Katara had always been practical. She'd been a survivalist with Aang; she'd been a regular woman afterward; and she'd done everything she could to save the world. But she'd never told herself once in her life that she could do something she knew was impossible.
That was, until today.
"Please," Zuko whispered against her cheek. She felt his breath against her ear; her neck. She shivered. "Just say yes…"
It wasn't as if he asked her something outrageous. They had fallen in love – at least, that is what her heart told her – and so his asking for her hand in marriage was far from extraordinary. But her entire mind, body, and soul, told her it couldn't be true. She was the daughter of the Chief of the South Pole. He was the Fire Lord. He would marry a Fire Nation woman of good blood and standing in his society. Not a peasant-town's princess.
They were of two different worlds. She only knew the standards in her own nation; she knew how to eat food with her hands and how to help a woman give birth. She knew every secret of the spirit world and had the ability to cook a six-course meal for two hundred people in less than twenty minutes. She was not made to sit behind the Fire Lord's high-backed chair and look strong and beautiful. She was made to sit beside him and give out her opinion without pause. She would not stop herself – she could not.
"I can't," she replied, stepping away from him. "I can't be the Fire Lord's wife, Zuko. I'm not… that person."
Her heart ached. She wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with this man, but it was impossible. And she did not believe in impossible things.
"I don't-," he stopped short, staring into her eyes. He must not have seen what he'd wanted, or had seen nothing; "I'm not…"
She stared over his shoulder. Why had he asked her here to request her hand? This place, this palace, this room… it held terrible memories for her. It made her think of nothing but Ozai; of Ozai's reign; of Ozai's killings; of Ozai's terror. She wanted to run away. But then her eyes saw it. Saw the little deep-blue chair that had been invisible to her before in the dark room.
Katara stepped around Zuko. He reached out to take her hand, but let it slip from his fingers as she pulled it away. Her eyes were locked on the beautiful thing that sat there, that wiped away every memory of the terrible war room that he had brought her to; that made it something completely new. The chair was small; large enough for her to sit in comfortably. The seat was cushioned, unlike most of the Fire Nation's hard, wooden furniture, and the back held a beautiful design, swaying before her eyes like the ocean itself. She reached toward it, ran her fingers along the arms, along the top.
"I had it built especially for you," Zuko said; "I don't just want a wife, Katara; I want a Fire Lady. I want you to be the Fire Lady by my side."
Katara's breath caught in her throat. The Fire Lady. Not my Fire Lady; he wanted her to help him to rule the Fire Nation. To sit beside him; to give her opinions; to be Katara and do exactly what Katara wanted. She wanted to help; she wanted to be with Zuko; she wanted to make a difference. Didn't becoming Fire Lady bring all of her wishes together, and make them all possible?
Yes, she thought; they did.
But did she want – more than anything else – to be Zuko's wife? Did she love him enough to stay with him forever?
Yes, her heart said; YES!
"Yes," she breathed, softer than she'd meant it. Tears, unbidden and unwanted, filled her eyes. She would marry this man. She would spend the rest of her life with the man she loved with all of her heart. "I'll marry you."
A smile, larger than any she'd seen of Zuko's before, spread across his face. He pulled her to his chest and kissed her head; her cheek; her forehead; her nose; her chin; her ears; her neck; and finally her lips. "I love you," he said when he pulled away.
"I love you, too." So, so much…