It's eight years after the war and everything has changed. On most days Zuko can rise to the expectations of his throne easily, graciously, and be the benevolent ruler that his father never was. But somedays the weight of all his responsibility is crushing. Somedays he wakes up and before his head even lifts from the pillow he thinks, my sister is insane, my father was a tyrannical despot and my mother is dead.
On those days, he's not so nice. He snaps at his attendants. He refuses to leave the palace and communicate with the people of his nation. They are ugly actions and he is achingly aware of that even as he carries them out, but he does it anyway.
Not all the time. Not even most of the time. But enough of the time to make him feel just as bad as his father.
The first person he ever confesses this to is Katara.
It's the night of his 23rd birthday and it's an overblown, ridiculous affair. The palace gardens look beautiful, twinkly lights dripping from the foliage and red lanterns aglow, but all he can think is how much better it would look without the five hundred odd guests swarming it. But still, he dutifully greets the public, thanking them with grace and aplomb while secretly wanting to bend his brains out.
Zuko hates his birthday.
He forces a tolerant smile as Earth King Kuei barely finishes the sentence 'Happy Birthday' before pivoting cheekily to policy – off the record, of course.
He nods gamely as his advisor pops in periodically to alert Zuko as to who was somebody, which families he needs to make a point to say hello to, and which pretty, single daughters of the glitterati would be dying to meet him.
He pretends it's not cripplingly, painfully awkward as Mai greets him plainly, wishing him a happy birthday but unable to keep the glimmer of hurt and resentment out of her eyes.
Every time he turns around it's someone new and even though he's surrounded by fresh air, it he feels like he can barely breathe. His heart is racing faster and there's a gnawing underneath his skin, something hot brewing under his ribs.
He downs his drink, wincing at the burn as the whiskey pours down his throat – so weak, so pathetic, be a man, he can hear his father's voice in his head. That alone is enough to drive him to another drink. This time, he figures it's easier to just take the whole bottle.
He needs to escape. Now. It's all too much, too overwhelming and he just needs a minute. The other side of the gardens has been roped off to the public, but Zuko isn't the public and so he slips under the ropes and around the corner, obscuring himself from sight.
The gardens are lush and vast, and they've grown even lusher and vaster during his reign. His father had never cared much for them, preferring the ornate brutality of the war room, but Zuko would rather be in the gardens than in any room in the castle.
The three hundred year old wisteria trees seem to loom down on him with concern as he weaves himself around the hedges, but he keeps on until a bed of scarlet flowers comes into view. Red lion amaryllis. Not as ephemeral as the fire lilies or as flashy as the rose garden, but his personal favorite. His mother had planted them.
What he doesn't expect is to see someone else there.
And he certainly doesn't expect that person to be Katara.
Her back is to him but he recognizes her instantly, the Water Tribe gray-blue of her formal dress and the thick curls spilling down her back, two strands pinned back.
He takes a few steps forward and she clocks the footsteps, turning around in surprise.
Are those tears he sees?
Zuko takes another step to peer closer but she quickly turns her head and when she looks back, her eyes are entirely dry. Fucking waterbenders.
She grumbles and crosses her arms. "What are you doing here?"
He rolls his eyes. "This is my palace," he reminds her, not just a little arrogantly. "And my party, in case you forgot. What are you doing here?"
She opens her mouth, like she's about to fire a retort back at him, but then closes it just as quickly. With an exhale, the haughtiness drops from her face. "You're right. I'm sorry."
Zuko blinks once, twice, three times. "Wait, I'm sorry. Did you, Katara, just tell me, Zuko, that I'm right? And then … apologize?"
Her turn to roll her eyes. "Oh, shut up."
"Do you have scrolls? I need to record this very important, historical moment—"
"Ha, ha, ha," she says dryly. But her mouth is twitching.
A thought occurs to him. "Wait, does that mean Aang is here too? My advisor said he'd RSVP'd no. I assumed I wouldn't see either of you."
"Just because Aang isn't doing something, doesn't mean I can't," she snaps. "We're two separate people, you know? With our own bodily autonomy."
"Okay, okay," he grouses. "I was just asking."
"Besides." She looks down, scuffing the grass with her sandal. "We're… not together anymore."
Holy fucking shit. He searches for words, but all he has is stammers. "Oh, I, uh… I didn't realize. I… uh…"
Thankfully, she puts him out of his misery quickly. "Don't. It's fine. We don't have to talk about it right now. In fact, let's not."
"Okay." He is somewhat relieved, because rousing romantic pep talks aren't exactly his forte but the other part of him is burning with curiosity as to why she and the Avatar had parted ways after the better part of a decade together.
They both go back to staring at the amaryllis flowers but the silence is pointedly, suffocatingly awkward. The moonlight shines down on them like a mocking spotlight. He searches his brain for something, anything to say but it's as if he's never had a thought in his life.
After what feels like this side of eternity, she sighs loudly and then snatches the whiskey bottle from out of his hand. "Ugh. Give me that."
An hour later, they are both drunk and the party is just a distant warble in the background.
They have relocated to the gardener's shed, away from prying eyes, surrounded by rakes and cobwebs, passing the bottle back and forth between them as they sit on the scratchy wooden floor. Zuko has just finished recounting an interaction he had earlier in the night where a new mother begged Zuko to hold her baby, claiming it would bring good luck and prosperity, and then the baby had immediately taken a giant shit. Katara is laughing so hard that her shoulders are shaking and he pretends to glower at her, like it's not really that funny, but it is and so he laughs too.
"It didn't get on me, but still, the second I pick up the thing? Are you kidding?"
Their laughter fills up the tiny shed and Zuko can't remember the last time he had this much fun.
"This is nice," he says. "It's nice to hang out with you."
"It's nice to hang out with you too," she admits, giving him a smile and bumping his shoulder slightly. "I can't remember the last time we did."
He lets out a hum as he considers. "We had that dinner last year. It was you, Aang, Sokka, Toph, I think Suki? I think that was the last time I saw you."
She takes a pull from the bottle, nodding. "I think you're right. But just the two of us, one on one? When's the last time that happened?"
"Sozin's Comet," Zuko says quietly and then shakes his head "Not that that was really, you know, hanging out…" A doomsday Agni Kai with his psychopathic sister wasn't generally his idea of a good time.
"I mean, in our lives? It kind of is. And besides. You saved my life that day."
"And you saved mine."
Even though that day had been so traumatic on so many levels, it is still oddly nice to be sitting here with Katara, reminiscing. They hadn't really talked about it since, this intense memory shared only by them.
They share a gaze, each smiling very slightly at each other. Zuko notices not for the first time how beautiful she looks tonight. And for a second he's worried she can read his mind because she glances away, almost bashfully, to take another drink.
But then she swills the bottle in her hand and points it in Zuko's direction. "So, Mr. Fire Lord. Don't you need to get back to your party?"
"Yeah, probably," he admits, but makes no move to get up. He likes it in here, in this dusty shed with Katara, making her laugh instead of forcing smiles that made his cheekbones ache. "But this is way better."
"You don't think they'll miss you?"
"No, I'm sure they do. I'm bet my advisor is running loops around the castle as we speak." He rolls his eyes. "I just… want to sit here for a minute longer. It's tiring out there."
"I bet," she says sympathetically. "I saw how many people were there. It's a lot."
"Yeah," he sighs. "Tonight's has been exhausting. And I'm sure tomorrow will be exhausting." He looks down at the floor, picks at a piece of dirt. "Every day is exhausting," he confesses.
Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her mouth twist downward at that. "How so?"
"The gifts, and the guests, and the food, it's all so nice but… do you know what I really wanted for my birthday? I just… I just wanted to be left alone for a day. No meetings. No public. No policy. I didn't want to have to do anything or talk to anyone. Just for one fucking day." His bows his head.
"I mean, that's understandable," Katara says, kindly. "You're the Fire Lord. It's a really big job. I don't blame you for wanting some time alone."
He takes the bottle back from her and closes his eyes as he takes a long drink. "But I never used to feel that way, you know? I was eager. I was ready. Whatever the throne needed from me, I was willing to give. But these days, sometimes I just get so impatient with everyone, with their endless questions and challenges and I just want them to shut up already. And then I think—" he swallows , hard, and the shame is choking him so much that all he can manage the barest of whispers, "that I'm just like him."
Katara is quiet, and she's judging him, he knows she must be, but it also feels so good to finally say those words out loud.
"Zuko…. I promise. You're nothing like him. Your father was a cruel warlord who wanted to conquer the entire realm. You, on the other hand, are using your power for good and actively working with the other nations day in and day out trying to restore balance and harmony. He was an evil, sadistic jerk who bullied everyone, even his own family. You get annoyed sometimes. So what?"
His head raises slowly. "You don't think I'm a bad person?"
Katara shakes her head. "No. I don't think you're a bad person at all," she says firmly, and he might actually believe she means it. He needs to hear this. And to hear it from someone as morally sound and centered as Katara means a lot.
It's silent for a moment and then Katara lets out a humorless chuckle.
Zuko's eyebrows raise at her inquisitively.
"No, it's nothing. I was just thinking…" She shakes her head. "Nevermind."
The relief he felt a moment ago is gone and he frowns, wondering what it is she's not saying. She seems to clock this and shakes her head again, putting one hand on his reassuringly. "It's not you. What I was thinking was… if anyone's a bad person here… it's me."
His eyebrows furrow. "You? Yeah right. Why would you even say that?" Her hand is on his. This felt nice.
"Because I broke Aang's heart," she whispers.
The pain on her face is palpable, and it pains him too. So, the break up had been her decision. It made sense. He couldn't imagine Aang ever leaving Katara. Though, he had never imagined Katara leaving Aang either.
"What happened between you two?" he asks tentatively, remembering how she had shut down before. But all the whiskey is going a long way toward loosening his lips.
She tips her head back against the wall, lets out a deep, troubled sigh. "It was a few months ago. He took it… not well. I really hurt him." The anguish twisting up her face is a specific kind. Not merely sadness. Guilt.
"I love Aang. So much. But as time went on, there was this nagging voice in my head that kept telling me – 'but you're not in love with him anymore.' I tried to ignore it. He's wonderful. He treated me so well. I wanted to feel it again, I tried for years. But whenever he would to—"
Katara cuts off her sentence abruptly.
Zuko sits up further, cocks his head at her curiously. "When he … what?"
She takes a long pause, considering if she can actually finish her thought.
Zuko glances away, like he's casual, and not absolutely dying to know what the end of that sentence is.
Finally, softly: "When he … touched me, I didn't feel that…. passion. You know?"
Holy fucking shit, redux. So, Katara had broken up with Aang because she had realized they had zero physical chemistry. Good for her. Of course, he isn't quite sure how to respond because Aang is also his friend so there's a slight conflict of interests.. Also, how to respectfully comment on the Avatar's apparent lack of sexual prowess?
Instead he offers this: "I had the opposite problem. With Mai."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I mean… don't get me wrong, it's a good thing we broke up. On almost every level, we were terrible for each other. We fought all the time. We were great at putting each other in bad moods. But physically?" He shrugs. "That's the one place we were really good."
Why was he saying this? He glances at Katara, wondering if she'll be grossed out by this unsolicited detail about his sex life – damn it, whiskey – but she looks… interested?
Her interest was interesting.
She quirks a curious eyebrow. "And have you found that again? Since Mai?"
He almost snorts at that. Yeah right. It had been a long dry spell for this Fire Lord. "No."
"So why aren't you socializing with all the hopeful young heiresses at your party?"
He shrug again. "They're not my type."
Katara scoffs, although it's more with a teasing edge than anything. "Oh right. I'm sorry, I'm sure the Fire Lord's standards are impossible. Perfect 10's, nothing else. Us lesser peons could never hope to compete."
"'Us lesser peons?'" he repeats. "Yeah right, Katara. Come on. You know you're good looking."
It might be the alcohol but he swears her cheeks flush slightly. "Oh whatever, Zuko."
He nudges her foot with his playfully. "Oh, whatever Katara," he mimics, to which he earns an elbow to the arm. But still, he refuses to believe that Katara isn't aware of exactly how devastating she is. "You're gorgeous. You always have been."
She shifts slightly and a sliver of light beams through the window, illuminating the abashed look on her face. Oh yeah, she's definitely blushing and it's painfully endearing.
"Always?" she teases. "Even when I was your mortal enemy?"
"Yes, even then." He chuckles. "Even with your little hair loopies."
She grins. "And you, even when you had that shaved head and ponytail."
He groans softly. "You had to remind me." He skips a beat and then smirks. "Wait. You thought I was good looking back then?"
"Maybe."
"And, do you think I'm good looking now?"
She takes a beat longer to answer this time. "Maybe."
He's just drunk enough to be a little bit shameless. "Come on. It's my birthday. You have to tell me."
When she doesn't elaborate, he finds himself unconsciously reaching for his scar but she quickly puts her own hand on his to stop him.
"Yes," she says quietly. "I do."
And with that something in the air shifts. The innocent flirtation from moments ago has suddenly become more weighted. They gaze at each other, amber gold on ocean blue, and their fingers slowly interlock as they drop from his face, sliding down between them. It feels warm and familiar somehow, even though he's certainly never been this close to Katara before. Her eyes are huge, stark and beautiful even in this dark room, and she's looking at him in a way she has never, ever looked at him before.
Before he can make sense of it, he's kissing her.
The kiss lasts about ten seconds until he realizes what he's done and he breaks it, unable to meet her eyes as he mutters, "Katara, I'm sorry, I…"
And then suddenly she's kissing him and it's like the entire fucking world explodes. There is no hesitance to her kiss, it is raw and heated and he meets her there in the blaze. They make out hard, furiously, her hands on his face, tongues entwining. There's a restlessness to them, a fight in their limbs and he can't believe he's doing this, kissing Katara and he also can't believe he's never done this before. His fingers slide through her hair while her hands run down his chest through his robes and the mere existence of clothing has never pissed him off more.
He hates this position, wants, needs more access to her, so he presses her down on the ground and moves atop of her. One hand is steadying himself above her, the other gliding from her hair down to her waist to the curve of her hips. Her dress is long, but he finds a slit that lets him in and soon, he's made it to the soft skin of her legs. He skims her thigh with one hand, her skin warm, inviting, and slides up to her inner thigh, wanting to go further, further—but hesitating.
They both pause, from touching, from kissing. Aware of the moment, that they are on the brink of a line they cannot uncross.
And then Katara lowers her head, brushes her lips against Zuko's ear and whispers, "Keep touching me."
The words go straight south and he almost fucking loses his mind. He doesn't need to be told twice.
His hand slides up further, and he makes it to her undergarments. He pulls them down, aided by Katara, and gently parts her thighs. After a few slow, teasing strokes on the outside of her lips, he slides a finger inside her. She is wet for him, already, and this pleases him to no end. She is breathing heavily as he slowly pulls his finger in and out and he can't believe this is his life, it's so good. His fingers slow as his thumb finds her clit and begins to rub circles around it with the precise pressure he had learned from Mai. While his ex had been typically reserved and passive, she very much knew what she wanted in the bedroom and had never been shy to tell Zuko exactly as much. Katara moans and he has never been more grateful for Mai's teachings than in this moment.
He keeps going, steady and determined, until her breath starts to staccato and he can sense that she's close. He redoubles his efforts.
"God, Zuko—" she is panting now —
"You're so beautiful, so sexy, I can't wait to bury myself in you" he murmurs against her ear, encouraging her, keeping the pressure with his thumb and wanting nothing more in this world than to watch Katara come undone from his touch.
She is shaking now, her legs, her hips, and he strokes, and strokes and then, finally, with a big shudder, she releases. He watches her as she comes, at the pleasure rolling through her body, her back arched, eyes screwed shut with pleasure, vibrating beside him. Then she practically puddles into the floorboards against him. He did that to her. He is proud and gratified and fuck, he might just be addicted.
"Wow," she breathes out, her voice light and floaty. "I don't think I've ever… that, so intensely."
His cock twitches.
It's quiet for a moment as her breathing steadies and Zuko thinks this is probably it, she's going to snap back to her senses and he is already mourning the moment when she sits up slightly to catch his eyes and says (demands?), "I want to feel you inside me now."
And this admission makes his cock throb so hard it's literally painful. He immediately starts disrobing. The royal robes are a pain to get off, but he is singleminded in his goal to fuck Katara's brains out and so is she, if the way she is helping him undress is any indication. They succeed and it is an utter relief to be freed from his pants because he needs to be inside her so badly he thinks otherwise he might actually die.
Their lips meet again and she bites at his lower lip with an aggression that makes his blood roil. He positions himself better over her and goes lower, lower, lower until he's finally, blissfully inside of her. She gasps and clenches at his back, her fingernails sharp against his skin. He goes carefully at first, noting how her face is twisted, easing her into it until she's practically clawing at him.
"Oh god,…" she moans, leg hitching around his waist, pulling him in even closer. She feels so warm, so tight, so perfect, he thinks he may just be ruined for the rest of his life, because nothing will ever, ever feel as good as this. His thrusts are slow at first, but pick up in intensity until he is driving into her relentlessly. They find a good rhythm, her hips meeting his and it's hard and frenzied and divine. He can feel a shard of wood scrape against his hand but he doesn't care because he'd rather have 500 splinters in each hand, every day for the rest of his life, than stop for even a second.
"I'm close," he rasps and she bites down on his shoulder, drawing a deep, ragged groan from his chest.
"God, Katara, you feel so fucking good—" and although she's not particularly vocal in return he can't help himself from the library of filth falling from his lips, "I just want to stay here, forever, inside you, your body is incredible, so tight—"
She clenches tightly around him and like that, stars go off in his head. He comes, violently, fire crackling from his finger tips.
Afterward, they lie together, a sweaty, breathless heap on the floor. He presses a kiss to her collarbone and she nestles in closer, her head on his chest. They lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes.
Katara's the one to say it. "So… about that party…." And they both laugh, because after this— returning to the party feels fucking absurd. And yet, she's right.
Zuko has no idea how he's possibly supposed to get through the night now but on the other hand, he finally feels zen. Perfectly calm, for the first time all evening.
"Yeah," he agrees, knowing that people are undoubtedly looking for him. The celebrant of honor ghosting his own party was likely not going over super well.
They both reluctantly pull themselves up and start the arduous process of redressing. He helps retie some tassels on her dress, and she adjusts his robes so they are sitting right. They each smooth out their own hair as best as possible, trying to get that 'freshly fucked' look out of it. He fingers combs through a knot she missed at the back of her head, and she recenters his head piece. It's a surprisingly easy song and dance, like they've done it together in a shed dozens of times, rather than just this once.
When they're fully decent, she nods toward the door. "You should go first," she offers.
Zuko nods, but he doesn't move. "Katara, I…" He swallows and although he was just whispering filthy nothings in her ear moments ago, words are suddenly difficult. "I'd like to to do that again. I mean, not… here and it doesn't necessarily have to be that but can I see you again? Soon?"
There is hesitation in her eyes and he can practically see the thought process – Aang – but after a moment, she nods. And smiles. And he thinks, she is the most beautiful person on this entire planet.
Zuko reaches for the door, twisting the knob but then stops, pulling Katara against him for one last kiss and she kisses him back deeply, soundly and yeah, he is definitely addicted.
"Happy birthday, Zuko," she murmurs against his lips.
Maybe birthdays weren't so bad, after all.