It was mandatory. They both had to dance the first dance. It was their wedding, after all.
In his embrace, she feels safe. But she knows the warmth he emanates is not because of her, it's because she's here, too. Nevermind, she thinks, I have to pretend that he's happy because of me.
They continue dancing.
She looks. He looks away. She sees love in his eyes, shining so brightly, but she knows it's not meant for her, though she wishes it was. He looks to somewhere, someone, else.
He looks. She looks away. He sees pain in her eyes, hidden behind a veneer of composure she had polished over the years, and he knows, regrets, because he knows it's his fault. She looks at his shoulder, maintaining her happy facade.
This is a dance they both knew too well. Skirting and moving around the other ever so gracefully, never really quite knowing what to do.
Close their hearts beat, but not touching, almost is never enough, she thinks.
He will learn to love you as you love him, they said to her.
It is best for the nation, your majesty, they said to him.
Love will come next, especially after you bear him a son, an heir to the throne, don't you worry, they assured her.
The people need to see you solidifying the nation right after the war, my Lord, and what better way than to marry a Fire Nation woman of noble birth? They suggested to him.
And so they were wed, through the voices in their heads telling them that this was wrong, this wasn't meant for them, that they will suffer. They had a marriage of convenience, their happiness for the peace of the world, it was a small price to pay, they both thought.
She couldn't take it anymore. The love, the longing she sees every time her husband looks to her, it's been years but it's still there, and it's still not for her.
Her husband is not a cruel man, he gives her everything she needs, makes sure she is comfortable, makes sure she is loved, but that isn't the love she wants. He gives her the love he gives to his friends, save one. That is the love she wants from him, the kind she is giving him, the kind he is giving her. But she knows that will never be.
She does her duties well, the advisers picked correctly, but he knows she is not happy. He knows it's still his fault. He tries, though it is futile, he tries to love her the way he loves her. Thoughts of her race in his head, her striking blue eyes, her small brown hands, her graceful lithe body, bending the water effortlessly, and feelings of love warm his heart. He shakes his head and replaces it with thoughts of Mai, her pale skin, a contrast to the vivid bronze of hers, her amber eyes he wished were blue. No, stop it, he thinks. Instead of thinking about either of them, he throws himself at his work and the warmth of love never returns.
At the end of the day, the voices in their heads telling them years and years ago were right. This marriage of convenience will cause them to suffer. But that was the price to pay, they still thought.
He wished he was able to love her, the way she wanted, even after all these years. He resented himself for not being able to return her feelings, resented that he was the one causing her pain, he tried, he really tried. But his feelings for the waterbender were stronger and he hated himself more for it.
Holding his dying wife in his arms, he realised that he had caused her so much pain, and he had been too late. He did love her, but she didn't allow herself to feel that love, for that love was not whole. His love for her was shared with his love for Katara, and he didn't know what to feel anymore.
She wished she was she, with her jet black pin straight hair turning to chocolate brown curls, her pale skin turning to a dusky bronze, and her eyes turning from amber to bright blue, if only that will make her husband look at her the way he looks at her, for him to love her as whole as he does for her. She thought as she lets go of the world, joining her heart in the spirit world that had died somewhere down the line, no longer standing the pain.
Her love stays unrequited, until her dying breath.