Meloncholy – To Crown a Prince
Katara sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the tiny mantle she would soon have to place on her son's shoulders, thinking about the weight he would carry from now until the day he died. On the wooden chest next to the mantle sat the Crown Prince's crown, and Katara's breath caught as she thought about how, every morning, her son would wake, and he would do his top knot, and he would put on this crown.
Would she still recognize him? He wouldn't be her baby anymore. In truth, he hadn't been her baby for a very long time. She tried to remind herself that Kurzu was sixteen, now, a young man beyond any doubt.
There was a soft knock at the door.
She clutched the red sheets as she fought against that tear. Where had the years gone?
"Katara?"
Zuko walked in and stopped when he saw her staring at the mantle and the crown. There was only an hour until the ceremony was supposed to begin, she knew, but she couldn't make her heart stop breaking like that. When she looked at Zuko, she could tell that his heart was breaking, too, even if he did hide it better. He'd never been able to hide from her.
"When did we get so old?" he asked, coming to sit on the bed next to her.
They stared at the mantle, so much like their own, with its three tiers of pointed steel, black red with gold trim, then black again. Briefly, Katara wondered if he'd be strong enough to carry that weight all day. Would they have to give him pads to wear over his shoulders? Would he accept that extra help, or would he be stubborn like his father and take the pain as a reminder of his duty? When had he gotten so old and serious?
When she sobbed, Zuko put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him.
"We tried so hard to shield them from all of this," she whispered. "I'm so proud of the young man he's become. He's so focused on being the best Crown Prince he can be, and really, he's doing a great job of it, it's just…"
"He's our first born," Zuko finished. "It hurts to see him grow up and to know what awaits him."
Katara nodded, but took in a calm, steadying breath. For three years, Kurzu had been asking to be given this crown. He wanted so desperately to help his parents, to make things easier for them. He couldn't even begin to understand just why they were so reluctant to let him wear it. He'd gone so far as to think that they didn't trust him, that they didn't think he was ready. At thirteen, no, he wasn't ready, but it was so much more than that. He was her child, her baby. She didn't want him to grow up, to shoulder adult responsibilities, to be trapped in boring meetings rather than running outside and playing with his siblings and his cousins. She wanted freedom for him, the freedom to do with his days as he pleased, to never have to ask himself how other people will take his actions, to lounge, relaxed in the sun rather than spend his days cooped up in an office studying reports and treaties and taxes and looking over the ledger.
They sighed heavily, in unison, and they looked at each other with matching crooked smiles. Zuko laughed, first, using his thumb to wipe away a few stray tears. The crown and the mantle still waited before them, marking the dividing line between childhood and adulthood. Having been through war, Katara still felt that sixteen was too young, even if Kurzu would still be crown prince in his thirties.
"Your majesties, it's time to begin the ceremony."
Katara sighed. Chief of Staff, Minister Hau was calling them to their duty. When she stood, Zuko was at her side, squeezing her hand.
"We've done what we can to give them a better world. We've done what we could to raise them properly, to make sure they knew right from wrong. To love them…to…"
Zuko trailed off, looking intently at the crown.
"Avatar Roku was the last to wear this crown," he said. "Kurzu knows who he is. We have to trust that. We have to trust him."
Together, clinging to each other for support, they opened the door, and servants and attendants flooded in. They checked to make sure everything was polished to a high gloss, that there were no imperfections, and when they were satisfied, they placed the sacred items, destroyers of childhood though they were, into the wooden chest, and carried it out of the room.
Fire Lord Zuko and Fire Lady Katara walked at the head of the procession out of the Fire Sages temple and into the courtyard. The day was bright and flawless, and before them was a sea of people. Katara was sure that, in centuries past, Fire Ladies looked out and saw nothing but red as they sent their children forward into adulthood, but when she looked out, her heart swelled with a sad pride.
There was every color imaginable, and on the wind, the sweet smell of a hundred different flowers. The crowd erupted into cheers; red and green and blue and purple and yellow and orange, all these different colors, and mixtures of each greeted them. They threw flowers and rang bells, and Katara tried to suck in their strength and their happiness. She looked for familiar faces, needing just a little more encouragement. There was her father, beaming with pride, unshed tears in his eyes, his hair a little grayer than it had been the last time she saw him. And next to him, Sokka and Suki, holding hands, still so much in love through all the ears. Sokka smiled, and nodded to her, a sad smile of understanding because one day, he would go through this with his own son. Iroh smiled with pure joy, perhaps knowing more certainly than they did that the world was different, that things would be different for their child. Toph sat next to him, her arms crossed, her head high, a slight smirk on her face. Ursa tossed petals into the wind from a basket, catching her eyes, and next to Ursa sat Azula and Aang. Though they'd long ago done away with the awkwardness of their failed relationship, she knew that Aang would always look at her and wonder "what if." She thought she caught a bit of that just then, his wondering how their lives would be different if she'd been able to return his feelings, and Katara forced herself away from his gray eyes to look at Azula. Azula just stared at Katara, steady like her blue flame, and this, more than anything gave Katara hope.
Azula had come through the other side. She'd seen the worst of her family, and had been able to recover. She'd found some measure of happiness, had proven that her family's burden was not too much to bear.
And so Katara turned her attention once again toward the center aisle, and she and Zuko moved as a unit toward the end where their children, and their eldest waited for them, the chest with the crown and mantle being carried behind them.
When they reached him, Kurzu was smiling up at them with bright blue eyes, such joy and happiness on his face. When had he gotten so tall? Not caring that he would be embarrassed, Katara smoothed back his hair, and kissed his forehead as she had done so many times when he was a child.
"Mom," Kurzu muttered, his cheeks coloring a little.
"You will always be my little boy. No matter how big you get. No matter how old you are."
They stepped to the side.
"Today, we witness the crowning of Prince Kurzu, son of Fire Lord Zuko and Fire Lady Katara," the eldest Fire Sage said. "Let this crowning cement the dawning of a new day for the Fire Nation. Let it cement the peace that the union of Fire Lord Zuko and Fire Lady Katara has brought to this nation."
Katara tried to hold onto her smile as the mantle was lifted over her little boy's head. Together, she and Zuko fastened the straps at his sides as the Fire Sage continued about auspicious signs and peace and prosperity, about Kurzu's accomplishments and the greatness of his family. Together, she and Zuko lifted the crown, held it above their baby's topknot.
"Today, we banish you, Prince Kurzu, and welcome Crown Prince Kurzu of the Fire Nation!"
The crowd erupted into cheers.
"Son of Fire Lord Zuko."
Bells rang.
"Son of Fire Lady Katara."
People stood and clapped.
"First of his name."
She didn't hold back her tears.
A/N: For Zutara week 2014. Once again, everything I write takes place in this one, insane massive headcannon I have.I've missed all of you. Massive thanks goes out to Jazzpha and Masayume, because they've been my constant companions and my muses.