Burnt to the Core ♨ Prologue | reader(f) x Firelord Zuko
synopsis: you are firelord zuko's direct attendant. zuko has long reformed the fire nation after ozai's takedown and zuko's assuming of power. but now you had a challenge of your own: your feelings for the firelord. what was just a simple crush turned out to be more trouble than you would have imagined. but it may have been worth it.
word count: 3486
warnings: no spoilers of the movie (besides using this gif here + how gaang now looks as adults). this is mature (MDNI + trigger warning), as a lot of violence/sexual topics will be brought up.
authors note: yes, the edits have inspired me. yes, listen to jealous type as you read this fic.
***ONLY PUBLISHED ON TUMBLR***
It began there, the memory of the Bazaar that day swarming your thoughts.
That day was so lively, and full of joy. Small shops were set up, all sorts of banners and streamers hung around. Flames reached the clouds from the street performers in the square, with watchers jumping out of their seats, their snacks flying with them. A local band took over the streets, playing tunes that were irresistible to the feet of dancers. There was a warmth much deeper than the usual heat of this nation's benders.
You were rushing through the crowds, the bamboo basket in your hands full of the herbs your mother had tasked you to collect. It would’ve been easier to get through the people, had your mother also not demanded for you to wear such a flowy dress. It was beautiful, yes, but clung onto everything that stuck out, pokey or so long that it got trapped under people's feet. There were setbacks, but you knew you had to do this.
Truthfully, this was one responsibility you enjoyed immensely. Your family had inherited rich, fertile land with plants and herbs maintained for millennia through your bloodline. And with your parents being tea sommeliers, you could only follow their footsteps. However, you were more passionate about herbalism, and were much more allured by the medicinal route of life. That said, nothing could go wrong with a cup of tea.
You remember how dark the home had been, as you peeked through the burgundy curtain cloaking the side entrance. The celebration for Firelord Zuko’s visit felt like an eternity, starting from the morning and ongoing. It was the evening now, and you figured your parents are still going to be there until everyone has packed and gone. You quickly put the basket down on the counter by the porch of the house, which had been converted into a booth as your parents sold tea from the house. You reach over to the lever to open up the awning of the booth. The house felt stuffy, and you were a little too warm from the hike.
As you begin to wash the herbs, you hear the sound of one of your wooden stools getting shuffled. You look up, and notice an older gentleman taking a seat. You meet obsidian eyes that hold wisdom that you can only imagine is vast and neverending. Dribbles of sweat hung from his smooth head, with his gray beard off to one side (though, you don’t believe he noticed). He meets your gaze and offers a kind smile, “I do hope you are open, I’ve been seeking a nice cup of tea.”
You were surprised, considering the countless tea shops being offered at the celebration in the square. You were about to explain that you were closed, given your parents hosting a mini shop at the square as well, but a pendant caught your eye. He had a gold brooch hung on the side of his right arm, with the Fire Nations emblem on it. This meant this man was either a guard or of nobility; a high ranking individual in the nation. Of course, seeing his age, you had to assume he long returned his work in the army, and this was simply an honorary pendant. Either way, you were not allowed to reject or not assist such an important individual.
“Let me get the kettle going,” you say quietly, offering a warm smile as you quickly get some water boiling. “I was not expecting any customers out here, considering the party going on in the middle of the village.”
The old man hummed, nodding at your words, “ah, you’re not wrong to assume such a thing. There’s so many people out there for the Firelord that I got a bit overwhelmed. I can’t enjoy my tea in such excitement.”
That’s understandable, considering how impossible it is to find a seat or navigate when the Bazaar was this active. “My parents are currently hosting their tea at the market, but I was told to remain here in case stragglers came through this alley for a cup of tea.” This was partially true. Technically, you were not expecting anybody to find food or beverage deep in the village, but your parents were opportunists.
The old man nods off, “your parents understand the opportunities that can come with gatherings like these. But I imagine you would have liked to go and see the Firelord.”
You could only shrug, listening to the kettle finally whistle. “It would have been nice, but my parents need me here,” you say simply, “but I am eternally grateful for our Firelord, and what he has done for the nation since the start of his reign.”
It has been 5 years since the takedown of Firelord Ozai, allowing for Prince Zuko to assume his place and lead the Fire Nation to the right direction. Since taking charge, he has taken all the right steps to begin restoring the Fire Nation, beginning with an immense apology to the rest of the nations for the war and genocide brought about by his father. Since then, he has made it a goal to visit all of the villages and capitals that made up the Fire Nation. He wanted to get to know his nation once again, and the best way was to spend time with them and see what he can do to assist.
“Your words warm my heart,” the old man coos, his hand making its way to hover above his heart, “He would have been very happy to hear those words himself.”
You smile while carefully lifting your kettle from the fire and putting it on a cork trivet. “What kind of tea would you like?”
His eyes distract themselves with the steam escaping the kettle. You allow him to think on it, and turn over to bend away the fire at the bottom of the chimney. “What do you have?” He asks curiously.
You grab one of the scrolls and offer it to him, “these are all of the teas we have to offer. And if you would like anything to eat, I can start up the fire again.”
“Oh ho ho, I am all good for a meal,” he laughs out before tapping at his bulbous belly, “but a tea is a must. He pulls the scroll opposite with both hands, and his eyes saunter at the options. He then looks back at you with a curt smile, “what is your favorite tea?”
You look at him curiously before grabbing a menu yourself, “from the menu…”
“Ah, but what is your favorite?” The old man insisted, putting the scroll down gently. “I’m not saying your favorite cannot be a classic tea, but your family runs a tea shop. I can only imagine the teas that you enjoy that might not be appreciated by untrained tongues.”
You stare at the older man before you, your curiosity itself being allured by his words. It felt like you were being challenged somehow, as if disappointment was an option if you did not proceed to deliver. “Is there any fruit or herb you do not like or cannot have?” You ask first. The old man shakes his head no. “Pardon me a moment.”
You rush back into your home, sauntering into your room. It was small, but cozy with plenty of cushions and blankets to keep you warm and safe. You crawl down to the farthest cabinet in the room, and slide the bamboo door open. Inside resided a small, clay pot. You peel off the parchment that you’ve used to seal the pot, and remove a small pouch. You return to the old man, untying the pouch to reveal a sable black herb. It was soft to the touch, and retained its moisture from the method that you sealed it.
You grab a small pinch, and ask for the old man's hand. He obliges, allowing you to put some of the herbs in the center of his palm. As you prepare his tea, you begin to describe it in a tale, “this herb comes from an incredibly rare lotus flower. Its original petals are this lovely pink… it shocked me when my parents and I discovered it. This herb is from the very core of this flower, but when collecting it, there’s a bit of intimidation– it looks like there are snakes within its center.”
He brings his hand up to his nose, his eyes closed to appreciate the scent. “I am a fan of lotus, but this is quite unique. There is a sweet aroma to it.”
“Almost vanilla-like, right?” You supplement his thoughts. “It surprised me to smell how sweet it was. And it almost convinces you that you need not add any additional sweetener to it.”
His eyes furrow, “is it bitter?”
“It can be,” you hum. “But its taste is phenomenal, and its flavors can become more complex with time.”
“With time?” He allowed your passion to fly with his own curiosity.
You nod, quickly preparing a cup with the herbs inside, watching as they quickly ascend through the water and flat at the top. You get another cup, adding some of the herbs and pouring water as well. But this time, you added a sweetener: fig syrup. With separate spoons, you stir both cups and begin to seat it on a tray. Then, you walk over to one cabinet within the kitchen, and begin to bring down a deep brown pot. This, too, is sealed in a particular way, with a cheese cloth layered several times around the rim to retain its contents while also allowing it to breathe just a bit.
“And this is…?”
“This is the same tea, but fermented,” you inform him. You grab a ladle, pouring a cup's worth of tea in a small, metal cup. You hold the cup from the bottom, and allow flames to illuminate from your palm. “It is good cold, but I prefer it to be quite hot.” Once heated, the delicious scent of the steam emitting from the cup almost took you over. You bring the cup to the tray, and step from behind the booth to present it to him.
You take the opportunity to stand before him and bow, “I apologize for not bowing for you before, as I was behind the booth.” He immediately waves you off, scoffing at his pendant while flicking it with his finger.
“Actually, I was quite content that you did not bow to me. Sure, I have served this nation, but you serve this nation as well by being part of it.” He quickly taps at your shoulders, bidding you to rise. “You are just as important as I am, and your craft is something that I am quite envious of.”
You smile warmly before you make your way back to the booth. “Please try the freshly brewed tea to your left first,” you instruct, “I have made that one without any sweetener so you can appreciate the lotus as is.”
The man brings the cup to his nose first, taking it with the aroma before having a sip. “That… is wonderful,” he praises softly. He looks down at the tea, seeing how the water had been tinted with this sunrise yellow. “I am beginning to understand why this is your favorite.”
You nod, “but it is much better with the sweetener that I have made. My parents do not like it at all, but I find fig syrup to be deserving of the palette.” He follows suit, and takes a sip of the sweetened tea.
He pauses for a moment, bringing his free hand up to wipe away excess tea from his mustache and beard. But, despite this, he goes for another sip, and another sip. A few gulps passed, and the cup returned to its vacant state. He gently puts down the cup and lets out a hot sigh. “In my many years of life, I have never thought that figs could do tea so well.”
You smile excitedly. This would be the first time you could share one of your most loved teas. Your parents enjoyed them, sure, but not with virgin taste buds. It was refreshing to see another's excitement to a tea that you can happily say is some of the best in the world, even if the rest of the world didn’t know it.
As he goes to pick up the final cup, you offer him a small vial of the fig syrup, “if you would like to sweeten it after taking a sip of it raw. Though I do warn you, you might need the syrup as this fermented tea is a bit… strong.”
He acknowledges your words, and quickly takes a sip of the fermented tea. His eyes widened completely, staring down curiously at the more matured yellow of the tea. “Will it be at all possible for me to buy this tea from you?” He asks honestly. He studies his cup, almost taken aback by the complexity of the tea. “I don’t think tea has ever left me speechless like this before.”
“You and I both,” you concur with a giggle, “I’d love to sell you some, but I’ve grown quite attached to this tea. I’ve had this tea fermenting for a month now, I believe. You’re actually the first person to taste it since I prepared and stored it.”
“I’m quite honored, thank you,” the man hums. He adds some of the syrup from the vial you offered him, and began to stir with a provided spoon on the tray. Taking a sip of the fermented tea now sweetened, he nodded in approval. “This is phenomenal. Thank you very much for such an experience.” He offers the vial back to you, in which you quickly refuse.
“Feel free to keep it for yourself,” you insisted, “I’m more than happy to spread the taste of fig syrup. It works wonderfully on many other teas.” The both of you share a warm silence, one that was filled enough that it needn’t words. And, the light of day was just about leaving, as the sun had already set. You leave the booth once more when you notice all the tea has been completely drunk. As you carefully put the cups into the sink, you noticed the man leaving money at the table. “Ah– you don’t have to do that!”
“Hm?” The man looked up at you quizzally. “I came to drink tea. You cannot do business if you offer it for free, no?”
He’s not wrong, but you felt bad, “consider it an apology for not being able to sell you any of these herbs.” Additionally, he was a Fire Nation nobility. Your fear derived from any potential punishment or demerit on your family name for not treating him well. Although the Fire Nation has taken a complete 180 turn, the trauma of Firelord Ozai’s reign was deeply rooted.
“You are a beautiful soul, young lady,” the man hums, taking out more money than what the tea was worth and placing it on the table. “But I would hate for your parents to punish you for not doing your job.”
You still persist, “regardless, the tea does not cost this much– please take half of that back!” You come out from the booth once more, and quickly try to hand the excess money back to the man. But he rejects it, his hands completely up and refusing to take anything back. Your insistence in fact struck something inside the man, and he quickly looked around, as if he was expecting someone.
“Young lady, do you have any dreams?” The man suddenly asked a heavy question. “I imagine a woman as well spoken and gifted as yourself aspires more than simply working at your family’s tea shop.”
You stop your insistence on the pay, and cross your arms against your body, “what would be wrong if I was happy remaining here?” You were happy, yes, but this was not completely true. You did want more than this life, despite its simplicity.
“Nothing wrong with that at all,” the man agreed, “tell me, would you leave a gem you found in a cave?” You look at him curiously, and hesitate to shake your head. “It is a greedy thought, but the most human one. So I ask again: do you have any dreams?”
Before you could answer, you heard the loud sounds of jogging entering the alley. You look around, wondering who could be running around these parts during the festival. Then, more clearly, you see several Fire Nation guards make their way into view. Was something happening? You thought worriedly. You weren’t so much worried about yourself, but rather your parents.
A guard stands behind the old man you had been serving, and quickly yells, “found him!”
You quickly look around, seeing the guards immediately bow and remain bowed behind the old man. You had an inkling that this man was more important than he led on. But, it's always dangerous to assume things, especially when you do not know. Your heart begins to race, mostly from nerves but also a bit of excitement. This was extremely rare, and you were curious and hopeful that this was nothing but good or neutral happenings.
“Master Iroh, we have been looking for you all over,” one of the guards pants out, struggling to keep his bow still. Master Iroh? You could swear you’ve heard that name somewhere, considering how small your village was. Big names were treated like celebrities, but this name had a familiarity in its foreignness. “Where have you been?”
“Here,” he gestures to his payment to you, which is still sitting on the table. “Did my nephew send you all to look for me? He’s too old for me to keep holding his hand.” Some of the guards snort but quickly go silent when another set of feet step into the alley. The old man, who you now know is Master Iroh, looks over to his other side and smiles, “your manhunt has come to an end!”
“Stop messing with me, uncle,” a deep, yet gentle voice came into sound. You looked over, and your eyes were quick to react before your body. There stood the owner of the voice, with amber eyes filled with concern. Though he was not looking at you by any means, his refined facial features and the immense length of his jet black hair was the start to your potential cardiac arrest. But, it was the familiar scarring of his left eye that solidified the reason for your potential cardiac arrest. That, and the symbolic crown wedged into the bun that sat right on top of his head. Silently and promptly, you bow your head so low, your face is inches away from your knees.
“Who said I was messing with you?” Master Iroh looked up at him, baffled. “I wanted a cup of tea, and it ended up being much more worth my while.”
It was at this moment you realized something. Firelord Zuko addressed your customer as uncle. This entire time, you have been serving the current Firelord’s uncle, firstborn son of Fire Lord Azulon and a crucial member of Order of the White Lotus.
Firelord Zuko glances over at you, giving you a good look before returning to annoyance, “Uncle, there was tea being offered to you left and right. I don’t understand you at all.”
“Zuko, the best cup of tea is enjoyed in peace,” Master Iroh teaches. “And this young lady here made me realize that our hunt is officially over.”
“Uncle, what are you talking about?” Firelord Zuko asks in genuine stew, “what hunt?”
Master Iroh looks up at you with a warm, welcoming smile, “I think I finally found your new attendant.” He then looks over and offers his hand, “I know you have not told me your dreams yet, and perhaps you might not have any. But, I would love to invite you to the Capital, and perhaps make something come true.”
As you remained bowed, you weren’t sure how to feel, or what to say. You straightened yourself, looking up at Firelord Zuko, whose eyes were quickly trained on you. You didn’t dare assume a thing, but his fixation on you had your heart skipped a few too many beats to be considered healthy. You quickly look over at Master Iroh, whose hand still remained up and offered to you. “Are you sure I am what you’re looking for?”
Master Iroh nods, “I think you are exactly what is needed in the Capital. My only ask is that you consider it, and consider it well.”
And that is how a few cups of tea led you to work in Capital City, the heart of the Fire Nation, and home to Firelord Zuko.
hi all! I hope you like the prologue to my new fanfic on adult zuko. please lmk if you would like me to start a taglist (if any of yall are interested, i just made this blog)
wishing u all good health and happy fanfic reading x
Burnt to the Core ♨ Prologue | reader(f) x Firelord Zuko
synopsis: you are firelord zuko's direct attendant. zuko has long reformed the fire nation after ozai's takedown and zuko's assuming of power. but now you had a challenge of your own: your feelings for the firelord. what was just a simple crush turned out to be more trouble than you would have imagined. but it may have been worth it.
word count: 3486
warnings: no spoilers of the movie (besides using this gif here + how gaang now looks as adults). this is mature (MDNI + trigger warning), as a lot of violence/sexual topics will be brought up.
authors note: yes, the edits have inspired me. yes, listen to jealous type as you read this fic.
***ONLY PUBLISHED ON TUMBLR***
It began there, the memory of the Bazaar that day swarming your thoughts.
That day was so lively, and full of joy. Small shops were set up, all sorts of banners and streamers hung around. Flames reached the clouds from the street performers in the square, with watchers jumping out of their seats, their snacks flying with them. A local band took over the streets, playing tunes that were irresistible to the feet of dancers. There was a warmth much deeper than the usual heat of this nation's benders.
You were rushing through the crowds, the bamboo basket in your hands full of the herbs your mother had tasked you to collect. It would’ve been easier to get through the people, had your mother also not demanded for you to wear such a flowy dress. It was beautiful, yes, but clung onto everything that stuck out, pokey or so long that it got trapped under people's feet. There were setbacks, but you knew you had to do this.
Truthfully, this was one responsibility you enjoyed immensely. Your family had inherited rich, fertile land with plants and herbs maintained for millennia through your bloodline. And with your parents being tea sommeliers, you could only follow their footsteps. However, you were more passionate about herbalism, and were much more allured by the medicinal route of life. That said, nothing could go wrong with a cup of tea.
You remember how dark the home had been, as you peeked through the burgundy curtain cloaking the side entrance. The celebration for Firelord Zuko’s visit felt like an eternity, starting from the morning and ongoing. It was the evening now, and you figured your parents are still going to be there until everyone has packed and gone. You quickly put the basket down on the counter by the porch of the house, which had been converted into a booth as your parents sold tea from the house. You reach over to the lever to open up the awning of the booth. The house felt stuffy, and you were a little too warm from the hike.
As you begin to wash the herbs, you hear the sound of one of your wooden stools getting shuffled. You look up, and notice an older gentleman taking a seat. You meet obsidian eyes that hold wisdom that you can only imagine is vast and neverending. Dribbles of sweat hung from his smooth head, with his gray beard off to one side (though, you don’t believe he noticed). He meets your gaze and offers a kind smile, “I do hope you are open, I’ve been seeking a nice cup of tea.”
You were surprised, considering the countless tea shops being offered at the celebration in the square. You were about to explain that you were closed, given your parents hosting a mini shop at the square as well, but a pendant caught your eye. He had a gold brooch hung on the side of his right arm, with the Fire Nations emblem on it. This meant this man was either a guard or of nobility; a high ranking individual in the nation. Of course, seeing his age, you had to assume he long returned his work in the army, and this was simply an honorary pendant. Either way, you were not allowed to reject or not assist such an important individual.
“Let me get the kettle going,” you say quietly, offering a warm smile as you quickly get some water boiling. “I was not expecting any customers out here, considering the party going on in the middle of the village.”
The old man hummed, nodding at your words, “ah, you’re not wrong to assume such a thing. There’s so many people out there for the Firelord that I got a bit overwhelmed. I can’t enjoy my tea in such excitement.”
That’s understandable, considering how impossible it is to find a seat or navigate when the Bazaar was this active. “My parents are currently hosting their tea at the market, but I was told to remain here in case stragglers came through this alley for a cup of tea.” This was partially true. Technically, you were not expecting anybody to find food or beverage deep in the village, but your parents were opportunists.
The old man nods off, “your parents understand the opportunities that can come with gatherings like these. But I imagine you would have liked to go and see the Firelord.”
You could only shrug, listening to the kettle finally whistle. “It would have been nice, but my parents need me here,” you say simply, “but I am eternally grateful for our Firelord, and what he has done for the nation since the start of his reign.”
It has been 5 years since the takedown of Firelord Ozai, allowing for Prince Zuko to assume his place and lead the Fire Nation to the right direction. Since taking charge, he has taken all the right steps to begin restoring the Fire Nation, beginning with an immense apology to the rest of the nations for the war and genocide brought about by his father. Since then, he has made it a goal to visit all of the villages and capitals that made up the Fire Nation. He wanted to get to know his nation once again, and the best way was to spend time with them and see what he can do to assist.
“Your words warm my heart,” the old man coos, his hand making its way to hover above his heart, “He would have been very happy to hear those words himself.”
You smile while carefully lifting your kettle from the fire and putting it on a cork trivet. “What kind of tea would you like?”
His eyes distract themselves with the steam escaping the kettle. You allow him to think on it, and turn over to bend away the fire at the bottom of the chimney. “What do you have?” He asks curiously.
You grab one of the scrolls and offer it to him, “these are all of the teas we have to offer. And if you would like anything to eat, I can start up the fire again.”
“Oh ho ho, I am all good for a meal,” he laughs out before tapping at his bulbous belly, “but a tea is a must. He pulls the scroll opposite with both hands, and his eyes saunter at the options. He then looks back at you with a curt smile, “what is your favorite tea?”
You look at him curiously before grabbing a menu yourself, “from the menu…”
“Ah, but what is your favorite?” The old man insisted, putting the scroll down gently. “I’m not saying your favorite cannot be a classic tea, but your family runs a tea shop. I can only imagine the teas that you enjoy that might not be appreciated by untrained tongues.”
You stare at the older man before you, your curiosity itself being allured by his words. It felt like you were being challenged somehow, as if disappointment was an option if you did not proceed to deliver. “Is there any fruit or herb you do not like or cannot have?” You ask first. The old man shakes his head no. “Pardon me a moment.”
You rush back into your home, sauntering into your room. It was small, but cozy with plenty of cushions and blankets to keep you warm and safe. You crawl down to the farthest cabinet in the room, and slide the bamboo door open. Inside resided a small, clay pot. You peel off the parchment that you’ve used to seal the pot, and remove a small pouch. You return to the old man, untying the pouch to reveal a sable black herb. It was soft to the touch, and retained its moisture from the method that you sealed it.
You grab a small pinch, and ask for the old man's hand. He obliges, allowing you to put some of the herbs in the center of his palm. As you prepare his tea, you begin to describe it in a tale, “this herb comes from an incredibly rare lotus flower. Its original petals are this lovely pink… it shocked me when my parents and I discovered it. This herb is from the very core of this flower, but when collecting it, there’s a bit of intimidation– it looks like there are snakes within its center.”
He brings his hand up to his nose, his eyes closed to appreciate the scent. “I am a fan of lotus, but this is quite unique. There is a sweet aroma to it.”
“Almost vanilla-like, right?” You supplement his thoughts. “It surprised me to smell how sweet it was. And it almost convinces you that you need not add any additional sweetener to it.”
His eyes furrow, “is it bitter?”
“It can be,” you hum. “But its taste is phenomenal, and its flavors can become more complex with time.”
“With time?” He allowed your passion to fly with his own curiosity.
You nod, quickly preparing a cup with the herbs inside, watching as they quickly ascend through the water and flat at the top. You get another cup, adding some of the herbs and pouring water as well. But this time, you added a sweetener: fig syrup. With separate spoons, you stir both cups and begin to seat it on a tray. Then, you walk over to one cabinet within the kitchen, and begin to bring down a deep brown pot. This, too, is sealed in a particular way, with a cheese cloth layered several times around the rim to retain its contents while also allowing it to breathe just a bit.
“And this is…?”
“This is the same tea, but fermented,” you inform him. You grab a ladle, pouring a cup's worth of tea in a small, metal cup. You hold the cup from the bottom, and allow flames to illuminate from your palm. “It is good cold, but I prefer it to be quite hot.” Once heated, the delicious scent of the steam emitting from the cup almost took you over. You bring the cup to the tray, and step from behind the booth to present it to him.
You take the opportunity to stand before him and bow, “I apologize for not bowing for you before, as I was behind the booth.” He immediately waves you off, scoffing at his pendant while flicking it with his finger.
“Actually, I was quite content that you did not bow to me. Sure, I have served this nation, but you serve this nation as well by being part of it.” He quickly taps at your shoulders, bidding you to rise. “You are just as important as I am, and your craft is something that I am quite envious of.”
You smile warmly before you make your way back to the booth. “Please try the freshly brewed tea to your left first,” you instruct, “I have made that one without any sweetener so you can appreciate the lotus as is.”
The man brings the cup to his nose first, taking it with the aroma before having a sip. “That… is wonderful,” he praises softly. He looks down at the tea, seeing how the water had been tinted with this sunrise yellow. “I am beginning to understand why this is your favorite.”
You nod, “but it is much better with the sweetener that I have made. My parents do not like it at all, but I find fig syrup to be deserving of the palette.” He follows suit, and takes a sip of the sweetened tea.
He pauses for a moment, bringing his free hand up to wipe away excess tea from his mustache and beard. But, despite this, he goes for another sip, and another sip. A few gulps passed, and the cup returned to its vacant state. He gently puts down the cup and lets out a hot sigh. “In my many years of life, I have never thought that figs could do tea so well.”
You smile excitedly. This would be the first time you could share one of your most loved teas. Your parents enjoyed them, sure, but not with virgin taste buds. It was refreshing to see another's excitement to a tea that you can happily say is some of the best in the world, even if the rest of the world didn’t know it.
As he goes to pick up the final cup, you offer him a small vial of the fig syrup, “if you would like to sweeten it after taking a sip of it raw. Though I do warn you, you might need the syrup as this fermented tea is a bit… strong.”
He acknowledges your words, and quickly takes a sip of the fermented tea. His eyes widened completely, staring down curiously at the more matured yellow of the tea. “Will it be at all possible for me to buy this tea from you?” He asks honestly. He studies his cup, almost taken aback by the complexity of the tea. “I don’t think tea has ever left me speechless like this before.”
“You and I both,” you concur with a giggle, “I’d love to sell you some, but I’ve grown quite attached to this tea. I’ve had this tea fermenting for a month now, I believe. You’re actually the first person to taste it since I prepared and stored it.”
“I’m quite honored, thank you,” the man hums. He adds some of the syrup from the vial you offered him, and began to stir with a provided spoon on the tray. Taking a sip of the fermented tea now sweetened, he nodded in approval. “This is phenomenal. Thank you very much for such an experience.” He offers the vial back to you, in which you quickly refuse.
“Feel free to keep it for yourself,” you insisted, “I’m more than happy to spread the taste of fig syrup. It works wonderfully on many other teas.” The both of you share a warm silence, one that was filled enough that it needn’t words. And, the light of day was just about leaving, as the sun had already set. You leave the booth once more when you notice all the tea has been completely drunk. As you carefully put the cups into the sink, you noticed the man leaving money at the table. “Ah– you don’t have to do that!”
“Hm?” The man looked up at you quizzally. “I came to drink tea. You cannot do business if you offer it for free, no?”
He’s not wrong, but you felt bad, “consider it an apology for not being able to sell you any of these herbs.” Additionally, he was a Fire Nation nobility. Your fear derived from any potential punishment or demerit on your family name for not treating him well. Although the Fire Nation has taken a complete 180 turn, the trauma of Firelord Ozai’s reign was deeply rooted.
“You are a beautiful soul, young lady,” the man hums, taking out more money than what the tea was worth and placing it on the table. “But I would hate for your parents to punish you for not doing your job.”
You still persist, “regardless, the tea does not cost this much– please take half of that back!” You come out from the booth once more, and quickly try to hand the excess money back to the man. But he rejects it, his hands completely up and refusing to take anything back. Your insistence in fact struck something inside the man, and he quickly looked around, as if he was expecting someone.
“Young lady, do you have any dreams?” The man suddenly asked a heavy question. “I imagine a woman as well spoken and gifted as yourself aspires more than simply working at your family’s tea shop.”
You stop your insistence on the pay, and cross your arms against your body, “what would be wrong if I was happy remaining here?” You were happy, yes, but this was not completely true. You did want more than this life, despite its simplicity.
“Nothing wrong with that at all,” the man agreed, “tell me, would you leave a gem you found in a cave?” You look at him curiously, and hesitate to shake your head. “It is a greedy thought, but the most human one. So I ask again: do you have any dreams?”
Before you could answer, you heard the loud sounds of jogging entering the alley. You look around, wondering who could be running around these parts during the festival. Then, more clearly, you see several Fire Nation guards make their way into view. Was something happening? You thought worriedly. You weren’t so much worried about yourself, but rather your parents.
A guard stands behind the old man you had been serving, and quickly yells, “found him!”
You quickly look around, seeing the guards immediately bow and remain bowed behind the old man. You had an inkling that this man was more important than he led on. But, it's always dangerous to assume things, especially when you do not know. Your heart begins to race, mostly from nerves but also a bit of excitement. This was extremely rare, and you were curious and hopeful that this was nothing but good or neutral happenings.
“Master Iroh, we have been looking for you all over,” one of the guards pants out, struggling to keep his bow still. Master Iroh? You could swear you’ve heard that name somewhere, considering how small your village was. Big names were treated like celebrities, but this name had a familiarity in its foreignness. “Where have you been?”
“Here,” he gestures to his payment to you, which is still sitting on the table. “Did my nephew send you all to look for me? He’s too old for me to keep holding his hand.” Some of the guards snort but quickly go silent when another set of feet step into the alley. The old man, who you now know is Master Iroh, looks over to his other side and smiles, “your manhunt has come to an end!”
“Stop messing with me, uncle,” a deep, yet gentle voice came into sound. You looked over, and your eyes were quick to react before your body. There stood the owner of the voice, with amber eyes filled with concern. Though he was not looking at you by any means, his refined facial features and the immense length of his jet black hair was the start to your potential cardiac arrest. But, it was the familiar scarring of his left eye that solidified the reason for your potential cardiac arrest. That, and the symbolic crown wedged into the bun that sat right on top of his head. Silently and promptly, you bow your head so low, your face is inches away from your knees.
“Who said I was messing with you?” Master Iroh looked up at him, baffled. “I wanted a cup of tea, and it ended up being much more worth my while.”
It was at this moment you realized something. Firelord Zuko addressed your customer as uncle. This entire time, you have been serving the current Firelord’s uncle, firstborn son of Fire Lord Azulon and a crucial member of Order of the White Lotus.
Firelord Zuko glances over at you, giving you a good look before returning to annoyance, “Uncle, there was tea being offered to you left and right. I don’t understand you at all.”
“Zuko, the best cup of tea is enjoyed in peace,” Master Iroh teaches. “And this young lady here made me realize that our hunt is officially over.”
“Uncle, what are you talking about?” Firelord Zuko asks in genuine stew, “what hunt?”
Master Iroh looks up at you with a warm, welcoming smile, “I think I finally found your new attendant.” He then looks over and offers his hand, “I know you have not told me your dreams yet, and perhaps you might not have any. But, I would love to invite you to the Capital, and perhaps make something come true.”
As you remained bowed, you weren’t sure how to feel, or what to say. You straightened yourself, looking up at Firelord Zuko, whose eyes were quickly trained on you. You didn’t dare assume a thing, but his fixation on you had your heart skipped a few too many beats to be considered healthy. You quickly look over at Master Iroh, whose hand still remained up and offered to you. “Are you sure I am what you’re looking for?”
Master Iroh nods, “I think you are exactly what is needed in the Capital. My only ask is that you consider it, and consider it well.”
And that is how a few cups of tea led you to work in Capital City, the heart of the Fire Nation, and home to Firelord Zuko.
hi all! I hope you like the prologue to my new fanfic on adult zuko. please lmk if you would like me to start a taglist (if any of yall are interested, i just made this blog)
wishing u all good health and happy fanfic reading x
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