A/N: Avatar the Last Airbender + genderfluid character. Uses a mix of she/he/they/...
What Magic Cannot Do
She threw the plain gold tunic on the floor and stared at herself in the mirror. Her naked body stared back: flat chest, thin hips. Not right. Nothing was right. It begged to be covered, to have the wrongness hidden away where nobody could see.
Snatching up a different tunic, yellow with delicate, slanting embroidery, she tied it on and surveyed her figure in the glass. The fall of the fabric made her look less wrong and more like a woman who was simply…small. Narrower, wispier.
But that wasn't right either. Her forearms bulged with muscle that she was quite proud of—she worked hard for this physique.
It was a body which some days she loved, and some days betrayed her.
Zuko was already heading toward the door when he heard the sniffling. Rushing the last few steps, he entered the bedroom he shared with his beloved and zeroed in on the occupant.
In the middle of the floor, a figure sat cross-legged facing the open balcony. The large room made the lone body look small: a tiny human staring at the great forested mountain through the open doors, the sun setting beyond. Despite the perspective, this particular human loomed large in Zuko's eyes.
"Aang?" he asked tentatively.
Aang's shoulders rose as he took a long, slow breath. Then there was another sniffle. Zuko jerked at the sound.
"What's wrong?"
"They kept treating me like him." Aang's voice was thin. "Didn't see me."
Closing the door, Zuko approached until he was just a few steps away. When the avatar twisted to look up at him, tears shone on Aang's cheeks in the orange light.
"Who?" Zuko hissed, already planning retribution.
"The elders. In the meetings. They refused to see…" Aang turned away, spreading his arms, "…me."
As Zuko knelt next to him, he took in the lilac embroidery on Aang's tunic, realized these were her clothes, and immediately switched mental gears.
Settling beside her, Zuko glanced over and met her eyes.
"Did you tell them?" he asked softly. Not that they hadn't been told plenty of times before.
"Of course I did!" Aang burst out. "They continued calling me 'lord.'"
Zuko took Aang's hand, rubbing his thumb over her scarred knuckles. The hands were smooth and manicured—he wondered when she'd had time to beautify herself. They'd both been busy since they got up early that morning, hardly even seeing each other as they passed in the halls of the fire palace. Last night Aang had been decidedly male, and he hadn't seen her since then.
"I'm sorry." Zuko bowed his head: this was not how he wanted this week to start off. Anger laced through his voice as he said, "I'll talk to them. They should know better. It's not like this is the first time for the bastards."
"This doesn't happen to me during my travels," she muttered. "Even the waterbenders know better, and they're steeped in almost as much tradition. It doesn't happen when I'm studying, or teaching, or anything else…"
She broke off. Hearing her stifle a sob, Zuko tugged her closer, feeling insufficient. But Aang put her head on his shoulder, face against Zuko's neck, and breathed a long sigh. He ran his fingers through her shoulder-length hair in slow strokes. It filled him with warmth, able to hold her while the sky put on its colorful display beyond them. Able to be here for her when she needed it.
"Tea?" he asked after a bit. "I had ginseng brought earlier."
"Just a minute," Aang whispered. "I don't want you to move yet."
Zuko smiled and stayed where he was.
They got so little time together like this. He knew that was how it had to be for now, and knew also that things would change as political situations continued to calm and the new airbenders Aang taught reached a point where they could teach others. In a few years, the two of them could make this official and Zuko wouldn't have to wait weeks between seeing Aang. Wouldn't have to watch her—or him, or them, depending—leave after the few too-short days they managed to savor here and there.
For now it had to be this way.
Please don't leave again, he wanted to say, except that sounded so needy, and her needs were greater at the moment. If it hurt her to be here, she should be allowed to escape. Much as he hated the idea.
When he finally rose to pour tea, she wiped her face and said, "Sorry."
"For what?" He frowned.
"Being upset over this. I don't like turning it into an issue when it's really not a big deal."
Zuko glared at Aang. "Yes it is."
She gave a half-hearted smile. "It's just how the old farts are, right?"
"You still shouldn't have to deal with this," Zuko growled. "You're the lady of this house. They all know that. They don't rank anywhere close to you, and should respect who you are without question. Which means this is deliberate disrespect. That needs to be dealt with."
"It's fine, Zuko," Aang said, biting her lip.
"Actually, it's not!" Emotions tumbled inside him like bubbles stirring in a pot right before it boiled. "There's a hierarchy for a reason. When the power structure is disregarded, things begin to fall apart."
"So…what are you going to do?"
"Let them know they've dishonored themselves. And," he grinned coldly, "let them know if they continue, I'll make sure their dishonor is well-known."
Returning with the tea, he sat across from Aang on the tatami floor. Though Aang took her cup, she stared down at her knees without drinking.
"I'm sorry, Zuko," she muttered. "If I weren't variable, it wouldn't cause all this trouble."
His sharp intake of breath must have indicated he was about to protest, because she spoke up quickly.
"I'm not saying I'm trying to change. Or that I'm ashamed. Just that sometimes I wish I were like other people. It's—it's not really fair."
Zuko swallowed and stared out the open window to avoid meeting Aang's grey eyes.
"It isn't," he agreed. Idiots should get their goddamn heads on straight.
Anger. He needed to control the anger curdling in his stomach.
Aang reached out and brushed over Zuko's fist where it rested on his knee. The action made him look up, surprised to find her expression was gentle and sad.
"I'm sorry you have to deal with the injustice of it too," she said.
The emotions in Zuko's chest burst: hot, heavy, molten.
"Stop," he demanded, his voice louder than he meant, and Aang jumped. It took way more energy than usual to reign in his tone, inhaling and exhaling slowly but feeling no calmer. This conversation was going down a bad road he didn't want to travel. They were not going to wallow in self-pity, however justifiable: he refused.
Zuko put down his tea, and when Aang followed suit, Zuko stood, crossed the space between them, and drew her to her feet. As he pulled her against his chest, hands on her waist, his words dropped to a whisper, their faces a centimeter apart.
"Stop apologizing. I'm serious."
Lips trembling, Aang looked away.
"I know that you—" Zuko emphasized the word, nodding at female Aang, "—feel less secure than other parts of you. But you've been here, existing, just as long. You stopped my father. You were there when the war ended. You are the avatar. Not just the masculine part: all of it is you."
Aang blinked at him, startled, hopeful, relieved.
"Also…" Zuko's face turned aside to hide his blush. "I believe in all of you. I want you to be confident in all of you, too."
"Zuko." Aang put a hand to his cheek and forced their gazes to meet. Her smile made his heart speed up. "All of me loves you, too."
"I know," he said stupidly.
Aang laughed, a musical sound. Her voice was different, smoother and calmer, but the laugh always held the same note of unrestrained joy. When she put her head against his chest, she had to bend down a little, but Zuko was used to this—loved every facet of her, from the tender way Aang leaned into him now to the impatient way they had cornered him in the hallway a few nights ago, to the fascinating philosophical discussion Zuko and he had had yesterday evening.
Aang was so full of life it made sense she spanned the breadth of identity. Passion could be expressed through roughhousing, sitting quietly together on the balcony, a punch on the shoulder, a happy giggle, a kiss on the cheek; any myriad of things. Aang was all of them.
After a long embrace, Aang turned, still captured in Zuko's arms, and observed the last bit of sun slip behind the mountain. Zuko watched with her, silent and content.
"Lady of the house, huh?" Aang said slowly, glancing over with a gleam of mischief in her eyes. "Does that mean they have to let me feed the toucan puffins if I ask?"
The change of topic made Zuko grin.
"As long as they don't bite your fingers off."
"Toucan puffins don't bite. They're gentle!"
"How would you know?" he teased.
Aang rolled her eyes and began walking toward the door, dragging Zuko after her.
"Wait," he said, pulling back. "Before we leave, can I…kiss you?"
Aang tilted her head. It wasn't always okay: sometimes Aang enjoyed making out in semi-public places, and other times they were circumspect about affection even in private.
"Yes," she said.
Zuko leaned in and felt her breath on his cheek just before their lips met. As he kissed her, she slipped her tongue just barely between his lips, both of them gasping and accidentally breaking the kiss.
A chuckle escaped Aang.
"Wanna go make out under the cherry tree?" she whispered excitedly.
"Yeah," he said, somewhat overwhelmed, letting her take his hand and draw him to the door. Her enthusiasm flowed over into him, washing away the worry that this one-week visit would be spent in frustration at his advisors. No matter who said what to her, Aang always found something to be happy about. It was her gift.
It was the reason Zuko had fallen in love with Aang: no matter how their relationship or Aang's identity changed from day to day, Aang could make him feel that the world was a beautiful place worth living in. The way she could wipe away her tears and his resentment in a single smile—that was the avatar's greatest power.
Feeling warmth spreading through his limbs, Zuko followed her out the door.
A/N: Sometimes genderfluidity can seem like it indulges stereotypes, especially in clothing. That doesn't make these exclusive gender traits; just means that fluid person's identities differ in that way. I'll be the first to fight the sexism of anything belonging to only one gender. For me, unlike Aang, I tend to dress more feminine when I'm a man, so...
If you enjoyed, drop a comment! If you didn't, still drop a comment and let me know your thoughts. ^^
And welcome to non-binary month, lovelies.