A/N: Super late Zutara secret santa gift for beanaroony! Let me begin with profuse apologizing followed by an explanation. I am so sorry it's late and also not happy-lovey fun times. I promise to do more with your prompts later to make up for it! TT-TT
And I'm also considering making another chapter to actually make it happy jeez.
When I first got your name I had a minor heart attack because omg you're art. FLAWLESS. You are flawless. As to the lateness, I was having a sad life event which influenced this sad piece and the prompt that moved me most was:
Difficult are the trials of love/yet my heart does not understand this.
I hope it's not too disappointing. D:
Zuko did not understand.
He had vied for her affections, grasping tightly to every slight victory in getting to know her. The more he knew, the more he was fascinated. How could a woman be so bewitching and then considerably try his patience within the span of an hour?
Everything about her was an intoxication. Her unruly hair, her silken skin, the way her breath hitched when he touched her. He could never get enough of her. The laughter, the shouts, the tears. They had struggled through it all together, but he still did not understand.
A mutual struggle to live, to love, to coexist. Didn't everyone experience that? The nights spent sleeping alone when they fought, and the dawns they spent making up. Every bit of life was as valued as the next, every memory precious. He clung to the happiest, but there was some feeling growing within his chest.
Blink.
Waking up before her and watching her sleep.
Blink.
The first time they made love, running his hands over her body while she encouraged him.
Blink.
Having conversations about their future with such hope and excitement.
Soon the blinking became tightly shut eyes, his face contorted in a grimace as if he could scare the tears away. He clutched at his tunic in his grief, trying to hold onto something tangible. She had said he was strong, and Zuko would hate to make a liar out of her.
He could not even think of her name, it was too much. Every time his mind ghosted upon it, beginning to form the characters on his brain's tongue, he would push to something else. If he was not quick enough, he had learned, the young man would be consumed with memories. They would wash over him like a flood, and he would allow them to carry him down into dark despair to drown.
Every minute was a struggle to survive, to take in air and release it. He would have rather struggled with her, because then at least he might have a chance to speak, to see her again. But since she left, he is never sure if he wants to speak with her again or not. That night comes rushing to his mind, overcoming his well placed defenses and he relives that horrible scene once more.
"Zuko, we need to talk," she begins. He knows nothing good ever comes from those words, but what could he possibly have to fear?
Their relationship is solid, as far as he's concerned, but he humors her. They are both comfortable in the royal chambers upon his bed, and Zuko has an early morning tomorrow. He decides it's best to get it out of the way so he can get some sleep.
He raises his brow for her to continue, but she's not looking at him. He urges her verbally and she goes on.
"Master Pakku has died in his sleep. Gran says it's age."
Zuko offers his condolences immediately, knowing how pivotal he was to her waterbending mastery. He scoots himself closer and wraps his arms around her, murmuring loving, sympathetic words into her ear.
"I'm not done," she says, pulling gently away from him.
For the first time she meets his eyes and he knows, deep down, something is horribly wrong. Life-changingly wrong.
"They need a master waterbender to take over for him. They have requested me to take his place, to move to the North Pole."
Zuko is cautious in his congratulations. Katara would be a wonderful teacher, and her bending skills are known throughout all nations. It was a dream of hers to have a waterbending school after the war, and this was her opportunity. How could he bear holding her back from something she wanted so much? Of course he encouraged her to go. They could do long distance, no problem, he thought. But then came the kicker.
"I think we can't be together any more." Her words are soft as a down pillow, but they cut through him like a dagger. He can't breathe, can't speak. He can only stare blindly at her as she fiddles with her fingers, eyes averted. He wants to fight for her, entreat her to at least give it a try. But she has already made up her mind without him.
She had made the conscious choice to go on without him.
She was leaving him.
He didn't realize his clenched fists were shaking until she laid a gentle hand on his arm.
"I know you're strong, Zuko. You'll be remembered long after we're all dead as the best Fire Lord of your nation. My place is with my people. We - we were only kidding ourselves when we planned a life together. It would've e-ended like this anyway." He cannot bear to look at her, but her stutter betrays her words: she didn't want it to end this way either. A small hope, considering she was still leaving.
Zuko encouraged her to leave as soon as possible, keeping his eyes from her all the while, and left the woman who had broken his spirit to spend her last night in their bed - alone.
The wet tear tracks on his face disgusted him as he brought himself from his waking nightmare. It wasn't the first time he had been left alone, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. At least his mother had wanted to come back into his life, and hadn't left on her own volition the first time.
To keep his mind preoccupied, he tries to make up things Uncle would say. Where was the silver lining in this situation for him? He wrestled with the idea before moving on to a new one. Perhaps he would say, "difficult are the trials of love." Zuko snorts at how accurate he might be, and thinks of his own comeback.
"Yet my heart does not understand this," he speaks aloud, voice cracking from disuse. Normally he would have been struck by his poetic genius, but everything is dull to him now. He exists only for his nation simply because he must.