The couple passed other villagers that were returning home, carrying their traps and their kills. They nodded politely to the two, recognizing them as Lady Katara and the former Firelord Zuko. Katara held onto the Firelord's arm for support, and they noticed the pain that she tried to hide with her joking. Her eyes were still puffy from crying. Most figured it was because she was aging; walking would be difficult, trying to remember where she had put things would likely frustrate her, seeing an old friend would wash her in nostalgia, melancholy. She'd probably stopped bleeding years ago. The men shuddered, remembering their mothers' reactions to the end of their fertility. Tantrums and outbursts over what seemed to be nothing. It was like pregnancy without the reward of a child. The women worried about their future; would they act the same way their mothers' had?

When she shivered, Zuko sent warmth into his arms for her. Some inquired if they would like to have dinner with them, while others asked to carry Katara's bag. They accepted a few dinner invitations for the next couple of days. It was something Katara had grown used to over the decades of living with Aang. People always wanted to be "graced" with the prescence of people they thought were important. Zuko, however, had not known this type of attention. While he was the reigning soverign, the head of his security banned all social interactions at private homes. Those that vocally opposed him as Firelord were on a long list, which made it difficult for him to make house calls. When asked about her bag, Katara pointed at Zuko and said, "That's what he's for," and patted his arm with a chuckle.

After they left the two alone, Katara became quiet, and a stoic, seriousness settled over her. Zuko felt the uncomfortable silence pulling them in opposite directions. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, just tired."

"I'm sorry for bringing it up, it's just-"

"We can talk about it when we get inside."

They continued to walk in silence. Katara walked as quickly as she could, pushing the pace he had set. She was ready to be inside. Warmth was what she wanted, but Zuko's body was not what she'd had in mind. She wanted a fire and Ming Li and her bed. She was awkward, uncomfortable. Holding onto his arm was something she'd thought about long ago, but now it felt strange, though not uncomforting.

She and Aang had not been exactly passionate all their married lives, but they were intimate. They had loved each other and been together for so long, and Katara had grown so used to him, that now her teenage thoughts of Zuko seemed inauthentic and forced. Perhaps her thoughts had just been those of an infatuated girl. Who wouldn't love to marry the Firelord? Especially one who was a bad boy-or at least, had a bad boy front to his awkwardness and insecurity? He had saved her multiple times, from Azula, a wayward boulder. Maybe it had been from appreciation, or gratitude.

But every time she had looked at him since he'd gone with her to find her mother's murderer, something stirred in her chest. It felt like a vine was twisting around her ribcage, reaching for the sun. Her heart felt light and her breath struggled in her throat. There had been something there, there was no doubt. June had joked about it, then Toph. They saw something, but no one said anything in seriousness. And they both had denied it so vehemently, that the thought of it actually being true would have seemed preposterous.

Perhaps because they were already in relationships of their own, they found it difficult to leave. Zuko had an on again off again relationship with Mai, but she'd been there for his coronation. She was there when he needed her, even if they weren't together when he probably would have liked to have a companion with him. Though Katara and Aang hadn't been in an official romantic relationship, he'd been staring at her with those goo goo eyes since she and Sokka had decided to help him. He had been overprotective of her, he had confessed, and kissed her before the end of the war. His feelings were clear. Hers, however, were not. During the Ember Island play, she'd become angry at him for kissing her, and told him she needed time. And she had, but after she agreed to date him, she realized her feelings, and she was unsure of what to do. So she stayed.

Then everyone was pushing them closer together. Talk of marriage, babies, living together. They were jokes, but it was all Aang could have ever wanted: a place to finally call his own, a wife, their children, his family. When it was certain that Zuko didn't have the same feelings for her, she knew her decision was the right one.

But now here he was, confessing, apologizing, wishing for a chance in the dusk of their lives. Her feelings were so twisted, she was unsure what to do. The comforts of her home would hopefully clear her mind.

As they neared the house, a large, old polar bear dog stood and slowly walked towards them with her tail low, half growling. "Ming Li," Katara called. The polar bear dog's tail began to wag in excitement, and she rushed to the couple, licking their faces. Katara patted the dog's side. "Did you miss me?" she asked lightly.

Yes, thought Zuko.

They walked in and he sent flames into the fireplace before she said a word.

"Thank you."

He nodded.

Ming Li curled up on the floor and waited for Katara to sit near her, tail wagging in anticipation.

"Are you hungry? Do you want tea?"

"Just tea is fine," he said.

Katara went into the kitchen, brought out a kettle and hooked it over the fire. He picked up the large pot of stew she'd directed him to, and set it nearby to wait its turn for the flames. Ming Li's stomach changed her mind, and she carried a bowl in her mouth to Katara, and, laughing, Katara filled the bowl with some cold stew. Her pet ate with ferocity, gulping and licking her lips. She looked around, as if the house were one she was visiting. After a moment, she sat in a chair by Ming Li and looked up at him. "You can sit."

He took a chair facing her, and watched as she pet the animal. Ming Li closed her eyes and yawned, rolled on her side to get more comfortable. Katara threw the blanket over Ming Li, which the polar bear dog was partially laying on, and watched as her breathing slowed for sleep.

She looked up at him. "Did you love me?"

He did not hesitate. "I still do."

Narrowing her eyes, she regarded him coolly. Why had he waited so long, then?

He held his hands up, palms open. "You can call me a liar, but it's the truth. I kept every letter. Except for the one about the engagement. I lost my temper and sort of set it on fire."

"Then why did you go?" She sat back and crossed her arms.

"I wasn't going to not go to the wedding of the woman I loved. Even if it wasn't to me. I didn't say what I wanted to, but I knew if I didn't go, I would have regretted it." He smiled sadly. "You were the most beautiful bride I ever saw."

"What about Mai?" she asked, her tongue more acidic than she meant it to be.

He looked downward, bit his lip, and shook his hea lightly. "She was the second most beautiful."

They both looked at Ming Li. She snored lightly and scratched at the floor with her front paws. Her mouth began to twitch and she barked quietly, chasing. Zuko watched as a smile spread over Katara's face, and she ran her hand along the side of the animal's face.

The tea kettle began to boil over. Zuko shrank the flames and pulled the kettle from the fire and poured their tea, jasmine. Katara walked past him and put the pot of stew in the hot seat. The flames grew to their original size as both sat down. After the tea had steeped, they drank silently. When the stew was ready, she gave him a bowl without asking. They regarded each other as their spoons scraped against the uneven bone bowls.

She wondered if he thought it was beneath him. The stew, the bowl, the small house, and the strange pet. He probably had grown accustomed to the luxurious meals from the palace, with fine china. He had a dragon, but that was more regal than a polar bear dog. She'd found one for Korra, although she wasn't sure how the two were taking to each other. Maybe she should check on them.

Everything in her tried to deny his confession. Decades late, loved ones lost, lives that would never be. Maybe he was just a horny old man. She could call him names, though she knew he wouldn't respond to it. His old age had caused him to lose some of his temper. Katara's only seemed to have grown, flaring with impatience and disgust of flattery.

They took their bowls and cups to the kitchen. He began to clean them off, and she stood with a hand on one hip and looked up at him. The young man she had once known was now old and greying, his face wrinkled and his hands withered. He was bent over, squinting to see if the bowl was properly cleaned.

She sighed. "So, will you sleep with the dog or me?"

He stepped back in surprise, a bowl in his hands, wet and soapy. "I don't…"

"Come on, you regained your honor long ago; no one will say anything if you share a bed with a lowly water tribe woman."

His eyes softened and he shook his head. "You have never been lowly."

She raised a brow. "Is that a yes?"

He hesitated. "If...if you will have me. Yes."

She smiled, took the bowl from him and led him away, holding his hand.


Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think and if there's anything you want to see in future chapters. :)