoming better versions of themselves. No, Katara had the supernatural ability to make traumatized boys confess their entire life stories to her. Jet, Aang, Sokka, Zuko; somehow all of them had, at one point or another, looked into her kind blue eyes and decided, yes, this girl absolutely needed to hear the worst thing that had ever happened to them.
And now, thanks to her, you knew about the Blue Spirit, which meant Zuko was doomed.
It started as a joke, as most of your terrible ideas did. You had dragged the mask out of his travel chest with far too much excitement, demanded he put it on, and somehow managed to bully the Fire Lord of the Fire Nation into indulging you with nothing but sparkling eyes and a smile he had never learned how to refuse. The bargain had been simple, if deeply unfair: he would wear the mask, and in return you would sit sweetly in his lap—taking him fully inside you and staying there without moving.
Which, technically, you were doing.
The plum wine had left you warm and loose above him, your arms looped lazily around his neck while Zuko sat against the pillows with the last of his dignity barely hanging on by a thread. He was buried deep inside you, thick and throbbing while your walls wrapped snugly around his cock. He tried very hard to act like this was not the most unreasonable form of torture you had ever invented.
The mask stared back at you with its sharp painted grin, pale tusks, hollow eyes, and all the dramatic menace of a nightmare that had learned theater. It should not have been funny. It definitely should not have been romantic. But you, warmed by plum wine and your own terrible sense of humor, looked at him like this was the most delightful thing you had ever seen.
Zuko, unfortunately, had no idea what to do with that.
He had been perfectly willing to toss the mask aside the second you dragged it out of his travel chest, but you had whined so dramatically when he reached for it that he froze mid-motion, one hand hovering beside the painted blue grin.
“Nooo,” you complained, clutching at his wrist with both hands. “Keep the mask on.”
Zuko went still beneath you.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m extremely serious.”
“The mask is crooked.”
“That makes it better.”
“It does not.”
“It does,” you insisted, squinting at him with the solemn concentration of someone trying very hard to appear artistic while very drunk. The Blue Spirit’s painted grin stared back at you, all sharp teeth and dramatic menace, while the actual Fire Lord behind it sat painfully still beneath your attention. “You look very mysterious.”
“I look ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously hot,” you said, then reached up with both hands to adjust the strap.
Unfortunately, your coordination had been murdered by plum wine. Instead of fixing it, you somehow made the mask tilt even farther to one side, turning the fearsome Blue Spirit into something lopsided, sulky, and deeply offended. You stared at him for one long, silent second.
Then you giggled.
It was such a small thing. A drunken little request, harmless and silly, made with your eyes bright from wine and your smile too soft to be cruel. Still, insecurity struck him faster than reason could. For one brief, awful second, his mind went somewhere old and ugly, back to every stare that had lingered too long on his scar, every flinch hidden behind polite manners, every person who had looked at the burned side of his face before they looked at him.
His voice came out quieter than he intended. “What, is the mask better?”
You blinked.
Then your expression changed so quickly it almost hurt to watch. The teasing vanished, replaced by something fiercely offended, as if the thought itself had personally insulted you. “No, silly,” you said, already reaching for the edge of the mask. “I just wanna tease you.”
Before he could answer, you pulled it off his face and yeeted it over your shoulder with absolutely no grace. Weee. The mask sailed through the air in a tragic little arc before landing harmlessly somewhere among the cushions.
Zuko stared after it, then he stared back at you.
Without the mask, his face was fully visible in the dim amber light of the bedchamber: the strong line of his jaw, the softness of his mouth, the old scar that had shaped him without ever making him any less beautiful, and the golden eyes that had once burned with anger but now looked at you with something so painfully devoted it made your chest ache. You cupped his face with both hands, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks with tenderness.
“Nothing beats your pretty face, Zuzu.”
Zuko went completely still.
There it was again, that impossible thing you did to him. You could tease him until his ears went red, bully him into wearing an old vigilante mask, laugh at his suffering like it was your favorite hobby, and then suddenly say something so gentle that it cut through every defense he had ever built. You were smiling at him like his face, scar and all, was not something to tolerate or look past, but something precious. Something beloved.
And because the spirits were apparently cruel, you said it while sitting so close, while your body was wrapped around his, while he was already buried deep inside you and trying very hard to pretend he was not losing every last scrap of composure he had left.
It made him want to come right there and then.
“Stop,” he rasped.
You tilted your head, still smiling. “Huh? Why?”
His hands tightened at your hips, not enough to hurt, only enough to keep you still. His jaw worked once, the muscle in his cheek jumping as he tried to gather whatever dignity had not already been ruined by you. “Just…” His voice came out strained, almost embarrassed. “Don’t move, unless you want to get pregnant.”
For one second, your wine-softened mind processed the warning.
Then your smile turned wicked.
“You do know I can just bend your—” You paused, waving one hand vaguely between you with far too much confidence for someone explaining absolutely nothing. “Your fluids, right?”
The gesture made no scientific sense whatsoever, but you delivered it with the calm certainty of a woman who had never once allowed anatomy, physics, or basic decency to stop her.
You leaned closer, lips hovering near his, mischief bright in your wine-soft eyes. “Besides, it’s not like that hasn’t happened before.”
Zuko’s eyes shut for half a second.
“That is not the problem.”
“Then what is the problem, my lord?” you asked sweetly, pressing slow, teasing kisses along the side of his neck, up the sharp line of his jaw, and finally near the corner of his mouth.
His breath left him unevenly, almost a laugh and almost a groan. He looked humiliated by his own body, but too far gone to pretend he was not completely ruined by you. “The problem,” he said, voice tight with restraint, “is that we have barely done anything.”
Your expression brightened with realization.
“Oh,” you whispered, delighted. “So this is about your pride.”
“Don’t sound so pleased.”
“I’m very pleased.”
“Y/N.”
You shifted just enough to make his grip tighten again, just enough to pull a rough, broken sound from low in his throat. His teeth caught against his lower lip, his head tipping back against the pillows as if sheer stubbornness alone could hold him together. It was adorable, actually. Devastating, but adorable.
The more he thought about it, the worse it became. The warmth of you around him, your legs wrapped lazily around his waist, your hands still cradling his face like he was something worth loving carefully. Every soft movement, every breathless little laugh, every fond look you gave him pushed him closer to the edge he was desperately pretending he had not already reached.
So naturally, you moved again.
Ever so slowly. Teasingly. Just enough to shred whatever pride he had left.
The lantern beside the bed flared so brightly the room flashed gold.
Zuko’s composure broke all at once. His hands clamped around your hips, his whole body going tense beneath you as a low, wrecked groan tore from his throat and disappeared into the curve of your neck.
“Fuck, Y/N— I’m—” His voice broke into a wrecked groan. His hips jerked up once, twice, then he came hard.
You felt the first thick spurt of his cum shoot deep inside you, hot and sudden. His member pulsed strongly, again and again, flooding your walls with rope after rope of warm release. It was so much that it quickly spilled out around where you two were joined, slick and messy, dripping down his shaft and over your thighs every time he twitched.
Zuko shuddered beneath you, mouth open in a silent moan as another powerful spurt filled you. His whole body tensed, muscles straining, while the sconces around the room surged with bright blue-white flames that lit up the entire bedchamber for several long seconds. One of the hanging lanterns flared so intensely the flame nearly touched the canopy before settling.
When it finally slowed, Zuko was breathing hard, chest heaving, looking thoroughly ruined and a little mortified. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, and his golden eyes were glassy with pleasure and embarrassment.
Then you looked down at him, unbearably pleased with yourself.
Zuko dragged one heavy hand down his face as if asking the spirits why they had made him fall in love with the most infuriating woman alive.
“Haa…” he breathed, glaring at you with absolutely no real anger. “You just love to test my patience, don’t you, my queen?”
A sweet, bright giggle escaped you, echoing through the quiet chamber. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his scarred collarbone, feeling his pulse jump beneath your lips.
“Oh, absolutely.”
His laugh was low and wrecked, his hands sliding carefully back to your waist.
And the night, of course, was only beginning.
O5 | THE FIRE LORD IS A SUCKER FOR HIS WIFE
Tucked deep behind the private wing of the palace, the moon garden was quieter than the formal courtyards and far more intimate than the public terraces. Zuko had commissioned it shortly after your wedding, though he had tried to be painfully casual about the entire thing, as if personally designing a secluded garden filled with your favorite flowers, a koi pond cold enough for your waterbending, and shaded stone paths made specifically for evening walks with you was not the most obvious confession of devotion in the world. It had a narrow pond lined with black volcanic stones, clusters of red fire lilies blooming beside pale moonflowers, and a curved stone bench beneath a low maple tree whose leaves looked almost black under the night sky. The servants rarely entered unless summoned, the guards only passed the outer gate during patrol, and the entire place was usually reserved for those rare moments when the Fire Lord wanted silence with the only person he could never bear to be away from for long.
Naturally, that peace didn’t last.
You found Zuko on the stone bench long after midnight. Stripped down to only his outer robe hanging loosely from one shoulder, he stubbornly braved the biting cold as if the freezing night temperature meant nothing. His long hair had slipped free from its tie, dark strands falling over his face and sticking to the damp line of his neck. The moonlight caught the hard planes of his bare chest and abdomen, tracing silver along old scars, tense muscle, and the familiar golden warmth of his skin. One arm was draped lazily over the back of the bench, but the pose was too deliberate, too careless in the way only Zuko could be when he was trying to pretend something didn’t hurt.
Then you saw the blood.
A dark smear stained the exposed skin of his upper thigh, where a shallow but ugly cut had torn. It was not fatal, not even close, but it was bleeding enough to make your stomach twist and your irritation rise immediately behind it. Zuko, of course, looked more annoyed at being discovered than concerned about the wound itself, because apparently becoming Fire Lord, surviving assassination attempts, getting married, and promising to stop carrying the entire world on his shoulders had done absolutely nothing to cure him of his lifelong allergy to asking for help.
“You’re bleeding,” you said.
Zuko glanced down at his thigh as if the wound had personally inconvenienced him. “It’s just a scratch.”
“It’s leaking.”
“That is usually what blood does.”
You stared at him.
He stared back.
The lantern beside the koi pond flickered once, as if even the flame knew he had said the wrong thing.
With a long, suffering breath, you crossed the garden, gathered your skirts in one hand, and crouched down between his parted knees before he could argue again. Zuko’s expression shifted immediately, the sharp edge of his stubbornness catching on surprise. You ignored it, drawing water from the koi pond with a smooth curl of your wrist until it rose in a clear ribbon and wrapped itself around your fingers. The moment your glowing palms settled near his thigh, the moon garden filled with soft blue light.
“You should have called me,” you murmured, keeping your eyes on the wound as the healing water spread gently over torn skin.
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You woke three guards, two ministers, and probably half the turtle-ducks by bleeding through the royal hallway, but yes, thank you for sparing me.”
His mouth twitched. “The turtle-ducks are strong. They will recover.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You married me.”
“Still questioning that.”
His quiet laugh was low and tired, but it warmed the space between you more intimately than any flame. You pressed your thumb near the edge of the wound to guide the healing water deeper, and Zuko’s breath caught despite his best effort to hide it. The muscle beneath your hand jumped. His fingers curled against the stone bench, long and tense, while the lantern above his shoulder flared a little too brightly.
You looked up.
He looked away with the stiff, guilty dignity of a man who knew exactly what his own fire had just confessed.
“Zuko.” you warned him.
“I know.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“I said I know.”
“You’re injured.”
His jaw flexed. “It is not related.”
“You’re sitting here half-dressed, bleeding on a garden bench, and somehow still finding a way to be embarrassed because your wife is touching your thigh.”
The faint color climbing his neck betrayed him completely, but he still had the nerve to look offended. “You’re kneeling between my legs and scolding me. I’m reacting with impressive restraint.”
The words landed between you with enough heat to make the glowing water tremble around your fingers.
For a moment, neither of you moved. The wound was nearly closed now, the angry red line fading beneath the blue light of your bending until only smooth, warm skin remained beneath your palm. You should have stood, smacked his shoulder for being reckless, and dragged him back inside before the night patrol circled past the outer gate again. The moon garden was private, yes, but not unguarded; there were still soldiers beyond the walls, servants in the nearby corridors, and a very official expectation that a secluded garden built for quiet walks would not be used for anything else.
Or so everyone kept insisting.
Instead, your hand lingered against his thigh for one second too long, and Zuko’s golden eyes darkened beneath the loose fall of his hair.
The look he gave you made the koi pond steam.
“You’re enjoying this,” he said.
You blinked up at him with exaggerated innocence, though your hand was still resting a little too comfortably against his newly healed thigh. “I’m healing you.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I’m just naturally joyful person.”
“Joyful person, huh? No wonder you threatened to freeze a councilman’s tongue this morning.”
Your expression didn’t change. “He interrupted my breakfast.”
“That doesn’t support your argument.”
A laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it, soft and bright in the quiet garden, and just like that, whatever remained of Zuko’s restraint seemed to fold in on itself. His expression changed, irritation melting into something far more dangerous and far more tender. He looked at you the way he always did right before the palace lost another curtain, like your laughter was the only sound in the world that mattered and his fire had no idea what to do with the feeling.
His hand lifted from the bench and touched your chin, tilting your face up with a gentleness that made your chest ache.
“The wound is healed,” he murmured.
You glanced down. It was. Completely.
“So it is,” you whispered.
“You’re still kneeling.”
“Well, duh, you’re holding my face.”
His thumb brushed once along your chin, then higher, grazing your lower lip with the kind of careful heat that made the entire garden feel suddenly too quiet.
The moon garden went very still around you. The koi pond steamed faintly at the edges. The fire lilies glowed red beneath the lantern light, and the night air warmed until the scent of maple leaves, water, and Zuko’s familiar cedar heat wrapped around you like a warning.
You forgot whatever clever thing you were about to say.
Instead, your gaze dropped, which Zuko noticed almost immediately.
His thumb stilled against your mouth. “Y/N.”
There was warning in his voice, but not nearly enough conviction behind it. Not when he was still half-dressed on the stone bench, hair loose around his flushed face, newly healed thigh still warm beneath your hand, and looking at you like he had already lost the argument before it began.
You tilted your head with exaggerated innocence. “What?”
“You know what.”
You pressed a slow kiss to the inside of his newly healed thigh, right where blood had stained his skin only moments ago, and Zuko’s breath fractured so sharply it nearly ruined his attempt at dignity. His fingers curled against the stone bench before slipping into your hair. His touch was impossibly gentle, as though holding on to you was the only way to keep himself from falling apart.
“I’m very thorough.”
His eyes narrowed. “That is not what thorough means.”
“It is when I’m the healer.”
You looked up at him.
Moonlight painted silver across his bare chest, the hard lines of his abdomen, the old scars scattered across his skin, and the faint sheen of sweat gathering at his throat. His long hair hung loose and messy, a few strands clinging to the sharp line of his jaw. He looked like a man who had survived wars, assassination attempts, exile, palace politics, and half the world trying to break him.
And somehow, this was what undid him.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he breathed, voice rough and helpless.
Your smile softened for half a second. “Wrong,” you murmured playfully, kissing him again, slower this time. “I’m going to make you feel better.”
Zuko’s laugh came out low and wrecked, barely more than a breath.
Whatever answer he meant to give disappeared when you tugged the rest of his robe aside and freed him. He was already achingly hard, flushed dark and leaking at the tip. You dragged your tongue slowly from base to head, savoring the way his thigh muscle jumped under your free hand.
Zuko let out a shaky exhale, head tipping back against the bench. “Hah—Y/N,”
You answered by taking him into your mouth, slow and wet, sinking down until he bumped the back of your throat. A low, broken sound escaped him—something between a groan and a sigh, like the tension he’d been carrying all night was finally cracking.
You worked him with lazy, deliberate strokes of your mouth, one hand stroking what you couldn’t take while the other rested possessively on his uninjured thigh. Every time you hollowed your cheeks or swirled your tongue, his hips twitched, fighting the urge to thrust.
The muscles in his abdomen flexed visibly with every stroke of your tongue as his breathing grew more uneven. You could feel him throbbing, getting impossibly harder against your tongue.
When you looked up, his golden eyes were fixed on you—dark, overwhelmed, and completely unguarded. The sight made something warm bloom in your chest.
It only made you greedier. So you slowed down, cruelly deliberate now, learning the exact rhythm that made his breath catch and then denying him the moment he got too close. Every time you felt his thighs tense and his member start to throb harder against your tongue, you eased off, licking lazily along the underside or sucking softly on just the head until his hips twitched with frustration.
His fingers tightened in your hair, not forcing you, but clearly fighting the urge to. “Y/N…” His voice was hoarse, almost pleading. “Don’t—ah—don’t tease me like this.”
You pulled off with a wet pop, lips glistening, and looked up at him with a wicked little smile. “But you look so pretty when you’re desperate.”
Zuko’s eyes shut, his jaw clenching as if the words had struck somewhere embarrassingly deep.
You sank back down immediately, taking him to the back of your throat in one smooth motion. Zuko groaned, head falling back against the bench as his hips jerked. You could feel him getting dangerously close again—thick and pulsing on your tongue—so you pulled back once more, stroking him slowly with your hand.
He let out a wrecked sound, half curse, half whimper. “You’re cruel… but—fuck, hah—you’re so beautiful.”
You hummed around him in response, the vibration pulling another quiet curse from his lips. You took him deeper, faster, letting the wet sounds mix with his ragged breathing and the gentle ripple of water. One of your freezing fingers traced the sensitive skin just beneath his cock, the sharp temperature contrast making his whole body jerk.
The second time you pulled him back from the edge, he lost whatever pride had been keeping him silent.
“Please,” he rasped.
For once, he looked less like a ruler and more like a man entirely at his wife’s mercy.
You looked up at him with a wicked, affectionate smile, still stroking him fast and tight. “Cum for me, Zuzu.”
For a heartbeat, he tried not to.
You saw it in the sharp clench of his jaw, the way his fingers tightened in your hair without pulling, the way his breath caught and broke like he could still argue his way out of surrendering. Then his restraint snapped quietly, then all at once.
The Fire Lord came with a choked, broken groan, his hips jerking up uncontrollably as the first thick, hot spurt flooded your mouth. You moaned around his pulsing cock, swallowing greedily, but there was too much—thick ropes of cum kept shooting across your tongue, so much that it overflowed almost immediately. It spilled from the corners of your stretched lips, dripping messily down his throbbing shaft and over your fingers as you kept stroking him through it. The sheer amount of it made your thighs press together, heat pooling low in your belly at how desperately his body was giving in to you.
He shuddered hard beneath you, muscles taut and trembling, his long hair sticking to his sweat-damp neck and chest. His golden eyes were half-lidded, glazed with raw pleasure as he watched you take every drop like you were starving for him.
The koi pond steamed violently. A nearby fire lily bush glowed red-hot before slowly dimming.
When it finally subsided, Zuko was slumped against the bench with his chest heaving, your husband looked beautifully ruined. You pulled off slowly, licking your lips clean with a small, satisfied smile. A thin string of cum still connected your bottom lip to him before it broke.
“Good boy,” you teased softly.
Zuko stared down at you for a long moment, something raw and helpless in his expression.
“…You’re impossible,” he finally whispered, voice hoarse and wondering, as if he still couldn’t believe you were real.
You pressed one last soft kiss to his thigh and smiled.
“Isn’t this exactly what you wanted, my lord?”
His smirk deepened at your question.
Clearly, you had not realized how much danger that pretty little mouth of yours had put you in.
Zuko was still flushed, still catching his breath, still looking far too ruined for a man who had any right to recover so quickly. But his hands were steady when they reached for you, sliding beneath your arms and pulling you up into his lap before you could even think to escape.
You landed against him with a soft gasp, your skirts spilling messily over his thighs. The warmth of him pressed through the fabric, unmistakable and already returning, and suddenly your teasing smile did not feel quite as victorious as it had a moment ago.
“My wife always knows best, doesn’t she?” he murmured, his voice low against your mouth.
O6 | UPDATE: THE FIRE LADY IS FINE
By the end of the first month, the palace had adapted with the grim efficiency of a nation recovering from war. The maids carried water buckets as part of their standard duties, the guards learned which corridors to avoid based on heat patterns alone, and the council stopped scheduling meetings too close to breakfast, lunch, dinner, sparring sessions, diplomatic arguments, late-night kitchen raids, library research, moon garden strolls, or any moment where the Fire Lady happened to smile at her husband for longer than three seconds. The palace seamstresses quietly reinforced your gowns, the head chef hid the good towels, and the royal archivist posted a handwritten warning outside the study that simply read: NO OPEN FLAMES NEAR NAVAL DOCUMENTS, which everyone understood was not actually about candles.
Zuko pretended to be offended by all of this, but you knew better. For all his muttering about dignity and decorum, the Fire Lord was utterly hopeless. He had spent years learning how to contain himself, how to swallow rage, how to make his fire precise enough to serve a nation instead of destroy it. Yet somehow, all it took was your hand on his sleeve, your mouth near his ear, your laughter pressed against his throat, or apparently the simple act of healing a wound on his thigh, and the most powerful firebender in the world became a walking architectural threat.
The newest maid finally understood after one night, when she heard your bright, breathless laughter from behind the royal chamber doors, followed by Zuko’s low voice murmuring something far too soft to be anger. The sconces outside the hallway flared blue-white, the temperature spiked, and suddenly every vague warning from the senior maids made horrifying, embarrassing sense.
By dinner, her diary had only one update:
DEAR DIARY,
thankfully, the fire lady is fine.
the furniture, however, is not.
After that, she stopped asking questions and started carrying a water bucket like everyone else.
These days, the palace staff had been working very hard. If they were lucky, you had already set the fire down with your bending before anyone arrived. If they were not, they had to manually put out the flames before replacing another curtain, cushion, napkin, table runner, practice post, garden lantern, or emotionally unfortunate bread basket. Still, no matter how violently the sconces flared or how many unfortunate pieces of furniture fell victim to the Fire Lord’s complete lack of restraint around his wife, the flames never once touched you.
Even when his control slipped because of you, even when desire made the air shimmer and the palace lights burn brighter than they had any right to, Zuko’s fire always curved away from your skin. It burned around you, sparked above you, and curled through the air like devotion given shape, but it never hurt you. It would never hurt you. His fire had been raised in anger, sharpened by war, and forced for years to survive on pain, but with you, it had learned something gentler, something warmer, something sacred.
With you, his fire had learned love.
And love, no matter how brightly it burned, would always know how to keep you safe.
this is part of the sublimation ( my zuko fic ) universe! read more chapters
this oneshot took me like ~8 hours btw. i need everyone to clap because what the hell </3
anw i alr finished the atla la s2 n it was so good !! altho they skipped n reordered some parts, but it’s prolly bc of the budget... welp, i can’t wait for the movie to come out.
Content: contrary to popular belief, the fire lord can't have everything he wants. however, even he’d admit that what he wanted was troublesome in itself, which is why he forces himself to be okay with having you by his side as his advisor. [tw: MDNI, angst/fluff/smut, apothecary diaries coded, so much yearning and longing, slowburn, porn with plot, there is no power imbalance he’s afraid of your father, zuko’s a little shit, jealous!zuko, we’re already married in his head, found family trope(ish), zuko has daddy issues] wc: 7.5k
m.list | chapter four | chapter five | next chapter
You’ve been taking advantage of the Fire Lord. He remembered saying you could take one or two days off— it’s been four. He never thought he would see that from you.
Not that he cares.
By all means, use him. Watching you abandon your duties these last few days has been quite the treat.
Ryuko has asked about you. Not directly, but to other people. Zuko’s made sure to mention you around him, though. It was his own little way to point out your absence, while you’re out doing god knows what.
Zuko didn’t want to know at first.
Unfortunately, there’s only so much patience left once he’s done playing his role as the Fire Lord. He just couldn’t help himself.
To what, exactly? Well…
“Zuzu?”
He stills, immediately recognizing that nasally little voice. Not to mention there’s only one person that would call him by that name.
Azula. She practically goes on to nag him, after randomly catching him at some food stall at the night market.
“You dethroned me just so you could prance around town in a cape?”
Funny enough, she would’ve matched with her brother if she’d just worn her hood. It might be a little risky, but most people wouldn’t know what she looked like, anyway. She could get away with showing her face for the most part.
Despite the initial whiplash from running into his sister, who’s been missing for well over a decade and is still at the top of the nation’s Most Wanted list, he’s quick to defend himself.
“I’m not prancing around town,” he grimaces. “And what do you mean dethroned? You were never even crowned.”
“Yeah, because you interrupted my coronation!”
Their sudden quarrel catches the eyes of a few people walking by, along with the old vendor that was just trying to hand him his chicken skewers. Thankfully, everyone’s quick to mind their own in the Silk District. Fights were common enough— just keep walking and you’re sure to be safe once the brawl starts.
It’s as if they were children again, arguing over absolute nonsense. At first it was a dispute over her brief stint as the nation’s first Fire Lady. Now, they’re just throwing accusations at each other.
“Please don’t tell me you’re working in a brothel now,” Zuko grumbles, fully prepared to give her some money so she wouldn't have to be indebted to one.
“I am not!” she scoffs. “And what are you doing here?! Last I heard, you have nearly twice the amount of concubines Father had kept.”
His eyes widened. Now was not the time to ask what he was up to. It’s not like he can tell her he’s been trying to scope you out all night, so he’s left scrambling.
“Most of them were gifted to me,” he barely explains, more so stuck on where she heard that from. Azula made it sound like he hoarded them.
She continued to press him. “You never answered why you’re walking around town with a hooded cape.”
“I wanted some normalcy,” he throws his arms out, hoping that’d be enough for her.
Azula raises a brow. “So you go to the sex capital of the world?”
“I’m not here for the fucking brothels,” he suddenly snaps at her, but quickly collects himself as it only made him look guilty. “Sorry. I’m here for work. We’re in the middle of opening a rehabilitation facility.”
“Right,” she blandly says, crossing her arms and taking a moment to stare him down, lost on what else to say. At least she believes him. She would’ve continued to interrogate him, had she not.
Zuko just looks at her as well. Not meaning to participate in a staring competition as he tried to figure out what about her had changed. Something felt off.
Then her brows pinch together.
It’s the eyes.
She thinks she’s glaring at him right now, but they’ve softened. And there’s actually a trace of light behind her golden eyes, rather than the dull orbs demonically possessed individuals often have. The only feature she shared with their father was that sadistic look he’d get on his face whenever someone angered him, yet there was no trace of Ozai in all her visible annoyance.
All he sees is their mother.
“So, how’s father?” she asks casually, figuring she might as well ask about the old bastard since he’s here.
Zuko lets out a disappointed sigh, not bothering to hide how peeved the thought of their father made him. “He spends his days drawing flowers and demanding he be given dignity.”
She sighs as well, because he just sounds pathetic at this point. “You don’t give into his demands… right?”
“Oh, no, never,” he says with a reassuring tone. “He’s tolerable for the most part, but there’s periods where he needs more… help.”
His fathers fall from grace needs to be studied at this point. He will scream, cry, break his little board games that he hardly deserved to begin with, and demand new ones. Ozai drew a portrait of him once when he was 21. He was without a scar. It was touching, sort of. Really fucking odd, though. He didn’t exactly listen to his father when he explained the sentiment behind it, but he understood why there would be one.
Zuko hung around until the servant brought his father dinner that night. Guess what happened when he didn’t allow the servant to give his father a slice of cake with his dinner?
His father took the portrait down and drew a scar on both his eyes.
The concept of self-regulation was completely foreign to his father—antagonizing him may as well have been a form of psychological warfare. Which is why Zuko started eating that same slice of cake as he watched his father have the meltdown of a century.
“Yeah, Father is… Father.”
There was no need to elaborate, Azula completely understood what he meant by that. “Do they still whip prisoners?”
Zuko pauses and looks at her as if she’s gone mad. “No….. that’s illegal.”
She shrugs. “Some people only respond to physical discipline.”
He hums tentatively, “Father usually behaves after a day or two of being put on a liquid diet.”
She finds herself coughing out a laugh, surprised he’d even do such a thing. She remembers the day Zuko visited her and Ozai in prison. He could’ve easily tortured the information he needed out of them, but instead he walked in with a tray of tea as he spoke of wanting to treat them with dignity— he used that word less than a handful of times, but his father continues to cling to it for his life.
She couldn’t wrap her head around how someone could be so gullible, it disgusted her.
Even when he cut her a deal, allowing her to walk freely as they looked for their mother, he disgusted her. He was weak for offering her tea, weak for allowing her to accompany him unrestrained, weak for letting her attack him during the trip. She was his tormentor and still, he forgave her, over and over again.
She wonders if she’ll ever grow the strength to thank him for being the only one to show her forgiveness.
“And mother?” she asks, struggling to hide her cautious tone.
“She’s good. Still in Hira’a.” Zuko pauses, eyes filled with both relief and a little sorrow. He has a good bond with his mother and had always believed Azula deserved the same. He’d love nothing more than to reunite the two. “She never fails to bring you up whenever I see her.”
How sweet.
And mildly triggering, given all the years she spent missing a woman who had forgotten her. She quickly catches herself from slipping into her thoughts any further—there was no need to punish herself like that, she had already suffered enough.
It’s been over ten years since they’ve seen each other, and she still wasn’t ready. But, even in all her resentment, she still found herself wishing she could tell that she often thought of her, too.
Rather than giving him a definitive no, she just rolled her eyes.
Perhaps she has grown softer throughout the years. The last time she randomly appeared, she promised to make it her life’s mission to drive her brother to the brink of insanity in hopes to make him more like their father. Granted, she was fucking losing it at that time, having unresolved trauma and what not. Being locked in a cage like a fucking animal only made her worse. The final blow was when she was released to help find their mother, only to find out she chose to have the memory of them completely wiped.
Oh, that fucked her up.
Azula refused to admit it at the time, but she’s closer to admitting it now after years of solitude. A changed woman, she was. Zuko should consider himself lucky to get away with just an argument today. Had their reunion been a few years sooner, that argument would’ve ended with the entire market burning down in flames.
But, she was his little sister at the end of the day, and there’s no doubt she'd still be annoyed at the sight of him again the next time they inevitably run into each other.
Azula closes her eyes and sighs, then lightly nods her head, “Well, I’m off. It was nice seeing you, Zuzu.”
It didn’t sound like it. “Wh— hold on, where are you going?”
“A temple,” she vaguely says, not stupid enough to tell him exactly which one. Zuko probably would’ve let her be, but one couldn’t be too safe. “Have fun in the brothels!”
“I already told you I wasn’t here for the brothels— Azula, wait,” he calls after her, more confused than anything. “Do you need money or anything?”
His sister stops to consider it. She may have some at the moment, but prior to passing by, she was pretty low on silver. The only reason why she came here was to pick-pocket a few people.
And by pick pocket, she means breaking into the homes of local lords and raiding their safes. Easy money. Can’t feel too bad about it either since they’re notoriously known for their corruption at a local level. She may be a criminal, but she was ethical.
“How much?” she asks, reluctant to jump right into accepting it.
He casually reaches into his pockets and pulls out a pouch of gold coins, lazily sifting through them before realizing he never had a number in his head.
“Wow look at the Fire Lord giving a fugitive money,” she murmurs, earning herself a disappointed look from Zuko. “What?”
“Don’t say that.”
She shrugs. “It’s the truth.”
“Just take the fucking pouch,” he sighs, shoving the bag into her hands. “And please make it last.”
“Aww, are you saying that because you don’t know when you’ll see me next? Are you gonna be sad after this?” she continues to poke at him.
Suddenly, he feels a headache starting to blossom against the right side of his skull. “I don’t think I will,” he blandly says, rubbing his temple as she begins to laugh at him. “Will you do me a favor though since I gave you money?”
The question wipes the smile off her face, she hates being indebted to others.
“The next time I see you, I want it to be with Mother.” She opens her mouth, probably to say something along the lines of not telling her what to do, but he doesn’t give her a chance to say it. “It can be five years from now or even twenty. Just go to mom whenever you’re ready and I’ll meet you two there.”
She blinks. “Wait, does that mean I’m not an enemy of the state anymore?”
“Oh no, you still are,” he lets out a laugh. “But if you have an emergency and really, really need help, send a letter to Mom.”
She doesn’t say much at first. She was actually moved for once and it showed.
“Thank you,” she says with a barely contained smile.
It was natural for him to give her a weird look, it was the first time she’s ever expressed genuine appreciation. Not quite grasping how much weight those two words held. Maybe she’ll tell him one day, but for now, it wasn’t her problem.
“You can thank me by going to mom’s one day.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Azula doesn't sound very serious when she turns to leave, but she really was and already had a date in mind. It would be sooner than five years, but enough to work on those flashbacks.
He watches her run off, scoffing out a laugh once she disappears into the crowd of people, leaving as fast as she appeared.
Alone, again.
Well, he’s not alone. He has his uncle.
It’s time like this when he really remembers just how different his life has turned out. It wasn’t bad. Bittersweet, yes. But not bad. After years of being subjected to his Father’s cruelty and abuse, everyone’s moved on with their own lives
Even Azula.
Then it dawned on him that he had just committed treason. He wasn’t supposed to let a criminal like her continue to roam the earth without consequence. Yet he did. He gave her money, too— way too much of it. Had one of the imperial guards caught her, she would’ve been behind bars, just like their father.
But at that moment, he wasn’t the one who held the throne. He was simply someone’s brother. Their father may have played favorites, but he recognized long ago that he has scarred them both and that she, too, deserved freedom.
—
Running around with Cyra has made you realize just how much you missed the crude humor and self-indulgent ways of the Silk District.
Those who served the imperial court were the complete opposite. So proper and uptight. The amount of self-importance some had without contributing anything remarkable to the world was exhausting. You don’t think you would’ve lasted as long as you have had it not been for who you served.
Although, he’s been a little too lenient with you during this trip. He hasn’t told you to come back to work once, which is why you’ve consistently gotten back to the hotel as late as 2:00 AM. You very well may be pushing your luck, but he never set a curfew for you and neither has Chamberlain.
You were a bit nervous to see the Lord’s reaction after your first night. Being met with nothing but indifference only made it worse, making you question what his true intentions were. The worries lingered in the back of your mind until a couple nights later.
There was nothing more anti-climatic than catching a glimpse of a cloaked man from the corner of your eye.
Wearing a cloak here wasn’t an unusual sight, citizens covered themselves for all different reasons. Some, such as yourself in the past, did it purely for the look. Some did it to conceal their identities. It was the latter for the Fire Lord, who was apparently spying on you.
Zuko rules over an entire nation, yet has the ability to shrink his presence down to that of a disregarded and overlooked vagrant. He's quiet when he wants to be, taking up such little space he may as well vanish into thin air. It’s quite the talent, allowing him to slip away into normalcy for an hour or two whenever the grandiosity of the palace became too much.
Unfortunately for Zuko, you can spot him in a crowd. Easily.
Maybe it’s from all the time you’ve spent with him—hours spent locked away in an office, days spent traveling, weeks spent visiting in foreign lands.
Or maybe it’s something more. The possibility was not a thought you liked to entertain. It’s not because the thought itself wasn’t ridiculous—it absolutely was ridiculous. It’s as if the God’s decided to make a mockery out of your life when they had decided on your reality.
You can just imagine them all brainstorming your fate in some heavenly council room.
“Let’s give her someone she can’t have,” one says. “Perhaps Azulon’s second grandson?”
“I love it. Put her in the least liked clan,” says another. “The boy will bring an era of peace and let their union create unrest within the other clans.”
“Brilliant. Make their connection devastatingly magnetic, as well,” the God of Misfortune excitedly says, followed by the room erupting in evil laughter.
And devastating it was.
Zuko was well over a hundred feet away, just another body swallowed by a sea of people. Many walked past him, some even stared in his direction as their minds drifted off, but no one truly noticed. He was insignificant. Invisible.
The gods continued to laugh, because you had noticed him, anyway.
It was beyond just the odd, occasional pull. It was as if you were connected by a stubborn invisible string that enjoyed tugging at you, constantly reminding you of the person at the end of it.
You disappeared shortly after noticing him, but quickly decided to have a little fun. You had brought Cyra along—weaving in and out of shops and alleyways.
“You’re going to drive him mad,” she had said.
“He already is,” you giggled at the thought of him losing sight of you once more.
“I’m sure he just wanted to see if you were okay. You look like you’ve forgotten all about your duties! He’s doing no less than a hired guard would. It’s quite flattering, actually.”
“He is a lunatic that’s doing it for free.”
Cyra was more perceptive than that, but kept her own conclusions to herself, knowing the troubles it’d bring. It was a matter you chose to be blind to, and she believed you were better for it.
That was last night.
Tonight, a local lord was throwing a banquet in honor of the Fire Lord’s visit.
Back being the most important man in the room, he went. He’d be lying if he said he’d been looking forward to attending, but at least this one wasn’t as formal compared to most of the banquet’s he’s attended in the past.
Zuko tried to enjoy it. He drank with those that wanted to share a drink with him, laughed as he listened to the stories the locals shared and said just enough to keep a conversation alive. It wasn’t enough, though— these are people that have thrived in a culture that rewards ambition and resilience. They were more interested in getting to know him as a person, and while appreciates being seen as one, he will not be contributing to a conversation about personal hardships.
He hates conversations that lead to praise or pity. He’s never wanted to leave a place more. But that would be seen as rude, so he’s stuck having to redirect conversations, all while trying not to pay too much attention to you.
To say you’re gone the entire day is not an exaggeration—neither him nor Chamberlain have gotten the chance to catch up with you. But he had a feeling you’d pop up. When you did, he realized he underestimated just how well connected you were.
He’s never seen you this comfortable at an event before. Nor has he ever seen you in such a tight dress. He is thankful for the robe you paired with it for the evening. It did a wonderful job at keeping the inappropriate thoughts he would’ve had at bay.
Lucky for him, Saiyo chose not to come tonight, crossing off whatever worries he would’ve had if he’d gotten caught for looking at you too much.
“I couldn’t imagine the pressure of having all of those concubines.”
Zuko genuinely laughs this time, Lord Joji was quite the empath. “They’re terrifying. You’d think having their own secluded area would bring them some peace and serenity, yet they spend their days brawling with each other.”
The words slipped right out once it was just him and the host. He would’ve never shared that at any other event.
Joji’s clearly enjoying it, laughing at the image in his head. “Perhaps it’s time to bring in some fake eunuchs,” he sips his sake. “Declutter the court, so to speak.”
“Wait, what?”
He tenses at the sudden drop in Zuko’s tone. He couldn’t tell if he was offended or not, but he grew anxious as the silence went on. “I was just kidding, by the way,” he forces out a laugh. “It’s uh— typical humor around here. I always forget how crass we can be at times. Haha… I’m sure we look like a bunch of heathens to the rest of the world.”
“Huh?” The sudden self-depreciation pulled Zuko out of his thoughts. “Oh no, the humor here is wonderful. The eunuch idea is fucking genius.”
Joji pauses and looks at him for a moment, stuck on how he called it an idea. “It worked well for my grand uncle,” he says, testing the waters. “He was able to bring the house back down to a comfortable number in no time.”
“Is that so?” There’s a bit of skepticism in his tone. “Probably didn’t have that many to begin with.”
“It may take some time. But once they’ve finished their jobs, you can catch one of them in the final act and he’ll confess to everything during interrogation.”
“Getting more than one would be smart, wouldn’t it?” he muses to himself, then takes a sip from his glass. “You could probably just get a servant to catch them—avoid all the tears and pleading.”
Joji nods, “You’d be surprised how many attendants are willing to spy for you in exchange for a small bonus.”
Zuko suddenly huffs out a defeated laugh. “They’d only just send more.”
“Would you like my grand uncle’s information? Wait, never mind, I forgot you were—“
Zuko waves a hand. Even he forgot who he was for a moment there— he was bound to more than just the practice of keeping concubines. “I wouldn’t want to waste someone else’s time.”
“It wouldn’t be a waste at all,” he reassures him. “If you ever do change your mind though, I’d be more than happy to introduce you to him.”
“Thank you,” Zuko hums as something else catches his attention. “Could you remind me where the washroom is, again?”
—
The moon casted a faint light over the host’s backyard, revealing stone paths that allowed you to walk through a lush garden filled with delicate flowers and soft shrubs. The path took you past several wooden arches, long overtaken by nature as vines wrap up and cascade over the structures, gently rustling with each breeze.
You had hid behind one when you first heard footsteps, and then waited. You weren’t actually avoiding him, you had already expected he’d follow you out here, and just wanted to creep up on him once he got closer.
It’s not until he fully walks past you when you decide to make your presence known, magically appear a few feet behind him.
“Are you spying on me?”
“No.” You failed to startle him, but did manage to make him feel wrongfully accused. “I was just– I knew you were out here and I thought I’d get some fresh air, too.“
He braces himself. He didn't need to see the glass in your hand to know that you’ve been drinking. You had given it away when you casually stepped out of the shadows to greet him.
“Getting fresh air,” you muse to yourself as you walk up to him. “Like last night?”
The light drains from his eyes. He looks absolutely mortified, and doesn’t even try to deny it. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I figured it’d be fun setting you off on a wild goose chase. I’m sure you have a perfectly normal explanation, though.”
“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he doesn’t sound very certain of it. “I was already planning on touring the place.”
“You know I’m just fine.” It’s not like he’d be much help if trouble were to arise, you were more than capable of defending yourself. “Does keeping me away from Ryuko make you feel better?”
Knowing that you weren’t mad should’ve made him feel better, but being spoken to like a child was so much worse. You look like you’re about to giggle at his response, regardless of what it was.
“Actually no, I have a better question. Are you going to do this every time someone shows interest in me? Even when you already have Sai and all the other concubines?”
That’s not a question he wants to answer. He hasn’t even touched Sai at all during the trip, not that it’d make a difference since that was his job. “If you’re happy, then no.” How he still manages to be stubborn, you have no clue.
Your lips twitch into a smile. “You don’t think I’d be happy with him?”
There’s a spark of annoyance in his eyes, realizing he’s going to have to come clean about something you most likely already know about.
“You told him you liked your life and then he went on to tell you everything that was wrong with it— I think you’d be miserable with him.” He grows irritated by the words he was having to repeat. “And then he insulted your position by saying there was no future in it. You’ve done nothing but work towards bettering it!”
You had a feeling he overheard that conversation and once again, your intuition hasn’t failed you. “Are you sure it’s not because he tried to say that you think you own me?”
“Yeah. He studied me for an entire hour, yet I’ve never looked at you and thought of insulting you the way he did. He spoke over you that entire time and when he couldn’t sway you, he decided to hurt your feelings. And he still thought he deserved to be given a chance.”
He’s pretty much ranting at this point and it’s taking everything in him not to go off track and say something rude.
“He deserves to have his fucking tongue cut out.”
Whoops.
“…I think that might be too harsh of a punishment.” You said it more to lighten, trying to process how pissed off he’s been this entire time.
“Whether you find it harsh or not makes no difference to me. You shouldn’t have been spoken to that way,” he muttered, waving away whatever dignity he had left. “I never want to see anything like that happen again.”
You thought this would be more of a silly exchange where you’d make fun of him for being—well, pathetic. It would’ve been easier had he just felt threatened by Ryuko, but his reason for hating him is reasonable enough and you can’t find it yourself to tell him that he was wrong.
He waits for you to say the usual spiel about how he needs to stop making everything so difficult and to just have an heir already.
There was a bit of defeat in your tone when you spoke. “I wish you knew how tiring it is watching you do whatever you want, when I’ve done nothing but try to do the right thing.”
You sigh and reach forward, fingers gently brushing over the apple of his cheek, and with Zuko being dwindled down to a man who takes whatever he can get, he gravitates towards your touch.
“Maybe it’s time to give up,” he feebly suggests.
“If only the people knew how much of a fool they have for a ruler, too,” you softly say.
And like the fool he is, he places his hand over yours and just holds it there— making it one of the very few times he’s ever allowed someone to touch the scar on his face. “And what if I was just a fool?”
Now he’s just speaking nonsense. You know more than anyone how much he’d hate being a normal person. He liked having power—that was alright, he was one of the rare few who knew how to wield it properly.
“I wouldn’t allow that.” You continue to rub your thumb over his cheek, using a tone that’s far too tender for the answer you come up with. “I’d stage a coup d'état and put you right back where you belong.”
His lips slowly curve in a smile. “You’re making it very hard for me to be angry with our circumstances right now.”
“I know, at least you have me as a loyalist,” you hum, slightly tilting your head as you get a better look at him. “I’m starting to grow a little homesick, honestly— even if it is boring there.”
“You can go home early, if you want,” he offers with a second thought.
“I’ll be fine. It’s only 3 more days.”
“I hope you’re nicer to me by then. I’m a little homesick, too.”
How charming. “That’s if I don’t drink my memories away after tonight— this isn’t exactly a conversation I want to remember,” you sadly admit.
Zuko’s eyes soften, wishing you’d drink more around him often—you’re quite endearing in the state you’re in. “And why is that?”
“Because I’d prefer not to be overcome with embarrassment when I wake up tomorrow morning.”
His mind goes back to the morning after he first kissed you and chuckles. “It’s not that bad.“
You laugh blandly in return. “Not everyone’s as shameless as you.”
But perhaps it was time to even things out between you for once. He did complain about being the only one drunk that night, after all.
So in the moment of silence you shared with him, you leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against his cheekbone, allowing yourself to be selfish for once.
He’s never been so still in his life. You’ve yelled at him, rejected him, pushed him on to other women so many times that he’s lost count. Yet there was no denying that you felt something so incredibly deep for him. There was no need to spell it out— he saw it, felt it, heard it.
“What happened to never touching you again?” Zuko wasn’t complaining, but he was absolutely going to tease you.
“I’m afraid that only applies to you,” you say, feigning sympathy. “Unless you’d like to order me to stop touching you, as well.”
“I would never do such a thing,” he fights off a smile. “Though I would like to know what my punishment would be if I defied your orders.”
There was a sudden look of disbelief on your face, a little disappointment as well. “That is the sluttiest question I’ve ever heard, you know that?”
“I think the courtesans may have just corrupted your mind with all their crude little jokes.”
“Perhaps. They told me I’d make a fine courtesan the other day.” You run the backs of fingers across his jaw, ignoring the sudden twitch in his eye. “Could you imagine such a simple comment planting a seed in my mind?”
Fortunately, you’ve had enough drinks in you to be able to dismiss the sinister laugh that comes out of him. “No. I don’t want to imagine that, at all, actually.”
“Uh-oh,” you smile and take a sip. “Does the idea make you jealous, My Lord?”
“Jealous? Yes.” He plucks the glass from your hand and takes a sip of your sake. “A little angry, as well.”
“A little?”
His eyes narrow and speaks as if you had just challenged him. “I would buy you out before you got the chance to take customers.”
You throw out another idea. “What if I took a customer while waiting for you to finish the paperwork?”
“I’d turn him into a eunuch.” He watches as your smile slowly fades away.
“That’s a little much for a man that hoards concubines, no?”
He thinks to defend himself against hoarding accusations, but forces himself to let it go. “Does it matter if you’re planning on drinking your memories away tonight?”
You stare at him as you recall the last ten minutes or so. “I probably should.”
“Were you not going to?”
“I was on the fence about it,” you give a contemplative hum. “Eh—better safe than sorry.”
You turn to leave, but Zuko grabs your wrists before you take a step. “You’re not going back to ignoring me tomorrow, are you?”
“Depends on my mood tomorrow,” you smile and snatch your wrist away. “Bye!”
“Fuck—Wait! What kind of an answer is that?”
—
The last days of your visit were fairly normal.
You had ended up taking the rest of the time off. Everyone figured you needed the break anyways and you had zero objections to that.
It was the last day when everything went south.
Of course you just so happened to be there, after deciding to stay at the hotel for some extra rest before traveling back home.
The Madame at Cyra’s brothel would’ve had no issues letting you take a nap there. Had you actually done so, you would’ve been sleeping peacefully right about now— rather than awkwardly sitting in a silent room full of people who are too nervous to speak.
After thirty minutes of being tortured by discomfort, Lord Zuko and the Chamberlain finally walk through the door. The tears started almost immediately.
You guess the guard who had to go fetch them didn’t say what the emergency was. They didn’t look very mad. Chamberlain looked more worried. Zuko just stood there while Concubine Saiyo and one of the guards got on their hands and knees to beg for forgiveness.
“Lord Z-Zuko, I’m— I’m s-so so-sorry!”
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty! Please spare my life. I beg you! Please!”
It takes a moment to click for Zuko and only you notice the glimmer of joy in his eyes when he finally realizes what has happened.
You were hoping he’d send you back to your room, but ended up having to kneel a few feet away from the two adulterers as they had to recall their stories in full. You’re not sure why that was still protocol. Even Zuko looked miserable as he had to listen to them, but the Chancellor was known to be a stickler.
The older man regretted it soon enough. Hearing the events of the sexual encounter quickly became a unique torture he was forced to endure.
Saiyo began to beg again in the end, and you felt a little bad. She was a nice girl.
“Please—please!! I’ll do anything!”
Zuko offers a sympathetic hum, only to remind her of the law. “I have no other choice but to remove you from the court. What kind of a message would that send to the others if I let you stay?” He was full of shit.
“My f-family will kill me!” she continued to cry.
He looks to the guard next to her, who’s staring out into space, tears all dried out. Zuko tries to ask him a question but struggles with the wording at first. Eventually he grows impatient and bluntly asks, “Did you enjoy fucking her?”
The guard grows pale, terrified of what the punishment for that would be.
“I’m not executing you. Not whipping you, either. Or whatever physical punishment they have for these kinds of things,” Zuko lets him know.
The guard sighs in relief, then bows. “I— Yes, I did.”
Chamberlain scoffs and looks at the guard in disgust. How the youth could willingly engage in such devious acts was beyond him.
“Sai, do y—“ Zuko tries to get the concubines' attention, but she's too busy dry heaving to notice. “Saiyo. Sa—my fucking gods—Sai!”
She throws her head back and wails. “I’m s-so sorry, my Lord!!”
“Do you want t—Sai, please,“ cut off once more, he slams his fist on the table next to him, startling everyone in the room. “STOP.”
She takes in a sharp breath, whimpering another apology as Zuko glared at her, daring her to sniffle again.
Zuko finally speaks and points to the guard. “If you don’t want to go home, I can gift you to him. You can be his wife.”
“W-wait— really?”
Zuko notices her bottom lip quiver. “Don’t. Just answer the question.”
“O-okay, yes. Please. I can’t go home.”
“Great.” He takes a sip of water. “You all can leave now— except for you.”
You don’t do a very good job of hiding your dismay, but you stay in place and wait for everyone to leave.
Zuko opens his mouth.
Saiyo pops in and whines, “Lord Zuko, do you hate me?!”
He rests his head in his hand and sighs. “No, I don’t hate you.”
“But—I cheated!“
“That’s okay. We found you a place to live and you are safe,” he says, trying to maintain his patience to the best of his ability. “I need to speak with Ms.—“
“But will you be fine?” she whimpers.
Her question actually manages to make Zuko smile a little, but it’s for reasons he can’t exactly share. “I will be just fine,” he hums.
The concubine needs some extra reassurance, so it wasn’t until a few minutes later when you two finally had the room to yourselves.
“Don’t you think you’re sitting a little too far?” he asks.
You are. Without a word, you bring the floor cushion upfront, ignoring the pleased look on his face because he knows exactly what he’s doing.
There’s a bit of a stare off until you finally break the silence. “You’re not punishing me for this.”
“There’s nothing to punish you for,” he chuckles. “Not that I’d ever have the heart to, anyway.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Just wanted to talk.”
“I’m kneeling in front of you,” you mutter, stating the obvious. “This doesn’t feel very casual.”
“Would you like to sit on my lap instead?”
“No,” you answer rather fast.
“Shame,” he relaxes, leaning on the armrest. “I must say I am having a very good day right now.”
You nearly roll your eyes, it’s not often you make mistakes, this one being punishable by death had it been made during the rule of the two previous Fire Lords. “I’m sure you are.”
“Feels very meaningful, as well.”
“Yeah?” You try to sound interested, but you have a feeling he’s going to eventually say something inappropriate. “How so?”
“You know,” he gestures at the door. “You brought them here because you wanted more space between us— I didn’t want space, I also don’t like my concubines. Then you ended up solving both of my problems and even showered me with some of your affection. I feel as if we’ve come full circle here.”
That wipes the smile off your face, you were counting on him to be kind enough to pretend like it didn’t happen.
You force out a laugh. “What are you talking about?”
He lets out an actual laugh, light and filled to the brim with content. “I’m talking about the banquet we attended a few days ago.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t—“
“Yes, you did,” he says, looking at you with amusement. “All drunk and sweaty, throwing yourself at me and begging me to f—“
“That did not happen!” you slam both hands on the ground and yelp.
“Oh, so you do know?”
“I do, now stop—please,” you beg him.
“Alright, fine,” he laughs. “Anyways, I just wanted to thank you, that's all.”
“Don’t thank me for any of that,” you murmur, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “Ugh—If I’d known I’d be bringing two freaks together, I would’ve never brought guards. You should probably expect an apology letter from my father. Though I’m sure it’ll mostly be him begging you to allow him to torture the guard.”
Knowing your father, the news will probably have a chill running down his spine and sickened with worry. A mistake like this could very well result in you being taken in as a concubine in place of Saiyo, since you and your father would be the reason why he had one less concubine.
Zuko’s too busy thinking about how your father would be probably go into full, graphic detail on the proposed torture, leaving him mildy disturbed.
“I should probably write him a letter—let it be how he finds out about the incident and let him know neither of you are at fault.”
“If you could, that’d be wonderful,” you nod in content.
The weary look on his face never fades as his eyes trail past you and look off into the distance. Your father being the cause of it was hard to believe. There’s something he’s not telling you.
“I know I’m still on a break, but I’m on a fixed salary,” you say to lighten the mood, despite growing concerned over the sudden mood switch. “If you want my professional opinion.”
He gives an apathetic hum, letting the silence drag on some more as he takes your offer into consideration.
“I ran into my sister the other day.”
Your eyes widened and he confirmed it with a subtle nod, then continued to give you a breakdown of their brief reunion. It sounded like something that would’ve been more heartwarming, but in the end you understood why he didn’t look very moved. “I considered pardoning her, but that only lasted about an hour.”
“Probably for the best. She sounds like she’s found peace, and you got to avoid all the pushback and scrutiny a pardoning would’ve received.” You were sugar coating it, the council would’ve been up in flames. The only reason why you’re staying calm over him committing literal treason is because he seemed to need a friend right now.
“I’ll help her if she needs it, but she’s not coming back to the capital after everything I’ve had to do for this fucking place over the years. I gave my soul away in exchange for everyone’s peace,” he admits in defeat. “Fuck, sorry.”
“Don’t be,” you murmur, not having much advice for him on the matter.
It has gotten a lot better over the years, but the beginning years of his reign have left lasting effects on him, though he’d never admit it.
He says it’s all been rewarding, but those years were thankless. No one took him seriously. He had multiple attempts on his life. He was terrified of being anything like his father, so his own people constantly took advantage of him for being too nice. When the word spread, people protested because they thought he was too weak.
Things finally started to pick up once he began to ally with different clans and create factions, which allowed him to get even more done since people were more willing to help and support him.
He’s loved by the majority now, but you’ve come to realize that the damage had been done. You felt sorry for him. His main goal of helping others has never changed, but he has no interest in getting to know people.
“Don’t give me that look,” he grumbles, rising from his seat.
“I wasn’t looking at you at all.”
He watches as you stand and walk to the other end of the room, putting the floor cushion in its rightful place. His gaze may have drifted lower than it should’ve, but it rose back up once you turned around.
He looks like he’s about to say something stupid, so you shoot him a glare. “What?”
“Nothing,” he shrugs, pointing at the cushion you had just put away, “just reminded me of the empty bed I’ll have tonight.” Everyone was leaving tomorrow morning, except for the new couple, who were to leave right away.
“Don’t complain as if you didn’t try to thank me for it,” you sigh.
“I’m not. I might have another way to thank you, though,” he steps in front of you just before you pass him and leans forward.
“Miss Advisor!”
Concubine Saiyo was still turning the corner when she cried out for you. Zuko quickly spins around and you take several steps away from him. Saiyo comes trotting in shortly afterwards, tears streaming from her cheeks.
“I’m leaving now. I will miss seeing you!” her voice trembles.
“I will miss you, too! I wish you the best of luck.”
Zuko had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but then found himself fighting back a smile as he watched you two wrap your arms around each other. If this was going to be the standard for farewells, he should just start bringing Concubines to trips, along with a fake eunuch. He’d be a free man soon enough!
“And because I like you, if you ever get sent to the west wing as a concubine, don’t listen to what any of them say because they are looking to set you up for failure,” Sai tightly grabs on to your shoulders, “the easiest way to win over the Lord’s affection is to relax your throat. It’s fine if you gag, if anything he’d rather you would—“
“SAIYO!” The name practically rips through both the Fire Lord’s and Chamberlain's vocal chords.
She glances at them, then hurries to tell you the rest. “The messier the better, honestly. Practice Yoga as well! He—“
summary: you made your choice, and you have to deal with it.
a/n: i know ive already said this but we finally on the road!!!! spoiler but not rlly spoiler we finally have some gaang time and boy have i missed writing for them. and ohhhh whats that a small zuko pov? wow. hope you all enjoy!!
wc: 6.1k
warning(s): death talks, injuries, r going thru it but SOKKA is finally here
“Will you stop pacing?”
“No.”
“Zuko—”
“She should’ve been back by now.”
“She’s seeing her family again,” Azula says. “You know how she feels about her brother.”
“But she’s been gone for a week,” Zuko insists. “That’s weird!”
“You don’t have to worry about her like this just because she’s your fiancee,” Azula says idly.
“I don’t know why you keep bringing it up,” he says. “You were furious the first time around.”
“That’s because my best friend was engaged to my idiot brother,” she says, rolling her eyes. “At least this time, it’s keeping her around.”
“So you wanted us stuck in an engagement because you’re too scared to talk to her about Ba Sing Se?”
“Watch your mouth,” Azula snaps. “The only reason you are accepted here is because of my word. I groveled at Father’s feet so you didn’t have to.”
Zuko rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”
“I’m sure.”
“It’s a gut feeling.”
“And those have gone so well in the past, haven’t they?”
“Why are you acting like this?” Zuko marvels, turning on her. “You just said she’s your best friend, and something terrible could’ve happened, and you don’t even care?”
Azula huffs an incredulous laugh. “This is why I’ve been able to survive here and you haven’t.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“What do you think?” she questions. “You can’t hide anything, Zuko. You’re a walking time bomb, on the verge of exploding every time someone says something you don’t like. If I wasn’t here to help, Father would have already banished you again.”
Zuko scowls and Azula shakes her head. “There you go again. You can’t even hide your distaste for me, and you’ve had your whole life to practice.”
“Because you never stop pushing,” he snaps.
“Oh, get over it,” she scoffs. “If you’re going to be Fire Lord someday, you’re going to deal with a whole lot worse. Honestly, you should be thanking me.”
Zuko grumbles as he turns around, but he frowns when he catches sight of the most unexpected thing—your father, having just turned the corner in a haste.
“General Haruto?” he calls, and the man stops in his tracks, eyes widening when he sees Zuko before he schools his expression back to normal.
“Prince Zuko, Princess Azula.” Your father bows and places his fist below his open palm before he stands up straight. “I have been looking for your Highnesses.”
Zuko frowns as he says your name. “Where is she?”
General Haruto’s face falls, but he manages to make eye contact with Zuko. “I am so sorry, my prince.”
He sees Azula’s eyes widen before she can stop it, and she shoulders her way past him. “What does that mean?”
“My son was promoted to commander recently, as I am sure you know. He takes immense pride in his ship, and he took my daughter on a short ride at her request. But,” he sighs, “they got caught in a storm that none of us expected. Perhaps they could have weathered it with Commander Kezu’s crew, but it was just the two of them. They…”
Your father trails off, and Zuko swears he sees steam curling up from his sister’s head as she glares at your father.
“Just spit it out,” Azula demands.
“...They were lost,” he manages. “My son’s body washed up on shore this morning. His crew will remain on the water until we find my daughter’s remains.”
“What?”
Zuko’s yell bounces off the walls as Azula takes a step back, your father’s head bowed.
“Th— that can’t be right,” Zuko insists. “If— if you haven’t found her, then she’s still alive! You can’t possibly be sure that she’s dead if she’s still out there!”
“...This washed up as well, my prince.”
Haruto holds out his hand and Zuko recoils.
It’s the flame pin he gave you the first time around. You wore it every day since, even during his banishment, even after you met again in the desert…
Even when you died.
Zuko wishes he didn’t listen to you. He wishes he threw his weight around a little bit more, insisted that as your fiance and the crown prince, you couldn’t stop him from coming with you no matter what.
But you were so upset the last time he used his title and the engagement, and you’re right, truly. Neither of you wanted this engagement, but Zuko can’t go against his father again—and you’re far from the worst person to marry. You kissed once as kids and again the night before you left to go to your father’s base, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t think about it more than he should.
Zuko loves Mai, sure—but he loves you too, in a different way. You’re a part of him, no matter what happens between you, whether you’re engaged or not.
But now you’re gone. He failed again. But it’s worse this time—he failed you.
Zuko only stays standing through pure force of will. There’s a distant ringing in his ears growing steadily louder as he takes the pin, the metal glinting in the light. Azula’s hands shake at her side, and Zuko’s eyes soften. Through all the fighting and showboating, it’s easy to forget his sister is just a kid. But Azula will always be his younger sister, and he’ll always love her, for better or for worse.
“This is your fault,” she spits, and he sees the rare glimmer of tears welling in her eyes. “I will have you demoted! I will have you banished! I will—”
Her voice breaks and she shakes her head. Zuko reaches out for her shoulder, but she rips out his grasp as she blinks away tears. Azula’s eyes dart between the two of them, manic in her anger, then she turns and runs.
Azula never runs from anything.
“I will make you privy to any funeral arrangements once we find her,” Haruto says, and Zuko only partially hears it as he looks back at him. “I am so sorry for your loss, Prince Zuko. I know you two were close even without the engagement.”
He nods, but he doesn’t really feel anything. How could you actually be gone? “I’m sure my father will provide you with the necessary resources.”
Haruto nods with a sad smile. “That is why I am here.”
“Good luck,” he says, almost numb.
Zuko doesn’t want it to be true. You’re one of his only friends, and you’ve stuck beside him even through not one, but two unwanted engagements.
But why would your father lie about this? He lost two children in one night. Zuko’s amazed that the man is still standing. Uncle barely made it through one loss.
“Thank you, Prince Zuko,” your father says quietly. “I am only sorry this is the way we had to meet again.”
He walks away, leaving Zuko alone as he stares at the flame pin in his hand. All he has left of you is a stupid gift that you never even wanted in the first place.
You’re gone.
You’re really gone.
-
Everything is too much.
You don’t even feel anything at first, fully numb to the world until you begin to slowly regain consciousness—a shock in itself.
Immediately, pain shoots from your head to your toes and everywhere in between. When you try to move, you’re only able to groan. Your hair is plastered all over your face, completely torn out of its topknot. It feels like a tank train has plowed straight into you. You can’t open your eyes because the full force of the sun is beaming down upon you. Even the sand scrapes against your skin like knives.
It takes all the strength you have to push yourself up onto one shoulder—then you see a boy standing across from you, and you scream and fall back down.
“I’m sorry!” he exclaims, his eyes widening. “Oh wow, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”
“Holy shit,” you breathe, placing a hand on your chest where you feel your thundering heartbeat. You try to calm down as you brush your hair out of your face and stare up at the perfectly blue sky, but the incessant ache through your whole body makes that difficult. “Where am I?”
“A beach.”
You groan. “Where?”
“A beach in the Fire Nation,” he says, and you frown. There are no beaches at your father’s army base, just endless forests with an abrupt start to the docks.
You manage to sit up again with considerable effort, biting back all your grimaces. The boy looks even younger than you, wearing nothing but swim trunks with slightly damp hair and blue lines running across his arms and legs and ending in a point on his forehead.
That’s when you realize—they’re not blue lines.
They’re arrows.
“Oh, spirits,” you whisper, “I really am dead.”
“What? No, you’re not!”
“You’re the Avatar,” you say faintly. “The Avatar is dead.”
He frowns. “I’m not either.”
“You’re not the Avatar?”
“I’m not dead!”
You feel faint. “But Azu—”
You stop, not wanting to reveal yourself to the Avatar of all people, but he just gives you a wry smile.
“It’s okay. I recognized you pretty quickly. It’s hard to forget the people who try to kill you multiple times.”
You grimace. “Sorry about that.”
“Well, what are you doing here?” he asks.
“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know?”
“Honestly, yeah. You don’t look like you’re in great shape.”
“I don’t feel like it,” you admit. “I don’t even know how I would’ve gotten here.”
“Are you saying you don’t remember anything?”
Your brows pinch together as you try to go through your mind, but it’s a weary mess right now. All you can really gather is the revelation in your father’s office, reading letters and realizing he’s been lying to you— and then it strikes like lightning as your eyes widen.
“Kezu,” you realize in muted horror. You push through the pain as you struggle to your feet and stumble to the shore, water coming up to your ankles as you stare out across the horizon.
“Kezu!” you shout, cupping your hands around your mouth. “Kezu, I’m here! Kezu—”
Your voice breaks as a few tears stream down your face, and you fall to your knees in the water. Before your memories were flashes, but now it’s all crashing into you like a wave, strong enough to knock you down.
You were trying to leave together, to finally get away from the Fire Nation, but your father found out. Kezu stayed and forced you to go. The fire from their attacks burns against your eyelids and you choke back a sob. Kezu is strong, but even he couldn’t win against your father’s numbers—and General Haruto is not known for his mercy.
He really sacrificed himself for you.
You only barely hear the Avatar’s voice through the ringing in your ears, but you can’t move. He wades out to you and helps you stand, surprisingly strong for a little kid as he helps you back to the shore.
“I’m sorry,” you say. “You don’t need to help.”
“Everyone needs a little help sometimes. Besides, I think if I let go, you would fall.”
You think he’s right. You feel like a newborn puma goat with your shaky legs. You’re already thinking about how much it’s going to suck drying your clothes out with your firebending, but then the Avatar moves his hands in fluid movements and starts to bend the water out.
“Thanks,” you say.
“No problem,” he says. “Katara and I have to do this a lot.”
You stand in awkward silence until you’re dry. The Avatar sends the water back into the ocean then looks at you with gentle eyes. He’s just a kid—a kid that you spent a month terrorizing. You can’t get the thought out of your head.
“Who’s Kezu?” he asks gently, and you swallow the lump in your throat as you glance away.
“My brother.” You wrap your arms around yourself and let out a shuddering sigh. “I don’t think he was as lucky as me.”
“I’m so sorry.”
You blink back your tears furiously. “Thank you. A- and thank you for your help, but if you let me go, I won’t bother you ever again.”
He frowns. “What? Why would I leave you?”
“Because I’m Fire Nation,” you say. “And I’ve tried to kill you and your friends.”
“But you’re not trying to kill me now.”
“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” you frown. “But I— you’re the Avatar, I mean. You have things to do, and besides, I’m fine.”
“I don’t think you are.”
You sigh and look away again. You might be dry, but your skin is still so much colder than you’re used to. You focus and start heating your skin from within, but you stumble at the smallest use of your power. The Avatar moves, prepared to catch you, but you steady yourself and manage a shaky smile.
“I told you, I’m fine.”
“Maybe you are,” he says. “But one of my friends is a healer, and she can look over you to make sure you really are okay. It would make me feel a lot better.”
“You really think your friends will trust someone from the Fire Nation?” you ask wryly.
“I can vouch for you!” he promises. “And like you said, I don’t think you could hurt anyone right now in your state.
You throw a weak punch to prove a point, but make an equally weak flame. The Avatar smiles.
“I don’t think you want to hurt us anyways.”
“And how’s that?”
“Because you wouldn’t have ended up here if you weren’t running away,” he says gently, and you shiver even with your heated skin.
“How are you just a kid and already so good at reading people?”
“Because I ran away once too,” the Avatar says. “But we all have to face our destinies sooner or later.”
You purse your lips as you look out across the sea. You only see specks of land against the horizon, which you stand absolutely zero chance of getting to on your own.
If the Avatar is here, that means Sokka is here. And if the Avatar is actually alive, maybe that means Sokka is fine too.
And honestly, you would much rather take your chances with the Avatar and his friends than the nation you just betrayed. At least you’ll get to see Sokka again, even if it’s just for a few seconds before he inevitably kicks you out.
“I guess I don’t have any other choice,” you sigh, and the Avatar smiles as you turn back to him.
“That’s the spirit!” he exclaims, and you start walking off the beach into the greenery together. A few seconds pass before you glance at him.
“What’s your name anyways? You’ve just been the Avatar in my head since we met.”
“I’m Aang,” he says. “What’s yours? You’ve just been scary Fire Nation lady in my head.
You give him your name then frown. “I’m not scary.”
“You’re an incredible firebender, and you were trying to kill me.”
“You really think so?” you muse.
“Yeah, I do think you were trying to kill me.”
“I mean the firebending part. Do you really think I’m an incredible firebender?”
“Of course,” he says. “The other part’s true too.”
“Naturally.”
It’s a slow and painful walk back to their camp, but Aang talks your ear off to make the time pass even slower.
He’s a nice kid, nicer than you deserve, but you just received some of the worst news of your life. At least his endless rambling is kind of helping to keep your mind off of it. That sinking dread is still there in your stomach.
Your brother is gone because he tried to help you, and you have to deal with that for what you think will now be a very short life.
Soon you start spotting tents, and you see a small fire going in the center of their camp. Two figures are sitting by the fire talking, and your chest feels all tight.
Sokka.
By now, Aang is having to support you with your arm over his shoulder, and you feel like you’re about to pass out. You were fine back at the beach, just kind of aching all over, but now it’s like a komodo rhino trampled you on top of the tank train.
Aang uses his airbending to keep you from falling when you stumble, then he starts shouting.
“Katara! Sokka! I need your help!”
The figures at the fire stand up and immediately start running, and you recognize Sokka even from here. Your throat closes up a bit when you see he has his hair down, your legs growing even weaker. You suddenly feel very self-conscious about your tattered clothes and the sand stuck in your damp hair.
You try to comb it out as they get closer, but when Sokka’s eyes lock onto yours, he freezes, nearly toppling over.
“I don’t believe it.”
“Hi,” you say softly, and his brows knit together just so.
His sister stops beside him, her eyes widening as she glares at Aang. “What are you doing bringing someone from the Fire Nation back here? And why are you just showing off your arrows for the whole world to see?”
“Lecture me later,” Aang says. “I found her washed up on the beach, and she’s really hurt.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” Katara says. “It’s probably just a ploy to get close to you so she can kill you.”
“It’s not,” he insists. “She was running—”
“Tui and La!” she interrupts, eyes widening as she stares at you. “You’re one of Azula’s friends!”
“Why can’t I ever just be myself?” you mumble. Your vision is swimming by now. Right is left and up and down and this child Avatar is the only thing keeping you standing.
“Wait a minute,” she says, and she turns to Sokka. “Don’t tell me this is the girl.”
His eyes widen slightly and he purses his lips. “I won’t tell you then.”
Katara groans. “I can’t stand you!”
“I wasn’t even the one who brought her back!” he insists. “Blame Aang! He’s the goody two shoes that brought her right into our camp!”
“She was hurt!” Aang exclaims. “She still is!”
“She’s a firebender that tried to kill us!”
“But she felt bad about it—”
“I don’t really think that matters, Sokka!”
They continue to go back and forth, but you don’t really hear any of it as your legs give out beneath you. You slip from Aang’s grasp and tumble to the ground, and the last thing you see before your eyelids flutter shut is Sokka running towards you.
-
“Azula, this is stupid.”
“All you do is complain, Zuzu.”
“Don’t call me that!”
“I’ll stop calling you that when you earn it,” Azula says haughtily. “Besides, you were all set to play when your girlfriend asked you to.”
“She’s not my girlfriend!” Zuko shouts, and you and Ty Lee grin as Mai flushes bright red.
You think Mai has been crushing on Zuko since the first time she stepped foot in the palace, and even though you have no idea what she sees in him, you love teasing her with your friends.
“I don’t know, Zuko,” you say innocently. “I always see you staring at her when you’re walking through the gardens. That’s weird if you don’t like her.”
“How is it weird?” he marvels, eyes wide with exasperation. Ty Lee has to cover her mouth to stifle her giggles. “She’s my friend— am I not allowed to look at my friends anymore?”
“Some noble houses consider a longing gaze a marriage proposal,” Azula says sagely. “Don’t you pay attention in class?”
Zuko flushes and he looks at Mai. “You pay attention in class. She’s lying, right?”
“I don’t know,” she grumbles. “Stop asking me questions.”
“Geez, what’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with you?” Mai counters, and Zuko groans.
“This is why I don’t play with you guys! You’re all completely crazy!”
“So you can train with us but you can’t play with us?” Ty Lee pouts.
“At least you don’t talk this much when we’re training!” Zuko complains, crossing his arms with a huff.
Azula gives you a sharp smile and you feel your cheeks heat. You feel bad teasing Zuko sometimes, but he’s the oldest, so he can take it. That’s what Azula says, at least.
Your attention is drawn to the palace doors when someone yells your name. You flinch before you can help it, but when you turn to see your brother, you grin wider than ever.
“Kezu!” you shout, and you sprint across the gardens to barrel into him. He laughs as he picks you up and spins you around until your head is reeling.
“I clearly see who the favorites are,” Lee says wryly, and you laugh as Kezu sets you down.
“You know I love you, Lee. You’re just never here.”
“I guess General Shinu woke up on the right side of the bed today, because he accepted my request for some time off.” He grimaces. “One day, actually. I have to be back to the stronghold tomorrow. By dawn preferably, actually—”
“Then I guess we’ll just have to make the most of it,” you interrupt with a grin. “Let me go tell my friends, then I’ll be right back.”
Azula is frowning when you run back to your friends.
“What’s going on?”
“Both my brothers are finally able to visit,” you say. “We’re going to have a day out on the town before they have to go back to work.”
“But you’re busy,” Azula says. “You can’t go.”
“We’re just playing, Azula,” you say.
“Exactly.” She crosses her arms. “Tell them you can’t go.”
You frown. “But I can go.”
“Come on, Azula,” Zuko urges. “Now’s not the time.”
“Well, we need four people to play the game,” she insists.
“Then I’ll play,” he says.
Your eyes widen slightly, and Zuko nods. “It’s been forever since you’ve seen them. Go.”
You nod and run off before Azula can blast you as revenge, but you already hear her yelling orders at Mai, Ty Lee and Zuko. Both your brothers look at you when you make it back to them—Kezu with wary concern and Lee with wary interest.
“What happened there?” Lee asks.
“Azula wanted me to play, I said I couldn’t.”
“It seemed like a little more than that,” Kezu says.
“It was nothing. I promise. Now,” you get between them and take one of their hands in yours each, then put on your most authoritative voice, “take me to the festivities, soldier boys.”
“I’m a sailor,” Kezu emphasizes as you start walking together, “not a soldier. Not everyone wants to be an army brat like you and Father.”
“And I’m an archer,” Lee adds. “A Yuyan in training, specifically. It’s a very important title. You know that, right?”
“And I’m Princess Azula’s playmate,” you say wryly. “We’re all very special. Now, what have you been up to? Have you permanently scarred anyone else, Lee?”
He groans, and you bite back your smile. The scar on your cheek has faded a decent amount since the day he accidentally grazed you with an arrow, but you will tease him for as long as you can. “How many times do I have to apologize for that?”
“Until it’s gone,” you say. “And a little bit longer after that.”
“You only have me for a day,” he says.
“I’ll send messenger hawks.”
“General Shinu reads all messenger hawks before passing them on to us.”
“Oh, good! Then you’ll both see it!”
“No, he’ll just throw yours in the trash. Or maybe the fire.”
“Then I’ll just send even more on fireproof paper!”
“That doesn’t exist!”
“How would you know? I’ve burned enough things down to know what’s fireproof or not— all you do is shoot arrows.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“You don’t make sense.”
Kezu sighs, but you don’t miss his smile as he looks down at the two of you, swinging your arm with his. “It’s going to be a long, long day.”
-
Nothing feels real when you wake up.
Your limbs are weightless, your pain is gone. It’s like you’re still in a dream, because you think that’s the only place you could feel like this—but then the lingering soreness comes back, and you know you’re in the real world. It usually fades into the background because it’s so common for you, but now that the rest of you is healed, it sticks out like a sore thumb.
You try to sit up, but you immediately realize you aren’t all healed when you groan.
“Oh, spirits— don’t move.”
You frown at the unfamiliar voice, trying to lift your head to put a face to the name, but a steady hand pushes you back down. A blue glow fills the room and you feel a strange, cool sensation on your chest.
“Didn’t you hear me? Don’t move!”
Your vision finally clears and you see the girl from before sitting beside you. Katara, Sokka’s sister—the waterbender that keeps screwing you over. You let your head fall back against the floor, deciding you don’t really want to mess with her right now.
“Where am I?” you ask, voice raspy from disuse. Your throat is so dry it hurts to swallow.
“Where do you think?” The blue glow subsides along with the cool feeling on your chest, and she slides back. “Okay. You can move now.”
You grimace as you sit up. The action takes a concerning amount of energy, but your splitting headache is gone, and you can think much clearer.
“How do you feel?” Katara asks.
“A little sore, but that’s normal.” You glance at Katara just to see she’s already looking at you, blue eyes drilling through you. “You healed me?”
“It’s a special ability some waterbenders have,” she says. “Aang wouldn’t leave until I promised to help you.”
“Thank you,” you say. “I… honestly don’t know how I’m alive.”
“Neither do I,” she admits. “Aang says you washed up on shore. How’d that happen?”
“...My brother and I were going to leave the Fire Nation,” you say, and her eyes widen slightly. “Our father caught us, and he stayed back so I could get out. I got caught in a storm, but I don’t really remember anything after that.”
“Judging by the cuts and bruises and the two broken ribs, the sea swallowed you whole and spit you back out. You’re extremely lucky to be alive.”
“Sure,” you say faintly.
“You don’t think you’re lucky?”
“My brother’s dead, and it’s my fault,” you say quietly. “Take a wild guess.”
Katara’s eyes soften. It’s worse than anger, honestly, because you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve any of her kindness. You deserved to die on that beach for what you’ve done.
She opens her mouth to say something, but she’s interrupted when someone walks into the tent.
Sokka.
You freeze in place, but he doesn’t seem to notice you. His hair falls just below his eyes and he tugs at his ivory necklace, and Katara sighs.
“Sokka—”
“I’ll be out soon,” he says. “I just wanted to—”
He finally spots you and his eyes widen a bit. “You’re awake.”
You nod, then frown. “How long was I out?”
“A day and a half,” Katara says.
“What?”
“You were seriously injured,” she says. “Do you know what internal bleeding is?”
“...Bleeding internally?”
She rolls her eyes. “If Aang didn’t find you when he did, you wouldn’t have made it off that beach.
“I’ll be sure to thank him,” you say. If he let you leave like you asked… You swallow the lump in your throat.
You’re suddenly very glad the Avatar is a very stubborn boy.
“You should thank my brother, too,” she continues. “He saved you from a nasty concussion.”
You look up at Sokka and he glances away. “I just caught you before you fell. Anyone would have done it.”
“Sure,” Katara says. “I was able to mostly mend your ribs, but it’s going to take a couple days to heal. We’ll need to do more healing sessions.”
“Whatever’s necessary,” you nod.
“Can we have the tent?” Sokka asks wryly, and she frowns.
“You want me to leave my tent?”
“That’s what I said. Are your ears okay?”
“I’m not leaving my tent so you can gush over the girl who tried to kill us!”
“How many times do I have to tell you that she felt bad about it?” Sokka complains.
“Until I believe it,” she says.
“Fine,” Sokka snips, and he says your name. “Come on, we can talk outside.”
“Why do you want to talk to me?” you ask.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I haven’t seen you since we were stuck in a cave together and now you’ve just washed up on our beach?”
“...Right.”
“Don’t hurt her, Sokka,” Katara says as you stand and walk over.
“I didn’t know you cared,” Sokka says.
“Oh, I don’t,” she says, and you purse your lips. “I just don’t want all that healing to go to waste.”
“You’re so kind,” he says.
“You know me. Kind Katara.”
Sokka rolls his eyes and walks out. He holds the tent flap open for you, then motions for you to follow. The sun is setting steadily in the distance and you frown. You really were out for a while.
“How do you feel?” Sokka asks.
“Better,” you say. “Your sister’s pretty amazing, being able to heal like that.”
“Yeah. She is.”
As you’re walking past the fire, you suddenly trip over a rock in your way—then you yelp as your feet are encased in rock, nearly toppling you over. It grows up past your ankles to your calves, and no matter how much you tug, it doesn’t move.
“What the—”
“What is she doing here?”
You look over to see a dark-haired girl who looks about the same age—she’s the earthbender from before, the one that completely foiled your plans. This group is really good at that. But most surprising is her blank gaze. She doesn’t look at you when she’s speaking, her hair just about obscures her gaze, and her eyes are glazed over.
“You’re blind,” you mutter.
“Right in one,” she says.
“Seriously, Toph?” Sokka complains.
“We got beaten by a blind girl?” you marvel.
“I don’t need to see to pummel you,” she says. “Sokka, what is she doing here? I recognize her footsteps— she’s one of Azula’s friends.”
“You recognize my—” you mutter, but you stop yourself when you remember she could break your legs in an instant. “Yeah. Sure. Blind girl is the best earthbender I’ve ever met. Why not?”
“You’re awake!”
You look over to see Aang leaving his tent, bright eyes gleaming with a demeanor much kinder than Toph’s, but your shoulders still sag. You don’t have it in you to deal with all this right after waking up.
“Yeah,” you say.
“She washed up on the beach and Katara was healing her,” Sokka explains.
“I know that,” Toph says. “But why is she still here?”
“Because she just woke up? What, do you want us to kick her out right now?”
“I guess not.” She pushes her hands down and the rocks around your legs sink back into the ground. They buckle beneath you and Sokka has to lunge to catch you before you fall, his arms wrapping around your waist as he hauls you back up.
“Sorry,” you say, your face exploding in heat as you look away. “I— I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“You just woke up and you’re still recovering,” Sokka says. His hands are cool against your heated skin, and he clears his throat. “Are you good to stand?” You nod, and he carefully pulls his hands away from your waist.
“Have you had your fun, Toph?” Sokka asks.
“Yeah, actually,” she says, and she smiles at the ground. “Now she knows not to mess with us.”
“She’s not going to,” Aang insists. “I wouldn’t have brought her back here if I thought she would hurt any of you!”
“Can we get some privacy?” Sokka complains, looking between his friends. “We need to have a talk.”
“Ooh, I can hear your heartbeat,” Toph teases. “What do you want to talk about?”
Aang grins. “Are you serious?”
“You two are impossible!” Sokka shouts, and he grabs your hand and starts pulling you along, away from the camp.
You stifle a small laugh, but your head is still spinning. You can’t believe these are the kids that have continuously bested Azula. They’re… well, they’re just kids. Sokka looks like the oldest one around, and it’s very clear he doesn’t have the best judgement.
Sokka says your name and brings you back into yourself. You’re a decent way from camp, far enough to keep his friends from eavesdropping.
“So,” he says.
“...So.”
“Where have you been?” he asks.
You grimace. “Do we have to talk about this?”
“If you want to stay here, yeah.”
“...I was in the Fire Nation,” you admit quietly, and Sokka’s eyes widen.
“What?”
“Azula barely gave me a choice.”
“You didn’t seem to have much of a problem going against her when we were talking.”
“This was different!” you insist. “Why does it matter anyways? The Avatar is alive. The world isn’t over.”
Sokka’s gaze hardens and he looks away. “Because for a good second, he wasn’t.”
“...What?”
“Azula killed him,” Sokka says quietly. “Aang was going into the Avatar State to try and save us all, but she struck him with lightning, and he died. Katara saved him with spirit water from the North, but…” he lets out a heavy sigh. “But for a while, it was looking like he wouldn’t wake up again.”
“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “I— I had no idea. Azula didn’t tell me.”
“I’m sure,” Sokka says. He crosses his arms as he looks back at you. “Why did you go back to the Fire Nation?”
“I told you, I didn’t have a choice.”
“You said she barely gave you a choice. That means she did.”
You sigh and glance away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You don’t get to pull that!” Sokka exclaims. “I t— we’ve trusted you, Katara’s healed you, Aang went out on a limb for you, all because they’re good people.”
“Sokka—”
“But I know you better than they do,” he continues. “I know that you’re capable of lying through your teeth, of smiling one moment and knocking someone’s lights in the next moment. Just because we’ve talked a few times doesn’t mean we’re friends, okay? And I’m fine with sending you out on your own once you’re healed—”
“She said she would kill you!” you exclaim, and Sokka’s mouth clamps shut as he stares at you with wide eyes.
“What?”
“Azula said if I didn’t go home with her, she would kill you,” you say, blinking back tears as you look away. “She had control of the Dai Li, and you and Zuko were trapped down there, and I— I just couldn’t risk it.” You swallow the lump in your throat but your mouth is still dry as sandpaper. “That’s why I went home.”
You start walking away, unable to face Sokka anymore, but he grabs your wrist and you stop.
“I didn’t know,” he says quietly.
“How could you?”
“They were a little rough with me, but I never…” Sokka sighs and shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For whatever you went through back home for my sake,” he says. “...Thank you.”
You shrug uncomfortably. “Anyone would’ve done it.”
Sokka smiles and you find yourself standing up a little taller. He runs s.o much colder than you, but the brightness in his smile is always enough to warm you from the inside out—even one as small as this one.
“But you did,” he says, and you manage a smile of your own. “Now come on. It’s getting dark, and we should get back to camp before Katara starts worrying.”
“She probably thinks I threw you off a cliff,” you say.
Sokka tilts his head. “I kinda thought you would too.”
You laugh a bit and he smiles at the sound. As you walk back to camp together, the tension in your shoulders unknots for the first time in a very, very long time.
summary: during the chaos of herogasm, you are forced to distract a triggered soldier boy and hold him off until homelander arrives.
content warnings: ( 18+ ) mdni. explicit sexual content. no use of yn. dubious consent (seduction for a mission/ulterior motive). unprotected p in v. rough sex & dirty talk. overstimulation. orgasm denial/edging. oral sex (both receiving). praise/degradation kink. usage of pet names. size difference & super-soldier physiology. age gap/generational gap. property damage (tearing of clothing). just soldier boy himself is a warning tbh.
word count: 3.4k
The air in the Vermont mansion was thick with the scent of cheap champagne, expensive lube, and the copper tang of blood. Outside the heavy oak door of the bedroom, the chaos of Herogasm was reaching a fever pitch, but inside, the silence was much more dangerous.
Soldier Boy was standing by the window, his back to you. His frame was massive, shoulders blocking out the moonlight. But it was the hum that terrified you. A low, rhythmic thrumming was vibrating through the floorboards, emanating directly from his chest. His fist was clenched so hard the wood of his shield creaked under the pressure.
"Hey," you whispered, your voice trembling despite your training. "You need to breathe. Butcher and the others… they're still clearing the floor. You can't let it go yet."
He turned slowly. His eyes weren't just blue anymore; they were glowing with a volatile, golden radiation. The PTSD was hitting him like a freight train.
"I don't take orders from you, sweetheart," he growled, his voice a gravelly rasp. "And I sure as hell don't 'breathe' my way out of a fight."
You felt the need to check your comms after hearing that.
"Y'need to get him under control, luv," Butcher's voice crackled in your ear like you expected. "He blows now, and we lose our shot at Homelander. Cunt's not 'ere yet."
Soldier Boy's interest was still not on you. So you turned your back to him and quickly whispered, "I'm sorry but how the hell am I supposed to 'get him under control'?"
"Just find a way to distract him, will ya?" he said it like it was the easiest fucking thing to do.
Well, figures you don't have any other choice than to try to distract him for a while—who knows for how long—So, you nodded your head even though Butcher couldn't see it. You were sure that he already knew that you would find a way, like you always did.
You looked at the man in front of you. He looked like a god on the verge of a tantrum. Normal tactics wouldn't work. You had to give that pent-up energy somewhere else to go. You had to ground him.
For God's sake—yeah, you definitely didn't want the boys to hear the next words that were about to come out of your mouth. So, you sighed and decided it would be the best to turn your comms off.
"You're right," you said, slowly but surely stepping into his space, heart hammering against your ribs. "You don't take orders. You've been complaining about how soft this century is, haven't you?" You reached out, your fingers grazing the cold tactical gear over his chest. "I was just wondering if… if you could show me exactly how they did it in the '40s?"
The humming stopped instantly. Soldier Boy's eyes narrowed, the golden glow flickering but staying dim. A slow, dark smirk spread across his face—the look of a predator who just found a much more interesting prey.
"Is that right?" He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing you whole. He smelled like tobacco, old leather, and pure power. "You think you can handle a man like me? Or are you just tryin' to be a hero, little girl?"
"I'm not trying to be a hero," you breathed, sliding your hands up to his neck, feeling the immense heat radiating from his skin. "I'm just trying to be yours. I can't get it out of my mind… Since the first moment I saw you alive with my own eyes."
Well, that wasn't completely a lie. He was an asshole, for sure. But he was an extremely good-looking asshole. And the thought of how it would feel to have him inside you—as just a normal human—might have crossed your mind once or twice.
In a blurred movement, his hand went to your throat—not enough to choke, but enough to claim—and slammed you back against the wall.
"You dirty little girl," he rumbled, leaning down so his lips brushed against your ear. His breath was hot. "And here I was thinkin' you kept givin' me all those glares because you fuckin' hated all Supes. But you were just eye-fucking me with dirty images flashin' in your mind, weren't you?"
He didn't wait for an answer—for any other thing. His mouth crashed onto yours, tasting of bourbon and suppressed rage. It wasn't a soft kiss; it was a conquest. He bit your lower lip until you gasped, using the opening to deepen the kiss, his tongue marking his territory with a ruthless hunger.
His free hand moved to your waist, his fingers digging into your hip with bruising force as he hoisted you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively, feeling the hard line of him pressing against you.
"That's it," he muttered against your skin as he moved his lips to the junction of your neck and shoulder. "Cling to me. I want to feel how much you're shaking."
He threw you onto the massive bed after a few minutes of kissing and biting you there, not bothering with any grace. And before you could even catch your breath, he was over you, his heavy weight pinning you into the mattress. He began stripping his gear with efficient, practiced movements, his eyes never leaving yours.
"I'm gonna teach you a lesson about playin' with fire," he said, his voice dropping an octave, pure silk and gravel. "By the time I'm done with you, you won't be able to stand, let alone worry about Butcher or any of that stuff you're always worryin' about."
As he moved between your thighs, his large, calloused hands guided yours above your head, pinning your wrists against the headboard with a single hand.
"What? Scared?" he rumbled, that crooked smirk back on his face as he dropped the last of his clothes, standing before you only in his black boxers.
You shook your head, with your eyes roaming over between his now bare chest and his face.
"Didn't quite catch that, darling?" he said teasingly.
"No," you replied, trying to sound confident. "I'm not scared."
The smirk on his face sharpened, turning into something predatory and primal. He liked the defiance, even if it was wrapped in a trembling voice. He leaned down, his chest brushing against your breasts, the heat coming off him feeling like a literal furnace.
"Good," he growled, the vibration of his voice rattling your bones. "Because I don't like it when they break too easy."
His free hand didn't go for your buttons or zippers. He wasn't in the mood for the patience of this 'soft' century. He gripped the fabric of your shirt and yanked, the sound of tearing material filling the room as he exposed you to the cool air and his scorching gaze, making you gasp in shock. He didn't wait before unclasping your bra and throwing it on the floor carelessly, alongside with your ruined shirt.
You didn't even have time to protest when his hands reached the waistband of your pants. He stripped them down with a violent efficiency, leaving you in nothing but your lace underwear.
He paused then, his eyes dark and heavy as they traveled over your body. "Will you look at that," he muttered, his thumb tracing the line of your hip, pressing hard enough to leave a mark. "I've been in a cage for decades, sweetheart. Y'have no idea how much trouble you're in right now."
His hand slid lower, hooking into the delicate fabric of your panties. With a single, brutal tug, the lace gave way, the sound of it snapping loud in the quiet room. He tossed the scrap of fabric aside like it was nothing, leaving you completely exposed under his shadow.
"Jesus—" you opened your mouth this time. "Can you stop tearing up my clothes?"
He almost laughed. "Well, there's nothin' left to tear up now." You wanted to roll your eyes, wanted to be annoyed by him—but you couldn't even do that.
"You wanted the '40s?" he whispered, his hand sliding between your thighs, forcing them wider. "Back in my day, we didn't waste time asking for permission when a girl was lookin' at us the way you look at me."
Before you could even draw a breath to respond, he disappeared beneath the hem of your vision. He gripped your thighs with hands that could crush steel, pinning your legs back until you were completely open to him.
When his tongue first made contact, you let out a sharp, broken cry, your hips bucking off the mattress. He was ruthless. He didn't ease into it; he used his tongue with the same aggressive authority he used his shield. He swiped across your center with long, firm strokes, his stubble grazing your sensitive skin, adding a delicious, stinging friction to the heat.
"You like that, don't you, little hero?" He muttered against your slick skin, his voice muffled but dripping with amusement. And then—he decided to add a finger, and it wasn't long before the second one came along.
He was brutal but efficient. His tongue wasn't gentle; it was firm and rhythmic, lapping and sucking at you with predatory hunger. His fingers, those same hands that had crushed skulls, were now dipping into your heat, sliding deep inside you, testing how wet you were, stretching you, while his mouth continued its merciless assault on your clit.
You were shaking, your mind dissolving into white heat. You couldn't think about the mission, about Homelander, about anything but the massive man between your legs and the pleasure he was wringing out of you. You clamped your thighs around his shoulders, your breath coming in short, needy pants.
"Yeah, scream for me," he rumbled against your wetness, the sound muffled but vibrating through your entire nervous system. "Let the whole damn house hear you. Let Butcher know exactly what's keeping you so busy."
He reached up, grabbing your wrists again, pinning them back so you couldn't do anything but endure the pleasure. He sucked at you with a rhythmic, bruising hunger, his fingers digging into your glutes to hold you steady.
"You're so fucking wet," he growled, pulling back for a fraction of a second to look up at you, his face glistening, his eyes hooded and dark. "Did you get this way just thinkin' about me? Thinkin' about how a real man would handle you?"
He didn't wait for an answer, diving back in, his pace quickening. He was relentless, driving you toward the edge with a focused intensity that made the golden glow in his chest flicker again—not with rage this time, but with a raw, sexual heat. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your head tossing back against the pillows as the first waves of the climax began to roll through you.
"That's it, doll," he growled, pulling back just enough to look up at you, his beard wet with your juices. His expression was primal, utterly dominant. "Come for me. Come like the dirty little girl you are."
He resumed his pace, faster now. His tongue was relentless, his fingers buried inside you. You couldn't hold on. Your head fell back, a loud, broken cry escaping you as your body clenched, riding the waves of an orgasm so intense you felt your consciousness flicker. He didn't stop, even when you were coming, his tongue continuing to lap at you until the last shudders faded.
You were dazed, your body humming with aftershocks, but you knew what you had to do next. You didn't wait any longer before scrambling onto your knees, looking at him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your mouths together again. Slowly lowering him back against the pillows with the company of open-mouthed kisses. He was already semi-hard, thick and intimidating.
You leaned over him without a word, feeling small against his bulk. You wrapped your hand around his length, his skin hot and smooth. You lowered your head, your tongue running up his shaft, testing the waters. A low rumble of approval came from his chest.
You took him into your mouth without wasting any more time. He was thick, and you struggled to take him all in, your jaw aching as you worked. But he wasn't a man of patient; one of his hands came down and wrapped around your hair, his grip firm as he guided your movements. He thrust his hips slightly, forcing you deeper, testing your limits.
"Yeah, you like that," he dirty-talked, his voice choked. "Take it, all of it. Good little slut."
You worked him, sucking and lapping, using the lubrication he'd provided to pleasure him. His rumbles of approval turned into choked groans. But then, he pulled your head back, looking down at you with a mix of hunger and possessiveness.
In one swift, powerful motion, he flipped you, throwing you onto your back. He crawled over you again, his weight immense, his eyes locking onto yours with terrifying intensity. He gripped your thighs, spreading you so wide you thought your hips might snap, and settled between them.
He didn't have a condom. He didn't ask. Soldier Boy didn't need to ask for permission. He lined himself up against your wet entrance, his tip probing.
"I'm gonna fill you so full you won't remember your own name," he growled, his voice a promise of complete domination.
He didn't ease into you. He thrust, hard and fast, burying his entire length inside you in a single, brutal motion. A sharp gasp and a loud curse tore from you, but he didn't slow down. Instead, he started moving; his movements rough and powerful, each thrust hitting you with the force of a battering ram.
He was huge, stretching you completely, filling you so deeply you felt him hit your cervix. But it was the heat that was the most intense—the radiation was humming just beneath his skin, making every inch of him feel electric, dangerous, and incredibly pleasurable.
"You're so tight," he hissed against your ear, his breath hot and fast. "Too damn bad that I'm gonna ruin you for anyone else, doll."
His hands were all over you—digging into your hips, pinning your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing your nipples as he pounded into you. He was relentless, his pace maddening. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, your nails digging into his back, matching his raw energy with a desperation you didn't know you possessed.
"Soldier Boy," you gasped, your voice broken.
"Say my name," he growled, biting your neck, marking you. "Say it."
"Ben," you choked out, your body tightening again. "Ben, please."
He didn't slow down. The humming in his chest was getting louder, a low rumble of power that vibrated through your entire body. He was close, and so were you.
"Please what?" he rasped, his voice ragged. "Use your words, sweetheart."
"Please... don't stop, Ben. Harder," you sobbed out, any shred of your remaining composure completely shattering under his weight.
Hearing his real name on your lips combined with that desperate plea did something to him. The crooked, arrogant smirk vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated dominance. The golden hum in his chest flared, a sudden surge of heat radiating through his skin that made your vision blur with pleasure.
"You asked for it, doll," he growled, his voice dropping into a gravelly register that vibrated right through your skull.
He didn't just pick up the pace; he turned—even more—brutal. He reached down and grabbed your knees, forcing them all the way up toward your shoulders, pinning you into a position that left you completely, helplessly open to him.
Then, he began to drive into you with terrifying power. Every single thrust was a calculated assault, his heavy hips slamming against yours with a loud, fleshy rhythm that echoed over the distant sounds of the chaos outside.
"Look at you," he rasped, leaning down so his sweating chest dragged against your sensitive nipples. "Takin' all of it. Built just right for a real man."
You couldn't even form words anymore. Your hands clutched wildly at his back, nails digging into his skin as you rode the line between agony and absolute ecstasy. He was stretching you to your absolute limits, hitting your cervix with a relentless, bruising force that made your entire lower abdomen clench in desperate waves.
"Ben—oh God, I-I'm gonna—"
"Not yet," he ordered, his fingers digging into your jaw, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. "You hear me, doll?"
When you didn't—couldn't—answer, his free hand came down to your clit without mercy, making you cry out in both pain and pleasure.
"Answer me," he demanded.
"Yes—yes! I hear you! Please…" you cried out, your voice breaking as his thumb applied a ruthless, grinding pressure to your swollen clit.
The dual assault of his thick length punishing you from the inside and his calloused fingers overstimulating you on the outside was pure torture, a devastating blend of pleasure that had your mind completely short-circuiting.
"Good girl," he growled, a dark, satisfied grin cutting through the intense focus on his face.
He didn't ease up on his fingers, using his thumb to circle and pinch your hyper-sensitive core while his hips resumed their heavy, battering rhythm.
"Look at me," he commanded, his grip on your jaw tightening just enough to keep your tear-filled eyes locked onto his gaze. "Look at who you belong to right now."
Your nails dug deeper into the heavy muscle of his shoulders, your back arching off the mattress as you tried to either push him deeper or pull away from the unbearable friction—you didn't even know which anymore. You were entirely at his mercy, weeping softly from the sheer intensity of it.
"Ben, please," you begged, your hips bucking instinctively against his. "I-I'm coming—"
"Yeah, you are," he rasped, his breathing turning completely ragged, his chest heaving against yours. "Let me see it."
With a sudden, violent shift in momentum, he let go of your jaw and hooked his arms under your knees, pulling them all the way back to your chest to open you up even wider. He drove into you with everything he had, his heavy frame slamming against you with a raw, primal force that completely stole the air from your lungs.
His thumb gave one final, sharp and heavy slap against your clit, and that was the breaking point. Your vision went completely white as your body gave out, exploding into a violent, clenching climax that squeezed him like a vice.
"Fuck, yeah, that's it!" Ben roared, his own control shattering at the tight, pulsating grip of your walls.
He didn't slow down for your orgasm; he used it. He pounded through the contractions, his thrusts becoming frantic and shallow as his muscles locked up. With a deep, guttural growl that vibrated from his chest straight into yours, he buried himself to the absolute root and came, unloading a thick, burning heat deep inside you. His hips shuddered against yours in powerful, desperate spasms as he filled you completely.
For a long minute, the only sound in the room was the heavy, synchronized gasping your breathings. Ben collapsed on top of you, his massive frame crushing you into the mattress, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he let out a long, exhausted sigh that smelled faintly of bourbon. Your thighs were trembling, covered in a mixture of sweat and the heavy heat he had left inside you.
"Holy fuck," you finally breathed out.
"Yeah," Soldier Boy said with a low chuckle.
The crushing weight of his massive frame slowly lifted as he rolled off you, the mattress groaning under his shift in movement. He settled onto his back beside you, one heavy, scarred arm slung carelessly behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. His chest was still heaving, covered in a slick sheen of sweat.
A slow, arrogant smirk crawled back onto his face as he looked down at you, his green eyes full of pure, smug satisfaction.
"For a girl who says she hates Supes, you sure as hell didn't have any problem wrappin' your legs around one," he rumbled, his voice a gravelly, post-coital purr that vibrated warmly against your bare shoulder.
You opened your mouth to snap back, but you had to close it back when you couldn't find anything to say.
He chuckled darkly, a low sound that came from deep within his chest. "I wonder what Butcher would say if he knew his favorite little soldier was in here getting ruined by the biggest Supe of 'em all."
a/n: first time publishing on tumblr, kinda nervous ngl. hope it was good enough, you can always share it with me if you enjoyed it!!
i also want to say that i have a hate-love relationship with soldier boy (i think they ruined his character in s5). but it's jensen ackles so i simply couldn't resist the urge to write this.
when FIRELORD ZUKO takes a liking to AVATAR AANG'S mysterious new BRIDE.
TORN BETWEEN TWO ROADS ! — aang x reader x zuko
PLOT. republic city is finally at peace, and for once, katara allows herself to hope—maybe now, after everything, she and aang can finally become something real. but when aang returns after eight months, he isn’t alone. he comes back with you at his side, introducing you as his wife. suspicious yet helpless, his friends do their best to welcome you, even as nothing about this sudden marriage makes sense. but while everyone else keeps their distance, one person doesn’t. and perhaps Zuko gets a little too comfortable with the avatar’s new wife.
CHARACTERS. AANG and ZUKO.
CHAPTER WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, slight panic attack, a very bad injury (not detailed), takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.
(please check the story masterlist for the story warnings.)
WC. 8.5k
masterlist : story masterlist
chapter six
a/n: the backstory is finallyyyyy here, i can't believe this shit. once again, some parts may seem 'unrealistic,' but they make sense to me, so shhhhh!
Aang hated this part of himself.
The part born from that single night a century ago, buried beneath ice and fear alongside the last remnants of his childhood.
Katara had always insisted the storm was fate. That without it, he would never have found her, never found any of them. And perhaps she was right. Too many things had aligned afterward for him to truly believe otherwise.
The war had ended because he survived that storm. The world had healed because the Avatar had returned when it needed him most.
He understood that.
He had spent years forcing himself to understand that.
Yet understanding did not erase the guilt that gnawed at his chest.
Because no matter how much peace he helped bring into the world afterward, a small part of him still remembered the boy who ran away. The boy who abandoned his people hours before they were slaughtered.
And storms always brought that boy back.
It almost amused him sometimes. The Avatar, master of all four elements, brought to unease by rain and thunder. Air, water, lightning, wind; the very forces he bent with ease could still reduce his heart to something small and unsteady the moment dark clouds gathered overhead.
Not that he had made no progress.
He had.
His friends had never allowed him to remain frozen within that fear. Over the years, the storms no longer sent him spiraling the way they once had. He had learned to breathe through them, to steady himself, to trust his own bending enough to push forward despite the memories clawing at him.
But people often forget something important.
Aang had not been alone in that storm all those years ago.
Appa had been there too.
And unlike Aang, Appa had never truly been given the comfort of understanding why it happened. He only remembered the cold, the panic, the endless sky swallowing them whole.
The sky bison had improved over the years. Aang's presence helped, his bending helped, and together they had managed smaller storms countless times before.
This was different.
At least Momo could hide beneath the shelter of Aang's cloak, small enough to tuck himself safely against his chest. Appa had no such luxury. The massive creature endured every violent gust directly, fur soaked through beneath relentless rain, while thunder cracked loudly to shake the skies.
The storm swallowed everything in its wake.
The wind screamed past them hard to sting exposed skin while rain lashed against Aang's face in freezing sheets. Even breathing had become difficult now, each inhale cut sharply by the violent air around them.
And then came the lightning.
Spirits, the lightning.
Aang could redirect rivers, part storms, bend entire currents of air to clear their path if he focused hard enough. But lightning, real lightning, remained wild even to him.
He was confident in his ability to redirect it, but even so, he could never tell where the trajectory will be set at. It was unpredictable.
The first strike shattered across the clouds so violently that Appa lurched beneath him.
Aang's stomach dropped instantly.
"Easy, Appa!" he shouted over the storm, gripping tighter on the ropes. "We'll land somewhere safe, alright?!"
But Appa barely heard him.
Thunder drowned his voice while another strike ripped through the sky, illuminating the storm in blinding white for half a second before plunging everything back into the grey.
The shift in Appa's flying became worse afterward.
He was panicked, completely unsteady in his movements, and suddenly Aang was no longer seeing the storm around him.
He hearing himself cry out.
Feeling Appa fall.
"No, no— Appa!"
The sky bison bucked violently beneath him the moment another lightning strike split overhead, terror finally overtaking whatever control had remained. Aang reached forward immediately, trying to steady him, trying to calm him, but the storm swallowed every command before it could reach him.
Then his world tilted.
Aang's scream tore through the wind as Appa suddenly dropped beneath the clouds, massive body struggling against the violent air while the storm dragged them downward faster and faster.
"Appa!"
The moment Appa dropped beneath the clouds entirely, Aang reacted on instinct.
Violent currents of air burst outward beneath them as he thrust both hands forward, forcing wind beneath Appa's massive body in desperate attempts to steady the fall. At the same time, water from the storm answered his command immediately, swirling upward around them before freezing against sections of the saddle and harness in hopes of anchoring Appa against the violent pull of the storm.
But nothing held.
The winds collapsed too quickly beneath Appa's sheer size while the rain shattered every frozen restraint almost instantly.
Another brutal drop threw Aang clean off of Appa altogether, his fingers not managing to catch the soaked leather straps before the storm ripped him away entirely.
"Appa!" he shouted again, louder this time, panic bleeding into his voice.
Momo clung violently beneath his cloak, tiny claws digging through the fabric against his chest, trembling hard enough for Aang to feel it even through the storm. Yet all of his attention remained fixed upon Appa, whose terrified cries had grown faint beneath the screaming wind around them.
Then Aang saw the ground.
The clearing below had finally become visible through the rain, though barely. Trees stretched endlessly beneath them, but several near the clearing looked wrong. They were freshly cut. their jagged trunks sharpened into dangerous points where they had splintered unevenly from recent logging.
Aang's stomach dropped.
He forced more air downward, harder this time, powerful enough that the wind around them briefly split apart beneath the pressure. The winds caught Appa for half a second before another violent crack of lightning exploded overhead.
Appa jerked sharply sideways in terror, and suddenly they were falling again.
Aang's tattoos ignited before he consciously realized what was happening.
White light erupted through the storm as the Avatar State surged through him violently, illuminating the rain around them while the winds below twisted upward with force. The storm itself seemed to recoil for one fleeting moment beneath the sudden power pouring from him.
Aang reached desperately toward Appa, every current of air rushing downward beneath the sky bison in one final attempt to stop the fall before impact.
But he was too late.
Appa hit the ground first.
A horrifying roar tore through the storm the instant one of the sharpened tree trunks drove clean through Appa's leg.
The Avatar State vanished immediately.
"Appa!"
Pure panic overtook everything else.
Aang twisted violently midair, abandoning the winds meant to soften his own landing as he reached toward Appa instead, horror flooding through him at the sight of blood already staining the rain-soaked ground beneath the sky bison.
But the earth was already rushing too close beneath him.
Desperation seized him as air exploded beneath his body seconds before impact, forcing the worst of the fall away while violent currents twisted him sideways just enough to avoid the sharpened trunks surrounding the clearing.
Even then, the landing remained brutal.
His body slammed harshly against the soaked earth before momentum sent him skidding violently across mud and shattered branches. Pain burst sharply across the corner of his forehead the moment his head struck something solid beneath the rain.
The world tilted sickeningly around him as the storm continued roaring overhead.
Appa's cries echoed somewhere nearby, weaker and pained enough to claw straight through Aang's chest.
He tried to move. He really tried to reach him.
His fingers barely dragged across the mud before his strength gave out beneath him entirely.
The last things Aang heard before darkness consumed him were Appa's agonized cries...and Momo's frantic screeching somewhere close by.
"It— it is the Avatar!"
The guard's stunned exclamation cut through the lingering drizzle, confirming the suspicion Prince Jinhai had arrived with hours earlier.
The moment the brilliant blue light had erupted beyond the mountains during the storm, he had already known.
There were few things within the world capable of illuminating the skies themselves in such a manner.
And only one man capable of glowing like the heavens had briefly split open.
The storm had delayed investigation for several hours. Even now, rain still lingered stubbornly across the forest in a thin silver drizzle while soldiers moved carefully through mud and broken branches surrounding the clearing.
The aftermath itself looked devastating.
Several trees had been uprooted entirely while others remained shattered where violent winds had torn through. Deep trenches scarred the soaked earth, evidence of air currents powerful enough to force even massive objects aside.
And at the center of it all lay the Avatar.
Nearby, the enormous sky bison let out weak, pained groans from where one of the broken tree trunks remained lodged through his leg, the wound severe enough that several soldiers had wisely refused approaching him too closely despite his weakened state.
"It seems Your Highness was correct," one of the commanders remarked cautiously. "How do you wish to proceed?"
Advisor Shuren approached shortly afterward, a dark umbrella held carefully above himself while rain continued dripping steadily.
Prince Jinhai remained silent for several moments.
His attention lingered first upon the unconscious Avatar sprawled across the mud, then toward the wounded sky bison whose cries had softened into exhausted rumbling now.
Finally, he spoke.
"I shall entrust the Avatar's hospitality to you, Advisor Shuren."
The older man inclined his head respectfully.
"Are you certain, Your Highness?"
"The palace cannot spare its physicians at present," Jinhai answered calmly. "Your estate possesses the better resources for immediate treatment, and the sky bison will require far more space than the royal grounds can presently provide."
Rainwater slid quietly from the edge of his robes while servants nearby hurried to prepare stretchers beneath the soldiers' orders.
"Have your physicians brought here immediately," the prince continued. "Ensure both the Avatar and his companion receive proper care. Once the Avatar has recovered sufficiently, I shall pay my respects personally."
"Of course, Your Highness."
Then, after a brief pause, Shuren added smoothly—
"You may also join my daughter for tea during your visit. I imagine such company would greatly please her."
That finally earned a faint trace of acknowledgment from the prince.
"Perhaps I shall." Jinhai answered simply.
Not another word followed, he merely turned and made his way back toward the waiting ostrich horse carriage stationed near the forest road, attendants immediately moving to shield him from the rain while soldiers resumed preparing the unconscious Avatar for transport beneath Shuren's supervision.
The first thing Aang became aware of was warmth.
Not the comforting warmth of sunlight or Appa's fur beneath his cheek during long flights, but something more unpleasant. It was humid, stifling almost. It clung against his skin while the faint scent of herbs and incense lingered thickly within the air around him.
Then came the pain, a sharp throb pulsed along the corner of his forehead while the rest of his body ached in waves that made even breathing feel difficult.
Aang winced faintly before forcing his eyes open.
For several seconds, nothing made sense. His sight was blurry, eyelids seemingly stuck together as if he hadn't opened them for a decade.
Dark wooden ceilings stretched high above him while pale curtains shifted gently near an open window somewhere nearby. The room itself looked expensive, furnished with carved wood, painted screens, and silk drapery that did not resemble any Earth Kingdom inn he had ever stayed within before.
He blinked slowly.
Then his memory returned all at once.
The storm.
The fall.
Appa.
Aang jolted upright immediately.
"Appa!"
Pain exploded through his head so violently that his vision blurred again, yet panic had already overtaken reason by then. He barely noticed the cloth slipping from his forehead before hurried footsteps rushed toward him from somewhere within the room.
"Avatar Aang, please—"
"Where's Appa?!" he demanded breathlessly, his voice coming out in a rasp as it burned from straining.
He tried to push himself fully from the bed despite the dizziness crashing through him.
"He got hurt— there was a tree and I—"
"Please calm yourself."
Two physicians quickly moved to steady him before he could properly stand, their voices calm even though they were shocked that he had finally awakened again.
"You suffered a severe head injury, Avatar."
"I don't care about that right now, where's Appa?!"
The panic in his voice came out harsher than intended.
"He was bleeding, I saw him get hurt—"
"The sky bison survived."
The reassurance arrived swiftly, making him halt mid-sentence.
Aang stared at the older physician for half a second.
"He's alive?"
"Yes."
Relief struck him so hard his shoulders nearly sagged beneath it.
His hand rose shakily toward his forehead to steady himself, to ground his thoughts, but instead of meeting only feverish skin and sweat, his fingers caught within unfamiliar strands of hair.
The texture startled him immediately, damp and overgrown enough that he could notice how dense it was.
His brows furrowed faintly as his hand dragged lower, fingertips brushing across rough stubble scattered unevenly along his jaw and chin.
Aang froze.
Spirits.
Just how long had he been lying here?
Before he could question it, however, another figure entered the room.
The physicians stepped aside almost immediately.
Strangely, Aang recognized the man vaguely.
But it wasn't from memory exactly, but they came in hazy fragments of the past few days drifting through his fevered mind.
He looked a lot older than him, dressed in refined Earth Kingdom robes dark enough to border solemnity, his composure carrying the unmistakable restraint that he observed in Zuko.
"My name is Shuren," the man introduced calmly.
"I am pleased to see you awake at last, Avatar Aang."
Aang blinked at him, not understanding what to respond when the man had covered his side of the introduction as well. So, he simply asked the question that had been interrupted on his entrance.
"How long was I out?"
"A little over two weeks."
Silence followed immediately afterward. Aang genuinely thought he had misheard him.
"What?"
"You suffered a concussion during the fall," Shuren explained patiently while one of the physicians resumed adjusting the cloth upon Aang's forehead.
"The fever developed shortly afterward. Though you remained unconscious for most of that time, there were periods during the last several days where you briefly woke, spoke very little, and fell unconscious once more."
Aang barely processed half the explanation.
"Two weeks?" he repeated again, horrified now. "Appa's been hurt for two weeks?!"
"The sky bison? The wound to his leg was severe," Shuren admitted. "However, treatment was administered immediately upon your arrival."
Aang shut his eyes briefly at that, a shaky breath escaping him.
The guilt returned instantly, having been so helpless during the storm, he felt like that boy once again.
"I need to see him."
"You require rest first."
"No, I really don't," Aang answered quickly. "I'm fine now, I just need to see him—"
"You are not fine."
The statement interrupted him gently, though firmly enough that even he settled down.
Shuren approached closer, not in an intimidating manner, yet arguing against him felt strangely childish despite Aang's urgency.
"Your fever has only recently lowered," he continued. "And my physicians have informed me your head injury appears to be healing properly, which proves true now that you have finally remained conscious for longer than several minutes."
Then after a brief pause, he added, "You will be of little help to your companion should you collapse beside him."
Aang hated how reasonable that sounded. Still, the panic refused settling entirely.
"How is he?" he asked quietly this time.
Shuren's expression softened faintly.
"My daughter has personally overseen much of your sky bison's care in your absence. His condition remains stable, though recovery will require time."
That eased something inside Aang, and although something dropped in his gut at the thought of not seeing Appa, he chose to trust this man.
"Thank you, really." he said quietly, sincerity settling easily into the words despite his exhaustion.
Aang slowly settled back against the pillows, when another thought struck him suddenly.
His head lifted again despite the ache pulsing violently behind his eyes.
"Wait," he said quickly. "Where's Momo?"
A brief silence followed and Shuren regarded him with faint confusion before answering,
"We did not discover another person alongside you, Avatar."
"No, no— not a person," Aang corrected quickly despite the throbbing pain worsening across his skull.
"He's a lemur. Small, white fur, wings— well, not actual wings, but kind of—" He cut himself off abruptly as another jolt of pain travelled across his head.
"You...really didn't find him?"
Regret briefly crossed one of the physicians' expressions before Shuren answered instead.
"I apologize, Avatar Aang, but when my men arrived at the site, only you and your sky bison were found within the clearing."
The relief Aang had felt moments ago tightened painfully all over again.
Momo was clever and fast.
He had escaped dangerous situations before without difficulty.
Yet none of those reassurances truly settled against the image trapped inside Aang's mind; rain swallowing the skies whole while Appa fell screaming beneath the storm.
His chest tightened.
"He's...probably alright," Aang murmured quietly after a moment, though the words sounded more like something he was forcing himself to believe.
"Momo...always finds...his way back somehow." His words slurred now, no longer able to resist the throbbing pain around his head.
"We shall continue searching the surrounding forests," Shuren assured him calmly.
"For now, however, you must prioritize your recovery."
This time, Aang lacked the strength to argue.
The exhaustion had begun settling far heavier into his body now that the panic had ebbed. His thoughts felt sluggish beneath the throbbing pain while even remaining upright had started requiring effort.
Slowly, he sank deeper against the bedding.
"Can I see Appa...when I wake up?" he asked quietly, the sentence slurring faintly toward the end beneath his fatigue.
"Yes," Shuren answered. "Once you are capable of standing without collapsing, I shall personally ensure it."
That earned the faintest trace of relief from Aang before the exhaustion finally overtook him fully.
The room blurred gradually around him while the physicians stepped closer once more, their voices growing distant, the heaviness dragging him back toward unconsciousness.
"My lord, he truly should not be exerting himself so greatly," one of the physicians murmured quietly nearby.
"I agree," Shuren replied evenly. "Inform me immediately once he wakes again, and ensure proper meals are prepared for him this time."
Aang barely heard the rest.
The following days passed slowly, though far kinder than the first.
The fever eventually faded completely, leaving behind only lingering exhaustion and the dull ache still resting at the corner of Aang's forehead whenever he moved too quickly.
The physicians remained irritatingly strict throughout his recovery, refusing to allow him beyond the manor halls until he could stand and walk without nearly collapsing back onto the floor afterward.
Aang hated every second of it.
He had never been particularly gifted at remaining still.
Especially not while Appa remained injured somewhere beyond his reach.
By the fifth morning, however, the world had finally stopped tilting every time he stood upright, and that alone became enough for him to immediately begin demanding permission to see Appa properly.
The proper bath he had finally been allowed the this morning, along with the freshly shaved stubble and newly shorn hair had returned enough familiarity to his reflection that he almost felt like himself again.
One of the servants eventually guided him toward a quieter section of the manor where Advisor Shuren had apparently been handling his morning affairs. Aang found the older man seated within an open pavilion overlooking the estate gardens, steam rising faintly from the untouched tea resting beside him.
The rainstorms had long since passed.
Sunlight stretched warmly across the stone pathways and flowering trees surrounding the estate, the entire manor looking far calmer than the chaos Aang remembered waking into days earlier.
Shuren rose politely once Aang approached.
"It is good to see you walking properly, Avatar Aang. You have regained the color of your skin."
"I'm just glad my head finally stopped trying to split itself open." Aang admitted honestly, rubbing lightly at the corner of his forehead before getting straight to the point.
"Can I see Appa now?"
A faint trace of amusement crossed Shuren's features at the lack of formalities.
"I had assumed that would be your first request."
"How is he? Really." Aang asked quickly afterward.
Shuren motioned for him to walk alongside him through the gardens as he answered.
"The wound was severe," Shuren admitted.
"Had my men arrived any later, I do not believe your companion would have survived the blood loss." He paused briefly before continuing.
"The injury to his leg will prevent him from flying for some time. However, you may trust my physicians to oversee both his healing and rehabilitation with utmost care."
Then, more quietly, he added, "My daughter has also overseen much of his care herself these past weeks."
Relief visibly softened something within Aang at hearing all of Shuren's explanation.
"He's really okay?"
"He is recovering well."
Aang smiled then, genuine enough that exhaustion momentarily disappeared from him.
"I seriously don't know how I'll ever repay you for all this."
Shuren merely smiled faintly in return.
"It is an honor to aid the Avatar," he answered calmly. "For all you have done for this world, consider any debt already repaid."
That only made Aang feel guiltier somehow.
Still, he nodded gratefully before beginning to step away, taking a guess at where Appa had been kept.
"Although..."
Shuren's voice halted him midway.
Aang glanced back immediately.
"Yes?"
The older man turned to face him, folding his hands neatly behind his back before continuing with complete composure.
"If you truly wish to repay your dues, then there is one matter I would ask of you."
"Oh, sure," Aang answered easily. "What is it?"
"I implore you to take the hand of my daughter."
Pure silence followed his words as The Avatar stared at him.
Aang blinked once.
Then twice.
"Your daughter's hand..." he repeated slowly. "You mean...marry her?"
"Yes."
Shuren sounded perfectly calm saying it too, which made the conversation even stranger.
"I understand you have yet to meet her, though I assure you she is a lovely young woman." He continued smoothly.
Aang genuinely did not know how to respond.
His brain seemed to stall somewhere between confusion and panic while every instinct inside him screamed at him not to accidentally offend the man who had just saved both him and Appa.
"Oh."
Brilliant response.
"I'm...really not looking to get married," he admitted carefully.
To his surprise, Shuren simply chuckled softly at that.
"It is quite alright. I merely assumed that, given your age, you might already be considering a wife. It seems I was mistaken."
Given his age?
Aang nearly frowned.
He had barely entered his twenties.
As much as he wanted to point that out, however, something told him arguing about age expectations with what Aang was assuming was Earth Kingdom royalty probably would not improve the conversation.
Instead, he settled for awkward politeness.
"Uh...sorry?"
Shuren only smiled again, entirely unbothered.
"My daughter should presently be within her boudoir," he said instead. "She shall guide you to your sky bison personally. My ushers will gladly escort you there."
Aang nodded quickly, perhaps a little too relieved for the conversation to be ending.
"Right. Thanks."
And with that, he followed after the waiting ushers while trying very hard not to think about the fact that he had just been offered a political marriage before even properly getting out of bed.
Morning still clung stubbornly to you despite the late hour.
You lounged lazily against the curved seat resting within your boudoir, the shape of the chair supporting your back so comfortably that it only threatened to lull you back toward sleep.
Though you had already bathed earlier, the warm water had done little to erase the lingering drowsiness weighing behind your eyes.
So instead, you remained seated within your dressing chamber still clad in your pale inner robes while your maids busied themselves around you.
Soft conversation drifted easily throughout the room alongside the faint scent of jasmine tea steeping nearby. One of the girls carefully poured fresh tea into your cup before placing the kettle back upon the low table situated in front of your lounge chair.
"My lady, you truly should be dressed by now."
"It is nearly noon," another added immediately afterward. "Lord Shuren will certainly scold us all if he discovers you still lingering here half asleep."
"Yes, and you must stop remaining outside your chambers so late into the evenings." Meilin continued while folding silks nearby.
"Your sleep has been dreadful all week because of it."
The scolding continued softly around you, though none of it carried genuine irritation. They were all young women, only slightly older than yourself, yet close enough to feel more familiar than servants within the privacy of your chambers.
You accepted the tea with a quiet word of thanks before sinking further into the chair, taking a slow sip while warmth spread pleasantly through your hands.
"My lady, are you listening to us at all?" Lian pressed knowingly.
"Yes." you answered easily. "But the dear sky bison has been such lovely company these past several evenings. I find myself rather enjoying our time together."
"It is quite adorable," Nari agreed immediately.
"It truly." you sighed softly. "Poor thing. To suffer such a terrible injury..."
A faint smile touched Suyin's face from where she sorted through your jewelry nearby.
"It seems you have grown rather attached to him."
"I have." You admitted without shame before a teasing smirk curved faintly along your mouth.
"Do you suppose the boy would allow me to keep him if I asked politely?"
The reaction around the room was immediate.
"That is the Avatar you speak of!" Meilin exclaimed. "And did you truly just refer to him as a boy? He is older than all of us."
You blinked.
"He is?" Genuine surprise crossed your face. "He looked terribly young when I caught a glimpse of him."
"Well," Nari began carefully, "he is technically over one hundred years old."
"What?"
All four girls stared at you with varying degrees of disbelief.
"My lady..." Lian sighed patiently. "The Avatar disappeared one hundred years ago and remained frozen until 10 years ago. Surely you remember this."
"Oh."
You paused briefly, genuinely attempting to recall the details.
"Right. I completely forgot that part occurred before he ended the war." You murmured.
Suyin looked horrified.
"You are astonishingly ignorant regarding history."
"Enough with the scolding already." You complained while lifting your cup once more. "Allow me to enjoy my tea in peace."
While laughter and quiet complaints continued within the room, elsewhere in the manor Aang followed silently behind the two ushers guiding him through the estate halls.
The place was enormous.
Even after spending time within the Fire Nation palace during the war, Aang still found himself impressed by the sheer scale of the manor surrounding him.
At some point, a realization suddenly struck him.
He actually had no idea who these people were.
Were they nobility?
Royalty?
Rich tea enthusiasts with very concerningly large homes?
Before he could properly settle on an answer, the ushers finally stopped outside a pair of tall wooden doors.
Then, to Aang's utter confusion, both men simply gestured toward the entrance before immediately turning to leave.
Aang stared after them.
"...Wait, what?"
Neither answered.
They simply continued walking away down the corridor while leaving him entirely alone outside the room.
For several awkward seconds, Aang stood there unsure what exactly he was supposed to do now.
Finally, he knocked.
Inside the dressing chamber, both you and your maids lifted your attention toward the doors instinctively, waiting for the usual announcement to follow.
None came.
One of the girls frowned faintly.
"Shall I see who it is, my lady?"
Before she could step away from behind your chair, however, you lazily raised your hand to stop her.
"Leave it," you answered simply before taking another slow sip of tea. "Had it been important, they would have announced themselves properly."
"Perhaps it is the Avatar himself," Nari suggested suddenly, her voice brightening at the thought. "Maybe he has come to thank my lady for caring for his sky bison."
Meilin nearly lit up beside her.
"He is rather handsome, do you not think?"
Suyin let out a quiet sound of agreement while Lian remained composed near the vanity, still patiently waiting for you to finish your tea so she could finally begin dressing you properly.
"Yes!" Nari whispered excitedly. "Even the lack of hair somehow does not take away from his—"
The chamber doors suddenly swung open.
The youngest maid nearly choked on her own words.
Aang stepped inside with complete innocence, entirely unaware he had just committed several forms of social violence.
In his defense, no one had answered.
To Aang, that simply meant perhaps they had not heard the knocking.
And considering he had already spent the past week trapped in bed worrying himself sick over Appa, patience had not exactly remained his strongest quality this morning.
The moment he entered, silence consumed the room instantly.
Nari went pale.
All four maids immediately lowered themselves into respectful bows at the sight of the Avatar standing within the doorway.
You, however, remained perfectly seated.
Only shock crossed your features at first, though offense overtook it quickly enough afterward.
"Oh— hey," Aang began awkwardly, suddenly far less confident beneath the atmosphere awaiting him inside.
"Are you Shuren's...daughter...?"
The sentence weakened noticeably toward the end once he properly registered the expression staring back at him.
Slowly, you lowered your teacup onto the table beside you.
"How dare you enter a lady's chambers so abruptly?"
Aang blinked.
"Oh! Sorry! It's just— your father told me to come find you."
A quiet breath escaped you then, one carrying such profound disbelief that Aang instinctively straightened once he heard it.
You leaned further back against the lounge chair afterward, studying him openly without attempting to hide your displeasure.
"This is a dressing chamber." You informed him calmly. "Have you no shame barging inside so rudely?"
"My lady," Lian interrupted carefully before Aang could answer, "you must not address him so harshly. He remains both the Avatar and a guest recovering within this manor."
You ignored her entirely.
Meanwhile, Aang looked genuinely lost now.
"I knocked," he defended weakly. "But nobody answered."
"Because you were denied an audience."
The statement came smoothly from your lips while you continued holding his stare without the slightest hint of intimidation.
"No one enters or leaves this room without my permission."
Aang opened his mouth.
Then closed it again.
"Oh, I'm really sorry." He murmured awkwardly.
And honestly, he sounded sincere enough that the younger maids nearly pitied him.
Slowly, he stepped backward toward the doorway, clearly intending to remove himself from whatever noble disaster he had apparently wandered into.
Then your voice stopped him again.
"Did you not hear me?"
Aang paused immediately.
"What?"
You tilted your chin upward slightly against the cushions supporting you, composure returning fully now that his panic had become visible.
"I said," you repeated calmly, "no one enters or leaves without my permission."
There was something deeply imperious in the way you said it.
It wasn't cruel.
You were merely accustomed to obedience.
Aang genuinely did not know what the correct response to that was supposed to be.
"...Okay?"
"Come closer."
The command arrived softly yet it somehow sounded even more authoritative.
Aang hesitated for half a second before awkwardly obeying anyway, carefully approaching further into the room while the maids silently watched the entire exchange unfold with barely concealed horror.
You studied him for another brief moment before finally leaning forward from your chair, reaching for the kettle still resting atop the low table beside you.
With calm precision, you flipped one of the untouched cups upright before pouring fresh tea into it, steam curling softly between you both.
"My apologies," you started smoothly while setting the kettle aside once more. "As you can see, I am not appropriately dressed to receive company. Your abrupt entrance startled me somewhat."
Only then did Aang properly register your attire.
His eyes widened slightly before darting elsewhere almost immediately.
"Oh— sorry," he muttered quickly. "I can come back later."
"No, please. It is quite alright." you answered at once, rising gracefully from your seat before he could retreat again.
The thin inner robes shifted softly around you while you approached him, teacup balanced carefully atop its accompanying saucer. You stopped only a short distance away before lifting the offering toward him.
"Tea?" You asked gently, the first genuine smile of the morning finally touching your features.
The sudden warmth in your demeanor caught Aang entirely off guard.
"Oh. Uh...thanks."
He accepted the cup carefully, though he still seemed incapable of properly looking at you now that he had realized what sort of room he had barged into.
Once the tea had left your hands, you stepped back politely before joining your hands, one palm covering your fist as you inclined your head in a small formal bow.
"Avatar Aang, It is an honor." You greeted properly this time.
Aang awkwardly nodded in return, inclining his head as well, still clutching both cup and saucer oddly close to himself.
"Did my father truly send for you?"
"Yes, I needed to talk to you about something." He answered quickly.
The way he held the teacup near his face almost resembled someone using a shield, and you almost chuckled once you realized he was using it to cover your attire from his line of sight.
"I see."
Then, without hesitation, you turned toward your maids.
"Leave us."
You waited for a moment but none of them moved.
Slowly, you looked back toward them instead, finding the three younger girls visibly unsettled while Lian alone remained composed beneath your attention.
"We shall not leave, my lady," she answered respectfully. "You remain improperly dressed at present. It would be inappropriate for you to receive a man alone under such circumstances."
Then after the briefest pause, she added carefully, "We shall remain present to avoid any future misunderstandings."
At that, your attention briefly lowered toward your attire once more before a quiet sigh escaped you.
"Suit yourselves."
Aang, meanwhile, looked increasingly uncertain regarding every possible aspect of this interaction.
The irritation faded from your features quickly enough, replaced once more by practiced hospitality.
"Come," You said lightly while reaching for the sleeve of his robes. "Have a seat."
Aang nearly startled at the sudden contact before allowing himself to be guided toward the lounge chair you had occupied earlier.
"Please do not mind me." You continued while moving toward the far side of the room where an embroidered partition stood waiting near the vanity.
"Come, ladies."
The maids immediately followed after you.
Aang watched them disappear behind the screen before hurriedly looking away again the moment he noticed the pale inner robes you had been wearing moments earlier slipping carelessly to the floor beside the partition.
Spirits.
What kind of conversation was this becoming?
He could hear the 'strict maid' (as he titled her in his mind) softly scolding you for so underdressed before company, though her reprimands only earned a quiet fit of laughter from you as you insisted he looked far too flustered to dare glance your way regardless, and that he would sooner pluck his own eyes out than look your way.
His eye twitched faintly at the exchange, irritation prickling through him at the feeling that you were making light of his presence, though he forced himself not to form a complete opinion of you from this interaction alone, especially after hearing repeatedly from Shuren that you had been taking care of Appa.
Almost as if you had heard his mind—
"Have you come seeking your sky bison?"
Your voice drifted toward him from behind the partition while soft rustling sounds filled the room afterward, silks shifting gently while the maids began dressing you properly.
Immediately, Aang remembered why he had come here in the first place.
"Oh— yeah," he answered quickly. "Can I please see him? I just...need to make sure he's really okay."
despite not seeing his face, you could feel the worry radiating off him from his voice alone.
"Yes, of course." You answered gently enough that even hidden behind the partition, Aang could hear the smile threading through your words.
"That adorable creature has been terribly eager to see you again as well."
Aang lowered his eyes toward the tea in his hands.
"I have too." He admitted softly.
The next several minutes passed in relative silence while your maids continued dressing you.
Meanwhile, Aang sat awkwardly upon the edge of the lounge chair quietly sipping tea while attempting very hard not to think about where he was looking, where he was sitting, or why every noble person he had met within this manor spoke as though they belonged inside ancient scrolls.
Honestly, he missed Sokka.
At least Sokka would have known how to survive whatever this was.
Eventually, movement stirred once more from behind the partition before you finally stepped back into view.
And suddenly Aang understood why he had mistaken this manor for royalty.
The silks draped elegantly around you spoke immediately of status, from the careful embroidery woven through the fabric to the jade ornaments resting lightly against your wrists and hair. Even without introduction, royalty clung naturally to you.
"Come, I shall take you to him." You said simply.
You moved immediately toward the doors, clearly expecting him to follow.
"Your hair, my lady!" Lian called after you in alarm.
"I shall return later to have it arranged properly." You answered without slowing once.
And despite still not fully understanding what had just happened during the last ten or so minutes, Aang found himself following after you anyway.
The manor halls stretched quietly around you while servants moved carefully out of your path the moment they noticed your approach.
Aang followed only half a pace behind, still holding the empty teacup one of the maids had apparently forgotten to retrieve from him.
For a while, the silence remained comfortable enough.
Then Aang finally spoke.
"Um...I'm really sorry for disturbing you earlier," he admitted awkwardly while keeping pace beside you. "I probably should've asked your father to send somebody else instead."
"It is quite alright," you answered smoothly without slowing your steps.
"Your sky bison remains under careful protection. At present, only authorized physicians, my father, and myself possess permission to enter his recovery chambers."
Relief visibly softened something within him at hearing that.
"Oh. Thank goodness."
"Since my father remains occupied with court matters most days, he simply requested that I receive you in his stead." You continued.
Aang rubbed lightly at the back of his neck.
"I don't think he realized you were...busy."
A faint breath escaped you then, suspiciously close to amusement.
"No, I believe he understood perfectly well." You corrected calmly.
That finally confused him enough to pull his full attention away from thoughts of Appa.
"Then why would he—"
You stopped walking abruptly.
Aang nearly walked directly into you before awkwardly catching himself a step behind.
Slowly, you turned toward him.
"Did...my father ask you to marry me?"
The question struck him with such force that his eyes widened immediately.
"...Uhh...Yeah."
There truly was no graceful response to that conversation, apparently.
"But I'm really not looking to marry anyone," he added quickly afterward, the words rushing from him with enough panic that it almost sounded like he feared offending you personally.
To his surprise, your expression shifted faintly at that answer.
You seemed annoyed.
"You should have simply informed him you were already betrothed." You murmured.
Aang blinked.
Well.
That would have worked.
Except it also would have been a lie.
"...I guess."
Only then do you notice him still holding the teacup, pulling your brows in confusion as you took it from him, and passed it off to a passing maid.
You exhaled softly before continuing down the corridor once more.
"In his mind, you have not truly rejected the proposal." You explained while Aang hurried to catch up beside you again. "Which means he shall continue attempting to persuade you otherwise."
"What? But he didn't even seem upset." Aang stared openly now.
"Of course not." You sounded almost offended he expected otherwise.
"My father would never openly display disappointment during negotiation. That is precisely why he sent you to my chambers instead."
Realization slowly dawned across Aang's face.
"...Oh."
"He likely assumed your opinion would change after seeing me."
The bluntness of the statement nearly made Aang choke on absolutely nothing.
You merely rolled your eyes lightly.
"My father has always possessed a deeply opportunistic nature. Frankly, I had already expected this conversation on your arrival to our estate."
After a pause, you quietly added—
"I suppose such instincts become necessary for men in positions such as his."
Aang remained thoughtful while you resumed leading him through the estate halls.
"Wait," he said suddenly. "Positions such as his...?"
You glanced toward him.
"Are you... royalty?"
You stopped again.
This time genuine disbelief crossed your expression.
"Spirits, no." You looked at him almost incredulously.
"Do you truly not know where you are, Avatar Aang? Did my father not inform you?"
Aang awkwardly shook his head.
Honestly, between Appa, the concussion, the fever, and the marriage proposal, geographical orientation had not exactly remained his priority recently.
Without another word, you motioned for him to follow before approaching one of the enormous open archways lining the corridor. Sunlight spilled warmly through the opening while the kingdom beyond stretched beautifully across the mountainside below.
Then you pointed toward the massive palace overlooking the city in the distance.
Even from here, its scale remained unmistakable.
"That is the Royal Palace of Hujiang." You informed him.
Aang stared openly, eyes subtly lighting up.
Huge was honestly an understatement.
"That is where you would have been received under ordinary circumstances," you continued.
"However, His Majesty's health has not been favorable these past months. Therefore, Prince Jinhai entrusted your care to my father instead."
"Ohhh." Aang murmured slowly, finally beginning to piece things together.
"So your father—"
"Is the Royal Advisor."
"And you're...a noble?"
"Precisely."
You inclined your head once, looking back at him.
"I am also betrothed to the Crown Prince."
That earned his attention fully, turning his head to look at you instead of the Palace.
"...Seriously?"
You looked back toward the distant palace briefly.
"That shall become my residence eventually, once the marriage is finalized." You said softly.
Aang stared at you for another moment before a smile suddenly broke across his face.
"So you're gonna be queen?"
"Queen consort," you corrected lightly.
"Well, you already kinda look like one." He admitted honestly, a soft smile gracing his face.
Something gentler touched your expression then.
"I suppose I am halfway there." You humored him, smiling back at him.
For several seconds, silence settled comfortably between you both again before Aang frowned.
"Wait a second."
You glanced toward him.
"If you're already marrying the prince...then why did your father ask me to marry you?"
The confusion sounded genuine and it nearly amused you.
"As I said before, my father is an opportunist. Should he perceive a future more advantageous for me elsewhere, he would not hesitate pursuing it." You answered patiently.
"But you'd already have an entire kingdom, that sounds way bigger than marrying an Air Nomad." Aang pointed out.
You smiled faintly at that.
"Not merely an Air Nomad, The Avatar who ended the Hundred Year War." You corrected softly.
You waited a moment before you continued, hesitating from speaking the truth.
"I imagine he finds greater prestige within that title."
Aang frowned thoughtfully at the floor beneath him for several seconds.
That honestly felt...strange.
Uncomfortable too.
You noticed immediately.
"Do not trouble yourself over it excessively." You said before turning away from the archway once more.
"Come. Your sky bison has been waiting quite patiently for you."
By the time you both reached the recovery chambers, the guards stationed outside immediately straightened at your approach before pushing open the enormous wooden doors without question.
Warm air carrying the scent of herbs drifted outward at once.
The room itself had clearly once served another purpose entirely before being converted into temporary medical quarters large enough to accommodate a sky bison. Thick mattresses had been layered together across most of the floor for comfort while clean sheets, medicine trays, and water basins lined the surrounding walls.
And at the center of it all rested Appa.
The massive creature lay carefully across the bedding with his injured leg wrapped thoroughly in fresh bandages, layers upon layers of pale cloth securing the wound beneath.
The moment Aang saw him, everything else disappeared.
"Appa!"
He rushed forward immediately before anyone could properly react, throwing himself against the sky bison's enormous head with enough force that several attendants flinched briefly nearby.
Appa answered at once.
A deep groan rumbled through the room while the bison nudged himself weakly against Aang despite his injuries, chuffing loudly in clear relief at finally seeing him again.
For one brief moment, Aang nearly broke apart entirely.
You noticed it.
His tears.
Quietly, you turned away, granting him the dignity of pretending not to have seen it.
While Aang remained occupied with Appa, you approached the caretakers gathered nearby and began quietly questioning them regarding his condition. The physician presently overseeing Appa's treatment quickly updated you on the most recent changes while attendants continued preparing fresh medicine beside them.
A few moments later, once Aang had finally managed to compose himself somewhat, the physician carefully approached him instead.
"Avatar Aang, If I may speak with you regarding your companion's recovery." The older man greeted respectfully.
Aang reluctantly loosened his hold on Appa, stepping away from him to converse with the physician.
Meanwhile, you drifted closer toward Appa yourself.
The sky bison immediately lowered his head toward you the moment you approached, large brown eyes brightening in recognition.
A faint smile touched your face.
"So your name is Appa." You murmured while gently patting the fur along his head.
"You truly are adorable."
Appa answered with another pleased chuff before nudging himself against your hand hard enough to wrinkle your long sleeves.
A soft laugh escaped you.
"And there it is again, that dreadful noise you make whenever someone pets you." You said lightly
Appa groaned louder in response and you laughed quietly this time.
"There now. You are terribly spoiled already." You soothed while continuing to stroke his fur.
Several feet away, Aang found himself distracted despite the physician actively explaining Appa's condition beside him.
From what it appeared, Appa had already decided he adored you.
"It will require at least three months before he may safely place proper weight upon the leg. Flying afterward shall depend entirely upon how well the muscles recover during rehabilitation." The physician continued carefully.
That finally pulled Aang's attention back properly.
"...Three months." He repeated with concern.
"I am afraid so."
Aang nodded slowly.
"I understand."
Once the explanation had concluded, he immediately returned toward Appa again, though this time his attention lingered upon you as well.
"Your father informed me you've been helping take care of him. Thank you for that." He said sincerely, hand moving against Appa's fur.
You glanced toward him before shaking your head lightly.
"My father exaggerates greatly, I simply come here each evening and do this."
Your hand resumed stroking Appa's head again in demonstration.
Almost immediately, Appa let out another delighted groan while pressing closer into your touch.
Aang stared openly as you only smiled at the bison.
"And then he makes that ridiculous sound," You continued with clear amusement threading through your voice.
"And then I leave."
Aang could not help smiling slightly at that.
"He really likes you."
"So it would seem."
"Seriously," he added more quietly, sincerity fully evident now.
"Thank you for keeping him company while I couldn't."
"There is no need to thank me so deeply." You replied softly before finally stepping away from Appa's side.
For a brief moment, you disappeared behind the enormous stretch of the sky bison's body entirely before returning once more with something carefully balanced within your hands.
The moment Aang recognized it, his entire expression changed.
"My staff!"
You held it out toward him gently.
"It appears this object offered Appa far greater comfort than I ever could." You admitted.
"He became noticeably calmer whenever it was placed near him."
Aang accepted the staff immediately, fingers tightening around the familiar wood with visible relief.
"Oh, Appa..." He murmured before leaning forward once more to wrap his arms around the sky bison's head again.
Appa answered with another low rumble while nudging closer into both Aang and the glider together.
For several moments, you simply allowed the reunion to continue uninterrupted. Eventually, however, practicality returned to the conversation.
"So..." you began calmly, "what do you intend to do now, Avatar Aang?"
He looked toward you.
"You may trust us to continue caring for Appa properly. You are free to visit him whenever you wish, and once he has fully recovered, you may depart together." You explained.
Aang blinked.
"Leave Appa here?"
"Yes." You inclined your head lightly.
"Though personally, I believe you still require additional rest yourself. However, once your strength has returned fully, I imagine your duties elsewhere shall demand your attention again."
At that, something dimmed faintly within him.
"Right. Yeah... I'll probably have to leave eventually..." He answered quieter this time.
Then suddenly, his expression shifted again.
"Momo!"
The name burst from him so abruptly that even Appa let out a startled noise.
Aang immediately turned back toward the sky bison.
"Appa, do you know where Momo went?"
Appa huffed softly in response, sounding almost apologetic.
Your brows furrowed slightly.
"I apologize," you interrupted gently. "Momo is...?"
"He's a lemur. My other companion. He was with us during the storm, but nobody's seen him since." Aang explained quickly
Understanding settled across your features then.
"Right. The lemur. I did hear my father sent out a search for it, but it proved to be fruitless. Although, I believe he likely remains somewhere within the forests surrounding the crash site."
"Oh...they didn't find him..." Aang repeated, worry heavy within his voice.
"Momo's tough, but..." He glanced downward briefly while gripping the staff tighter within his hands.
"I can't just leave without knowing he is safe."
The room quieted save for the distant shifting of attendants continuing their work nearby.
You studied him silently for a moment.
For all the titles attached to him, for all the stories surrounding the Avatar, he looked painfully young standing there worrying over two injured companions with absolute solemnity written across his face.
Then, before truly thinking much of it, you spoke.
"I would be more than happy to assist you in searching for him."
chapter eight coming soon...
a/n: i think this might be my favorite chapter after chapter 4 (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡
also, i’ve noticed some of you have figured out that i only reply to comments on the day i post a new chapter and it makes me laugh every time someone catches on!
BUT YES, there is a reason for it. i wait until posting day so i can reply to everyone at once and not accidentally miss people asking to be added to the taglist.
[taglist open] (please mention under the latest chapter or the story masterlist)
SUMMARY: After the hundred year war ended thanks to the lot of you, you travelled around the world in search of something else. But all roads lead back to zuko.
Warnings: MINOR SPOILERS. reader acknowledging how hot everyone is. Pining. Kinda feral zuko. Zuko being hot. Sokka is the bestest boy. Lowkey aang daddy, oop😲 mentions of violence. Reader is described as scarred. Sokka calls reader princess. Zuko calls reader ember. Slightly suggestive. I have no idea why but I forgot to put toph in this😭
---
After years of travelling on your own, there isnt much that bothers you anymore. You'd been beaten, strangled, kidnapped, poisoned by foreign plants...yet you were still walking.
Your boots crunched on the gravel roads as you walked with your head high to the sky, not paying attention in the slightest. Republic city was a lot more modest than Aang had described it. He mentioned grand spires and lavish castles.
You now saw clearly that it was his ploy to get you here.
The sun beams down on the vast green landscape and as you enter the city, you suddenly feel your heart slow to a relaxed pace. The city is busy, bustling with vendors, children, warriors and elderly. A group of young water benders play together by the blacksmith, and ahead of you is a teen fire bender trying to melt a rock with deep focus.
He reminded you of Zuko.
You suddenly wondered if he was here. And if he was, would he even recognize you? Your hair was longer now, when he knew you it was short. Shorter than his even. And you were heavily scarred from years of fighting.
What if he found you ugly?
All your thoughts fell away as you realised sokka was sprinting your way. You barely had time to react before the tanned male lifted you into a rib snapping hug.
"HECK YEAH!" he exclaimed.
You choke out a laugh. "G-good, to see you t-too"
You stuttered as sokka hugged you inhumanly tighter before putting you down. "Damn, it is so good to see you, princess"
You smile wide. Sokka is unbelievably handsome now. He was back then, but now...you had to admit you were going to be deeply shocked if you found out he was single.
"How have you been?" You ask him as the two of you begin to walk.
"Been in with the Southern water tribes mostly. Doing mentoring and teaching" he says in a tone that definitely indicates hes showing off.
Same old sokka.
"That sounds wonderful sokka" you reply genuinely.
The air grows thick as you encroach the front steps of Aang and Katara's home. Its cozy and much what you'd expected from them.
"Say...is zuko here?" You ask as you turn to face sokka.
He scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah. But he's asleep for now so"
You nod and run a hand down your face.
"Spirits help me" an exasperated groan leaves your lips.
And is short-lived as a crushing pair of arms attacks you into a hug. Based on the lack of hair in your face, you dont find it hard to know your currently being crushed to death by the avatar himself.
"Hi aang" you croak.
Aang sets you down and beams an excited smile. Beside him, katara appears and the two of you share a giggly hug before pulling off each other.
"Were so glad you could make it"
So are you.
Because what the hell have they been feeding to the people here? First sokka, now aang and katara? Your friends had always been rather good looking, but heavens on earth you were struggling to listen to anything anyone said.
"Come inside, dinners almost ready" katara smiles.
---☆
After washing up everyone's plates and telling stories about your travels, Aang and you head upstairs so he can show you your room, where you'll be sleeping for a few days while he needs you. Its a small but comfortable room with a pattered blanket and a nice set of wooden drawers and a few minor decorations here and there that were shades of bright blue and a burnt orange.
"Its lovely" you say as you put your bag on the bed.
"You wanna see him dont you?" Aang asks, jumping straight to the point.
He leans on the doorway with folded arms over his muscular chest. His arrow tattoos curved with his strong forearms. His face is soft with the expression of someone who knows exactly when hes right.
And hes absolutely right.
You nod and aang gestures with two fingers for you to follow him. He leads you back downstairs and into a narrow hallway down to a slightly ajar door. Inside, as peek in, you see him. He's fast asleep. Tired beyond all doubt. He bares a loose tunic of Aang's and a pair of dark trousers. His feet left bare.
He looks so beautiful and so mature. So different with long hair. But hell did it suit him. His lips are slightly parted, enough that you could hear his shallow breaths.
"Oh zuko"
You can see aang grinning like a proud father in the corner of your eyes. You make a silly face at him. "Don't make fun of me mister avatar, remember your not immune to tickling"
Aang immediately straightens up and clears his throat. "You want me to wake him up?"
"He looks so peaceful, I would hate for anything to-"
"WAKE UP FIRE BRO!"
Then, with a long red ribbon flying through his hands, barges in sokka. The water tribe man dances and flounces around the room like a madman before he ultimately trips...
On zuko's outstretched leg.
The fire lord wakes up an irritated groan. "Sokka, it is 9am, for the love of-"
Zuko's burnished gold eyes click onto yours. Instantly the whole world fades and its like the entire planet fades from existence and its just your and him. On an entirely different plane of existence where everything is peaceful and its the two of you under a weeping tree watching the autumn sunset on the walls of the fire nation.
Except your both thirteen years old and would burn the world down for one another.
"Zuko..."
"Ember!"
You still get chills after so many years, hearing his husky voice say your nickname.
"Sokka, out, now" Aang calls out.
"Aww but-"
"Now, or I'll put you on bin duty"
Sokka is like a moth to a flame as he almost teleports out the door and to aang, who winks at you and zuko before closing the door behind him.
"Come sit" zuko says as he scoots over.
You obey his command, firstly sitting but then the two of you just fall onto your backs, lying on the soft blanketed mattress. Zuko's fingers find yours in a pathetic amount of time.
"How uh...how are you?" He mutters.
"I've, ive uh-"
Zuko laughs and you cant help but be embarrassed. "I guess were both a little nervous huh?"
It gave you whiplash being around Zuko, because he looked the way he did, but acted completely different. Like a demon with the personality of a small mouse. Zuko rolled onto his side and leant on his arm.
"How's ruling the fire nation going?"
Zuko smiles. "Its, definitely hard. But I wouldn't give it up for anything"
"Not even me?" You feign a pout and then immediately start laughing.
But zuko isn't laughing.
"Except for you" he says blankly.
The laughs fade. "O-oh"
Hes being so dead serious, you almost feel like he's playing a trick on you. But when his large calloused hand finds your cheek, all thoughts blow away within a second. His hazy eyes glance down at your parted lips, they're slightly cracked from the months on being in different harsh environments but zuko looks at your mouth like its cherry pie.
"Zuko...I know i just got here but-"
He cuts you off with a kiss. A passionate, heart wrenching kiss that invites you to instinctively shift into his lap as he sits himself up. His rough hands are on your hips gripping within an inch of his life. Like he might fade from existence if he let's go of you even a little bit.
Your hands are tangled in his messy brown hair, the soft strands tickle you but something about it feels comforting.
"Ember..." he mumbles against your mouth. "Did you find sanctuary with someone else on your travels?"
You freeze and pull away to look at him. "You are my sanctuary, zuko. My home and my source of happiness. Gods, I wish I never left you all those years ago"
Zuko pants down your neck as he peppers you with kisses. "After tonight, I'll be pretty certain you won't be going anywhere again"
You let out a shudder, then a squeak as zuko flips the two of you over so hes hovering above you, his arms are so big that they almost trap you.
"And what makes you so certain about that, Fire lord?" You grin.
Zuko hums as he presses his body down.
"Oh I've never been so certain of anything in my life ember"
summary: zuko agrees to an arranged marriage with the princess of the earth kingdom but their alliance comes with terms. the most tasking one: producing an heir within a year. the only problem is zuko isn't over his ex, and you hate his guts.
pairing: firelord!zuko x earthbender!reader
wc: 6.2k
angst but major fluff to make up for it, panic attack, hallucinations, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of death, abusive fathers, mention of suicide, series is not completely accurate to canon lore
queen charlotte au!! read part one , part two , part three
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀ঌ⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
firelady (name),
i trust the first weeks of your marriage have been favorable as you adjust to life in the fire nation. your brothers miss you very much, as do i. i wish i had the time to say more, but i needed this letter to reach you urgently.
your father, the king, will be visiting you soon. by the time you receive this, he would have left a day ago. i wish i could be there, but i was not allowed.
i am proud of the woman you have become.
your guardian,
ailin
you had crumbled the letter, seething with rage because it came too fucking late and your father stood in front of you in the palace's front courtyard.
he looked the same. tall, arrogant and every bit your twin which only served to further annoy you. he was dressed in his usual earth kingdom green and yellow, glasses low on his face, stupid fucking crown snug on his head. guards behind him stiff and on guard.
zuko stood beside you with a practiced calm to him, but you knew him enough to know he was just as annoyed as you were. the way his hands were folded in front of him, the too straight stance and the slight tick in his jaw.
he still hadn't forgotten the night your father squeezed your arm a little too tight and he still wanted to ring his neck. but he wasn't just your husband. he had to behave as the diplomatic firelord, but if your father tried any shit this time, zuko wasn't above reminding him that he wasn't always a reasonable person.
"king tian, it's a pleasure to see you again. though i am confused, we hadn't received word you would be visiting."
your father didn't even look at you when he spoke and maybe that was for the best, because unlike zuko, you weren't as good at hiding the emotion in your face. an unwavering glare etched in your features.
"we're family now, no need to be so formal!" he laughed, but it was false and made you feel uneasy. it was the laugh you feared as a child, the one that said he was fucking pissed and someone would answer for wronging him.
"besides, i figured I would check on my only daughter in person and see how marriage is treating her." yet he still refused to look at you.
that was bullshit, of course. you knew king tian cared for no one outside of himself and that he was here for something, or else he would have sent for you instead of coming himself.
there was nothing left to do but invite him in. it would be a nightmare if rumors spread that the earth king was denied entry into his own daughter's home. now you stood in one of the sitting rooms, feeling awkward as fuck as the last time you were alone with your father was when you were merely a princess and him, a king.
now you were firelady, a queen in your own right and you didn't know what to do now that you were on equal levels.
he walked to the window and stared at the public palace gardens as if in deep thought. he was quiet, so you stayed quiet. giving him the responsibility of starting the conversation he came here to have.
you fought the urge to bite your nails out of pure anxiety, reminding yourself that he was no longer your superior. wishing zuko didn't have important business to discuss with his council.
trying your best not to touch your belly.
"i'm only going to ask this once, firelady. is firelord zuko ill? do not lie to me."
your heart dropped. there was no way he could have known. zuko had never slipped far enough away from reality in public to raise concerns. from the outside looking in, the firelord was healthy and happily married, bringing about change to the nation.
you were going to lie, of course. zuko wasn't ill just because he was losing his sight in one eye. what the fuck was he going to do anyways? you weren't a little girl anymore.
"the firelord is well, though your concern is appreciated father. might I ask what brought this on?" you shift your balance from one foot to the other, stomach twisting in anticipation.
he was quiet again, save for a deep sigh that reeked of annoyance and disappointment. when he turned to face you, your fingers twitched at your side, ready to defend yourself if you needed to.
"why do you lie to me, child?" gone was the use of your title, his attempt at putting you in your place. in your own damned home.
"i do not lie. should i get my husband so you can ask him yourself? i'm not sure what brought this on but-"
"i heard rumors that his majesty brought his own healer to republic city. a waterbender from the northern tribe, can you believe it? i didn't think much of it at first but then a little bird told me something interesting. do you want to know what that is, (name)?"
you stayed quiet, pulse thumping hard against your neck. he continued anyways.
"i was told that at the celebration for that fraud of a city, the firelord looked distant all night and had a tremor in his hands. usually one could just blame it on nerves, but it wasn't that, was it? i seen it myself in the courtyard. he's good at hiding it but not well enough to fool me."
tears started to form in your eyes but you blinked them away. this isn't how today was supposed to go. you planned to tell zuko about the baby after dinner and then maybe have mind blowing sex, not whatever the hell this was.
you straighten and square your shoulders. "what do you want?"
"i'm simply visiting my daughter, is that so wrong? for a father to check on his child?"
you waited for him to continue, one eyebrow raised because now he wasn't being truthful. you wanted to bury him. instead, you turned to leave, bored of this game and fighting a wave of nausea that had been creeping up on you.
"oh! i'll also be staying for a few nights. what kind of father in law would i be if i didn't take matters of my son in law's health seriously? if you're being truthful then you have nothing to worry about. if not.. we'll be having a much harder conversation."
ঌ
"he knows." you told zuko later that night as you paced back and forth in your room after you both shared a bath, mind racing with unease. what would happen if the public found out? would they still accept zuko as their firelord or would others rise up to challenge him for the throne?
what would they do to you when they found you're carrying the heir of this nation? probably kill you to stop any future contesters to the throne.
zuko froze on the bed, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he thought of what to say. he looks as shocked as you felt when you spoke to your father.
"what makes you think that?"
"i don't think that. he told me while you were in a council meeting, said someone saw you in republic city and told him. he's not here for pleasantries, he came to watch you zuko."
"fuck.." zuko whispered, hands turned over on his lap as he stared at them, watching how his fingers slightly shook. this is exactly what he was worried about. people would find out one day if the treatments stopped working, but he hadn't expected your father to be the one to discover his secret first.
he didn't know the man that well, but ozai had warned him that the earth king was not to be underestimated. he was nearly as conniving as koh the face stealer, and would do anything to ensure he stays in power.
not that ozai was any better, mind you. so for a young boy to hear that from his father, it made him unable to trust you in return. which is another reason why he shut you out when you were just children.
"i'm sorry." he whispered, running both hands down his face in hopes of hiding the way his cheeks were heating in response to the spike of fear he just felt.
tian is weaker than you. kill him before he kills you, fool. ozai's voice rang against his skull, agitating zuko even further.
you finally stopped pacing, face falling when you looked to your husband. his shoulders were slumped, eyes a little dark from the increase in treatments and lack of sleep.
you felt your soul cracking as you sat next to him on the bed. when he looked to you, you noticed a single tear fall from his right eye, breaking you further. this man..
"hey." you smile and place your hand on his cheek, shivering when he turns slightly to kiss your inner wrist, golden eyes locked on yours. "what are you apologizing for?"
he closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath before looking at you again. "this is embarrassing, love. you deserve a husband that's whole, not.. not whatever my father has made me."
and you became overwhelmed with the urge to harm anyone that has ever wronged zuko. anyone that had a hand in making this perfect man feel so incredibly insecure.
"i deserve you, zuko. i want only you, you got that?" your heart skips a beat at the way he's holding your gaze. "i'm right where I want to be and we will handle my father and anyone else that thinks to question your rule. i won't leave your side, i vowed it remember?"
of course he did. you looked so nervous that day, so sheltered and so fucking beautiful in your green wedding dress. your lips set in a small pout when you thought no one noticed,
but zuko did. he always noticed you, how could he not? from the moment he kissed you after slipping that ringer on your finger, he knew he was fucked.
"i love you." he said it before he could convince himself not to. taking your hand from his face and placing it over his heart, your eyes wide as your breath picked up. zuko took the opportunity to move to his knees in front you, a sight his advisors would have a stroke over.
the firelord on his knees for a woman? it was blasphemy, it broke every tradition he'd ever been taught. zuko didn't care, staring up at you like the devout husband he would always be. utterly yours.
"i have never loved anyone the way that i love you. i would commit the most unforgivable of crimes to keep you safe and by my side. there is no me with you, love. ever since that day-"
he chokes up and you take the opportunity to reach your hand toward a loose strand of hair, pushing it from his face and tucking it behind his ear. it was your turn for your hand to shake. skin covered in goosebumps as his words knocked the wind from you.
"zuko.." you whispered, ready to stay those three words back. for him to know that this feeling was far from unrequited.
"just.. let me finish. i need you to understand how much you mean to me."
and you let him. staying quiet until he found the strength to finally speak again, his eyes never wavering as they held you hostage. he had only ever stared this long when you weren't looking, so afraid of showing how much of his heart you owned. afraid you'd realize that he was a fuck up and force an annulment.
you never did, not even after discovering his secret. he never needed to hear the word, your actions alone proved to him everyday that you felt just as he did. that he wasn't a fool and his father's lingering voice had been wrong.
"lay back. please"
and you did. your heart pounding aggressively, mind in a tizzy as zuko kissed his way up your body. starting at your feet, moving to your legs, inner thighs, skipping your aching cunt, and stopping at your lower belly where he nuzzled his nose against your gown. placing delicate kisses against your stomach like he knew his child was in there. fatherly instincts kicking in before he even realized.
you were flushed and moved to sit up before his hand gently pushed you back down,
"zuko, i have to tell you-"
"i know, love."
what?! you tried to sit up again but he pushed you back down, a child like giggle leaving his mouth. he placed a final kiss to your belly and continued moving up your body, skipping your breasts and placing a soft kiss to the pulse on your neck, your nose, eyebrows, beautiful eyes, soft cheeks..
he was going to burst with the amount of pure, raw love he had for you. hovering above you, his back to the world as he locked himself in the bubble that contained only him and you.
"you know? i don't understand." you whisper, eyes burning from incoming tears. he couldn't have known. you didn't tell him and made the physicians swear on their honor that they wouldn't say a word.
he smiled at you, soft and true. the back of his hand grazing your face as he lost himself in your eyes. you spread your legs, letting his body settle between them.
"you forget that i know you, (name). you've yet to bleed as long as you've been here. you're tired even after sleeping in, eating the oddest foods, and you throw up almost daily. i'm a man love, not an idiot. though... i guess the two aren't that far off." he laughed at his own joke, forcing a light smile from you.
"i realized some time after we returned from republic city. was just giving you the opportunity to tell me yourself."
you couldn't stop the tears then. bottom lip poking out and all, you let the worry you'd been holding in your body disappear. zuko meant it when he said he notices you. in ways no had ever before. not even your guardian. especially not your father.
zuko's heart and eyes were for you only and you didn't know what to do with that amount of love, so you pulled his face down to yours and kissed him.
his laugh of surprise was muffled against your mouth before he relaxed against you, sticking his tongue out for access. which you readily gave, his moving in sync with yours. not a fight of dominance but a dance of passion and truths finally spoken out loud.
he pulled back, leaning his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath.
"i love you too zuko, more than anything in this world." you whispered and zuko was only a man, so you couldn't blame him that the words went from settling in his heart and straight to his dick.
but as much as he wanted to fuck you into a stupor, tonight was for something else. he was going to worship the body that was now creating life. his child. the thought that you now held half of him inside of you making his head spin with a possessiveness he never felt before.
"gonna show you how much you mean to me, love. need you to feel it."
and he did. from the way he took his time removing your nightgown, hands caressing every inch of your body. to the moment he was finally pushing his cock inside of you, slow and composed, watching as your face twisted in pleasure.
he didn't move for a minute, just stared at you until you lifted your hips in an attempt to get him to move. he rested his forehead against yours, "eyes on me, love. remember?" and when he finally moved, you were dazed, legs weak and twitching against the strong arms that held them.
zuko made love to you just like that. his cock moving painfully slow, eyes never leaving yours until you clenched around him, orgasm washing over you in soft waves. and when zuko finally came with a small grunt, hot cum painting your squishy walls as he pushed every drop into you, his mind wandered.
he mostly thought about the fact that you were now carrying his child. a small piece of him and you, his hopes and dreams manifested. and that he would burn the world to keep you both safe.
ঌ
you spent the next day avoiding your father, only seeing him at the small banquet zuko held, a dinner to strengthen relations with the clans of the fire nation and keep them loyal. things had been going well. you were laughing at a joke zuko told to one of the leaders when you looked to the door of the great hall, where your father stood.
just watching, like a fucking creep. it sent chills up your spine but you decided to ignore him and his look of fury. zuko hadn't noticed and you weren't about to make him aware either. this night was important to him.
"yuki, you must tell me again about that time my uncle got so drunk that he challenged a statue to agni kai and apologized when he lost."
the large man laughed excessively. going on to explain that he was just a boy when it happened but..
you frown at zuko's tight grip on your hand under the table. his stare was becoming distant again, though he hadn't received any treatment today. your body instantly filled with panic, especially when you noticed your father was still standing there. eyes now narrowing, locked on your husband.
zuko wasn't at the banquet. instead, he was deep in a memory of one of the only times he talked to you as a child.
"why do you always have that look on your face? do i look funny or something?" you glared back at the brooding prince beside you. he was petting the ducks in the courtyard before you showed up, interrupting his peace. azula and her friends had just been there, teasing him for acting girly because he liked to give the animals attention.
they were stupid. all girls were, even the pretty ones like you.
"no, i just want to be alone." he grumbled, even more annoyed now that the baby ducks were waddling back to the pond to their mother.
"oh. well, i don't want to be here either so you don't have to be rude to me. father says we should try being friends." zuko was baffled by your straightforwardness. you were always quiet when your father was around. he wondered if yours treated you the same way his did.
"no. i don't want to be friends with a girl." he huffed, turning his back to you so he didn't have to see your face. you were very pretty and he didn't like that his face warmed when he saw you. he also didn't want you to notice that it upset him when you said you didn't want to be there. even though zuko knew he'd done nothing to make you want to be around him.
"fine! but one day i'll be your wife and you'll have to be nice to me because we'll have children together. idiot." he listened as you stood and kicked some rocks before stomping off.
zuko blinked the memory away, looking down at you placing his hand against your dressed belly. he felt ashamed for the way he treated you when you were children. that was the last time he saw you before he was burned and banished.
now here you were. his wife and carrying his child, even more beautiful than you were that day. he didn't have much time to ponder on this though, as yuki was finishing his tale of young iroh. but he subtly rubbed your belly hidden by the table, giving you a grateful smile that you retuned. relief flooded him that it seemed no one had noticed his mind disappeared.
when he finally talked to enough of the clan leaders, he stood after taking a small sip of wine. his arm stretched toward you, head titled with a grin on his face.
"wife. care to share a dance with me?" your smile was big and bright as you remembered the first time he'd ever asked you to dance with him. it was at your wedding, but back then you'd wanted nothing more than to run away. to climb over the wall that surrounded the palace and take up a new life somewhere no one could find you.
you eagerly took his hand and he was quick to pull you into his arms. you spent the rest of the banquet that way: glued to each other as if the world might end if you separated.
ঌ
the morning your father was due to leave, you found yourself checking on your hybrid flowers. a mixture of fire and day lilies. a gift you had been working on for zuko. it took you a while to return here, anxiety still flaring up with memories you'd rather forget.
but your relationship with zuko had changed drastically since that day, and because you'd rather be anywhere than around your father, you declined showing up for his departure. feigning sickness.
the flowers were stunning. they had bloomed into a shade of blood red at the center, fading to orange and white with petals that were shaped like flames. thin stalks stuck out on each side, green and orange and every bit ethereal.
the flower was strong, just like your marriage was and you couldn't help but feel grateful that your father had sold you off to the fire nation.
back in the front courtyard, zuko was seeing your father off. the king looked like he could care less when he told him that you were feeling ill and couldn't make it. it took an incredible amount of strength for zuko to not scream at him for being a terrible father. the only difference between him and ozai was that he hadn't physically scarred you.
zuko sighed in relief when the man finally turned to leave before he turned back as if he had forgotten something, looking the firelord up and down as if he were judging him. deciding if he were good enough for you, as if you weren't already his wife in every way possible. tough shit.
"they call it fire madness and it's rare. if i had known you had it, i wouldn't have married my daughter off to you."
zuko paused. what the fuck was he talking about? he had never heard of "fire madness" but was sure this had to do with him knowing something was off with zuko.
"you look surprised, son in law. a well kept secret i suppose, though i feel it is not my place to tell you. that would be for your father to explain, as his father suffered from it as well. we all know what happened to azulon's wife."
"what are you talking about tian? speak plainly, my head hurts and i have duties to attend to." zuko feigned annoyance when he actually felt terrified. what did the earth king know about his grandfather that zuko didn't?
he felt the blood drain from his face, suddenly cold despite his ability to warm himself, as your father stared menacingly at him. "as i said, it is for your father to explain. i was merely here to observe, as i'm sure my dear daughter has already told you."
he moved closer to zuko, a little shorter so the firelord still stood above him. though he felt like a child again, ignorant and unaware of the secrets that haunted his family.
"i will tell you this: i may be old and weaker than i once was but if you lose yourself around (name), and you harm her, I won't hesitate to create a sinkhole big enough to swallow your entire kingdom. take care, firelord, and do tell my daughter her absent was noticed."
zuko couldn't even process the threat before the earth king was riding away. he didn't stop as he turned and stormed into the palace, ordering an airship be readied before he found you in the gardens.
he watched from afar as you lifted a flower to your nose and inhaled with a smile on your face. his hand twitched as his vision slowly blurred in his left eye.
shame ate away at him. zuko knew he would never intentionally harm you, but hadn't he grabbed you a little too tight when he found himself trapped in a memory? what if he went too far and did worse than that?
how was he going to protect you and the baby in this state? he was seeing things, mind disappearing without his permission and losing his vision at the same time. if anyone had answers, it would be his father.
zuko didn't falter as he backed away so you wouldn't see him, heart set on visiting sakari then his father. unsure if he should be relieved that tian thinks he's losing his mind instead of his vision.
a few hours later, he stood in front of the cell that hosted his father, guards sent to wait outside. ozai was much older than he had once been, grey hair taking over the black zuko shared with him. he was still menacing, broad shoulders and soulless eyes.
still a piece of shit.
it made zuko sick seeing his father in his red prison garments, a sly smirk on his face as he watched him through the bars. the very fact that his abuser lived while his uncle, the only man that had ever been a father to him, was dead, made him rage inside.
he wanted to set fire to the man, watch him turn to ash just as his uncle did. instead he swallowed the unwanted rage, masking any emotions lest ozai try to manipulate them to his favor. as he often did on the rare event that zuko visited.
you are a better man than he is. do not lose yourself son. this time it was his uncle he heard. but he wasn't there and he reminded himself of that fact as he stepped forward, not allowing his mind to deter him.
"firelord zuko, congratulations on your marriage to the earth kingdom whore. i suppose you have me to thank for that. have you come for advice on how to bed a woman properly?"
in a flash, zuko had his hand through the bar and wrapped around ozai's neck as he yanked his body forward, muscles flexing under his robe as he squeezed. he allowed his hand to heat up, hot enough to remind the former firelord that he was in fact still powerless, but not enough to scar him.
"if you ever speak of my wife again, in any kind of manner, i will have your tongue ripped from your head. do you understand?"
ozai only smiled, pride written across his aging face before he nodded once. zuko dropped him to floor, wiping his hand on his robes as if touching him was a sin and he'd gotten his hands dirty.
"now tell me of this fire madness."
the smile was wiped from ozai's face, eyes wide as he slowly stood to stare at his son. his jaw was clenched, fist balled tight before he composed himself.
"where did you hear that from? it is not a thing, a rumor meant to make fire benders look bad." his voice was roughened by time, but still clear.
"you're a lying bastard. tell me the truth of grandfather and his wife. what actually happened and what does it have to do with fire madness?" zuko was losing the little patience he had, wishing he were in bed with you right now. sealing yourselves behind your walls and losing himself in you.
ozai's sinister smile returned. "surely you didn't come here thinking i would freely give up information out of the goodness of my heart."
zuko huffed, standing just a little taller as he pointed to his left eye. "we both know you lack a heart, the only thing you've ever cared about is power and your image. what do you want?"
ozai glared at his son, moving closer to the bars. "and will you honor what i ask of you?"
"yes." zuko grumbled. obviously he wouldn't be doing that, he wasn't born yesterday. but he also wasn't above occasionally lying to get what he wanted.
"it begins slowly," ozai started, turning his back to zuko as his chains rattled with every move. "sleeplessness, irrational rage, the visions.. yes, my father had it, as did his grandfather. he would speak to people who weren't there, make claims that he could see the dead, and often he'd be silent. staring into the distance as if he were lost to his own mind. disgracing me whenever he got the chance. then he killed my mother during an episode."
"i had no choice but to kill him myself, though no one knew that until now."
zuko felt his stomach twist. no matter how much good he did, ending the one hundred years war, working with the avatar to build republic city, bringing true reform to the fire nation.. he would always lose in the end.
he was doomed from the day he was born.
"no one has survived it, that is all i know. as for my favor, i only ask one thing. kill yourself before it gets worse and you ruin my image. i see the look in your eyes, you can't hide from me. you look just as my father did and i will not be known for siring a mad firelord."
but zuko wasn't paying attention to him. too lost in the thought of ending up like his grandfather, of killing you while his mind was in a memory. he was going to be a father. what if his grandchild inherits this curse? he would have let his line die if he'd known of this.
when he turned to leave, the last thing he heard was "i did care for you, once. when i believed you would be anything more than a disappointment."
ঌ
by the time zuko returned home, you were fast asleep. it wasn't late but growing a child was exhausting and often made you more drowsy than usual.
he ordered a bath in his own room that night, sinking into the hot water as he contemplated everything his father told him. there was no cure, ozai had killed his own father after he'd kill his wife. was that to be zuko's fate as well?
no, he wouldn't let it get to that point. he would put himself out his misery before he harmed a hair on yours or his child's head.
that night, he slept in his bed. and the day after that too, trying his best to avoid you. until one afternoon, you found him hiding under his bed. he had been suffering from memories all day and his eye was beginning to blur again but he was too far gone to take care of it.
you were a beautiful storm of rage, barging into his room and demanding he explain his lack of presence. "I know you're in here zuko, yuri told me she saw you. where are you?"
you waited a minute, wondering if your lady in waiting had been wrong and you were talking to an empty room. then you heard it, the smallest sniffle coming from his bed.
his empty bed.
"i'm sorry." his voice followed.
you frowned, moving closer as you unclenched your fists as the sound of despair in his voice, heart squeezing. "zuko? where are you?" you moved around his bed, confusion written all over you before you looked down.
was he.. under the bed? you took in a deep breath before leaning over, lifting the skirt of the bed and looking under. and there he was. your husband, firelord of an entire nation, hiding underneath his bed.
you got on your knees to get a better look at him. he looked disheveled, hair a mess, wearing a light robe and pants without a shirt, under his eyes dark from a clear lack of sleep. face stained with dried tears.
"zuko? what are you doing under here, love? please come out."
"i can't. you should leave.. please."
fat chance in hell your were doing that. annoyed with his stubbornness and still wanting to help, you slid under the bed next to him. frowning when he flinched as your shoulder bumped into his. he moved away, creating space between the two of you.
"zuko, what happened? have i done something wrong?" insecurity bit at you. you don't remember anything happening, perhaps he was upset that you left him to deal with your father alone.
"i am hiding. my memories can't reach me here."
memories? you hadn't a clue what he was talking about, but you grabbed his hand anyway, squeezing when he tried to pull away. "tell me what's been bothering you, yeah? you can be truthful with me zuko, i'm on your side."
he sighed, his hand shaking with a strong force. you didn't let go, only held him tighter. heart in knots at his state, wishing you do more to help him.
"you shouldn't be here."
you laughed because what else were you supposed to do? he sounded ridiculous. "you're my husband, where else would i be?"
he looked at you for a moment, breaths uneven until they calmed down, turning softer before he stared back up at the bed. he was quiet again, like he was gathering up the courage to tell you something.
"sometimes.. i-i see things that are not happening." zuko planned to keep this from you when he thought the voices and hallucinations were merely a side affect of the treatment he got for his eye. until his father told him of fire madness and he knew you had the right to know, carrying his child who could potentially pass it onto their own.
"what do you mean?" you voice wasn't judgmental despite your concern, wanting only to understand so you could find a way to help him.
"i visited my father today."
you swallowed hard. sometimes you forgot that ozai was still alive, rotting in a cell in capital city prison. waiting out his day when he deserved death.
"tell me."
zuko closed his eyes, his left one twitching as his vision continued to blur. it seemed so small compared to the fate that awaited him.
"he told me of my grandfather, firelord azulon. how he killed my grandmother while he was lost to his mind. slowly being consumed by what they call fire madness. my family's greatest secret really."
he gave a dry chuckle, but you stayed quiet. afraid of what he was hinting at, but already knowing in your heart what he was going to say next.
"turns out it skips a generation, so my father never had to worry about it. never told me either, keeping me in the dark like he has my entire fucking life."
you were still silent so he continued, fighting away the voices that had been screaming at him all day. "i thought it was because of my treatments. the faces I'd been seeing, memories my brain brought me back to, and the voices. they've gotten so much louder, love. can't even hear myself think sometimes."
you went still, hand loosening it's grip on his. you weren't mad at him, so far from that. you hated that he continued hiding himself from you, even after you'd both said those three words to each other. you bit your lip before sliding closer to him.
he was rigid, but let your shoulder touch his. "i am not whole, and i am sorry. if you wish to leave i would understand and I wouldn't stop you."
"why would i do that? you are my husband and I said my vows." you were scared. fucking terrified and doing your best to hide it but zuko was stuck with you wether he liked it or not.
"what if i forget who i am one day? I can't ask you to-"
"then I will remind you, and if you forget me then i will help you find me again. even if we have to hide under this bed for that to happen. I won't leave you zuko."
it took him a minute to finally squeeze your hand back but that was okay. you already had yours and zuko's schedules cleared for the rest of the day, so you were willing to stay hidden for as long as it took for him to feel safe again.
you would hide from his mind together.
"you and me, husband."
"you and me, wife."
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀ঌ⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
note: one more part and this story will be complete! lemme know what you guys think :')
summary: you just want things to go back to normal. they don't.
a/n: reader in this chapter: oh avatar roku we're really in it now ! also a little longer than the previous chapters because i love writing the five of them together and got a little carried away! oh well
wc: 7.7k
warning(s): everyone is kinda mean including reader because they are all going through it. also more sokka pov! wow! who would've thought
i know sokka and r havent interacted in two and soon to be three chapters but trust me everything is moving as it should. also you're in slow burn central what do you expect
Sokka has never been so happy to be back at sea.
Just because he’s not a waterbender doesn’t mean it’s not his element. He feels freer, happier, more stable—and after what they just went through, he needs that stability more than ever.
After the Dai Li took you from the crystal caves, you didn’t come back. Not when Katara and Aang showed up to save him, not when Zuko turned on them to fight with his sister—not when Azula murdered Aang in the Avatar State with a bolt of lightning.
Katara was able to save him by some miracle with her magical spirit water, but after that, Aang was out. Sokka had to handle a lot of things as a big brother and the sole warrior in his tribe, but he didn’t know what to do here. Katara was inconsolable.
Even still, as they flew through the night with a deposed king and a nearly dead Avatar, Sokka found himself thinking of you.
Did you help take down Ba Sing Se from the inside? Had you betrayed them too? You were best friends with Azula, so it wouldn’t really surprise him. Just because you had a few great talks together didn’t mean you would leave your entire life for Sokka. He didn’t really expect you to, even if some illogical part of him kinda hoped it.
At least if you were back in the Fire Nation, he had a chance to see you again, no matter how slim. He could only hope you wanted to see him too—and that you were okay. Sokka knew those doubts you were having couldn’t be a good thing to go home with.
It’s a relief when they make it to Chameleon Bay and settle in with his people. Sokka hasn’t gotten to hug his father in years and he falls to pieces the second his dad wraps his arms around him. For once, Sokka doesn’t have to be in charge, and he doesn’t have the weight of everyone’s wellbeing on his shoulders. It’s selfish, but he’s thankful for it.
Even still, he can’t sleep. Aang doesn’t wake up despite constant healing sessions from Katara, Toph is going stir crazy stuck on a boat, Ba Sing Se has fallen, and they’re sailing in Fire Nation waters. Even when they take over a Fire Navy ship to stay undercover, he’s still constantly anxious about being found out. The world thinks the Avatar is dead, and that’s only a good thing if it’s not true.
“Can’t sleep?”
He looks over to see Katara walking over, and he sighs.
“Yeah. You can’t either?”
“I just finished up a healing session,” she says. “When it's night, I always come out here to think after.”
“That’s the third one today,” Sokka says. “I hope you’re not pushing yourself too hard.”
“I’m all Aang’s got,” Katara says quietly. “I’ll do whatever it takes to bring him back.”
Sokka knows the feeling. He lets out another slow exhale as he looks up at the moon. Yue is always watching him, and though it used to be a comfort, these days it just makes him feel like more of a disappointment. He couldn’t save Yue, he couldn’t save Suki, he couldn’t save Aang—and now you’re just another mark on the list of Sokka’s many failures.
All Sokka has ever wanted to do is protect his loved ones like his father, with a smile and effortless confidence that gives his followers enough strength to run through walls. But the only one he has left is Katara, and she became stronger than him a long time ago.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks.
“Oh, you know. Things to do, places to go, worlds to save.”
“Uh huh. What are you really thinking about?”
Sokka chuckles. “Nothing can get past you, huh?”
“You know it,” Katara says. “Now spill.”
“…I met a girl.”
“Suki? Yeah, we all think you should go for it. She’s beautiful and smart and an incredible warrior—”
“Not Suki.”
“Oh. Who then?”
“Do you remember Azula’s friends?”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re into that circus freak with the braid.”
“The other one.”
“The dark-haired gloomy one?”
“The other one.”
“Oh.” She frowns. “What? How?”
“You have to promise not to get mad.”
She stares at him. “You’re scaring me now.”
Sokka sighs and looks up at the sky for a moment before he’s able to speak.
“Remember that mango I got at the market after Omashu?”
She smiles. “You don’t really forget the best mango you’ve ever had.”
“…She was the one that gave it to me.”
Her smile drops immediately. “What?”
“She was kind of… at the market? And I kind of flirted with her but then she left really quickly after—”
“You what?” Katara cries. “Sokka! How could you not tell us?”
“Because I knew you would react like this!” Sokka defends. “It’s not like she did anything!”
“You couldn’t know that she wouldn’t! She could’ve hurt Aang!”
“Hey, I was the one that talked to her. Don’t you care that I could’ve gotten hurt?”
“Well, they weren't chasing us across the Earth Kingdom because they wanted to capture you.”
He frowns. “Rude.”
“So, what,” Katara marvels, “you talk to her one time where she doesn’t try to kill you and suddenly you’re smitten?”
“Okay, I am not smitten!”
“Then what are you?”
“Intrigued?”
“Great.”
“…And it wasn’t just the one time.”
“For the love of—” she hits him on the side of his arm. “What is wrong with you?”
“It was an accident!” Sokka exclaims.
“And I’m sure that would’ve meant so much if you accidentally got us all captured by the Fire Nation.”
“We were just meeting in tea shops!” he says. “I— I don’t know how, but I kept running into her, and she’s actually not that bad.”
“Well, she’s definitely back with Azula, so there’s no way that’s true,” Katara says. “You should focus on Suki. I like her.”
“Because I care so much about my sister’s opinion on this.”
“You should! I give really good advice about these things.”
Sokka rolls his eyes. “Yeah. That’s why I see you making eyes at Aang every time he does something incredible, and then you do nothing about it.”
Her face flushes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure.”
She huffs, but her eyes soften as she looks back at him.
“You deserve good things, Sokka,” she says. “But she’s not good.”
“You don’t know that.”
“She spent the past month trying to kill us."
“But she felt bad about it.”
"Azula actually did kill Aang.”
"But she wasn't part of it."
“That doesn’t really mean much when she’s back in the Fire Nation with her terrible friends.”
“Maybe,” Sokka says. Katara sighs as she pats him on the shoulder.
“Just know that I’m here for you,, even if you're determined to make these awful decisions,” she says. “You don’t have to go through whatever this is alone.”
He smiles, and they stand in silence for a few moments before Sokka speaks.
“You know what’s funny?” he asks, and Katara hums in response. “I think the first year of my life was the worst year because I didn’t have you yet.”
She smiles. "Really?"
"I regret saying it already."
"It's too late," Katara grins. “But you know I’ll always be there for you, Sokka. No matter what.”
“Well, you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon. So I guess you’ll always have me too.”
She laughs and punches him in the arm, and Sokka pulls away. “Ow! That hurt!”
“Which means you know I’m a whole lot stronger now,” Katara grins. “I can help you too, Sokka. Don’t forget that.”
“I don’t think I ever could.”
-
If there’s one thing you missed while being away from the palace, it’s the gardens.
Perhaps the only untarnished place in all of Caldera City, you would run here each time you had a free moment between training or studying to sit by the pond and watch the turtleducks.
Now you’re older and wiser, and you still find nothing more calming than going by the water to watch the turtleducks.
They live such a simple life, floating and swimming and diving. They don’t have to deal with overwhelming expectations or moral quandaries or unwanted engagements.
You sigh as you fall back against the tree, glancing up at the sky. You have to figure out something, but you have no idea what to do.
Everything should be the way it used to be. You’re back at the palace with Zuko and Azula and Mai and Ty Lee. You’re praised as a war hero. Your father is even proud of you. But it all just feels… wrong.
Zuko is jumpier than usual, and he’s not half as angry as you about this farce of an engagement. Azula treats you more like a subject than a friend, your sparring sessions together more of a demand than anything. The servants cower in the shadows when you walk through the halls, if you’re even able to catch them at all, and they seem ridiculously shocked when you treat them with basic kindness.
You don’t even get to sleep in your old room because you’re soon to be part of the royal family. The mattress is too soft and the sheets are too stiff, and your body aches at night from being tense the entire day. Even the fruit tarts crumble to sand in your mouth.
Someone says your name and you flinch so hard you nearly bang your head against the tree you’re resting against—the servant you turn to looks terrified as she bows.
“I apologize immensely for the scare, my lady,” she says. “I— I was sent to fetch you. Prince Zuko and the painter are both waiting in the library for you.”
You have to bite back a groan. The reason you came out here was to avoid the stupid portrait session, but it turns out the whole palace doesn’t automatically forget you exist because you’re late.
“Are you sure I can’t just fake my death to get out of it?”
Her eyes widen slightly as she freezes, and you glance away. What has the Fire Lord done in these years to make these servants so afraid?
“I’m only joking,” you assure as you stand up. “I’ll be right there. Thank you.”
“Of course, my lady,” she says, nodding far too many times before she hurries off.
You take a deep breath in, then let it out slowly. A turtleduck looks at you from the pond and your shoulders sag.
“I wish I could be down there with you, little guy.”
-
You drag your feet the whole way to the library, choosing to take as many twists and turns as possible to delay the inevitable. When you finally make it, Zuko is arguing with the artist.
“—commanded you to do this, and you will listen!”
“I have a very busy schedule that your lady friend has messed up!”
“Well, clear it! You are a citizen of the Fire Nation, and you live to serve the Fire Lord!”
You clear your throat as you cross your arms, and Zuko flushes bright red when he sees you. “You’re late.”
“I got lost,” you say.
“In the palace?”
You shrug. “It’s big.”
Zuko huffs then turns back to the artist. “She’s here now. Can we start?”
The man rolls his eyes, but pushes his glasses back up as he sits down at his easel and empty canvas. Zuko walks over to you, and offers his hand, and you reluctantly take it to let him lead you over to your spots.
“I was worried about you,” he says.
You frown. “I was a few minutes late.”
“Try an hour.”
“I told you I got lost,” you say, and Zuko huffs again—but then he pauses.
“Why aren’t you wearing the new pin?”
Your brows furrow deeper and you resist the urge to touch your topknot. One of the Fire Lord’s advisors gifted you a new pin and flame to tie up your hair as an early wedding present, one that matches Zuko and Azula’s, but you shoved it in a random dresser drawer the first chance you got.
“I didn’t feel like it,” you finally say.
“You didn’t f—” Zuko stops and takes a deep breath and lets it out, then smiles at you. “Why not?”
“Because I like the old one,” you say defensively. “It was a gift from you, not a random Fire Nation noble.”
“It was a wedding gift,” he says lightly. “We need to match in our official portrait.”
“I don’t want to wear it,” you insist. “Why is it such a problem?”
“Because this needs to be perfect!” he snaps, and you flinch before you can help it. “My father finally trusts me again, and I’m not going to let you mess it up!”
You stare at him petulantly, but you have to ball your hands into fists to hide the shaking. “Don’t talk to me like that.”
Zuko blinks, and then something shifts in his entire demeanor as he nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I— I don’t know what got into me.”
“Thank you,” you say, but you can’t meet his eyes for too long as you turn back to the artist. “I apologize for my tardiness. I will ensure you get paid for every second I have delayed you.”
The man sniffs haughtily, but you see some glint of appreciation in his eyes. “At least somebody in this city knows how to treat true artists.”
Zuko rolls his eyes, and you actually manage to smile as you sit down. Zuko rests his hand on the back of your chair, but the painter shakes his head.
“The future Fire Lord must be stoic and imposing, long may he reign, capable of standing on his own. The Fire Lady is just a lovely accessory.”
You immediately shoot up from your seat with fire in your eyes. You immediately regret your kindness. “What did you just say?”
Zuko whispers your name urgently and you reluctantly sit down, but your angry gaze doesn’t soften.
“What did you say your name was?” you ask.
“…Eisaku, my lady.”
“Do you paint many portraits, Eisaku?”
“I do. The nobility hires me most often.”
You hum. “Then I am sure the nobility would love to hear how their favored artist so casually disrespects the royal family. This could be classified as treason.”
He has the nerve to look away from you. “Prince Zuko—”
“Do not look at him when I am speaking to you,” you snap, and he bows his head with wide eyes.
“I submit my deepest apologies to my lady,” he rushes. “I deserve a thousand lashes, to be thrown atop a thousand mountain peaks, to—”
“Shut up,” you say, and he immediately stops, still unable to look at you. “If you disrespect me again, I will make sure you never take another step in this city. Test me again and I will ensure you are never able to paint again. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Good. Now let’s get this over with.”
He listens this time, immediately starting to sketch an outline. You feel Zuko’s eyes on you, likely wondering what’s gotten into you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet them.
-
You get a break after a few hours of posing, and you practically run out of there, Zuko on your heels as he calls your name. You don’t stop until you’re out of the palace and back into the gardens, and Zuko nearly barrels into you as he skids to a stop.
“What was that?” he questions with wide eyes.
“What was what?”
“At the start!” he exclaims. “Why were you treating the painter like that?”
“You’re asking me?” you marvel. “I heard you tell him that he has to do whatever you want because your dad is the Fire Lord.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because I was already annoyed by you being late, and then he started talking about leaving before we’ve even started—” Zuko shakes his head then looks back at you. “You don’t act like that. Azula, sure, but not you.”
You shrug. “Maybe I’ve changed. Maybe I’m finally the kind of girl that belongs here.”
Zuko stares at you, but when you don’t waver, he sighs and calls over a servant.
“Please bring us whatever we’ve got available in the kitchens. We would like to take lunch in the gardens today.”
He nods and hurries off, and Zuko sits down against the tree. You stay standing, and a few beats of silence pass before he speaks.
“This used to be my favorite place in the whole city when I was a kid,” he says, running his fingers through the grass. “The palace walls felt oppressive, and my father preferred not to see or hear me, so I spent way too much time out here watching the turtleducks hoping no one would notice I was missing.”
Your lips twitch up. “I like it too. It’s so calm compared to the rest of this place.”
Zuko smiles at you, but you don’t as you take a seat beside him and lean closer.
“Enough reminiscing. We need a game plan.”
He frowns. “What?”
“Our plan to get out of this!” you exclaim. “We’re engaged again, and your father is going to destroy the world. I’m fine to start figuring out either one.”
Zuko pauses, then he huffs a laugh. “I don’t think you’re in your right mind.”
You stare at him. “I hope you’re joking.”
“Why would I be joking?”
Your jaw clenches and you plant your hands on the grass to move closer, your eyes darting around to make sure you’re truly alone before you lower your voice. “Because we’re engaged again and your father is going to destroy the world, and you don’t think we need a plan to fix either of them.”
“He’s not going to destroy the world.”
“You can’t possibly think that.”
“Look,” Zuko says harshly, “I’m finally living the life that I have killed myself for—the life I’m destined for. I’m the crown prince. My father is finally proud of me again!”
“Your father is a warmongering maniac!” you whisper-yell, and Zuko’s gaze sharpens.
“Watch your mouth.”
“No,” you say, “no, I’m not going to watch my mouth. In case you’ve forgotten, we’re equals.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the crown prince. You can’t talk to me like that.”
“What is wrong with you?” you marvel. “Back in Ba Sing Se, you were so content—”
“Because I didn’t think I would ever get the chance to come home,” Zuko snaps. “You’re my fiancee and my friend— why aren’t you happy for me?”
“I’m not your fiancee,” you say stiffly.
“Well, what do you think is going to happen once summer ends?” he questions. “You can’t just say no to my father. I think I’m a pretty good example of what happens if you try.”
Your eyes drop to the ground as you shake your head. A few weeks ago, you were serving tea together and joking about how much you hate the world. He's trying so hard, but he’s nothing more than a poor replica of the Fire Lord—and you know his head must be growing heavy from the weight of the crown.
“Please,” Zuko begs, and he lowers his head trying to meet your gaze, “don’t be this way. As long as we're betrothed, I can protect you.”
You shake your head again as you rise on shaky legs, unable to even look at him.
“I don’t want your protection,” you spit. Zuko calls your name as you go, but you can’t leave quickly enough.
-
If you weren’t at the palace gardens as a child, you were here, venting your frustration and scorching the earth. Now, you certainly have some anger festering inside you to take care of.
The Fire Lord wants to control you, Zuko wants you to be someone you’re not, Azula is going to push you until you break, your father is proud of you for something you didn’t even do. Sokka hates you, the Avatar is dead, Ba Sing Se has fallen, you did absolutely nothing to stop it.
You punch and kick and flip and twist until your vision goes red, until your fists are smoldering and you’re nearly doubled over heaving labored breaths. No matter how good you are, you will never be as good as Azula. You will never be as good as your father. You will never ever ever be enough.
“Trouble in paradise?”
You exhale steam as your spine straightens, but your shoulders still rise and fall from the exertion as Azula stares you down from the stairs. You don’t know what she gets out of your torment.
“It’s far from paradise,” you manage.
She shrugs as she starts walking towards you. “I don’t know why you’re not more excited. Thousands of girls in the Fire Nation would kill to be in your shoes. You’re practically royalty now.”
You’ve never wanted to be royalty. It was your father’s promotion, not your own achievements that got you in the palace in the first place, and your too-hot temper that drew Azula’s eye. If you had it your way, you’d still be running rampant through the woods and sparring with your brothers.
“I’m very thankful for this opportunity,” you say lightly, and Azula doesn’t even pretend to believe you.
“What did my brother do now?” she asks.
“He didn’t do anything.”
“Oh, please. I know that look. I used to be the cause of it all the time when we were kids.”
You roll your eyes as you brush some ashes off your shoulder. “It’s not something you need to worry about, Azula.”
“You’ll tell me soon enough,” she says, then she tilts her head. “But that’s neither here nor there. You need to go clean up. We’re meeting Mai and Ty Lee at the harbor within the hour.”
You frown. You haven’t seen your friends since you got back to the Fire Nation, and a part of you is dreading seeing Mai again now that you and Zuko are engaged. They looked so happy on the ship together—or as happy as either of them can look—and now you’ve just gone and messed everything up.
“Where are we going?”
“Ember Island,” she says wryly. “Father is meeting with his advisors all weekend and he has requested solitude.”
“So we’re being shipped off on vacation like incompetent children.”
“Zuko said the same thing,” she muses. “I suppose his anger at the world is rubbing off on you.”
You roll your eyes. “My anger is entirely my own.”
“I’m sure.”
Azula turns on her heel and leaves, and fire shoots out the bottom of your hands as you ball them into fists and hurry after her.
-
“This is boring,” Mai grumbles.
You sigh as you watch children racing around the beach, playing in the water, and building sandcastles that Azula hasn’t gotten the chance to destroy yet. That was you and your friends just a few years ago, before you all became weapons to support the Fire Nation. You don’t remember the last time you just got to relax. Even now, your shoulders are nearly up to your ears.
“I don’t know,” you say. “I think it’s kind of nice.”
“You’re telling me after everything you’ve trained for, and everything we’ve helped Azula with, you’re content with just sitting around doing nothing?”
“Even elite warriors need days off, Mai.”
She rolls her eyes and slumps further into her chair. “I don’t know why you’re over here. You should be on top of the world right now.”
You wince. This is what you’ve been so afraid of. “Mai, you need to know I didn’t ask for this. The Fire Lord threw it on us without any warning.”
“I know,” she says, calmer than you expect. “You’ll make a good Fire Lady.”
“I don’t plan on letting it get that far,” you say lightly. “I know you and Zuko were reconnecting. I’m not going to get in the way of that. You can do whatever you want together.”
“How kind,” Mai deadpans, and you sigh.
“I won’t let this go through,” you insist. “Just… give me some time to figure something out.”
“I’m sure you’ll have no problem going against the Fire Lord’s will.”
“Your faith in me is inspiring.”
“Just stop looking so sad,” Mai says. “I know you don’t want to be here, but you can’t make it this obvious.”
Your eyes widen slightly as you look back at her. “Mai—”
“You’re still my friend, and I still care about you. I’m not going to let Zuko get in the way of that.”
You smile. “...Thank you. I care about you too.”
Mai rolls her eyes, which is the equivalent of a smile. Zuko comes back with two ice cream cones in his hand, and he holds one out to Mai.
“I got this for you.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s so hot, I thought it would be refreshing.”
The scoop falls on her lap and Zuko grimaces.
“Thanks,” Mai says wryly. “This is really refreshing.”
“I’ll leave you two alone,” you say, pulling your cover-up tighter around yourself to make sure your back is hidden. Ty Lee insisted you had to wear that super cute red two piece that makes you look so good, and you guess it's cute, you don’t really feel like being an eyesore today.
Ty Lee is laying on a towel with a group of men surrounding her, one blocking the sun and two others fanning her. You chuckle as you walk over and cross your arms.
“Alright, boys,” you say, “party’s over.”
They stare at you blankly, but when Ty Lee nods and shoos them off, they reluctantly walk away. You raise your eyebrows.
“Less than an hour at the beach and you’ve already got your own entourage?”
“All the boys here are really nice!” she exclaims.
“I think they’re all just in love with you,” you say, and Ty Lee shrugs.
“It’s a nice change of pace,” she says. “Besides, it’s not my fault they’ll do anything I say.” She smiles up at you. “What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing,” you say breezily, and Ty Lee scoots over on her towel so you can sit beside her. “Just watching my life fall apart in front of me.”
Ty Lee frowns. “I heard about the engagement. I’m so sorry.”
“You know, you’re the first person not to tell me I should be happy.”
“Well, you don’t like Zuko, right? You like that Water Tribe boy.”
Your face heats inexplicably as you hit her shoulder. “Don’t say that so loud!”
“Because it’s true?” she teases with a grin.
“Because it’s not,” you say as gently as possible, “and I don’t want you putting that idea into anyone’s head.”
“Fine,” she says, but her smile only grows. “If you tell me what you talked about in the marketplace, I won’t tell anyone.”
“Ty Lee—”
“I know, I know! But I have six sisters, and I never broke any promises they told me. You know I’m trustworthy.” Her eyes soften and you know what she really means—she won’t rat you out to Azula.
“…He flirted with me. That’s how we ran into each other. He came up to me and said my eyes were pretty, but he freaked out once he recognized me.”
Ty Lee squeals as she rocks you back and forth by the shoulders so hard you get dizzy.
“I knew he liked you back!” she exclaims. “Oh, I knew by the way you fought each other! It was like dancing!”
“He can’t like me back if I don’t like him in the first place,” you insist, finally getting her to let you go. “And lower your voice!”
“I’m sorry! It’s just so exciting! I mean, the only boy you’ve ever been involved with is Zuko and you don’t even like him—”
“And I don’t like Sokka either,” you interrupt. "That's a very important part of it."
“Ladies! Over here!”
Your heads both snap over to where Azula standing on the edge of netted court, and you actually smile as you and Ty Lee walk over, quickly joined by Zuko and Mai. If there’s one thing you can do today, it’s destroy some pompous teenagers in kuai ball.
-
You win in a very fiery display that nearly destroys the court and the net and ruins everyone’s fun. But it turns out after actually fighting for your life for the past few months, sports don’t really do it for you anymore.
But after two impressively haughty boys invite Ty Lee, you and Mai to a party—and later the rest of them when Azula asks very nicely, because he somehow doesn’t recognize the two most important teenagers in the Fire Nation—you leave the beach early to get ready.
Mai is lining her eyes sharp enough to kill as you brush out Azula’s hair, and Ty Lee is kneeling in front of the mirror braiding her hair. Zuko got ready in about five minutes and has now resorted to sulking against the wall.
“You should wear your hair down like this more often, Azula. It suits you.”
“A topknot suits me far better,” she says tartly, though her shoulders relax a bit. “…But thank you.”
“Any time."
“Why are we even going to this stupid thing?” Zuko complains. “Those idiots already disrespected us once. We shouldn’t reward them by going to their party.”
“Come on, Zuko, it’ll be fun!” Ty Lee exclaims. “It’s been so long since we’ve gotten to do something normal together.”
“Yeah,” you say. “In a few days, you can go back to stomping around the palace.”
He scoffs. “I’m doing another lap around the house. You all better be ready before I get back.”
He slams the door when he leaves and you roll your eyes. “Such a temper.”
“I truly don’t know what you see in my brother, Mai.”
“Of course you don’t. You’re related.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me.”
You chuckle as you tie a portion of her hair into a small ponytail, then smooth out the rest so it falls down her back. “You’re good to go, Azula.”
She looks in the mirror and her eyes widen slightly before she clears her throat. “It’s adequate for a party like this.”
You still smile, because in Azula’s words that’s akin to a shower of compliments. You don’t think she gets to feel pretty like this very often.
And yet you still feel sick. You’re sitting around here with your friends laughing and getting ready like everything is normal, but it’s not.
You turned your back on them, and would have betrayed them even more if Azula didn’t threaten to murder Sokka. She’s the one that suggested an engagement she knows you don’t want—and you’re just sitting here doing her hair like it never happened.
You only snap out of it when Mai says your name loud enough to break through your haze and you look up at her.
“What?”
“Do you want me to do your makeup or not?”
-
You feel wildly out of place in this party, from your uncomfortably fancy clothes to the uncomfortably rich kids who have never worked a day in their lives. Sure, the five of you are uncomfortably rich, but you've all trained from the second you were born. You don't think half these kids could beat an toddler in an Agni Kai.
Even still, all you can think about is Sokka’s story, how his tribe was practically decimated from Fire Nation raids—how he’s the only warrior left in his village after his mother was killed and the men were forced to go off to war.
The world is slowly dying of a poison your people, your family created, and here you are on vacation on a resort island surrounded by endlessly hideous displays of opulence.
It’s like you’ve been asleep your entire life, and now that you’ve been jarred awake you can’t go back down.
You refuse to.
There’s a sharp jab in your side and you come back into yourself to see Ty Lee saying your name.
“Come on, you have to pay attention! Those boys have been looking at you this whole time— oh, oh they’re coming over now!”
You groan. “Not interested.”
Ty Lee grabs your arm before you can leave and you don’t even try to look welcoming as two boys stop in front of you. One’s tall and slim with an easy smile, and the other is a little more filled out with toned arms that he clearly wants to show off.
“Hey,” the strong one says, barely even passing a cursory glance at you as he grins, “it’s Ty Lee, right?”
“It is!” she exclaims. “How did you know?”
“Lucky guess,” he says. “Do you think you can guess mine?”
You couldn’t roll your eyes harder if you tried. The boy in front of you turns the full force of that charming smile on you and tilts his head towards the buffet.
“Want to get some food? I heard the potstickers are incredible.”
You know he’s just trying to get you away from Ty Lee so his friend can try a move on her, but you honestly don’t care. You’re starving, and Ty Lee could take down this entire party with her chi-blocking if she had to.
“I’ll see you later,” you say, touching her arm, and she nods with a grin. You hope she doesn’t expect you to get anywhere with this guy, because you’re incredibly uninterested.
You start walking over to the tables together, and he immediately starts running his mouth.
“So, what brings you here tonight?”
“I know you’re just with me so your friend can talk to Ty Lee,” you say flatly, spooning some berries onto your plate. “We don’t have to make it believable.”
“That’s not true,” he says. When you give him an unimpressed look, he chuckles. “I mean, yeah, my friend is into your friend, but I’m into you. You’re seriously hot.”
“Is that a firebender joke?”
“It’s a sincere compliment,” he says wryly, and you glance away as your face heats. “I’m Hiro.”
You glance back at the table and he leans down with you. “It’s fine if you’re not much of a talker. I can handle the conversation for both of us.”
“So you’re just going to talk to yourself the whole time?”
He shrugs. “My sister hates me and my dad’s been fighting this war since I was a kid. I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”
Your brows crease. “That’s the first interesting thing you’ve said.”
Hiro laughs. “Well, if I knew you were interested in my pain, I would’ve led with that.”
“That’s not what I mean,” you say, and he continues to walk with you as you go over to a quiet corner. “My brother’s in the Navy, and I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen him since he became a captain."
“I guess we already have something in common,” he says with a smile. “Are you gonna enlist?”
“I would be seasick every day for the rest of my life,” you frown. “I had my heart set on the army, but…”
“But what?”
“But now I’m not so sure,” you admit, and you wonder why you’re telling this total stranger something you’ve barely been able to admit to yourself.
“You should go for it. I can feel it in my heart that you’d make a great warrior…”
He’s obviously fishing for your name, and you decide to throw him a bone and give it to him—but when you do, his face falls.
“Oh, no. You’re Prince Zuko’s girlfriend.”
The words make you want to hurl, but instead you just shake your head. “What? No, I’m not. Why would you say that?”
“Because the entire capital city got invitations to the wedding,” he says with a frown. “And he’s looking at you right now.”
You turn to see Zuko watching you across the room, and you give him a murderous look. He holds up his hands in defense and goes back to talking with Mai on the couch, and you huff a sigh.
“We’re not together,” you say. “We’re just betrothed.”
“…That sounds like the same thing.”
“It’s not.”
“Does that mean I can flirt with you without getting a fireball to the face?” Hiro asks.
“Absolutely,” you say. “And if he tries, I’m a lot stronger than him.”
“You’re stronger than the prince of the Fire Nation?”
“You’d better believe it,” you say. “But don’t tell anyone who we are, or you’ll get to experience it. I think this is the first time he and his sister haven’t been recognized somewhere like this.”
He grins. “Your wish is my command, your majesty.”
You roll your eyes but you can’t fully bite back your smile. Maybe meaningless drivel isn’t the worst way to spend your night when it’s with a pretty boy.
-
For some reason, you end up spilling your guts to Hiro.
You tell him all your doubts (except for the treasonous parts) and about your mission with Azula (except for the treasonous parts), and in turn he makes you privy to a childhood that sounds even lonelier than yours was.
You’re never going to see this boy again, so maybe that’s why. He has no preconceived notions about you, he just thinks you’re pretty. Just like Sokka did that day at the marketplace.
It’s truly a mystery why your thoughts keep going back to Sokka. After what Zuko and Azula did, he will never forgive you for going along with them. It’ll be a miracle if you ever see him again.
But your inner turmoil is interrupted when you hear Ty Lee yell your name across the room and you wince.
“You’ve got some dedicated friends,” he says.
“Don’t get me started.”
Ty Lee and Mai break through the crowd of people and she immediately starts tugging you by the arm.
“Come on,” Ty Lee urges. “We have to go!”
You throw your hand up in a half-hearted wave that Hiro returns, and you twist around so you can look between at her again.
“Why? I’m finally starting to not hate this party.”
“Zuko was an idiot and got kicked out,” Mai grumbles. “Every time I think things are going well with him, he has to go and ruin everything.”
You sigh. Zuko’s temper is going to be the death of him.
You find Zuko and Azula on their way to the beach, and soon you’re all sitting around a bonfire on the beach that Zuko started with an old portrait of the royal family, wondering how this night went so wrong.
Even now, when your friends are fighting and insulting and pushing each other’s buttons until they break, all you can offer is half-hearted protests trying to get them to stop. Maybe all you’re good for is fighting. Maybe it’s the mistake of your life to think you can ever be good.
You’re jarred out of your thoughts when Zuko yells, and you recoil instantly when the fire erupts. It’s too close, too hot, too angry and for a split second you’re back home—bedridden for days, drifting in and out of feverish nightmares, feeling like the smallest person in the world. It takes Azula saying your name to break out of your haze.
“What’s gotten into you?” she questions.
“Yeah,” Ty Lee says with a frown. “Are you okay?”
“Of course she’s not,” Zuko huffs as he drops to the ground, crossing his legs. “She’s engaged to me, which is apparently the worst thing in the world.”
“Don’t be so self-centered,” you scoff. “Not everything’s about you, Zuko.”
“Then what is it about?” Mai asks.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You have to,” Azula says. “You don’t get to keep your secrets when we’ve all spilled ours.”
You expect that usual sharp glint in her eye, but she looks much more genuine than you expect. She truly wants to know why you’re not doing well—beyond the obvious, at least.
"I don't have secrets."
"If you're going to lie, at least make it believable," Mai says.
"We're here for you!" Ty Lee adds.
“...I just feel so alone,” you admit quietly.
“You’re with all of us,” Zuko scoffs. “How can you possibly feel alone?”
“Because I still feel like I’m not even here!” you exclaim. “I mean, all my life, I have been doing what other people want. I pushed myself in firebending because my father demanded it. I trained with a sword because mastering firebending wasn’t good enough for him. I stayed at the palace because the Fire Lord demanded it, I went back to my father’s camp because he demanded it, and I even went on your stupid Avatar hunt because you demanded it, Azula! I have never, ever done a single thing for myself, and the second I tried to I just ended right back where I started! I’m so sick and tired of living for everyone but myself!”
Angry tears pool in your eyes as your voice breaks, your last few shouts echoing off the rock walls surrounding you. You didn’t mean to go so far, to insult Azula and her mission and worst of all the Fire Lord, but to your surprise, Azula only tilts her head.
“It’s about time you stood up for yourself.”
You sniff and wipe the tears that break through off your cheeks, but the few you miss splatter onto the sand as you cross your arms and lean forward until they rest on your legs.
“You’re more powerful than your dad now anyways,” Mai says. “Just challenge him to an Agni Kai and prove it.”
“I’m not challenging my father to an Agni Kai.” Inadvertently, your eyes flick over to Zuko and he looks away.
“You should,” Azula says. “You’d win.”
“Whatever,” you mutter.
Ty Lee bounds over and pulls you into a hug, and you slowly wrap your arms around her.
“You’re not alone,” she says, pulling back so she can look you in the eye. “We’ll always be here for you.”
You smile weakly. If they knew the doubts that festered in your mind like an open wound, they would never forgive you.
“Thanks, Ty Lee. You’re the best.”
She grins, and then it turns slightly mischievous. “I mean, you’re clearly not alone. That boy was flirting with you all night!”
Azula’s eyebrows rise. “You’re cheating on my brother?”
“Wait,” Zuko says with barely restrained mirth, “you’re cheating on me?”
“Well, you’re cheating on me with Mai,” you say, as you look over at her. “I saw you two getting cuddly on that chaise.”
She grimaces. “Don’t ever say that again.”
“Which one? Cuddly, or chaise, or you and Zuko getting cuddly on a chaise?”
Mai groans and stands up. “I’m going back to the house.”
“No, wait!” Ty Lee exclaims. “You can get cuddly with Zuko in the sand too! The fire’s still warm!”
“I hate you all.”
Ty Lee continues terrorizing Mai as she chases her up the hill, and Azula actually cracks a smile.
“I’m going back to the house,” Zuko grumbles. “You girls are crazy.”
“See you soon,” you say, and he nods as he starts walking back up to the house. You feel Azula’s gaze on you instantly, and you brace for impact.
“I didn’t know you felt that way,” she says instead.
You meet her eyes, molten gold in the fire light. “Don’t lie.”
“I’m not,” she insists. “You used to never shut up about becoming a great soldier and making your family proud and being the best firebender in the world. You were the first person to come to mind when I wanted to put a team together.”
“We’re not kids anymore,” you say. “I’ve grown up.”
“So you’re telling me if I asked you to go on another mission with me, you would say no?”
You hate how Azula can stare right into your soul. She peels back all the layers of your skin until she gets to your psyche, most of the twists formed by her words.
“I just need a break,” you say. “It was my first time leaving the Fire Nation, and it was just… a lot.”
“The reason I push you is because you turn into something beautiful under pressure,” Azula says. “You bend, but you never break. I push and you push back.”
“Well, maybe I’m tired of pushing.”
Normally, you’re never this brazen with Azula. You love her, she loves you, you’re best friends—but she is still the Fire Princess, and she is still your superior. She doesn’t even need to lift a finger to tear your life to shreds any time she desires.
But she doesn’t. And maybe that’s a form of love on its own—having all the power in the world, but never using it to hurt you.
She’s silent for a moment, both of you watching the other but never moving. Eventually, she sighs.
“Your father said he would arrange a night together with you and your Navy brother once he returned from Ba Sing Se. Correct?”
You frown, not really sure what this has to do with anything, but nod anyways.
“As a reward for such excellent work, I will pull a few strings and ensure your father returns within the week.”
Your eyes widen slightly, your spine straightening immediately. “Are you serious?”
“Always.” Her gaze drops for a moment before it meets yours again. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. I’m only sorry it took you leaving for me to realize it.”
Your throat closes up. All you’ve thought about since getting here was how you could leave again. Every time you think about betraying Azula, she sends you into the depths of guilt and makes it impossible to even consider.
She’s always two steps ahead of you. She has to know. But when you look in her eyes, you can’t sense any hint of deceit. For some reason, that makes it all worse.
You swallow the doubt in your throat and press your shaking hands into your skirt. “Thank you. You’re my best friend too.”
Azula smiles. It’s fully genuine, and it feels like a death sentence.
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