For the first time, he actually sounded somewhat confident when he asked her.

Content Warning: Somewhat adult themes (if one squints), references to a larger story told elsewhere. Excerpted from Book Two of my fic, Romance of the Four Nations, which you can read on this very profile!

December 14th – Festival

ONCE, DURING HIS LAST YEAR AT THE ACADEMY, ZUKO, TORU, AND SOME OF THE OTHER BOYS HAD GONE DOWN INTO SHU JING. Going into the village on weekends was a right of cadets in their fourth years, as Zuko and his friends were, but he had always avoided making the trip. Even in his cadet uniform, people recognized him, and the way they fawned over him made him queasy and embarrassed.

But that night was different. That night, it was the Winter Solstice, when the Fire Nation marked the beginning of the end of the winter with the Fire Festival. That night, as Toru had explained, everyone would be too happy and excited and drunk to care about the prince wandering around in their midst. And so, Zuko had put on his cadet uniform and walked with his friends down into the village that sprawled across the valley below the Academy. His heart had been in his throat, his mouth dry, his hands cold and clammy. He had been nervous, on edge, sure that, at any moment, some tavern keeper would recognize him and then bowing and the Your Highnesses would begin.

But…that didn't happen. Toru had been right, just like he always was. They had melted into the crowds, and no one so much as looked at him twice, except for the occasional girl who winked at him and giggled when he inevitably blushed bright red in response. Toru had dragged him into every dance circle, had stopped at every music performance, had encouraged Zuko to toss money to every firebending troupe. The night disappeared into an endless cycle of laughter and dancing and singing, and they had consumed far more alcohol that anyone reasonably should. Zuko never could remember how they had gotten their lanterns lit and aloft, and as for the girl he found himself making out with in an alley, well…

He remembered her name, which was Chiyoko, but, for the life of him, he could never quite recall how they ended up there.

When he woke up the next morning in his bunk, with a splitting headache and a mouth that felt as if it was stuffed with sandpaper, he had a smile on his face. The smile never left him, even after he threw up.

It was one of the most magical evenings of his life, and yet, it didn't hold a candle to this one.

The festivities had been a strange melding of Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation, like everything else in the long-occupied northwest. There had been singing and dancing, earthbending and firebending troupes competing for tips (or, at least, pretending to), great big bonfires blazing in the night, circles of people holding hands and swirling around the flames, singing and laughing and smiling. There had been food and drink and a surprising number of discharged soldiers, marked out by their old and battered scarlet-red Army coats.

And then there was her…

She was beautiful, more beautiful than he had ever believed possible. She had done her hair up special, draped herself in the finest Water Tribe clothes she could put together. Her eyes sparkled and her laugh was like wind-chimes ringing on a warm summer day. They never stopped dancing, never stopped smiling. He kept telling her how much he loved her, over and over again, and she said it back, each and every time, and when Toshiro tried to keep count of how many times they kissed, Zuko's oldest living friend gave up at around two-hundred-and-thirty and went back to kissing his own wife.

The best part came when it was time to light the lanterns. This was a Fire Nation tradition, as old as time, but it had taken hold in the Earth Kingdom, even at the height of the War. Everyone took part, the old and the young, the sick and the healthy, those from the Fire Nation and those who hated it. Sometime around midnight, every person in the village rushed out into the cold night, towards an empty field just outside of town. In their hands, they held cylindrical lanterns made of thin paper, one end open, the open end holding a little candle set in a seemingly flimsy wooden frame.

Everything went very quiet. A hush fell on the crowd. Upwards of a thousand people, who a moment before had been giggling and chatting and falling all over themselves, became as quiet as the grave. In the middle of the field, two priests, one Fire Nation, one Earth Kingdom, called for everyone to bow their heads. They alternated back-and-forth, one in Nihongo, the other in Hangugeo, explaining the purpose of the lanterns, an offering to the gods, a reminder of the promise the gods made long ago, to always bring the winter to a close, to bring the dawn and the growing season back. The lanterns, see, were a simple of hope, of renewal, of the light that banishes the darkness. The darkness may return, but the light will always be there, flickering, never to be put out.

When the prayers were finished, the priests took long tapers out of the fire, and began moving along the innermost ring of the crowd. One-by-one, they lit the candles in the lanterns, and when one person or group had their lantern lit, they would take a match or whatever they had, and light that of the person behind them. Light rippled back through the crowd, and soon, it seemed almost as bright as day.

Katara held up their lantern, looking at him with emotions that he felt but couldn't begin to express or describe. He ducked underneath, taking the match that someone had given him and watching their candle pulse to life, before passing it on to Toshiro and Song, who stood just behind them. He rose, reached out, put his hands atop hers, where they grasped the bottom edge of the lantern. Her face glowed and danced with the light, even the shadows banished by a thousand-thousand candles blazing away in the night. Tears welled in her eyes, eyes that were bright and happy and full of so much life, life that he couldn't believe she was willing to share with him.

She smiled.

He smiled back.

Then the call went out and they gently tossed the lantern into the air, and a brief, wondrous, sublime moment, there was no War. No War, no Occupation, no Rebellion, just a thousand people watching a thousand lights twinkle in the darkness.

He watched, his arms around her, his chin on the top of her head, her body burrowed deep into his own. It all made sense to him now, like it had never made sense before. This was what he was fighting for, willing to die for. Not for kings or nations or honor. No, it was about this, all of this, life. The right to live and choose and know no fear. For the traditions and the cultures and the love that people had a right to feel for one another. For freedom, freedom from hate and persecution and darkness. For the day when this celebration, this festival, would mean what it was supposed to mean: The beginning of the end of winter, the promise of hope and change and new life. He lived for that day, would lay his life down for that day, when people would feel no need to dance in the streets for fear of the day when the fire and the blood would find them again.

This was it.

This was freedom.

He acted before he even had time to think about it, which was good, because if he'd thought about it for even a second, he would've lost his nerve. He was turning her, turning her until she was facing him, plunging his hand in his pocket and pulling out a necklace from which hung a round stone that flashed purple in the night. His hands trembled, his fingers felt as thick and dead as sausages, but, somehow, he got it out, put it around her neck, clasped it, shifted it until the stone hung down perfectly into the hollow of her throat. He looked at it, nodded, swallowed hard, wondered when he had ever been so frightened, accepted that he hadn't even known the definition of terror until that moment, right there, in the middle of the night, far, far away from home.

He watched her fingers reach up, clasp the stone, watched her thumb rub back-and-forth across the design on its face. His eye traveled up, until, finally, he was looking into hers. Tears rolled down her face, and he'd never seen her look so happy.

There was only one thing to say.

"Marry me," he said.

She smiled.

"About time."

And then they kissed.

So, I very much did not plan on using something I had already written for something else. Problem was, when it came time for me to actually sit down and write something, I came up with...just...nothing. Not a damn thing. Complete blank. The last time I used an excerpt from Ro4N (as the cool kids call it), it was because I honestly didn't feel like I could write anything better than I already. The masked ball from Book One is just...I'm really proud of it, and why wouldn't I use it again?

This time was just pure desperation. That said, it's a good chapter from a good work that gets better as it goes along. You should definitely check it out, though like I said at the top, this stands on its own pretty well.

Short note today. My wife and I have to stuff the kid back into the car and go pick up a box of diapers, because diapers are like toilet paper, in that you're never almost out, either you have plenty or you're holding the last one and staring at an empty box.

Moving on! In tomorrow's episode, Sokka goes to Zuko and Katara for dating advice, regrets it. Stay tuned!